Zero stepped into the classroom, her textbook dangling lazily from one hand. The chaotic noise of thirty students instantly flatlined.

She ignored the wide eyes tracking her every move. She walked straight to the back row, toward the window. Her assigned seat.

Her desk-mate, Cody Boggs, a massive guy built like a linebacker, had his dirty sneakers propped up on Zero's chair, blocking her path.

Cody looked her up and down, a nasty sneer twisting his face. "Wow, the freak got a makeover. Move it, faggot. Don't get your cheap cologne on my shoes."

The entire class held their breath. A few kids in the front row snickered, waiting for Zero to stand in the aisle with her head bowed, just like she always did.

Zero didn't speak. She stood perfectly still, her dark eyes fixed on Cody. A slow, chilling smile crept onto her lips.

Before Cody could open his mouth to hurl another insult, Zero moved.

Her hand shot out like a striking snake. Her fingers clamped around Cody's thick ankle like a steel vise.

Cody's eyes widened. He tried to yank his leg back, but Zero's grip was immovable. A sharp pain shot up his shin as her fingers dug into his bone.

Zero's eyes hardened. She twisted her wrist and yanked upward with a vicious, calculated burst of kinetic force, using his own weight against him.

Cody lost his balance completely. He let out a terrified scream as his massive two-hundred-pound frame flipped backward over the desk.

CRASH.

He hit the floor with a sickening thud, his chair clattering away. The impact rattled the windows.

The girls in the front row shrieked, covering their mouths. Nobody could comprehend the physical strength required to flip a guy that size with one hand.

Cody was seeing stars. He gasped for air, his face turning purple with rage. He scrambled to get up, spitting curses. "I'm gonna kill you-"

Zero stepped forward. She raised her foot and brought her polished black shoe down hard on the center of Cody's chest, pinning him flat against the linoleum.

The air rushed out of Cody's lungs in a violent wheeze. The pressure on his sternum was agonizing. He stared up at Zero, and for the first time, raw terror flickered in his eyes.

Mr. Peterson, the history teacher, walked into the classroom, his lesson plan tucked under his arm. He stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping at the violent scene in the back row. His binder slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor.

Zero heard the noise. She slowly turned her head to look at the teacher. She didn't lift her foot off Cody's chest. She just offered a lazy shrug.

"Mr. Peterson," Zero said, her voice smooth and entirely unbothered. "Cody tripped."

Mr. Peterson looked at Cody's agonizing face, his mind struggling to process the blatant violence. His authoritative instincts weakly flared. "Vance! Boggs!" Mr. Peterson stammered, pointing a shaking finger. "Both of you, my office, immediately after class!" But as he met Zero's dark, warning gaze, the teacher swallowed hard. The sheer, suffocating killing intent in those eyes made him instinctively backtrack. "...Just to understand the situation," he added weakly, fear paralyzing the rest of his vocal cords.

Zero casually removed her foot. She hooked her toe under the fallen chair, flipped it upright, and sat down. She opened her book as if she hadn't just assaulted someone.

Cody scrambled away, clutching his bruised chest. He practically crawled back to his seat, keeping his head down, terrified to even breathe in her direction.

Forty-five minutes later, the bell rang. Zero popped her earbuds in, shoved her hands in her pockets, and walked out of the classroom, heading for the cafeteria.

As she turned the corner on the second floor, a sickeningly sweet wave of expensive perfume hit her nose.

Three girls blocked the hallway. In the center stood Kenzie Locke, the head cheerleader and Maverick Thorne's most obsessive fan. She crossed her arms, glaring at Zero with pure venom.

One of Kenzie's minions sneered loudly. "Put on a suit and think you're not trash anymore? A freak is always a freak."

Zero stopped. She pulled out one earbud. Her eyes swept over the three girls, radiating pure, unfiltered annoyance at the delay.

Kenzie stepped right into Zero's personal space. She raised a hand, her long, red-painted acrylic nail pointing directly at Zero's nose. "Stay away from Maverick, you disgusting-"

Zero's hand blurred. She grabbed Kenzie's extended finger and bent it backward with a brutal, sickening snap.

Kenzie let out a blood-curdling shriek. Her knees gave out from the blinding pain, forcing her to drop into a humiliating, half-kneeling position on the floor just to stop her finger from breaking completely.

The two minions gasped, stepping forward to help.

Zero slowly turned her head. She shot them a look so lethal, so devoid of human empathy, that both girls froze. Their legs turned to jelly. They couldn't take a single step.

Zero leaned down, her face inches from Kenzie's ear.

"Point at me again," Zero whispered, her voice a dark, demonic rasp, "and I will break your hand."

Zero released her grip in disgust. Kenzie collapsed onto the cold hallway tiles, clutching her throbbing hand. Tears of pain and humiliation welled in her eyes, but her spoiled pride wouldn't let her stay quiet.

Zero reached into her pocket, pulled out a sterile wet wipe, and slowly cleaned the fingers that had touched Kenzie. She wiped her skin as if she had just come into contact with a deadly pathogen.

The blatant disrespect shattered Kenzie's remaining sanity. She looked around at the growing crowd of students and started screaming hysterically, weaponizing the audience.

"Look at this shameless faggot!" Kenzie shrieked, her voice echoing off the lockers. "He stalks Maverick every day, gets rejected, and now he's hitting women!"

The whispers ignited. Students pointed at Zero, the old memories of the pathetic stalker bubbling back to the surface.

Zero finished wiping her hand. She tossed the used wipe perfectly into a nearby trash can. She turned to face the crowd, her expression completely deadpan.

She walked slowly toward Kenzie, stopping right in front of her. The sheer physical dominance in Zero's posture made Kenzie's screams die in her throat.

Zero parted her lips. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chilling resonance that cut through the entire hallway.

"Listen closely," Zero said, her tone dripping with absolute disdain. "I have zero interest in Maverick Thorne. That arrogant, frozen block of ice means nothing to me."

The hallway went dead silent. Jaws dropped. People stared at Zero as if she had just grown a second head.

Zero's lips curved into a sharp, mocking smirk. "I used to be blind. My taste was garbage. But my eyes are fixed now."

Kenzie's face drained of color. Her ultimate weapon-the narrative that Zero was obsessed with Maverick-had just been obliterated.

Directly above them, behind the one-way glass of the second-floor VIP cafeteria booth, the atmosphere was suffocating.

Maverick Thorne, the captain of the Empire Alliance esports team, sat on a black leather sofa. As the heir to the Thorne family, even a living legend in the esports world was still required to complete his mandatory academic residency at River City Academy. His long legs were crossed. He held a cup of black coffee. His face, sculpted like a cold, unforgiving god, was turned toward the window, looking down at the drama below.

Finn O'Connell, his teammate, was pressed against the glass, a half-eaten slice of pizza hanging from his mouth. "Holy crap!" Finn mumbled around the food. "Captain, the stalker just said he's not into you anymore!"

Maverick's fingers tightened around the porcelain cup. His knuckles turned white. A surge of intense, irrational revulsion spiked in his chest.

"A trick," Maverick said. His voice was ice. He slammed the cup down onto the marble table. The sharp clack echoed in the quiet room.

He saw right through it. It was just another desperate, pathetic ploy to get his attention.

Finn scratched his blonde head. "But Captain, he looks... different today. Really different. And that move he pulled on Kenzie was brutal."

Maverick's deep blue eyes narrowed as he stared at the boy in the black suit below. A strange, irritating heat flared in his stomach.

Down in the hallway, Zero turned away from the stunned crowd. She started walking toward the cafeteria entrance.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Years of living as a hunted hacker and operative had honed her instincts to a razor's edge. She felt it. A heavy, aggressive, predatory stare locking onto her spine.

Zero stopped walking. She didn't look around. She tilted her head back and shot her gaze directly up at the tinted, one-way glass of the VIP booth.

Behind the glass, Maverick's breath hitched. He knew the glass was completely opaque from the outside. There was no physical way Zero could see him. Yet, those sharp, dark eyes were staring directly into his.

Zero didn't know exactly who was behind the glass, but the arrogant, freezing aura seeping through the window was unmistakable. It was him.

Instead of looking away, Zero's smirk widened into something wicked and entirely defiant.

She raised her right hand, pressed her index and middle fingers together, and tapped them against her forehead in a lazy, mocking salute.

She turned and walked through the cafeteria doors.

In the VIP room, Maverick stared at the empty space where Zero had just stood. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. His thumb rubbed aggressively against the rim of his coffee cup.

The final bell rang. Zero walked out of the school gates, her backpack slung casually over one shoulder. The students parted for her, their eyes filled with a chaotic mix of fear and newfound infatuation.

Walter had the Rolls-Royce idling at the curb. He opened the door, bowing slightly.

Zero tossed her bag onto the leather seat and slid in. "Take me to Queens. 42nd Street. The underground electronics market."

Walter froze, his hand still on the door handle. He looked at her through the rearview mirror, his face pale. "Young Master, Madam instructed me to take you straight home to study..."

Zero shifted her gaze to the mirror. Her dark eyes were flat, swirling with a quiet, terrifying violence.

"Walter," Zero said, her voice dropping an octave. "In this family, I am your master."

The oppressive weight of her stare crushed the air out of Walter's lungs. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he gripped the steering wheel. "Y-Yes, Young Master."

The luxury car merged into traffic, leaving the pristine streets of the upper east side and descending into the gritty, neon-lit underbelly of Queens.

The Rolls-Royce parked near a damp alleyway. Zero pulled a black baseball cap from her bag, pulling the brim low over her eyes. She stepped out into the humid air, the smell of ozone and motor oil hitting her nose.

She walked down a narrow flight of concrete stairs into the sprawling underground market. It was a chaotic maze of stalls selling smuggled hardware and stolen tech.

Zero kept her hands in her pockets, her sharp eyes scanning the booths. She stopped in front of a stall run by a heavy-set, bald man with a thick scar across his neck.

She tapped her knuckles against the glass display case. She pointed to a dusty, heavy piece of metal shoved in the back corner.

"The decommissioned military-grade X-900 motherboard. And the smuggled liquid-cooled GPU next to it. Take them out," she ordered.

The bald boss looked at the tailored Ivy League uniform and the soft, pale skin of the boy in front of him. A greedy smile stretched across his face. A rich, dumb kid.

He pulled the parts out and slammed them on the counter. "Ten grand. Cash." It was three times the market value.

Zero let out a short, harsh laugh. She didn't have a single dollar to her name right now. She leaned over the counter, her eyes drifting to the boss's personal laptop, which was currently locked out by a nasty, flashing ransomware screen. "You're locked out of your own inventory database," Zero noted, her voice smooth.

"The left capacitor on that board is burned from overclocking anyway. The soldering job is amateur garbage." She rattled off a string of highly classified low-level code parameters regarding the ransomware encryption that made the boss's blood run cold.

She tilted her cap up just enough to let him see her dead, predatory eyes. "I will decrypt your system and save your entire black-market ledger. In exchange, I take the motherboard, the GPU, and..." Her eyes caught a dusty, heavy mechanical military watch sitting in a junk bin. "...that vintage micro-terminal watch. Deal?"

The boss's greedy smile vanished. Cold sweat broke out on his neck as he realized he was dealing with a top-tier shark. He shoved the laptop toward her. Ten minutes and a blur of keystrokes later, his screen unlocked.

Zero walked out of the market carrying two heavy black plastic bags filled with metal, the heavy military watch already strapped securely to her left wrist.

When she returned to the Vance estate, Reginald stared at the bags of junk.

"Don't let anyone near my room tonight," Zero commanded, walking up the stairs. "And don't bring dinner."

Inside her bedroom, Zero locked the heavy oak door. She pulled the thick blackout curtains shut, plunging the room into darkness.

She tossed her blazer onto the bed, ripped off her tie, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt. She rolled up her sleeves, exposing her pale, lean forearms.

She dumped the hardware onto the massive mahogany desk. Her eyes changed. The lazy arrogance vanished, replaced by a hyper-focused, terrifying intensity. This was her battlefield.

She grabbed a multi-tool screwdriver. Her fingers moved in a blur. Motherboard, CPU, GPU, cooling tubes-she assembled them with surgical precision. She routed the complex wiring with obsessive perfection.

Three hours later, the machine sat on her desk. The casing was battered and ugly, but inside, it was a mechanical beast.

She connected three high-definition monitors. She took a deep breath and hit the power button.

The fans roared to life with a deep, vibrating hum. The three screens flared blinding white, then shifted to black. Cascades of green code poured down the monitors as her custom operating system booted up.

Zero dropped into her leather chair. She hovered her hands over the mechanical keyboard. Her lips curled into a bloodthirsty smile.

Before she started hacking, she needed to stress-test the hardware's latency. She clicked on the icon for Hero, the most popular competitive esports game in the world.

The dramatic orchestral music of the login screen blasted through her speakers. Zero's fingers flew across the keys, bypassing the registration limits.

She typed in a brand new ID that was about to terrorize the entire server.

Spade Z.