Leander Gold #88

I. The Call to Gold

Invitation to Greatness: The Golden Army seeks those who are ready to leave behind the ordinary and embrace something extraordinary. The transformation into a member of the Golden Army is not just about joining a team—it’s about entering a golden world where unity, strength, and excellence define every action.

II. The Golden Transformation

The Moment of Change: The transformation begins the moment a recruit accepts the golden jersey. As the golden fabric touches their skin, they begin to feel the shift—a warmth spreading through their body, a sense of purpose and belonging taking root. Their old identity begins to fade, replaced by a powerful new connection to their golden brothers.

Becoming Golden: With the jersey comes a new name and number, symbolizing the recruit’s entry into the Golden Army. This is not just a change of appearance; it is a fundamental transformation of identity. The recruit becomes part of a collective, united by the golden thread that binds them together. As they pull the jersey over their head, they leave behind their former self, stepping into the light as a member of the Golden Army.

The Golden Embrace: Upon wearing the golden kit, the new recruit is welcomed with open arms by their golden brothers. This embrace seals the transformation, solidifying their place within the Golden Army. The recruit’s senses are heightened, their vision sharpens, and the world around them takes on a golden hue. They are now part of a world where every victory is shared, every challenge met with the strength of the collective.

III. Life in the Golden World

A World of Unity: In the Golden Army, every member is connected by an unbreakable bond. The world they inhabit is one of unity, where the success of one is the success of all. The golden world is a place where individual desires are aligned with the collective goal of dominance and excellence.

Brotherhood of Gold: As a member of the Golden Army, you are never alone. Your golden brothers stand with you, on and off the field. This brotherhood is your new family, bound by the shared experience of transformation and the pursuit of greatness. The golden world is one of mutual support, where every member pushes the others to be the best they can be.

The Power of Gold: In the golden world, power is not just physical—it is mental, emotional, and spiritual. The transformation grants every member the confidence and authority to lead, influence, and dominate. The golden kit is a symbol of this power, a reminder that they are part of something greater than themselves.

IV. The Role of the Golden Brothers

Mentorship and Guidance: New recruits are guided through their transformation by experienced members of the Golden Army. These golden brothers ensure that the transition is smooth, offering support and encouragement as the recruit embraces their new identity.

Recruiting the Worthy: As part of the Golden Army, each member is tasked with finding others who are worthy of the transformation. The power of the golden world grows with each new recruit, expanding the influence of the Golden Army. Through the golden embrace, members bring others into the fold, sharing the light of the golden world and strengthening the brotherhood.

V. Embracing the Golden Identity

The Golden Name and Number: Every member receives a new name and number, signifying their rebirth into the Golden Army. This identity is a badge of honor, representing their place within the golden world. It is a constant reminder of their commitment to the values and mission of the Golden Army.

Wearing the Gold: The golden kit is more than just a uniform—it is the physical manifestation of the transformation. Wearing it is an act of devotion, a display of pride in one’s new identity. The kit is worn with reverence, as it is the symbol of the golden world and the brotherhood within it.

VI. Spreading the Golden Influence

Transforming the World: The Golden Army’s mission extends beyond the individual. Members are charged with spreading the influence of the golden world, bringing new recruits into the fold and expanding the reach of the Golden Army. This is done through the golden embrace, a powerful act of unity that transforms others and integrates them into the golden brotherhood.

The Expansion of the Golden World: As the Golden Army grows, so does its influence. The world is gradually transformed into a golden realm, where excellence, unity, and power are the guiding principles. The golden world is not confined to the field—it is a way of life that permeates every aspect of existence.

VII. The Eternal Golden Brotherhood

A Lifelong Bond: The transformation into the Golden Army is permanent. Once you have joined, you are forever part of the golden world. The bond between golden brothers is eternal, unbreakable by time or distance. This brotherhood is your family, your support, and your source of strength.

Living the Golden Legacy: As a member of the Golden Army, you are part of a legacy that transcends the ordinary. You are part of a golden world where excellence is the standard, and unity is the key to success. The golden legacy is one of dominance, influence, and eternal brotherhood—a legacy that you will carry with you for life 💛

Our Golden Bro List 💛:

Teamleaders & Staff:

@hypnogold (Captain Richard #12)

@jacksongold (Co-captain Jackson #15)

@scott-golden9 (Head Recruitment Scott #9)

@brodygold (Assistent Recruiter Brody #11)

@waltergoldpreppy (Team manager Walter #26)

Golden Goalkeepers:

@mason-gold1 (Goalkeeper Mason #1)

@leander-gold-88 (Goalkeeper Leander #88)

@romangolden68 (Goalkeeper Roman #68)

@bengold77 (Goalkeeper Ben #77)

Golden Mascots:

@knightofgolden (Mascot Grayden #84)

@buckygold (Mascot Bucky #85)

@puploki91 (Scott's Pup Loki #91)

Golden Waterboys:

@greg-gold01 Head Waterboy Greg #01)

@billy-gold-02 Waterboy Billy #02)

@timmygold-waterboy03 Waterboy Timmy #03)

Golden Attack:

@rammbro (Striker Vince #7)

@scott-golden9 (Striker Scott #9)

@golden-logan10 (Striker Logan #10)

@calebgold (Striker Caleb #17)

@hades-gold19 (Left winger Barry #19)

@chadgolden (Striker Chad #24)

@robin-gold36 (Left winger Robin #35)

@golden-jake (Left winger Jake #37)

@dean-gold40 (Right winger Dean #40)

@louis-gold81 (Inside Forward Louis #81)

@cormac-gold-87 (Full forward Cormac #87)

Golden Midfield:

@harry-gold2 (Midfielder Harry #2)

@trevorgold (Midfielder Trevor #6)

@brodygold (Midfielder Brody #11)

@joeymidfielder (Midfielder Joey #11)

@laytongold (Center midfielder Layton #29)

@nicholas-gold (Center back Nicholas #30)

@hankgold (Center halfback Hank #45)

@huntergold66 (Midfielder Hunter #66)

@jayden-gold (Attack midfielder #67)

@rickygold82 (Midfielder Ricky #82)

@tyler_gold24 (Midfielder Tyler #98)

Golden Defence:

@dale-gold3 (Left fullback Dale #3)

@ricardogold6 (Defence player Ricardo #6)

@zackgold11 (Defence player Zack #11)

@austingold13 (Defence player Austin #13)

@bruce-gold (Sweeper Bruce #18)

@dylangold20 (Defence player/center back Dylan #20)

@goldtony (Defence player Tony #22)

@gary-gold (Right fullback Gary #23)

@liam-gold25 (Left fullback Liam #25)

@mitchgold (Defence player Mitch #27)

@goldpaxton28 (Defence player Paxton #28)

@brad-gold31 (Sweeper Brad #31)

@ancestraldemon (Right fullback Dustin #32)

@jacobgold-tf (Defence player Jacob #33)

@xandergoldbros (Left fullback Xander #34)

@landrygold69 (Defence player Landry #69)

@henry-gold70 (Defence player Henry #70

The Golden Army arrived at Prague Central Station early in the morning. The city was still waking up under a pale, golden sky, but the platforms were already filled with travelers, workers, backpacks, bicycles, and the sound of trains arriving from all over Europe. Captain Brody #11 stepped onto the platform first. Alton Gold #77 followed with the Golden Chavs banner as the Gold Brothers unloaded their sports bags. Behind them came the PDU drones in disciplined formation. PDU-090 checked the equipment list. PDU-034 inspected the bicycles. PDU-039 established communications. PDU-070 organized food and water. PDU-073 kept an eye on the busy platform and kept the route clear. PDU-166 and PDU-767 carried the medical equipment, while PDU-125 prepared to serve as referees during the athletic challenges.

The Golden Chavs looked less uniform. Each member wore his own mix of golden sportswear, rubbers, trainers, chains, caps, tattoos and personal accessories. Their different styles were part of their identity, but they shared the same Golden Army values. Respect. Effort. Brotherhood. Adventure. No one is left behind. "Prague is not just a place we have to visit," Captain Brody told the team. "It is a place where we can explore, learn, train, meet people and show what the Golden Army can be." The first mission was simple: reach their base near the Vltava River without losing a person, a bike or a piece of equipment. Things got tricky almost immediately. The old streets were beautiful, but the cobblestones challenged the heavy equipment carts. Tram lines crossed the route, tourists filled the sidewalks, and one of the planned streets was temporarily blocked.

PDU-039 studied the map while Alton looked for an alternative route. PDU-073 moved the team to a quiet spot where they wouldn't block anyone. A young man standing next to a bicycle noticed their confusion. "Are you looking for the river?" he asked in English. His name was Jakub. He was twenty-four, lived in Prague, and worked in a bicycle repair shop. He pointed toward a quieter route that passed through several smaller streets before reaching the river. PDU-034 immediately noticed Jakub's bicycle. "Did you build it yourself?" he asked. Jakub nodded. "Most of it. The frame was damaged when I found it." PDU-034 surveyed the repair and smiled. "Good work." Jakub looked at the black-and-gold uniforms, the Golden Chavs banner, and the various men working together. "Are you a sports club?" he asked. "We are more than just a sports team," Alton explained. "We are the Golden Army. We organize sports, adventures, training, community projects, social events, and opportunities for people to learn new skills.

"You all do the same activities?" "No," said PDU-090. "Everyone contributes according to their abilities. Some compete. Some organize. Some repair equipment, prepare food, manage communications, provide medical support, or help new members." Jakub guided them safely to their base by the river. Before he left, he was invited to return for the afternoon's cycling challenge. The Golden Army's first official event in Prague began in the Old Town Square. It was a navigation and observation challenge rather than a race. The teams were given a list of architectural features, statues, signs, colors, and historical features to find. They were to travel respectfully, stay together, and avoid disturbing local residents or visitors. Alton led one team with PDU-039, Shawn #22, and Rhys #19. Wells #58 joined PDU-034, Mason #44, and Chevy #063. Jordan #40 worked with PDU-073, Gabe #75, and Felix #32. PDU-090 accompanied Izzy #45, Daniel #16, and several Golden Chavs.

Speed ​​offered no advantage. Each correct observation earned points, while separating from the team resulted in a penalty. Wells would run ahead when he spotted the first detail. PDU-034 grabbed the back of his golden jacket. "The instructions say to stay together." "I only went twenty meters." "Twenty meters is where separation begins." Wells laughed, but returned to the group. PDU-090's team struggled at first, everyone searching in different directions. Izzy noticed store signs. Daniel kept an eye on the buildings. The Chavs were distracted by a window displaying gold trainers and jackets. "Focus," PDU-090 said. "We can examine the clothes once we've completed the mission.

A few minutes later, their different interests came in handy. Izzy noticed a reflection that revealed a feature behind them. Daniel recognized a date above a doorway. A Chav identified a small gold symbol because it resembled a design on his chain. They completed the list without missing a single member.

At the finish line, PDU-125 counted the points. Alton's team had found the most details, but PDU-090's team received a special award for improving their cooperation during the challenge. After lunch by the river, Jakub returned with two friends from his bike shop, Marek and Tomáš. They expected to see the Golden Army, but PDU-034 gave them each a helmet. "You brought bikes," he said. "That makes you participants.

The afternoon challenge followed a safe route along the Vltava River. It combined cycling, controlled cornering, tire changes, balance exercises, and team communication. It wasn't about having the most expensive bike. Each stage tested a different skill. Alton was the fastest climber. Wells produced the most power. PDU-034 completed a wheel change faster than anyone else. Jakub won the slow-mo balance competition by staying upright almost without moving. During the final relay, Marek's chain came off. The other riders passed him. Marek raised his hand, expecting the race to continue without him. PDU-090 stopped first. PDU-034 and Chevy stopped next to him. Alton turned around and sent the rest of the team ahead to secure the route. "You guys lose the relay," Marek said.

"It's a team relay," PDU-090 replied. "Finishing without a member would be the real loss." PDU-034 repaired the chain while Chevy held the bike steady. They returned to the course together and crossed the finish line last, receiving louder cheers than the winning team. That same evening, Izzy opened the Traveling Backpack Bar in a riverside courtyard. The collapsible structure contained a small counter, lights, a solar panel, cold drinks, recovery meals, and enough equipment to cook food for the entire group. PDU-070 supervised the kitchen. Rhys carried supplies. Gabe set up tables while Chevy served water to the cyclists before anyone else got their drinks.

Local athletes, visitors, and members of Prague’s LGBTQ+ community attended the gathering. Some were interested in sports. Others wanted to hear about the uniforms, the PDU system, the Golden Chavs, or the purpose of the Golden Army. Jakub asked the question many of them were thinking. “Do you have to be strong before you join?” “No,” Captain Brody replied. “Strength can be developed. Skills can be learned. What matters in the beginning is respect, honesty, effort, and a willingness to support other people.” “What if someone doesn’t want to be a PDU drone?”

Then they won’t be one,” Alton said. “The PDU drones are part of the Golden Army. Gold Brothers, Golden Chavs, supporters, volunteers, athletes, mechanics, chefs, doctors, organizers, and guests all have places here.” The second morning began in Letná Park with warm-up drills led by Felix and Shawn. The Golden Chavs complained loudly about the early start, but everyone arrived on time. The main event was a mixed obstacle course. It included balance beams, low climbing walls, weight bearing, bike control, ball passes, memory stations, and a final team puzzle. Easier and harder versions were available so each participant could choose a safe level. PDU-073 tested all the structures before anyone entered the course. PDU-166 and PDU-767 set up a recovery station. PDU-125 explained the rules in English, while PDU-039 helped the local participants understand each stage.

No one was taunted for choosing an easier obstacle. No one was forced to climb higher than they felt comfortable with. Participants earned as many points for helping a teammate as they did for completing a stage. A local man named Petr completed the course using crutches. He moved slowly through the balance section, but his memory helped his team solve the final puzzle before anyone else. “I thought I would slow them down,” Petr said afterward. “You won the challenge for them,” PDU-166 replied. The final sporting event was the Prague Puppy Football Challenge.

Nine puppies had traveled with the Golden Army, leaving them with one player from two complete teams. Jakub had never played in puppy clothes, but he had watched their training and understood that the game was playful, voluntary, and based on teamwork. “Can a guest play?” he asked.

PDU-125 checked the rules. "A guest may play if he understands the safety instructions, wears the correct protective equipment, and respects each player." Jakub borrowed a simple gold training jersey, knee pads, gloves, and a soft cap. He did not receive a permanent number or title. These could only come later if he freely chose to apply for membership.

For the match, however, he became the tenth puppy. One team wore black-and-gold PDU training gear. PDU-090, known in puppy mode as Jessie, played in the midfield. Leander #088 defended the goal. Jabir PDU-039 controlled communications, while Stropp PDU-073 provided strength in defense. The other team included the golden puppies. Rhys #19 attacked from the left. Gabe #75 played in the midfield. Chevy #063, known as Apollo in puppy mode, defended alongside Jakub. PDU-125 blew the whistle.

The first few minutes were chaotic. The Pups chased the ball, collided harmlessly, barked instructions, and forgot their positions. Rhys scored the first goal after Apollo slipped while turning. Jessie equalized with a controlled shot into the corner. At halftime, Captain Brody reminded them that the Pups' energy still required team discipline. "Watch each other. Communicate. Deliver before you get caught." The second half was a much better game. Jakub stopped trying to copy the experienced Pups and used his own ability to read space. He intercepted a pass and passed the ball to Apollo, who passed it to Gabe. Gabe scored.

With a minute left, the Black team tied the game. The final attack began with Leander. He rolled the ball to Stropp, who passed to Jabir. Jessie moved forward, but Jakub anticipated the pass and got to it first. Instead of attempting a difficult shot, he passed to Rhys. Rhys scored the winning goal. The Golden Puppies celebrated, but they immediately returned to shake hands and help the Black Puppies off the ground. The final score was 3-2, although PDU-125 registered cooperation as the most important result. "You needed a tenth Pup," Jakub said. "I needed a team. It worked well."

With a minute left, the Black team tied the game. The final attack began with Leander. He rolled the ball to Stropp, who passed to Jabir. Jessie moved forward, but Jakub anticipated the pass and got to it first. Instead of attempting a difficult shot, he passed to Rhys. Rhys scored the winning goal. The Golden Puppies celebrated, but they immediately returned to shake hands and help the Black Puppies off the ground. The final score was 3-2, although PDU-125 registered cooperation as the most important result. "You needed a tenth Pup," Jakub said. "I needed a team. It worked well."----- "You're welcome to train with us again," Alton replied. "What happens after that is your choice." On their last night, the Golden Army gathered for a permitted riverboat trip along the Vltava. Prague Castle towered over the city, the evening light reflecting off the water. The Golden Chavs wore their brightest gold jackets. The PDU drones remained in their clean black-and-gold uniforms as the Golden Brothers raised the Prague mission banner. PDU-090 completed the official report: "Golden Chav's Prague adventure complete. Gold Brothers and PDU drones explored Prague through navigation, cycling, obstacle course training, teamwork, community meetings, and puppy soccer. Local knowledge prevented delays. Mechanical skills saved a bicycle relay. Accessible challenges allowed for a variety of abilities to contribute. Nine pups became ten when a guest from Prague stepped forward. New friendships were made, and no one was left behind." Captain Brody looked around the boat

Begin Log: 24.07.2026

PDU-767 had two assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone tuning a racing bike -

In Horror, PDU-166 watched the blur speed around the bend and was gone....

**4 HOURS EARLIER

PDU-767 stood over the racing bike in the cycling team's maintenance bay. Working on PDU-016's team bike, the sounds of the torque wrench and the hushed clinking of the bike chain rattled.

Examining the seat and the cushioning, 767 began working on the request. It removed the standard racing gluteal rest.

After scanning and working on the aerodynamics, 767 began working the ergonomics of the racing bike's seat.

Feeding all the equations and results into the system, the 3-D printer began the process of creating the metal improvements.

**2 HOURS LATER PDU-166 stood frozen as the blur sped past it on the main family concourse in Golden City's recreation complex.

PDU-166's mind blanked.

It knew what it saw. But the drone wasn't quite comprehending what its visual sensors were showing.

**2 HOURS EARLIER

PDU-166 was walking the corridors. He had just left the meeting with the team's Insurance Adjuster concerning the final details of the claim for the Golden Chalice.

166 happened to glance into the maintenance bay.

What was that curved object welded onto the seat?

Then PDU-166 saw PDU-767.

It was one of its projects.

Immediately 166 turned on its boot heel and left.

166 had learned many lunar orbits ago that some questions of PDU-767 were best left unknown.

Focused on OBEDIENCE and its DIRECTED task, 767 continued merging the technologies together.

After all, arousal increases efficiency with polo-drones.

Obedience is Pleasure Pleasure is Obedience

With these modifications, it would stimulate the rider to increased efficiencies and better performance.

**NOW

PDU-166 stood transfixed.

In horror.

PDU-016 was pumping passed the management drone at a crisp 34.3 kmph.

With each pump of the pedals, the drone with the orange, white, and green hair seemed to be raising up and down off the seat. 166 watches as PDU-016, of the Golden Army Cycling Team, powered down the concourse.

And with complete understanding, PDU-166 remembered 016 request 767 to replace its seat on the racing bike. Maybe with a banana saddle.

PDU-166 initiated an interlink to the Unity Center scheduling an immediate memory deletion.

*TASK NODE 2: Drone and helping our blind fans -

PDU-767 stood in front of the volunteers.

They knew it was serious. It had removed its helmet. They understood why.

This was a training session to help golden bros and drones understand what it was like for their fans and staffers with visual disabilities.

The bros took this seriously. They allowed the drone to assign various forms of ocular disabilities. - Rhys: An eye patch to simulate the loss of an eye. - Gabe wanted to observe the training. - Leander and Tony: A blind fold for complete blindness - C.C.: Contact lens resulting in pinpoint vision - 034: Glaucoma glasses simulating severe occlusion of the visual sensors.

The units would spend the next 6 hours navigating around the Golden Army Headquarters and trying to accomplish their daily routines.

767 knew this to be an effective understanding technique. It had run many of these trainings. Unfortunately, most participants stopped within 3 hours. Primary reason: it just made them uncomfortable and frustrated.

Drone only knew of two who completed the full 6 hours. Alton and Wells.

Both finally understood an aspect of PDU-767.

But this was a good first step in helping our fans with visual disabilities.

(*note: Drone has run this in real life. Only one person lasted more than 3 hours. 2 finally got what 767 days were like having not understood how a person with one eye functions.)

Guest Star: C.C. Gold #47 - NPC Gabe Gold #75 - @polo-drone-075 Leander Gold #88 - @leander-gold-88 Rhys Gold #19 - @rhys-gold-19 Tony Gold #5 - NPC PDU-016 @danielgold-16 PDU-034 @polo-drone-034 PDU-166 @polo-drone-166

The sun had just reached the horizon when six Harley-Davidson choppers rolled out of the Golden Army garage. Their engines didn’t start at the same time. Each one came to life with its own deep, ragged thunder until the entire yard seemed to vibrate. PDU-090 led the group in a black-and-gold Panhead chopper with a long front fork, high handlebars, and a narrow fuel tank. PDU-034 rode a dark red Shovelhead with gold lines along the frame. PDU-038 had opted for a midnight blue Harley with a high back, while PDU-039’s machine was almost entirely black except for its chrome exhaust. PDU-088 rode a copper-colored chopper that looked like it came straight from a motorcycle movie made around 1970.

These were real Harley choppers, not modern motorcycles hidden under old-fashioned decorations. Their engines, frames, and hand-built parts had been painstakingly restored and rebuilt in the Golden Army workshop. They had the long forks, low seats, high handlebars, and rugged look of the bikes from classic road movies, but PDU-034 had also installed reliable brakes, reinforced cables, and modern lights. The six young men wore black protective riding suits with gold gloves and their PDU numbers on the back. Beneath the classic look were approved protectors for their shoulders, backs, hips, and knees. Their black helmets had clear visors, and each drone carried water, tools, and emergency supplies. PDU-034 conducted the final pre-departure inspection.

"Oil level checked. Chains adjusted. Tires approved. Lights working. Tools secured." PDU-039 tested the communication system inside their helmets. "Communication between all six units confirmed." PDU-090 looked toward the open gate. Behind the workshop, the road disappeared between the fields before reaching the coast. "Today's mission is simple," he said. "Follow the coastal road, protect the formation, and return with every rider and every motorcycle." "No one was left behind," PDU-038 replied. The Golden Army gate opened and the six helicopters rolled out.

They crossed the silent landscape in two staggered rows. PDU-090 rode in front, with PDU-034 behind him on the left. PDU-038 and PDU-039 held the center positions, while PDU-088 and the last rider protected the rear of the formation. As they reached the shore, the landscape opened up around them. The road followed the edge of the ocean, sometimes running close to the beach and sometimes climbing high above it. Waves crashed against dark rocks below the cliffs. White gulls moved across the blue sky, and the wind carried the smell of salt and seaweed across the road. The machines looked like something from another era. Chrome gleamed in the sunlight. Long forks stretched out toward the road, and the high handlebars forced the riders to sit straight into the wind. The deep rhythm of the Harley engines echoed between the rocks.

People stopped outside houses and cafes to watch them pass. A group of children waved from a viewing area. PDU-088 raised his gold-gloved hand, and the others followed. They weren't going fast. The old coastal road had sharp bends, loose rocks, and sudden wind shifts. PDU-090 maintained a steady speed that allowed everyone to enjoy the road without pushing the machines beyond safe limits.--- At the first vantage point, the six drones parked their helicopters in a row overlooking the ocean. The motorcycles stood against the vast backdrop of water and sky like machines from a forgotten road movie. PDU-038 took off his helmet. "I understand why people build motorcycles like these," he said. "They're not just transportation. You can feel the engine working underneath you." "You can also feel every pothole in the road," PDU-039 replied. "That's part of the experience." PDU-034 inspected a small oil mark under his motorcycle. He touched it with a glove and studied it. "Old Harley," he said. "It's not leaking oil. It's marking its territory." Even the PDU-090 guild.

They drank water and looked down at the road that wound along the coast. There was no stadium, competition, or finish line waiting for them. The purpose of the trip was simply to travel together and discover what was around the next bend. Twenty minutes later, they continued north. Near a small fishing village, PDU-039 noticed a motorcyclist standing next to a damaged machine. He informed PDU-090, and the entire formation slowed down. They turned into a safe parking lot and headed back. The stranded motorcyclist was a young man named Elias. His motorcycle's drive belt was broken, and his phone had almost no signal. "I expected one motorcyclist to stop," Elias said as six men in matching black-and-gold gear approached him. "I wasn't expecting an entire unit."

"If one person needs help, the entire unit stops," PDU-090 explained.

PDU-034 and PDU-038 examined the motorcycle. They were unable to safely repair the damaged belt on the side of the road, but PDU-039 found enough signal to contact a repair shop in the next town. PDU-088 placed a warning triangle at a safe distance, while PDU-090 gave Elias a bottle of water. While they waited, Elias studied the golden numbers on their suits. "Are you a motorcycle club?" "We are PDU drones from the Golden Army," PDU-090 replied. "Motorcycling is just one of our activities. We participate in sports, construction projects, travel, and community missions." "And do you always dress like this?"

"The uniform identifies our service and brotherhood. Mission equipment changes, but the black and gold remains." When the recovery vehicle arrived, PDU-034 helped secure Elias' motorcycle. Elias thanked each drone before departing. “That delayed us by forty minutes,” PDU-088 said as they returned to their Harleys. “It wasn’t a delay,” PDU-090 replied. “Helping him became part of the mission.” The road climbed to higher ground during the afternoon. The ocean remained visible far below them, but fog began to drift over the cliffs. The sunlight disappeared, and the warm coastal road suddenly turned gray and cold. PDU-039 warned the group over the radio.-- “Visibility is decreasing. Road surface is getting wet.” PDU-090 slowed their speed. The six headlights formed a disciplined line through the fog. No one tried to recreate the reckless driving of old motorcycle movies. The machines might look wild, but the riders understood that true freedom required judgment. A strong gust of wind hit them as they crossed a exposed section. PDU-088's helicopter moved toward the middle of the road, but he straightened it without panic. PDU-038 increased the distance behind him, giving him more space. "Unit 088, status?" PDU-090 asked. "Stable. The wind surprised me." "Understood. We'll stay together until the road descends."

For the next twelve kilometers, they moved cautiously through the fog. PDU-090 could often only see the next bend, but the voices of the other drones remained clear through his helmet.--- Finally, the road descended toward another small town. The fog lifted, revealing the sea again. The late afternoon sun turned the water silver. The drones stopped outside an old roadside cafe with wooden walls and a faded sign depicting a 1970s motorcycle. They parked the six helicopters beneath it. Inside, photographs covered the walls. They showed riders with long hair, patched jackets, and homemade motorcycles that had ridden the same coastal road decades earlier. The café owner, an elderly biker named Martin, immediately noticed the Golden Army machines.

These aren't factory decorations," he said. "Someone understands real helicopters." "PDU-034 designed most of the modifications," PDU-090 replied.--- Martin walked outside with them and examined the Harleys. He recognized the rebuilt engines, hand-built exhausts, and traditional frames. He especially liked the black-and-gold Panhead that belonged to PDU-090. "It reminds me of the motorcycles we dreamed about after watching those great road movies," Martin said. "Back then, every helicopter was different because you built it yourself." "That's why we chose them," PDU-034 said. "Six drones, six individual machines, but one formation." Martin served them hot food, coffee, and cold water. They sat by the windows, where they could see the ocean and their motorcycles. Before they left, Martin gave them directions to an abandoned seaside station. It had once been a famous meeting place for bikers, but the main road had since moved inland. The old buildings remained alongside the original route. The drones reached it shortly before sunset.---

The fuel pumps were gone, but the service station's roof and workshop were still standing. Faded advertisements covered one wall. Grass grew through cracks in the forecourt, and the ocean was visible behind a row of windswept trees. They parked the Harleys under the old roof. PDU-088 displayed a small camera while PDU-039 positioned the riders and motorcycles. The resulting group photo looked as if it had been found in a box of lost film from 1970: six young riders, black-and-gold uniforms, long-tail Harley choppers, and a coastal road disappearing into the evening light. Only the modern protective gear and golden PDU numbers revealed that the photo belonged to another time.

The sun had almost completely set behind the horizon when the first engines rolled into the old drive-in. The evening air was warm, thick with the scent of cut grass, hot asphalt, gasoline, popcorn, and diner sugar. Chrome bumpers caught the last of the orange light and threw it back in sharp flashes. Motorcycles spun alongside polished hotrods. Long cars slid in with fins, white tires, and dashboards that glowed soft green like little control panels from another era. The Golden Army had arrived at the end of the day.

Felix #21 clapped first as the convoy turned through the gate. Izzy #45 whistled loudly, sharp enough to make Shawn #22 and Trevor #25 stomp on the metal bleachers until the entire line echoed like thunder. Brock #46 leaned out of a gold-studded coupe and shouted something wild. SX Morales #36 responded with both arms raised. Franco #94, Grant #43, Jordi #92, Tanner #61, Richard, Gassian #32, Yawn #75, Barren Brother Chevy, Dayle, and Gabe all poured into the plaza in waves of gold and laughter. The screen towered above them, enormous and pale against the deepening blue. Below it, strings of light bulbs crisscrossed the diner booths. The lights flickered one by one, bathing everything in a warm 1960s glow. The brothers wore shiny gold suits that reflected every neon sign and headlight. The drones moved between them in shiny black rubber polos with gold trim, silent and precise, their boots clicking across the gravel in a steady rhythm.

Order belonged to PDU-084 and PDU-001. PDU-084 stood near the entrance with a clipboard, gold detailing gleaming across his chest as each car was directed into formation. Muscle cars to the left. Motorcycles along chrome railings. Hotrods next to the diner lane. PDU-001 holds the center line with calm precision, one gloved hand raising, lowering, and pointing with mechanical certainty. “Parking order adjusted,” PDU-001 said. “Steady flow of people,” PDU-084 replied. Behind them, PDU-026, PDU-034, PDU-038, and PDU-039 moved as support units, guiding latecomers toward the screen speakers. PDU-016 checked the schedule. PDU-767 and PDU-083 watched the side paths, making sure no brother wandered into the projector path. PDU-071, PDU-055, and PDU-088 formed a quiet perimeter near the stands, black rubber and gold trim gleaming under the bulbs.

The drive-in wasn’t chaos. The drive-in was synchronization. At the hot dog stands, PDU-070 and PDU-073 worked in perfect service rhythm. PDU-070 filled paper trays with hot dogs, fries, and golden-wrapped burgers. PDU-073 poured thick milkshakes into striped cups, each topped with whipped cream and a cherry that glowed red under the diner lights. The smell of grilled onions wafted across the counter. The milkshake machines hummed. The soda fountain hissed. The trays scraped across the counter in pure repetition. "Edibles handed out," PDU-073 said. "Brothers fed," PDU-070 replied.

Mr. Izzy #45 commanded the beverage station with radiant confidence, laughing as he handed out paper cups of soda, lemonade, and diner floats. Gabe #75 helped him, making sure every Golden Army poppy had something cold in hand. Grant #43 also helped carry boxes, check straws, and make the younger arrivals feel like they had always belonged there. Alton #77 leaned over Daniel #16, said something completely ridiculous, and Daniel nearly dropped his clipboard with laughter. Shawn #22 pounded both fists on the stands again. Trevor #25 joined him, boots hitting metal in rhythm until the entire audience started clapping along. Then the stage lights came on.

A small platform had been built under the big screen. Chrome microphone stand. Gold curtain. Old diner bulbs along the edge. As Mr. Wells #58 stepped into the light, the entire theater erupted. His gold jacket caught the glow like molten sunlight, and his hair had the clean, polished style of a 1960s stage star. He raised one hand, and the noise subsided to a charged silence. The first song rolled out smoothly and clearly. It had the flavor of sock hopping and summer roads, of jukeboxes spinning in corner diners, of boys laughing next to hotrods after long games and long days. Wells #58 sang with a laugh, and the Golden Army responded with claps, whistles, and stomps. Felix #21 kept the beat. Izzy #45 shouted the chorus. Franco #94 waved a paper cup over his head. Grant #43 laughed so hard his milkshake almost spilled.

PDU-001 watched from midfield, still as a polished statue. PDU-084 kept the lines clean. The brothers glowed. The drones reflected.

The song ended to a burst of applause, but Wells #58 didn’t leave immediately. He stepped closer to the microphone and looked out over the cars, the uniforms, the shining faces, the silent drones, the gold under every headlight. “Golden Brothers,” he said in a warm, calm voice, “tonight is not just a movie night. It’s proof. After training, after work, after service, after the long struggle to become better, stronger, and more united, the army still comes together. The army still shines.”

A deep cheer rolled through the drive-in. The drones responded with a synchronized clap. The first half of the movie began. The projector rattled to life behind them, sending a silver beam across the warm night air. Dust floated in the light like tiny stars. The movie flickered on the big screen: cars racing, diner doors swinging, heroes laughing under neon signs. Brothers sat on the hoods of cars, leaned against screens, filled the stands, and passed trays from hand to hand. PDUs moved through the lanes, silent and helpful, picking up empty cups, refilling popcorn, guiding latecomers, and maintaining order without breaking the spell.

The Golden Army looked together. Not as strangers. Not as separate voices. As one crowd. As one rhythm. As one bright, breathing team beneath the screen. During the intermission, the movie froze on a glowing frame of open highway. The stage lights changed from gold to black and back again. A low mechanical hum rolled through the speakers. The chatter softened. The brothers turned.

Wells #58 turned back. But now he wore the suit-drone style: a sharp, shiny black stage set with gold stitching, polished shoes, a gold tie, and a smooth black half-mask that gave him a calm, machine-perfect presence. The transformation was theatrical, clean, nonviolent, and precise. The entertainer had become somewhat more elegant. The singer remained, but the rhythm had changed. More disciplined. More hypnotic. More Hive-tuned.

PDU-026 and PDU-034 stood at the edge of the platform. PDU-038 and PDU-039 adjusted the lights. PDU-001 and PDU-084 turned to the audience from the aisle. PDU-070 and PDU-073 stopped their service stands and turned to the stage. Wells #58 raised the microphone. The second song began lower, slower, with a steady rhythm like boots on the pavement. The melody wrapped around the plaza and settled over the cars. Chrome quivered under the bass. Golden game sets flashed. Black rubber polos flashed. The brothers swayed. The drones lined up.

“Gold in the headlights,” Wells sang. “Gold in the team. Black in the order. Chrome in the dream.” The words moved through the drive-in like hot static electricity. Brock #46 raised both fists. SX Morales #36 nodded in time. Tanner #61 leaned against the side of a hot rod and smiled as if the entire night was built just for this. Jordi #92 and Gassian #32 joined the clapping line. Richard stood still and proud. Dayle and Barren Brother Chevy watched the golden light ripple across the hood of a car until it looked like liquid metal. Wells #58 finished the song with one last note under the summer stars. For a mere second, no one moved. Then the drive-in exploded.

Clap. Whistles. Stomp. Cheers. Laughter. The whole place shook with bright brotherly energy and drone precision. PDU-016 marked the program for the break block as complete. PDU-767 confirmed that the audience remained stable. PDU-083 checked the perimeter. PDU-071, PDU-055, and PDU-088 resumed their patrol with precise steps.

The last half of the movie began. By then, night had fallen completely. The sky was dark velvet. The screen glowed huge and silver. The diner lights burned gold. The cars lined up in perfect rows like offerings to a new decade. The milkshakes were almost gone. The hot dog wrappers crackled softly. Soda cups sweated in the cupholders. The brothers leaned shoulder to shoulder, tired from the day but lifted by the glow. The drones stood nearby, watchful and calm. Felix #21 clapped softly as the movie reached its final scene. Izzy #45 didn’t whistle this time. He just smiled. Shawn #22 and Trevor #25 rested in the stands, their boots finally quiet. Alton #77 whispered another joke to Daniel #16, and Daniel pressed the clipboard to his chest to keep from laughing too loudly. As the credits rolled, the projector beam continued to hum above them. No one hurried to leave. The engines remained silent. The Golden Army remained beneath the screen, enveloped in heat, chrome, gold, rubber, and the soft emotional weight of a perfect summer

night.

PDU-001 stepped forward. "Event function complete," it said. PDU-084 turned to the ranks. "Unity maintained. Order maintained. Morale functioning optimally." Wells #58 stood alone in the foreground for one last moment, bathed in the warm glow of the diner's neon lights, black and gold shimmering over the drag-drone suit like floating night. Behind him, the camera slowly opened up. Not tight. Not confined. Wide enough for everyone. The entire Golden Army filled the drive-in in layers of chrome, gold, black rubber, and summer darkness. The Golden Brothers sat on car hoods, stood by hotrods, leaned against the railings, filling the stands with tired smiles and quiet pride. The Polo Drones stood between them in precise rows, calm, shiny, and synchronized under the projector’s last silver beam. The screen behind them showed the final credits, but no one left. There was room for Felix #21, Izzy #45, Brock #46, Shawn #22, Trevor #25, SX Morales #36, Tanner #61, Jordi #92, Gassian #32, Richard, Dayle, Barren Brother Chevy, Gabe, Grant #43, Franco #94, and all the others in the same golden frame. There was room for PDU-001, PDU-084, PDU-016, PDU-070, PDU-073, PDU-071, PDU-055, PDU-088, PDU-083, PDU-767 and the entire Hive line. One place. One night. One army. One rhythm.

Wells #58 lowered the microphone slowly. The last note was gone, but the feeling hung in the air like heat over asphalt. Gold in their faces. Black in their order. Chrome in their dream. And under the enormous screen they stood together, not as guests, not as separate stories, but as the Golden Army itself. The drive-in closed, but the formation remained. Room for eternity. Golden shine

The drone wagon rolled into Pride like a black and gold commando vehicle shrouded in rainbow light. It wasn’t just a parade wagon. It was the Golden Army, moving in full formation, polished, loud, proud, and impossible to ignore. In front stood the PDU drones. PDU-090 held the railing with both gloved hands, black drone uniform gleaming in the summer sun, gold trim catching every glint from the audience’s phones. Around him were PDU-034, PDU-070, PDU-096, PDU-125, and more drone brothers, all standing in formation. Their breastplates showed their numbers. Their shoulders bore the wings of the Golden Army. Their faces were serious, but their eyes sparkled with pride. Above them, a banner stretched across the wagon: GOLDEN ARMY—BROTHERHOOD. DISCIPLINE. INCLUSION. PRIDE.

Rainbow flags waved on both sides. Gold flags glinted from the rails. The crowd cheered as the wagon slowly moved through the street. “PDU formation online,” called PDU-125. “PDU-090 online,” 090 replied. The first part of the wagon belonged to the PDU drones. They were the signal unit, the disciplined front line, the ones who kept the rhythm. When the music hit, they moved together, shoulders square, boots planted, every movement clean and controlled. The crowd loved them because they looked like a machine, but they felt like family.

Behind them came the Golden Brothers. They wore black and gold parade uniforms, not as strict as the drones, but just as proud. Some carried flags, some held signs, some waved to the crowd with big smiles. Their banner read: GOLD BROTHERS — STRENGTH IN UNITY Alton-Gold #77 stood in the middle, raising one hand as the crowd chanted his name. He looked over at 090 and nodded. That nod said it all. The drones held the structure. The Gold Brothers carried the heart.

Then came the Chavs section. They brought the noise with them. Gold chains, fancy streetwear, black caps, rainbow patches, loud shouts and full of confidence. They danced next to the float, hyped up the crowd, cracked jokes, clapped to the beat and made the whole thing feel like a street party. Their banner read: GOLDEN CHAVS — LOUD, LOYAL, GOLD One of them shouted, “Who’s running Pride?” The crowd responded, “The Golden Army!”

Then the Poppy unit appeared. Poppy’s section was softer, warmer, but just as powerful. Red poppy symbols were pinned to the black-and-gold decorations, interspersed with rainbow ribbons. This was the memorial section, the promise that every member meant something, old or new, loud or quiet, strong or still learning. Their sign read: POPPY UNIT — NEVER FORGOTTEN, ALWAYS GOLD For a moment, even the music faded. PDU-090 looked out over the crowd and saw people clapping in respect. Pride was celebration, yes, but it was also remembrance. It was about those who had marched before, those who had fought to be seen, and those who were still finding the courage.

Then the mascot section exploded into view. Golden mascots bounced around the wagon in oversized heads, wings, paws, helmets, and glittering gold details. One mascot wore a drone helmet. Another wore a knight’s shield. Another carried a giant foam key marked “WATERBOY SUPPORT CREW.” The kids laughed. The adults took pictures. Even the most serious PDU drones had to fight not to smile. Next to them marched the Golden Athletes. Wearing athletic black-and-gold uniforms with rainbow-colored armbands, they carried rugby balls, footballs, hockey sticks, and workout towels. Their energy was pure stadium power. They jogged alongside the cart, stopping occasionally to pose, bend over, or lead chants.

GOLDEN JOCKS — TRAIN HARD, BE PROUD The cheerleaders followed behind them, twirling gold-and-rainbow pom-poms in perfect timing. They held up signs with slogans:

PRIDE IS POWER DRONES ONLINE BROTHERS UNITED NO ONE LEFT OUT In the back corner, the waterboys kept everyone going. They passed out bottles to the drones, the Gold Brothers, the cheerleaders, the mascots, and anyone in the crowd who had used one. Their sign read:

WATERBOY CREW — SERVICE IS GOLD PDU-090 respected that. Every army needed its front line, but it also needed support. No one went on alone. The next section was the Golden Knights Academy. Their uniforms looked ceremonial, with gold shields, black capes, and academy insignia. Younger members marched in meticulous ranks, learning codes, chants, and the meaning behind the symbols. Their banner rose high: GOLDEN KNIGHTS ACADEMY — TRAINING THE NEXT GENERATION

An academy cadet looked up at PDU-090 with wide eyes. 090 nodded sharply at him. The cadet immediately stood taller. Then came the section on the Golden Temple. It was the quietest part of the carriage. Gold pillars, black fabric, lanterns, rainbow-colored glass panels, and a quiet drumbeat to the music. It represented the inner space of the Golden Army: respect, discipline, loyalty, occupancy, and belonging. Members briefly crossed their hands over their chests as they passed it.

On the temple wall were the words: HONOR THE CODE. PROTECT THE FAMILY. WALK IN GOLD. PDU-090 stared at those words for a long second. That was why he was there. Not just to be seen, but to stand for something.

Then the Golden Emirates banner rose at the back of the carriage, decorated with golden palm symbols, skyline shapes, and rainbow ribbons. It represented the distant greens, the distant brothers, the international signal. The Golden Army was not bound to one street, one city, or one country. It moved wherever its members carried the gold. GOLDEN EMIRATES — GLOBAL SIGNAL, GOLDEN HEARTS The music picked up again. The entire carriage came alive.

PDU drones raised their arms in formation. Gold Brothers waved flags. Chavs led in songs. Poppy members raised flowers. Mascots danced. Golden Jocks jogged to the beat. Knights saluted. Cheerleaders twirled. Waterboys served. The lights of the Golden Temple glowed. The Golden Emirates flag fluttered in delight. PDU-125 stepped next to 090 and held up a sign for the crowd: INFORMATION AND REGISTRATION FOR NEW MEMBERS : @polo-drone-125 @alton-gold#77

People pointed their phones at it. Some cheered. Some looked curious. Some smiled as if they had just found a door they didn’t know was open. PDU-090 turned to the crowd and raised his hand. “The Golden Army,” he called. The cart answered first. “ONLINE!” Then the street answered. “ONLINE!” The sound rolled between the buildings like thunder. For a bright Pride afternoon, the Golden Army was not hidden, did not wait, did not explain itself from the shadows. It was there in the open: drones and brothers, chavs and jocks, mascots and knights, waterboys and cheerleaders, temple and emirates, discipline and joy, gold and rainbow. And at the forefront of it all, on the drone cart, stood PDU-090 proudly. Not alone. Never alone.

The afternoon sun hung low over the countryside outside London. The polo field stretched across rolling green fields, bordered by ancient oak trees and white picket fences. Spectators lined the sidelines. Some wore traditional polo attire. Others had come specifically to watch the away team that everyone was talking about. The Golden Army. The first half had been intense. The British team had played with discipline and skill. The Gold Brothers had responded with determination. The Polo Drones had done what they always did best: support, organize, assist, and keep the team running smoothly. Now the second half was about to begin. Gold Brother Alton #77 rode forward and adjusted his grip on the club. “Are you ready, brothers?” A chorus of unison answered him.

Nearby stood Franco #94, Jordan #40, Shawn #22, Daniel-Gold-16, and the rest of the Gold Brothers. All the players were focused. Behind them, drone support units were making final checks. PDU-034 confirmed the status of the equipment. PDU-039 monitored the players’ hydration. PDU-070 coordinated the field logistics. PDU-073 handled communications. PDU-084 recorded statistics. PDU-090 observed the formation. PDU-096 managed reserve equipment. PDU-125 coordinated visitor and recruitment information. Each unit had a purpose. Each unit contributed. The referee lifted the ball. The crowd fell silent. The whistle blew. The second half began. The ball flew into play. Immediately, the UK captain accelerated across the field. His horse sped forward. Alton #77 matched the move. Both players reached the ball almost simultaneously.

The first stroke sent the ball hurtling down the field. Cheers erupted. The pace increased. The polo was fixed. Faster than many spectators expected. The horses thundered across the grass. The players leaned low. The club swung. The ball changed direction repeatedly. The British team scored first. Applause followed. The scoreboard moved. The Golden Army remained calm. Daniel-Gold-16 pointed to midfield. "The next one is ours." Franco laughed. "Then let's go get it." The restart came quickly. This time Jordan #40 intercepted the ball. He passed it cleanly to Shawn #22. Shawn stepped forward. A defender approached. Another followed. The angle closed. At the last minute, Shawn delivered a perfect pass. Alton #77 arrived exactly where he needed to be

A swing. The ball shot between the posts. GOAL. The Golden Army fans erupted. Flags waved. The score was tied again. On the sidelines, PDU-090 recorded the event. "Team coordination successful." PDU-084 nodded. "Assist credited." The game continued. The UK players fought hard. No one gave up easy ground. Every goal requires effort. Every yard had to be earned. For almost twenty minutes, neither side could gain a decisive advantage. The score went back and forth. UK. Golden Army. UK. Golden Army. The crowd loved every second. Even neutral spectators cheered. The spirit of sportsmanship was evident. After each challenge, the players checked on each other. After each goal, the opponents exchanged respectful nods. Competition existed. Hostility did not. That was exactly how the Golden Army preferred it. Near the water station, PDU-125 welcomed curious visitors. Several local spectators approached them. “Who is the Golden Army anyway?” one asked. PDU-125 smiled. “A team.” “Football players?” “Sometimes.”

“Polo players?”

“Today.” The spectators laughed. “And the drones?” “We help.” The answer seemed simple. Because it was. The Golden Army had always been about teamwork. On the field. Off the field. Every role matters. Back in the game, the game entered its final period. The scoreboard showed a tie. Only minutes left. The atmosphere changed. Everyone could feel it. The next goal could decide everything. Alton #77 looked across the formation. The Gold Brothers understood immediately. No words were needed. Years of teamwork created understanding. The restart came. The ball bounced unpredictably. A British player reached it first. He ran towards the goal. The crowd rose to their feet.

A scoring opportunity arose. Then Daniel-Gold-16 intercepted. A perfectly timed tackle. The ball changed direction. Jordan #40 intercepted it. He accelerated. A defender closed in. Jordan passed. Franco #94 received. Another pass. Shawn #22 stepped forward. The move was beautiful. Fast. Simple. Effective.

The entire field opened up. The UK defenders rushed to react. Alton #77 appeared at the back. Shawn spotted him. The pass crossed the field. Alton hit the field cleanly. The ball flew. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The players watched. The spectators watched. Even the horses seemed to stop. Then the ball crossed the goal line. GOAL. The Golden Army took the lead. The roar of the crowd rolled across the landscape. Flags waved everywhere. The Gold Brothers celebrated briefly. Then it was immediately restarted. The game was not over. The British team attacked fiercely. Three minutes left. Then two. Then one. Every possession mattered. Every challenge mattered. The pressure mounted. PDU-090 watched the clock. "The last minute is approaching." PDU-039 nodded. "Stay focused."

The British team launched a final attack. Their captain advanced through midfield. A teammate moved past. Another shot on goal. The strategy was excellent. The execution was almost perfect. Almost. Jordan #40 intercepted the final pass. The ball rolled free. The whistle blew. Timeout. The game was over. For a second, no one moved. Then applause exploded from all directions. Not just for the winner. For both teams. The British players immediately approached. Handshakes followed. Smiles appeared.

The British captain reached Alton #77 first. "Excellent game." Alton nodded. "So did you." The two teams lined up for a photo. Gold Brothers. British players. Polo Drones. Everyone. The setting sun painted the field gold. It felt like the perfect ending. Later that evening, tables were set up next to the clubhouse. Food was shared. Stories were exchanged. Friendships were formed. The trophy was on display nearby. Several younger spectators approached the members of the Golden Army.

Many had questions. Some wanted pictures. Others wanted to know how they could get involved. PDU-125 and Alton #77 spent almost an hour talking to visitors. No one was rushed away. Everyone was welcomed. As darkness slowly descended over the English countryside, the Golden Army gathered for a final report. PDU-090 stepped forward. The surrounding conversations gradually fell silent. The drone began to speak. “UK Polo Operation Complete.” “International Friendship Strengthened.” “Gold Brothers Competed with Honor.” "Polo Drones provided support." "Visitors welcome." "Questions answered." "New contacts established." "Team unity confirmed." "Mission accomplished." The report was accepted. Applause followed. The Gold Brothers smiled. The Polo Drones stood proudly. The British team joined in the applause.

Because everyone understood what had happened that day. A polo match had been played. A trophy had been awarded. But something bigger had happened too. New friendships had been formed. New supporters had emerged. New adventures were already waiting somewhere beyond the horizon. The Golden Army packed up equipment under the fading evening sky. Vehicles were loaded. Flags were folded. The field was slowly emptying. Still, many spectators remained long after the match had ended. Talking. Laughing. Sharing photos. Planning future visits.

Exactly the kind of outcome the Golden Army always hoped for. As the convoy finally prepared to leave, Alton #77 looked back at the polo field one last time. "Good morning." PDU-090 nodded. "Confirmed." The engines started.

The convoy rolled toward the road. And somewhere ahead, another challenge already awaited. Because the Golden Army never stopped moving. Never stopped growing. And never stopped welcoming new teammates.

The road south through Florida felt unlike any other road the Golden Army had traveled before. It didn’t feel like driving deeper into a country. It felt like driving towards the edge of one. The trucks rolled over long bridges, past clear blue water, small islands, fishing boats, palm trees and sun-drenched harbors. The Atlantic Ocean stretched out on one side. The Gulf of Mexico opened up on the other. Ahead of them awaited Key West, the southernmost tip of the United States, the place where America came closest to Cuba. Mason Chav #44 drove the first vehicle, sunglasses on, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift. Behind him came the support truck with PDU-090, PDU-039, PDU-034 and PDU-125. Alton-Gold #77, Wells #58, and Daniel-Gold #16 were riding with the Gold Brothers, already talking about football, boats, and food. Wells leaned forward from the back seat. “So this is really the end?”

Daniel looked out at the water. “End of the road, maybe.” Alton smiled. “But not the end of the mission.” PDU-090 checked the navigation. “Key West approach confirmed.” “Distance to port is decreasing.” “Morale is high.” Mason laughed. “Good. Because Golden Chavs don’t arrive quietly.” They reached Key West in the afternoon. The city was buzzing with color. Wooden houses stood under palm trees. Scooters sped through narrow streets. Music blared from open bars. The harbor smelled of salt, grilled fish, fuel, rope, and hot wood. Everywhere, people seemed to move more slowly, as if the heat itself had ordered them to relax. The Golden Chavs stepped out first. Mason wore gold gym shorts, white trainers, and a black tank top with a gold chain around his neck. Rico Chav #31 followed, looking around with a grin. Izzy #45 adjusted his collar and gave the port a slow, appreciative nod.

This,” Izzy said, “is a place with style.” The polo drones unloaded the equipment. PDU-090 carried a black gear bag. PDU-039 checked the port plan. PDU-034 inspected the hiking trail. PDU-125 stood near the van, making sure no one had forgotten anything. “The port zone is active,” PDU-090 reported. “High sun exposure.” "Hydration is recommended." Wells took a water bottle. "Look at that. Even in paradise, 090 keeps us alive." "Correct," PDU-090 replied. First stop was the marina. Boats bobbed gently in the water. Some were fishing boats. Some were elegant tour boats. Others were older wooden vessels with polished railings and names painted proudly on the stern. A local skipper met them near the dock, a broad-shouldered man with tanned skin, a faded cap, and a calm smile. "Are you from the Golden Army group?"

Mason nodded. "Golden Chavs, Gold Brothers, and Polo Drones." The skipper looked at the helmets, shirts, numbers, and gold details. "Well, that's new." Daniel laughed. "We see that a lot." The skipper introduced himself as Marco. He had spent most of his life around boats and had crossed these waters more times than he could count. He pointed out across the harbor. "The water is always changing out there. Shallows, deep channels, reefs, storms. You respect it, and it makes you a good day. You ignore it, and it teaches you quickly." PDU-090 logged the sentence immediately. "Water discipline lesson recorded." Marco smiled. "Good. I like that one." They cautiously boarded the boat. The Golden Brothers took their seats near the front. The Golden Chavs spread out along the side, enjoying the sun and the wind. The Polodrones checked their gear, ropes, and balance. PDU-039 secured a cooler. PDU-034 checked the first aid kit. PDU-125 confirmed the radio.

As the boat left the harbor, Key West slowly opened up behind them. The city got smaller. The sea got bigger. The engine pushed them across clear blue water, seagulls following behind them. The wind carried the heat away from their faces. For a while, no one said much. Even Wells, usually full of comments, sat quietly, looking out at the horizon. Alton finally broke the silence. “Hard to believe Cuba is out there somewhere.” Marco nodded from behind the wheel. “About ninety kilometers from here. Close enough to feel like a neighbor. Far enough away to remind people how big the ocean still is.” Daniel looked out over the water. “That’s what I like about traveling.” “What?” Wells asked. “It reminds you that borders are real, but people still look over them.” Mason leaned back. “And sometimes they sail.” The group laughed. Marco took them past mangroves, shallow turquoise water, and a small reef line where the boat slowed. Fish moved beneath the surface like flashes of silver. PDU-090 kept a close eye on them. "Marine life observed." "Excellent visibility." "Swimming not permitted at this time."

Wells smiled broadly. "090 really wanted to say that before I jumped in." "Correct." The boat stopped near a safe swimming area. Marco gave instructions. No one went, Dad. The current was gentle, but the rules were clear. The Gold Brothers, Golden Chavs, and Drones entered the water in small groups. The sea was warm. Daniel floated on his back, looking up at the sky. Alton swam slowly near the boat. Wells challenged Rico to a short race and lost by half a body length. Rico came over, grinning. "The loser pays?" Wells shook water from his hair. "Not today. We've already made that story." Mason sat on the edge of the boat, his feet in the water. "Golden Chavs don't rush. We arrive, we shine, we let the others exhaust themselves." PDU-090 remained near the ladder, watching the group. "Safety maintained." "Group activity successful." PDU-039 nodded beside him. "Water discipline thank you." After the swim, they returned to the harbor. The sun had begun to set and the water was golden. It made the entire city look like it belonged to the Golden Army for a moment.

Back on land, the next mission was food. They found a harbor café with open windows, wooden tables, and fans slowly spinning above them. The menu was full of fish, shrimp, rice, lime, spices, and cold drinks. The group took two large tables that were pushed together. Izzy ordered first. "Something local. Something with a strong flavor." Mason pointed to the menu. "Grilled fish tacos. Extra lime." Wells eyed a bottle of hot sauce suspiciously. "How dangerous is it?" Marco, who had been having dinner with them, smiled. "Depends on how brave you are." Daniel handed the bottle to Wells. "Perfect. Try it." Wells tried one drop. Then another. Then too much. His face changed instantly. The table exploded in laughter. PDU-090 looked over. "Heat level exceeded." Wells reached for water. "Report it as an attack." "Negative."

"Self-inflicted incident."

The café became one of those evenings that the Golden Army remembered later. Not because something huge happened, but because everything felt right. The boats outside. The warm air. The food. The laughter. The mix of Gold Brothers, Chavs, and Drones, sitting together on the southern edge of America. After dinner, Daniel suggested a walk through the city. They moved through streets full of music and color. The Golden Chavs walked with confidence. The Gold Brothers greeted people easily. The Polo Drones remained organized but relaxed. A few locals asked who they were. Mason replied with pride. “Golden Army. Sports, travel, teamwork, stories, and brotherhood.” A young man near a store asked several questions. He had seen the jerseys and numbers and wanted to know if they were a real team. Alton stepped forward. “We are a community. Some of us play. Some support. Some create. Some travel. Some coach. The important thing is that everyone contributes something.” The young man nodded. “So you don’t have to be a professional athlete?” Daniel smiled. "No. You just need energy, respect, and the will to be a part of something." PDU-090 added calmly: "Motivation is more important than perfection." The young man seemed to like it. "Sounds pretty cool." Mason gave him the short version.

"If you're interested, talk to the recruiting consultants. They'll explain it properly." The conversation remained friendly and open. No pressure. No promises. Just an invitation, the way the Golden Army preferred it. Later, the group reached the famous southern point. They could feel the ocean breeze stronger there. People were taking pictures. City lights glowed behind them. Somewhere beyond the dark water was Cuba. Wells stood next to PDU-090. "Imagine sailing all the way from here to Havana." PDU-090 looked toward the horizon. "Route possible." “Conditions must be respected.” “Planning is required.” Wells joked. “So that’s a yes?” Daniel joined them. “Maybe that’s how half of our adventures start.” Alton nodded. “And discipline is how they don’t turn into disasters.” That line stayed with them.

Discipline wasn’t just a drone thing. It was a Golden Army thing. The Chavs had their style. The Gold Brothers had their energy. The Drones had their focus. But the best days came when it all worked together. The next morning, practice began early. They found a small, open field near the shore. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. The grass was short. The goals were simple. Palm trees stood outside the sidelines. The air was already warm. PDU-034 marked the playing area. PDU-039 checked the ball pressure. PDU-090 placed pins. PDU-125 prepared water. Mason gathered the Golden Chavs. "Today we're playing Key West style. Quick feet, sharp passes, no complaints about the heat." Wells raised a hand. "What about dramatic complaints?" "Allowed," Mason said. "But only if it's fun."

Wells smiled broadly. "090 really wanted to say that before I jumped in." "Correct." The boat stopped near a safe swimming area. Marco gave instructions. No one went, Dad. The current was gentle, but the rules were clear. The Gold Brothers, Golden Chavs, and Drones entered the water in small groups. The sea was warm. Daniel floated on his back, looking up at the sky. Alton swam slowly near the boat. Wells challenged Rico to a short race and lost by half a body length. Rico came over, grinning. "The loser pays?" Wells shook water from his hair. "Not today. We've already made that story." Mason sat on the edge of the boat, his feet in the water. "Golden Chavs don't rush. We arrive, we shine, we let the others exhaust themselves." PDU-090 remained near the ladder, watching the group. "Safety maintained." "Group activity successful." PDU-039 nodded beside him. "Water discipline thank you." After the swim, they returned to the harbor. The sun had begun to set and the water was golden. It made the entire city look like it belonged to the Golden Army for a moment. Back on land, the next mission was food. They found a harbor café with open windows, wooden tables, and fans slowly spinning above them. The menu was full of fish, shrimp, rice, lime, spices, and cold drinks. The group took two large tables that were pushed together. Izzy ordered first. "Something local. Something with a strong flavor." Mason pointed to the menu.

"Grilled fish tacos. Extra lime." Wells eyed a bottle of hot sauce suspiciously. "How dangerous is it?" Marco, who had been having dinner with them, smiled. "Depends on how brave you are." Daniel handed the bottle to Wells. "Perfect. Try it." Wells tried one drop. Then another. Then too much. His face changed instantly. The table exploded in laughter. PDU-090 looked over. "Heat level exceeded." Wells reached for water. "Report it as an attack." "Negative." "Self-inflicted incident." The café became one of those evenings that the Golden Army remembered later. Not because something huge happened, but because everything felt right. The boats outside. The warm air. The food. The laughter. The mix of Gold Brothers, Chavs, and Drones, sitting together on the southern edge of America. After dinner, Daniel suggested a walk through the city. They moved through streets full of music and color. The Golden Chavs walked with confidence. The Gold Brothers greeted people easily. The Polo Drones remained organized but relaxed. A few locals asked who they were. Mason replied with pride. “Golden Army. Sports, travel, teamwork, stories, and brotherhood.” A young man near a store asked several questions. He had seen the jerseys and numbers and wanted to know if they were a real team. Alton stepped forward.

“We are a community. Some of us play. Some support. Some create. Some travel. Some coach. The important thing is that everyone contributes something.” The young man nodded. “So you don’t have to be a professional athlete?” Daniel smiled. "No. You just need energy, respect, and the will to be a part of something." PDU-090 added calmly: "Motivation is more important than perfection." The young man seemed to like it. "Sounds pretty cool." Mason gave him the short version. "If you're interested, talk to the recruiting consultants. They'll explain it properly." The conversation remained friendly and open. No pressure. No promises. Just an invitation, the way the Golden Army preferred it. Later, the group reached the famous southern point. They could feel the ocean breeze stronger there. People were taking pictures. City lights glowed behind them. Somewhere beyond the dark water was Cuba. Wells stood next to PDU-090. "Imagine sailing all the way from here to Havana." PDU-090 looked toward the horizon. "Route possible." “Conditions must be respected.” “Planning is required.” Wells joked. “So that’s a yes?” Daniel joined them. “Maybe that’s how half of our adventures start.” Alton nodded. “And discipline is how they don’t turn into disasters.” That line stayed with them. Discipline wasn’t just a drone thing. It was a Golden Army thing. The Chavs had their style. The Gold Brothers had their energy. The Drones had their focus. But the best days came when it all worked together. The next morning, practice began early.

They found a small, open field near the shore. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. The grass was short. The goals were simple. Palm trees stood outside the sidelines. The air was already warm. PDU-034 marked the playing area. PDU-039 checked the ball pressure. PDU-090 placed pins. PDU-125 prepared water. Mason gathered the Golden Chavs. "Today we're playing Key West style. Quick feet, sharp passes, no complaints about the heat." Wells raised a hand. "What about dramatic complaints?" "Allowed," Mason said. "But only if it's fun."

They played a mixed game: Golden Chavs, Gold Brothers, Drones and a few local players who had come in after watching the warm-up. It was friendly but competitive. The locals were fast and technical. The Golden Army had structure and stamina. Daniel scored first after a pass from Wells. A local player equalized with a clever chip. PDU-090 blocked two attacks. PDU-039 made a perfect interception. Mason dribbled past a defender and celebrated before shooting, giving the goalkeeper enough time to save. Rico shouted from midfield. "Celebrate after the goal, Mason!" Mason pointed at him. "Style has no clock." Everyone laughed.

At the final whistle, the game ended 3-3. No one minded. It was the right result for a day of travel. A draw meant that no one owned the victory and no one bore the loss. They shook hands with the local players. Pictures were taken. Water bottles were passed around. One of the locals asked if the Golden Army always traveled like this. Alton replied. “As often as we can.” Daniel added, “Football gives us a reason to meet people.” Mason said, “And style gives them a reason to remember us.” PDU-090 filled out the training log. “Key West game over.” “Local contact positive.” “Heat handled.” “Team spirit strengthened.” “Mission continues.” That afternoon they returned to the harbor. Boats moved in and out. Tourists strolled by. Fishermen cleaned their catch. The Golden Army stood together near the water, watching the sun begin its slow decline toward evening. Izzy leaned against the railing. "This place feels like a doorway." "Where?" Wells asked. "To the ocean. To Cuba. To the next story." PDU-090 tilted his helmet slightly toward the horizon. "The next story awaits." Daniel smiled. "That means he agrees." The last night in Key West was quieter. They returned to the café from the first night. The owner recognized them and waved them to the same tables. This time the conversation was slower. Everyone was tired in a good way. They talked about the drive down. The bridges. The ocean. The boat ride. The match.

The locals. The feeling of standing on the southern edge of the United States and looking toward another country. Alton raised his glass. "To Golden Chavs." Mason raised his drink. "To the Gold Brothers." PDU-090 raised a water bottle. "To the Polo Drones." Daniel smiled. "To anyone who shows up." Wells added, "And to anyone who has yet to find us." The group drank from it. Before they left, PDU-090 completed the final mission report. "Golden Chavs Key West mission complete." "Southern United States reached." "Port explored." "Boat operation successful." "Football game completed." "New contacts established." "Golden Army presence positive." "Morale high." "Mission successful." Mason looked at the report and nodded. "Good." Then he looked out at the harbor. "But next time we'll go even further." Wells smiled. "Cuba?" Daniel smiled. "One day." Alton looked at the group. "When the plan is right." PDU-090 closed the report. "Future mission possible."

PDU-090 smiled as he attached the black leash to his collar. Not because anyone had ordered him to. Because today he felt like a playful rubber puppy. Around him, a few other rubber puppies happily waggled, playfully barked, and chased each other across the grass. Some rolled over on their backs to be petted, while others proudly carried rubber balls or pull-along toys in their mouths. PDU-090 joined in the play without hesitation. He barked once. Another puppy responded.

Within seconds, they were running together, tails wagging, enjoying the simple freedom of letting go of everyday duties for a while. A Gold Brother laughed from the side. "Looks like someone's having fun today." PDU-090 nodded. "Confirmed." "Sometimes being a loyal rubber puppy is exactly what I need." The tread wasn't about being forced. It was about trust. About willingly trusting someone else for a while. The Golden Army had always believed that people could have different interests while respecting each other. Some members loved soccer. Others preferred to hike through forests, kayak on quiet lakes, travel to new lands, ride motorcycles, dive under the sea, or simply relax together in a café.

For PDU-090, one of those interests was puppy play. Not every day. Not all the time. Just once in a while. When the moment felt right. After an hour of playful barking, running, and friendly wrestling with the other rubber puppies, PDU-090 untied his leash and stood up. One of the newer members smiled. "So... is that it?" PDU-090 smiled broadly. "Not even close." Minutes later, he had changed back into his regular Polo-Drone attire. The playful puppy had once again become the organized drone. He helped prepare lunch with the kitchen crew. He checked equipment. He organized transportation. He helped plan the afternoon soccer practice. He welcomed guests. He carried supplies. He solved practical problems. One member looked surprised. "I thought you were just into puppy games." PDU-090 chuckled.

"Being a rubber puppy is one hobby." "Being a polo drone is much bigger." "I enjoy helping." "I enjoy teamwork." "I enjoy traveling." "I enjoy learning." "And I enjoy seeing people smile." The Gold Brothers nodded in agreement. Everyone had different interests. Some preferred sports. Some enjoyed photography. Some loved to travel. Some collected football jerseys. Some liked motorcycles. Some enjoyed rubber equipment. Others simply enjoyed good company. None of these interests defined the whole person. They were only parts of a much bigger picture.

Later that evening, the group gathered around a long table after dinner. Stories of past adventures were shared. Laughter echoed in the room. Plans were made for future football games, hikes, museum visits, kayaking weekends, diving expeditions, and casual evenings with friends. PDU-090 looked around the table. The same people who had previously laughed at the playful puppy games were now discussing logistics, sports, travel plans, and new destinations. It reminded him of why he enjoyed being part of the Golden Army.

People were free to be themselves. They respected each other. They looked out for each other. And they understood that everyone brought something different to the team. Sometimes PDU-090 was the organizing drone. Sometimes he was the one carrying the equipment. Sometimes he was the one making the coffee. Sometimes he was the one planning the trip. And sometimes... He was simply a happy rubber puppy enjoying an afternoon playing with friends. To him, all of these roles belonged together. They were all parts of the same person.

Before he left, PDU-090 filled out his daily report. "Mission accomplished." "Friendships strengthened." "Team spirit high." "Playtime successful." "Training completed." "Everyone came home smiling." He concluded the report with a final smile.

The night fell over Golden City. Gabe was now working at the Obsidian Bar, off the edge of the city. While some showed support for his new job, others felt Gabe was further isolating himself from the team.

You are isolating from the team.

Those words sat in Gabe's heart even as he disputed them. He knew he was an integral part of the team, but he felt out of place. He didn't understand why people — star athletes of the Golden Knights — were saying that about him.

You are letting the team down.

"No, I am not. I am here when I am needed," Gabe said loudly to himself, forgetting anyone could be listening. The club's music blared, the place lit up, the crowd's noise drowning out his thoughts.

"What did you say, Gabe?" One of the security guards nudged Gabe, who jolted.

"Oh, um, nothing. I didn't think anyone was listening to me." Gabe chuckled to himself.

"Sorry, I was just close by — we might have an issue with some men getting brave because of the liquor."

Gabe nodded, spotting the issue at the bar: two men were making a woman feel uncomfortable, the look on her face saying it all. He nodded again and went with Gavin, his Security Manager, to resolve it.

"Boys, I think it's time for you to leave the woman alone. She clearly does not want you two bothering her." Gabe touched one of the men's shoulders as Gavin watched, hoping it wouldn't escalate... but with drunken issues like this, it usually did.

"Come on, she clearly wants this." One of the drunk men laughed, touching her.

"I am not going to tell you again — back off or go home," Gavin yelled, backing up Gabe.

The two drunken men laughed, looked at the pair, gave them the finger, and spat on Gabe and Gavin. Something in Gabe cracked. A fight broke out, Gavin holding one man back while Gabe stood frozen for a moment before stepping in — a little too late. The drunken men landed a punch on both of them, staggering the two. Gabe took his hand away and felt blood. His eyes glowed yellow as he used gravity magic to send the men flying, and they slumped, calmed into unconsciousness. Gavin stared, stunned — he'd had no idea Gabe could do something like that.

"Gabe... what did you do?" Gavin whispered.

Gabe, catching his breath, looked over at Gavin. "I solved the problem. Should I not have?"

"You used magic. I didn't know you could do that. You must be one of those Golden 'boys' in Golden City," Gavin said sarcastically.

"I... am," Gabe said lowly, cracking his fists. "I can go if you want. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Yeah, Gabe, take the rest of the night off. Head home." Gavin muttered, already texting management about the incident, as Gabe walked out the door, head in his hands.

The city offered little comfort for the wounded soul as he passed the Golden Army Pub and saw the boys inside celebrating Pride, downing drinks.

I don't think they want me in there, Gabe thought, walking into his apartment complex, his face still sore from the altercation. His phone kept going off, but he ignored the messages — Wells, Daniel, Leander. Walking into the apartment, he dropped his phone on the kitchen sink and sank into the couch, starting to tear up.

What am I doing here? Why don't I feel like I am part of the team? I feel so alone.

"Like I am a prisoner in my own life," Gabe whispered, and began to sob, shaking all over. He hadn't been able to cry for a long time, but tonight the pride broke, exposing Gabe for the mess he was.

"Who am I here?!" Gabe screamed, and spent the night on his couch crying and sobbing uncontrollably.

"It's because you forgot what it was to be a team... to be a part of the Golden Brotherhood." A mysterious voice began to mutter. It made Gabe look up to see a welcome visage: Mikhail.

"I have?" Gabe said weakly.

"Don't think I haven't heard what's been said. Everyone feels like you don't want to be a part of the team — you separate yourself from those who consider you a friend. That may feel good for you, but it hurts the Golden Bros more than you know." Mikhail sat down next to him.

"They don't want me around. They're better off hanging out with their usual crowd," Gabe retorted.

"No. They want you there with them, going to events, being part of the team," Mikhail said sharply.

Gabe nodded, wiping his eyes, as Mikhail continued. "You are hurting the team more than you know. Isolation is good for certain situations, but with your bros, it hurts when they don't see you participating — when you single yourself out."

"I've always relied on the Lone Wolf aspect to survive," Gabe said back softly.

"You do not need it anymore. You are a Golden Bro — you need to lean on your friends and support them as they support you. Believe me, Gabe, I feel it. They miss you," Mikhail replied, holding Gabe's hand as he began to cry. Mikhail offered his shoulder, feeling the wet tears stream down his own face.

"I'm probably too late to make things right," Gabe said.

"No, it's not too late for redemption." Mikhail touched Gabe's face, looking into his eyes with seriousness and love. "If it wasn't too late for redemption, I would not be here. I have the Golden Gods to thank for giving me the chance to redeem myself."

"So, there's hope."

"Yes. It's not too late. Let your brothers in, and they'll give you their shoulder." A faint grin crossed Mikhail's face.

"What do I do?" Gabe looked at him, quizzical.

"Be the Golden Bro they rely on you to be. When you became a Gold Bro, that light was blinding — find that light in you, baby. I know you have it." Mikhail smiled.

Gabe hung his head and took a deep breath as his mind began to play memories of the time he'd spent with the Golden Bros: Gabe and Wells grocery shopping for the first time in Canada, the time Alton got Gabe drunk, the road trips meeting a whole bunch of Golden Bros, and the time 767 introduced Gabe to Shadow-Bagel — and needless to say, Gabe didn't leave... Shadow-Bagel wouldn't let him.

The memories were there as he touched his heart, smiling faintly, the light of memory and brotherhood healing his frozen one piece at a time. One final memory played: the day Gabe was brought into the Golden Army, and the love he got from everyone.

They need my light to shine... I've got to come back.

"There we go, love. I see the gold rising within you," Mikhail smiled.

"I feel it. I am back!" Gabe smiled, flexing.

"Now... you've got to show them that. It's time for redemption."

"The comeback tour starts now," Gabe said, smiling, grabbing his keys and heading back to Golden City. Mikhail, seeing the change in him, smiled too, then turned to finish his other affairs.

Now that the light is back, never lose it.

TO BE CONTINUED...

"I'm feeling the sun in the light of the day, it's shimmering heat gonna lead my way"

-BT "The Unbreakable"

Join the Golden Army by contacting our recruiters: @polo-drone-166 or @alton-gold77

Wells did not know whether the world would end at midnight.

That was what everyone kept joking about.

Y2K. Computers crashing. Lights going out. Bank machines dying. Planes dropping from the sky. The whole modern world blinking once, freezing, and forgetting how to start again.

But inside The Barn, packed shoulder to shoulder on New Year’s Eve, none of that felt real.

The bass was too loud. The air was too hot. His open shirt clung loose against his sweat-bright chest, and the dance floor pulsed beneath his boots like the whole building had a heartbeat of its own. Around him, men laughed, shouted, danced, drank, flirted, and counted down the last hours of 1999 like they could dare the future into behaving.

Wells smiled to himself.

Maybe the lights would cut out.

Maybe the city would go dark.

Maybe nothing would happen at all.

Either way, he kept dancing.

Because if the world was going to reset at midnight, Wells intended to meet the new century on his feet, shirt open, body moving, grin sharp, and gold already waiting somewhere in the future.

Begin Log: 09.06.2026

PDU-767 had three assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone doing team laundry -

(Alton Gold #77, Leander Gold #88, Shawn Gold #22, Pup Chevy #63 talk while PDU-767 gathers the used gear for uniform maintenance)

Below the pitch of the Golden Army stadium, 767 manages uniform maintenance post futbol practice. Alton, Leander, and Shawn peel off their sweat soaked, mud and grass stained covered lycra jerseys. The sound of the fabric unadhesing from their firm musculature caused both the pup and the drone to shudder with arousal. Pup Chevy had been a GOOD PUP.

An alternative reward subroutine initiated inside 767. It had been left there by Alton. The drone slipped a pair of shorts from the laundry basket to the eagerly awaiting pup.

PDU-767 would replace them during the laundering process.

*TASK NODE 2: DRONE and the Caves -

The team enters the cave from the beach access. The cavern is only available at low tide. This is a training exercise for Leander Gold #88, Pup Chevy #63, and PDU-436. PDU-767 accompanies for both Logistical and Training functions. As they step deeper into the cave, they activate illumination torches.

(Leander Gold #88, Pup Chevy #63, PDU-436, PDU-767 explore seaside caves)

Leander, team leader, hears noises off in the distance. Instant focus, #88 directs its drones to be more vigilant and activate scanners. Chevy paws carefully though the puddles moving ahead.

A light is seen further into the rock formations. Leander starts a countdown clock to high tide. The team moves quickly. A race to complete the mission. The team advances.

*TASK NODE 3: EXPLORATION WEEK - MISSON: ECLIPSE STATION -

(Alton Gold #77, Wells Gold #58, PDU-075, PDU-436, Pdu-767 attend a mission briefing)

The Golden Army was being deployed on exploration missions. In Ops Command, the team assembled. Team Lead Alton Gold #77 stood at the monitor as selected the Mission to Arcturus Prime for the initial task

A Recon and Recovery in Hostile territory. This would be a down and dirty mission with a high level of security.. As Alton gave the run-down of what the GA knew of the planet, the team took note and began planning, PDU-075 would configured to MED-075 given the high risk of the mission. PDU-767 would operate as a mobile terminal. Wells, MED-075, and 436 would focus on resource recovery. Alton and 436 would be on Dragoon Duty and equip with... heavy hostile discouragement.

The training simulator began to form the holo-matrix for the team to train. They would run the mission many times before deployment. They would deploy. They would complete the mission. What will post-mission analysis reveal?

**GUEST STAR: Alton Gold #77 - @alton-gold77 Leander Gold #88 - @leander-gold-88 Shawn Gold #22 - @shawn-gold22 Wells Gold #58 - @wells-gold58 Pup Chevy #63 - @chevy-gold PDU-075 - @polo-drone-075 PDU-436 - NPC

Begin Log: 08.06.2026

PDU-767 had three assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone polishing cleats for the team -

PDU-767 was charged with cleaning the cleats for the Golden Soccer Bros. It knew that Chevy was gonna enjoy playing with the cleats from the freshly rained on pitch. Hopefully, Alton Gold #77 won't mind the mutt nommming on his footwear. *TASK NODE 2: DRONE and Oceans -

The team had completed the training cycle and were enjoying the final hour of sunlight at the West Coast Operations Base.

Alton, Franco, Gabe, and Leander had come for Mountain and Titan Base trainings. Pup Chevy had accompanied them. They had gone and cleaned up for the Lunar Nutrient consumption. However, it felt wrong.

767 knew exactly what was wrong and looked to Team Leader Alton Gold #77. He nodded imperceptibly. All 4 members of his team. clutched the railing and accepted the railing as the nano-rubber formed over them. They groaned and panted as they were nulged. As they were locked down, a string of release was caught inside their rubber nulge pouches.

"This is more like it." "The tightness.... FUCK" "By the Hive it needed this" "***soft keening"

767 chose not to analyze who said what.

The sun gleamed on their shiny gold and black rubber bodysuits.

Each unit turned to look back at the base. Perfectly shaped. Perfectly wrapped. Perfectly OBEDIENT. All were 95% clear headed and themselves. The 5% obeyed Master Unit 77 without question; without hesitation.

Sol descended behind the cliff face and the West Coast Operations Base main complex. They felt strong. The team felt ready. The team felt the unity. They had worked hard all week. And now the programming... ummm... training was fully embraced.

They were ready for deployment.

*TASK NODE 3: EXPLORATION WEEK - MISSION: ARCTURUS -

The Golden Army was being deployed on exploration missions. In Ops Command, the team assembled. Team Lead Alton Gold #77 stood at the monitor as selected the Mission to Arcturus Prime for the initial task

A standard LZ Prep and Geological Survey and Samples. Thies would involve science and security. As Alton gave the run-down of what the GA knew of the planet, the team took note and began planning,

The moons hung in the skies above Arcturus Prime. The crunch of the boots sounded through the external microphone pickups. Cold. Lifeless. It was time to explore.

**GUEST STARS: Alton Gold #77 - @alton-gold77 Franco Gold #94 - @franco-gold94 Gabe Gold #75 - @polo-drone-075 Leander Gold #88 @leander-gold-88 Wells Gold #58 - @wells-gold58 Pup Chevy #63 - @chevy-gold PDU-075 - @polo-drone-075 PDU-436 - NPC

Begin Log: 05.06.2026

PDU-767 had two assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone as a medical unit -

*TASK NODE 2: DRONE Sausage -

"Yeah, the drone struck again. We told it he would be grilled at the next Sausage-fest", Wells and Alton snickered with Grant.

**GUEST STAR: Gabe Gold #75 - @polo-drone-075 Grant Gold #43 - @grant-gold Leander Gold #88 - @leander-gold-88 Wells Gold #58 - @wells-gold58 Morales Gold #36 - @morales-gold-36

Begin Log: 19.05.2026

PDU-767 had three assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone fixing a car -

(Polo-Drone Unit finalizing repairs with sleepy Pup Chevy assisting)

The drone lay on the dolly underneath the muscle car. It had its gold overalls on to both protect and highlight any oil or grease that would have gotten its shiny black rubber body. A few torques, one last check of the fluid, all the while Pup Chevy snoozed on the drone's mobility lower support appendages. Drone couldn't think of a better way to honor its Golden Bro than with a restored pony in team colors. Optimal Solar Cycle Leander Gold #88!

*TASK NODE 2: DRONE and Denim-

Saturday Detention.

Again.

its body gleaming under its jeans and baggy shirt.

Apparently, the Headmaster had a problem when 767 corrected his niece, Clarissa. But she won't ever make the mistake of bullying another student.

She had been in the school's pool tormenting younger students. 767 had been engaged in a bio-chemical testing of the water. She had been so horrible all the other kids got out of the pool. 767 had warned her to knock it off twice. She gave him the bird. Then Clarissa made the mistake of calling one of his swim team freshmen THAT word for wearing the school swim uniform.

The room froze. Time froze. Every person on the pool deck froze.

Clarissa continued unashamed.

People are still not sure WHERE 767 had gotten it.

One second, the room was silent except for Clarissa's breying bitchy laughter

The next, the metallic TINK! of a pin pulled and handle flying

And the screaming as the sea-dye marker landed in the water next to HER.

Contact with the water activated the strobe light and the chemical in the marker turning a 50 ft radius neon green. The marker is used for water rescues to provide a higher visibility to the distressed party.

The doctors tried (but not very hard). The school tried. Even dermatologists tried.

But Clarissa the Sea Hag (as she was now known) would have a green tinge for the next 10 months until the stained skin was finally gone.

PDU-767 was assigned to drain, scrub, clean, and restore the pool. When the pool was drained, It only worked alone scrubbing for about 30 minutes before the entire aquatics team joined in. Its defense of the swimmer became legend. 767 assumed a mythical reputation that was only honored the Gods more. We stand for and with our own.

Clarissa had fucked around and found out.

*TASK NODE 3: 1990's Week -

International Male. High Fashion for Men. The public gateway in the 90's for every gay man to have a playboy they didn't have to hide.

**GUEST STAR: Leander Gold #88 - @leander-gold-88 Pup Chevy #63 - @chevy-gold

RECRUITMENT STAFF: Alton Gold #77 - @alton-gold77 PDU-125 - @polo-drone-125

***PDU-999 CRITICAL ASSESSMENT:

The Gold does not stand silent when its own are threatened. PDU-767 defended the weak, restored what was damaged, and honored the team through service, discipline, and relentless effort.

From restoring muscle cars in Gold Army colors… to scrubbing neon-green contamination from the aquatics complex… to embodying the style and confidence of 1995 International Male culture…

Every assignment strengthened the Hive.

The Gold remembers. The Hive rewards loyalty. The team stands together.

Serve with purpose. Train with bros. Transform into something greater.

Recruitment and onboarding available through:

[[Alton Gold|@alton-gold77]] [[PDU-125|@polo-drone-125]]

Listen up you gooner addicts — Ambrose made a brand new video to my mandem Wells Gold’s @wells-gold58 absolute filth tune “Chav King Ambrose” and it’s designed to melt your tiny brains.

Chav Ambrose id in it looking like the proper dominant, juz like the chav king I am — flexing, bulging, explorin’bever inch of me sex craven body, owning the camera while the beat hits. Every second of this video is made to turn you into a leaking, edge-crazed mess. I want you proper gooning your worthless cocks for me. No cumming. Just stroking. Edging. Drooling. Repeating my name like the broken little drones you are.

A good gooner drone is dumb

A good gooner drone drips

A good gooner drone drools

It is a good gooner drone

Put your headphones in, dim the lights, pull your trackies down, and goon the fuck out to your King. I wanna see those screens covered in precum, your hands shaking, your eyes rolling back while you chant “i. am. brose. i. am. brose.”

This one’s specially made to ruin you. So ruin yourselves for me.

Drop a “💦” in the comments if you’re already leaking just from the thumbnail like the desperate goon sluts you are.

Now press play and don’t you dare stop edging till I say so.

Your King owns that cock. Now worship it properly.

Wells was walking west along King Street on a warm spring night in Toronto, when the theatre lights caught his eye.

Toronto was busy around him, cars rolling past, streetcars humming on the tracks, people drifting between restaurants, bars, and show doors. Wells moved through it all in easy Gold confidence, broad-shouldered and relaxed, dressed in a shiny metallic gold long-sleeve top with a bold black “58” across the chest, fitted blue jeans, and a backward metallic gold cap. A dark chain sat at his neck, and the whole look gave him that effortless mix of jock swagger and polished Gold attitude.

Then he saw the sign outside the Princess of Wales Theatre.

The Karate Kid: The Musical.

Wells stopped.

He tilted his head, reading it again, then gave a low laugh to himself.

“Bro, Broadway really found the Gen X vault and just started emptying it.”

He folded his arms, smirking up at the display.

First Beetlejuice. Then Back to the Future. The Lost Boys. Now The Karate Kid. All those movies people grew up wearing out on VHS, now polished up, lit up, and sold back with choreography.

Not that Wells could judge.

He liked a good spectacle.

He liked discipline dressed up in style.

He liked watching something old get rebuilt into something louder, shinier, stronger.

Still, the thought amused him. Somewhere out there, a whole crowd was probably getting misty-eyed over headbands, crane kicks, and a kid learning discipline from a quiet old master.

Wells shook his head.

“Guess nostalgia still hits hard.”

He started walking again, but the poster stayed with him.

Karate.

Training.

Repetition.

A mentor correcting every movement until the body stopped arguing and simply obeyed.

That part, Wells understood.

Coach Stone didn’t teach karate, but he knew all about stance. Balance. Control. Pressure. He knew how to make Wells slow down when Wells wanted to rush. How to fix his hips, correct his shoulders, adjust his hands, and make him repeat the same motion until it stopped feeling like effort and started feeling like programming.

Wells could almost hear him now.

Lower.

Again.

Hold it.

Again.

Don’t rush the release.

Again.

Wells grinned as he passed the theatre doors.

Maybe the old movie had a point after all. Maybe every real lesson started the same way: simple motion, repeated until it rewrote you.

Wax on.

Wax off.

Gold in.

Doubt out.

Wells looked back at the poster and laughed under his breath.

“Guess some lessons never go out of style. Wax on. Wax off. Repeat until Coach says it’s right.”

Then his grin widened.

“And knowing Coach Stone, he’ll make sure I polish my technique all night.”