Investing In Overlooked Women: I Get Cashback On Every Glow-Up

Even Angelo, who usually kept to himself and barely said a word, held up his jersey with a rare, bright smile. ”The material feels amazing... and the stitching is super clean,” he mumbled, genuinely admiring the craft.

We all headed down to the private photography studio on the second floor, where a team of stylists, hair artists, and makeup pros went to work on the squad. I stood off to the side, fairly nonchalant about the whole process—I honestly wasn’t sure why I needed to be in front of the camera in the first place, considering I was behind the scenes. But Tiana insisted on getting a few shots of me alongside the team for the official corporate launch.

We ran through a series of individual portraits, full squad lineup poses, and moody lighting setups. Once the photographers wrapped, we left the heavy lifting of the official reveal campaign to Zenith’s marketing department and headed back up to our floor.

While we were grabbing drinks in the lounge, Amanda pulled out her phone, snapped a candid, high-quality group photo of all four of them in their fresh gear, and posted it directly to her personal socials.

”Check this out,” she said a few minutes later, holding up her screen with a smirk. ”It’s already going viral.”

The engagement numbers were blowing up fast, but as we scrolled down, the mood in the room shifted. Amanda’s caption read:

”Fresh fit. Fresh team. Meet your future regional tournament winners. #ZenithEsports”

The bold claim sparked immediate outrage across the competitive community. Because Zenith was a brand-new squad stepping onto the scene without a single official match under their belt, rival teams and fans started piling into the comments with heavy backlash.

”Who do these kids think they are?”

”Zero official matches and already talking about taking the crown?”

”They’re getting bounced out in round one.”

Then came the heavy hitters. TitanSkell—the undisputed three-time regional champions and the absolute top team in the circuit—quote-tweeted Amanda’s post.

Their team captain simply replied:

”Enjoy the cool jerseys. We’re going to crush you on stage in six days. Welcome to the real league.”

”Well,” Piercer drawled, leaning against the counter and taking a slow sip of her drink, her eyes narrowing at her phone. ”Looks like we just put a massive target on our backs.”

NightEye swallowed hard, looking at the thousands of likes on TitanSkell’s callout. ”Uh... Amanda, did you really have to call us the future winners?”

Amanda just grinned, her eyes flashing with pure competitive fire. ”Why not? If we aren’t here to take the whole thing, we shouldn’t even be on that stage. Let them talk.”

I left the squad to handle the online noise and headed over to my corner desk, pulling up TitanSkell’s match archives on my dual monitors. If we were going to secure that $20M payout, I needed to make sure my investment didn’t crash and burn against the undisputed champs.

I spent hours dissecting their VODs from the last three tournament runs. TitanSkell was undeniably lethal—crisp crosshair placement, flawless trading, and a punishingly aggressive execute style. But as I scrubbed through their closest series, a distinct pattern emerged.

Almost every time they were pushed into a tight corner, down on match point in the dying minutes, TitanSkell would pull off an absurd, table-flipping comeback. It was practically their signature move—sudden, impossible rotations and uncanny blind-prefires that completely swung the momentum.

I paused a clip, slowing it down to 0.5x speed. Something about those late-game clutch moments pricked at my instincts.

The way their anchor snapped onto target through smoke during a high-stress 1v3 didn’t look like standard high-level game sense. It was almost too precise, like a subtle snap-to-target that only activated under specific conditions.

”Hmm...” I murmured, leaning closer to the screen.

It was suspicious, but high-tier pros were known for insane mouse control, and I didn’t have solid proof—just a gut feeling and a few weird frames of footage. I couldn’t accuse a three-time champion team without concrete evidence, but I couldn’t ignore it either.

I saved the clips into a private folder on my desktop, closing the video player as the squad walked back in from the break.

Whatever TitanSkell was pulling off in those clutch moments, we were going to be ready for them.

Two days passed in a blur of endless scrims, VOD reviews, and relentless target practice.

I was chilling in the massage chair, letting the rollers work on my shoulders while listening to the rapid clatter of mechanical keyboards across the room. Suddenly, the usual background chatter cut out. Piercer was completely silent—no grumbling, no snarky comments, nothing.

A second later, NightEye let out a loud, ecstatic cheer, slamming her hands down on her desk.

”YES! LET’S GO!” she yelled, jumping out of her seat.

I sat up in the chair with a smirk. NightEye had finally done it. She had just taken down Piercer in a 1v1 set, clutching out the final round to seal a tight 5-4 victory. Her patience and trigger discipline had finally paid off against Piercer’s hyper-aggressive style.

Piercer just leaned back, running a hand through her hair and staring at her defeat screen with a mixture of disbelief and quiet respect. ”Fine... nice patience, replacement.”

I glanced over at the other setup to check on Angelo and Amanda. Angelo hadn’t quite managed to beat the captain yet, but the scoreline on their screen read 5-4 in Amanda’s favor. He was pushing her to absolute limits now, taking her to match point and forcing her to play dead serious to keep her streak alive.

Amanda wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead, letting out a breath as she looked at her younger cousin. ”You almost had me on that last site push, Angelo. Your retakes are getting dangerous.”

Luna was still undisputed as the team’s top gun, but the gap had narrowed drastically. The squad was finally clicking into place—and with only four days left until the qualifiers, TitanSkell was in for a serious surprise.