[Status]
[Name: Zoey]
[Sex: Female]
[Body: 3.0]
[Mental: 3.7]
[Magic: 3.5]
[Skills: 17]
[Zoey's Victorious Boxing Lv13] [Focus Lv13] [Teaching Maxed] [Abnormal Conditions Maxed] [Endurance Maxed] [Fighting Aura Maxed] [Gaming Lv20] [Mahna Manipulation Maxed] [Combo Magji Maxed] [Twisting Force Maxed] [Mahna Gathering Bomb Maxed] [Overdraft Maxed] [Dash Lv2] [Flexibility Lv2] [Friends of the Oppressed Maxed] [Meditation Lv2] [First-Aid Lv2]
Zoey closed the Box and took a sip of her choco milk.
Body at 3.0. Three months ago, she was at 0.9 and struggling with weights that professional women weightlifters used. Now she was back to being stronger than any normal human had a right to be. Not where she used to be. Not even close to the 20 she'd had before Poison's bullshit stripped everything away. But 3.0 was enough to feel like herself again. Enough to hit hard without Overdraft, move fast without burning gates, and train without her body screaming at her after every session.
The eighth gate nearly killed her. Endurance saved her life, just like it did when she fell from space. The recovery took two weeks of barely being able to move, Gloria fussing over her injuries while Alicia stood in the doorway with her arms crossed asking why her daughter was bedridden and not liking her answer. But Overdraft's gift was that it broke the body down and rebuilt it stronger. Two weeks of hell, followed by a body that had jumped from 0.9 to 2.1 overnight. The rest came from training.
Magic at 3.5. Opening five gates in Brimton and then forcing all eight open for the leap home had scorched her mahna pathways raw. When they healed, they healed wider. Her mahna reserves were fuller than they'd been since the reset, and four of her skills had hit their ceiling over the course of time. Fighting Aura, Mahna Manipulation, and Mahna Gathering Bomb all maxed out in the span of a few days because nothing levels up combat skills faster than actual combat against real opponents who are trying to kill you.
'We're getting there,' Inner Zoey said with satisfaction.
'Slowly.'
'Faster than last time, actually. Took us way longer to hit 3.0 the first time around.'
'That's because the first time around, we weren't leaping across the country with eight magji gates open on a body weak as shit.'
'Fair point.'
Zoey finished her choco milk and set the glass in the sink. From the kitchen, she could hear her mother in the living room.
"Everett, if you don't get your feet off my coffee table, I will remove them from your body and use them as bookends."
"Mom, we can buy a new table."
"Feet. Off. Now."
"Yes ma'am." He groaned.
Alicia Winters had been awake for three weeks and had already reclaimed control of the household like she'd never left. The guest room was no longer a hospital room. The medical equipment had been returned, Gloria had been thanked and sent home with a bonus out of Zoey's personal pockets, and the IV stand had been replaced by a vase of flowers that Alicia had picked out herself because "if I have to look at one more piece of medical equipment, I'm going to throw it through a window."
She was thinner than before the coma. The months of unconsciousness had taken thickness that would take time to rebuild. But Alicia was Alicia. She was walking within three days of waking up. Cooking within a week. Being unable to speak at a normal volume level within two.
The scar on her throat was a thin line that she didn't bother hiding. When Bruce tried to bring it up gently one evening, she'd looked at him and said "I got my throat cut by a daemon and I'm still here. What's there to talk about?" That was the end of that conversation.
"Zoey!" Alicia's voice carried from the living room. The voice that could make memories from Zoey's past surface and cause her to jump in her heart from any room in the house. "Come here!"
Zoey walked into the living room. Everett was on the couch with his feet now firmly on the floor, scrolling through his phone. Alicia was in the armchair that had somehow become her throne in the three weeks since she'd reclaimed consciousness. She had a cup of something in one hand and her phone in the other, which she was still learning to use properly because apparently three months of technology updates were enough to confuse a woman who already had a combative relationship with anything that had a touchscreen.
"What?"
"Who is Jamie?"
Zoey's face did something involuntary. A micro-expression. A twitch.
"He's the guy who drove me home. You met him."
"I know who he is. I'm asking who he is to you. Because Callie told me you've been 'hanging out' with him almost every week since I woke up, and the way she said 'hanging out' had quotation marks around it that I could hear through the phone."
"Callie talks too much."
"Callie talks exactly the right amount. Answer the question."
"He's a friend."
"A friend." Alicia sipped her tea. "A friend who drives you to restaurants. A friend who bought tickets to your last qualifier fight. A friend who texts you good morning every day. That's a very dedicated friend, Zoey."
"How do you know he texts me good morning?"
"Because you smile at your phone every morning at the same time and you've never smiled at your phone before in your life." Alicia's eyebrow rose. "You're going out with him."
"I'm not going out with him. We just hang out."
"Baby, I was in a coma for months, not born yesterday."
Everett was pretending to be on his phone but snickering softly. Zoey glared at her brother.
"It's not like that, Mom."
"Mmhm." Alicia's "mmhm" was the most dangerous sound in the English language. It meant she didn't believe a word you said but was choosing to let you dig your own grave at your own pace. "Well, when it does become 'like that,' I expect to meet him properly. Not covered in blood at one in the morning while I'm waking up from a coma."
"You already met him."
"That doesn't count and you know it."
"Ughhhh." Zoey retreated to the kitchen before her mother could extract any more information. Her phone buzzed. A text from Katlyn.
did your mom ask about Jamie yet lol
Then one from Callie right after.
we told her EVERYTHING zoey. everything. the way you look at him. the way you laugh at his jokes. the way you
Zoey closed her phone.
'Bitches,' Inner Zoey grumbled.
'They're our best friends.'
'Bitches who happen to be our best friends.'
Her phone buzzed again. Jamie.
good morning!! hope training goes well today. i'll be watching the qualifier broadcast tonight. you're gonna crush it!!
Zoey stared at the message. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. She typed "thanks" and then deleted it. Typed "appreciate it" and deleted that too. Typed a smiley face, looked at it with disgust, and deleted it. Finally she typed:
thanks jamie. i'll try not to embarrass myself
His response was instant.
impossible!! you're the devil!! the devil doesn't get embarrassed!! she embarrasses other people!! that's literally your whole thing!!
Zoey put her phone face-down on the counter and pressed her hands against her cheeks because they were warm and that was fucking embarassing.
…
The call to Prometheus was short.
"Do you need anything from me?" Zoey asked, sitting on the back porch with her legs hanging off the edge.
"Not at the moment. The Luminaurora branch has been cooperative since the daemon summit. The human contacts are progressing slower, but that was expected. Changing centuries of secrecy and hatred doesn't happen in months." Prometheus's voice was calm as always. "Your presence at the last meeting was appreciated, even if you spent most of it threatening the Viperian delegate."
"He was being difficult."
"He was negotiating."
"Same thing."
"It is not the same thing, Zoey."
"Whatever. If you need someone convinced, call me."
"I will keep that offer in mind. Though I suspect your definition of 'convincing' involves more violence than mine."
"Potatoes, potatoes."
She could almost hear him smiling on the other end. "Focus on your tournament. The work will be here when you're ready."
"Yeah yeah."
The unification project was moving. Slowly, frustratingly, with more meetings and discussions and negotiations than Zoey had the patience for. But it was moving. Daemons, humans, and magjistars sitting at the same table, talking instead of killing each other. It was incredibly similar to what Poison was doing. Except Zoey wasn't doing anything illegal, violent, or dangerous. Not including what magjistars thought of it. Prometheus was doing it with conversation and lots of moolah. Zoey's contribution was standing in the corner of meetings looking intimidating enough that nobody tried to derail the process or going after people who can't keep their mouths shut.
It worked for her. She didn't need to be the leader. She just needed to make sure nobody fucked it up.
…
The baby came on a Tuesday.
Zoey was in the middle of a training session at the gym when Everett's text came through. Three words. ALL CAPS. Seventeen exclamation points.
SHE'S IN LABOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Zoey dropped her gloves and ran.
By the time she got to the hospital, the Sinclair family had already taken over an entire wing. That was apparently what happened when a Sinclair had a baby. The hallway outside the maternity ward had been cleared of other visitors, and Zoey suspected that wasn't a coincidence. Two members of the Sinclair household stood at either end of the corridor with the posture of people who were there to make sure things went smoothly whether the hospital agreed to it or not.
Lucus Sinclair was standing near the window at the end of the hall, his phone to his ear, conducting some kind of business that apparently couldn't wait for his grandchild to be born. Peak A-Grade magjistar, patriarch of one of the most powerful magji families in the world, and he was on a conference call. His presence alone made the air in the hallway feel heavier. Even the hospital staff gave him a wide berth when they passed, sensing something about him that they couldn't name but their instincts understood perfectly.
Charlotte Sinclair sat in one of the waiting chairs with a book in her lap that she wasn't reading. Her eyes occasionally flicked toward the delivery room door.
The Winters side was smaller but louder. Alicia was sitting in a chair with her arms crossed and her foot tapping, nervously. Bruce was beside her, calm as always, his long frame folded into a hospital chair that was too small for him. He had his hand on Alicia's knee, which was the only thing keeping her from worrying harder.
"Where's Everett?" Zoey asked as she burst in.
"In there with Elizabeth." Bruce pointed toward the delivery room. "He's been trying to keep himself from screaming alongside his wife because she's crushing his hand."
"Is she okay?"
"She'll be fine." Alicia said this with absolute conviction.
From behind the delivery room door, Zoey could hear Elizabeth's voice. Not screaming exactly. More like a constant stream of profanity directed at everyone and everything in the room. Nurses, doctors, Everett, the bed, the ceiling, God, and the concept of childbirth itself. Zoey caught fragments through the door.
"EVERETT WINTERS, IF YOU TELL ME TO BREATHE ONE MORE FUCKING TIME, I SWEAR TO..."
"She's been like that for an hour," Bruce reported.
"That's my daughter-in-law." Alicia sounded genuinely proud despite not liking her at first.
Lucus finished his call and pocketed his phone. He turned and noticed Zoey. They acknowledged each other. Lucus had never fully warmed to the Winters family, but he'd stopped threatening Everett's life about a year ago, which was progress.
"Zoey." Lucus nodded once.
"Lucus." Zoey nodded back.
That was the extent of their conversation.
Two hours later, the door opened, and Everett walked out holding his son.
His face was awkward as hell. Zoey burst out laughing at the sight. He didn't know how to properly hold the baby. He didn't know what to do with his face. And he looked like he was begging for someone to take the baby from him so that he could go back into his default stance.
He was tiny. A small wrinkled bundle in a blue blanket with a face that was scrunched up like he was already unimpressed with everything outside the womb. He had Elizabeth's nose and Everett's complexion and a full head of dark hair that stuck up in every direction.
Alicia stood up first. She crossed the room, looked down at her grandson, and her entire face changed. The tough woman, the no-nonsense mother, the woman who could make grown adults flinch with a look, melted. Her hand came up and her fingers touched the baby's cheek so gently it was like she was afraid he'd break.
"Oh," Alicia said softly.
Bruce appeared behind her and looked at the baby over her shoulder. His eyes were shining. He put his arm around Alicia and the two of them just stood there, looking at the newest member of their family.
Charlotte rose from her chair and approached. The book was gone. The composure was still there but something behind it had shifted. She looked at the baby with a gentle smile. She touched the baby's hand with one finger and the baby's tiny fist closed around it.
"He's precious," Charlotte said softly. "Good grip."
Lucus was last. He walked over calmly. Looked down at his grandson, and went completely still.
"He has the Sinclair forehead," Lucus said, his voice oddly tight.
"He has the Winters eyes," Alicia countered immediately.
Lucus and Alicia looked at each other. For one tense second, Zoey thought the two most stubborn people she'd ever met were about to get into an argument over a newborn's facial features. Then Lucus's mouth twitched. Alicia's eyebrow rose. Some kind of unspoken truce was reached between two grandparents who would spend the next eighteen years competing for this child's affection and they both knew it.
When the rotation reached Zoey, Everett placed his son in her arms.
"Support his head," Everett instructed.
"I know how to hold a baby."
"You've never held a baby."
"I held you when you were a baby, little dork." She told him.
The baby looked up at her with unfocused eyes that didn't know what they were looking at yet. He yawned. A tiny, full-body yawn that made his entire face scrunch up and his little fists clench.
'Holy shit,' Inner Zoey whispered. 'He's so small and ugly.'
'Lol, you don't call babies ugly bro what the fuck.'
'He is though. Looks like an ugly little grandpa.'
'Oh my god, you're about to make us laugh like a lunatic. Shut the fuck up.'
'We could crush him so fucking easily, bro.'
'Why would you say that?!'
'I'm just saying! We definitely gotta toughen him up when he's old enough to train.'
'No shit! Especially since we're making headway with the unification plan.'
Zoey looked down at her nephew and felt something she didn't have a name for settle into her chest. Something softer than anything she carried in the ring or the magji world.
"Hey, little dude," she said quietly. "I'm your aunt Zoey. And nobody is ever going to hurt you."
She meant it. With every stat point, every maxed skill, every scar on her body and every fight she'd survived, she meant it.
…
The Olympic finals were two weeks away.
Zoey's run through the trials had been exactly what the boxing world expected from the Devil. Dominant, entertaining, and increasingly difficult to argue against. After the Yuki fight, she'd torn through three more opponents in the qualifying rounds. Each fight was cleaner than the last. Despite her body being three times stronger than the average person she still held back and fought with a normal woman's strength.
She was the favorite going in. Not just for Amerika, but overall. The international boxing community had been watching the Devil's rise through the trials with a mix of fascination and horror. Social media was split between people who genuinely believed she was the greatest female boxer of her generation and people who thought she was a menace to the sport. Both were right.
Angelica had her schedule packed. Interviews, promotional events, sponsorship meetings. Zoey did whatever gave her the most money and let Angelica handle the rest. The Devil showed up when the cameras were on. Zoey showed up for whatever she needed to. Unifying three different races with one of the races being completely unaware of the other two was not cheap.
Two weeks. And then the whole world would be watching.
'We're about to become the king of fucking Amerika.' Inner Zoey asked.
'Queen? Queen! Hello?!'
'King sounds cooler though, you dumb bitch.'
'You're a dumb bitch….'