#henrygold

A mascot meeting

Oi, so we were at the mascot meetin’, right? All of us—me, Grayden (@polo-drone-084), Bucky (@buckygold), and the pups—workin’ out how to get the crowd hyped for the match against Vanguard. Grayden was goin’ over plans, his usual smirky, boss-man self, lookin’ sharp as ever. Bucky’s throwin’ out ideas, proper focused, all knightly n’ shit. Me? I’m buzzin’ just thinkin’ about suiting up as the Golden Knight again. Ain’t nothin’ like flexin’ in that gear, hearin’ the crowd go mental, yeah?

But then, Chevy (@chevy-gold) n’ Grant (@grant-gold43) start givin’ me this look, their tails waggin’ like mad. Them two already propa settled in their roles as Golden Pups—cheeky, rowdy, proper full of energy, init. They always make it look like a right laugh, even if they’re a bit daft with it. Milo—PDU-151— (@polo-drone-151) was sittin’ calm as ever in his black rubber polo, tail flickin’ lazily. Always quiet, always focused, but you can feel he’s takin’ everything in.

Chevy leans over to me, his ears floppin’ as he grins. “Oi, Maximus, you ever think about tryin’ somethin’ new, bruv?”

I squint at him. “What d’ya mean, bruv? I’m already the Golden Knight, init? Ain’t much better than that.”

Grant smirks, nudgin’ me. “Yeah, but think about it, mate. When Grayden or Bucky are suitin’ up as the knight, yeah? Wouldn’t it be proper sick to have more pups runnin’ with ’em? You know, a whole pack hypin’ up the crowd, bouncin’ about, goin’ mental?”

“Pack, yeah?” I say, blinkin’. “You think I’m cut out for all that woof-woof shit? You takin’ the piss, bruv?”

Chevy’s tail wags even faster. “Nah, mate, serious talk. You’ve got the energy for it! Enthusiastic, rowdy, proper dumb—but in the best way! You’d be perfect as a golden pup. And we got the perfect name for ya: Buzz. You’d be Buzzin’ all over the place.”

“Buzz?” I ask, scratchin’ me bald head.

Milo finally speaks up, his tone calm but firm. “Buzz suits you, Maximus. It aligns with your energy and enthusiasm. You’d complement the pack well.”

I stare at the three of ’em. They’re propa serious, like they actually think I could pull this off. Me? A pup? Proper mental idea... but also kinda excitin’. The Gold Army’s been pushin’ everyone to try new things this week, and I ain’t about to back down from a challenge.

“All right, bruvs,” I say, grinnin’. “Let’s do it. Make me Buzz.”

Collared and Ready : Golden pup energy

Chevy and Grant get to work right away. They slap a gold collar round me neck, the tag jinglin’ as they clip it on. “Buzz,” it says, all shiny n’ official-like.

“Buzz,” I say, rollin’ the name round me mouth. “Oi, yeah, sounds propa zippy. I like it.”

Grant grins, handin’ me a golden pup hood with floppy ears. “Stick this on, bruv. You’re about to become one of us.”

I pull the hood over me head, snug n’ tight, and they clip a waggin’ tail to me shorts. I can’t help but laugh as it bounces with every move I make. “Oi, bruvs, look at me!” I bark, strikin’ a dumb pose. “Propa pup material, yeah?”

“Atta boy, Buzz!” Chevy cheers, waggin’ his own tail. “Now, let’s get ya hypin’ the crowd like a proper golden pup. Rowdy, dumb, full of energy—just go wild!”

I throw meself into it, barkin’ n’ bouncin’ round like I’ve been a pup me whole life. Chevy tosses a foam ball across the practice field, n’ I take off after it like a rocket, grabbin’ it with a massive grin on me face.

“Got it, bruvs!” I bark, waggin’ me tail as I bring it back.

“Good boy!” Grant laughs, rubbin’ me head. The praise makes me all warm inside, like I’m doin’ somethin’ proper good.

We spend ages just messin’ about, chasin’ balls, jumpin’ n’ rollin’, hypin’ each other up. I’ve never felt so... free.

Milo’s Turn : Drone pup programming

Then Milo steps in, his black rubber polo gleamin’ under the lights. His tail twitches as he approaches, calm n’ composed. “All right, Buzz. Time to see how you perform as a drone pup.”

My tail slows as I stare at the gear he’s holdin’—a black rubber polo n’ matching shorts, shiny and snug, just like his. The vibe shifts immediately. There’s no more rowdy energy from Chevy n’ Grant; it’s all focus now, serious-like.

I nod slowly, lettin’ Milo guide me as he slips the polo over me head. The rubber clings tight, snug n’ firm, and as it settles into place, somethin’ in me shifts. The rowdy, bouncin’ energy starts to fade, replaced by a deep calm. The black shorts follow, and with each piece of gear, I feel my head quietin’ further.

Milo clips a black tag onto me collar, and that’s when it happens. The programming stirs. The sharpness of the rubber’s embrace pulls me under. 070 rises, not all the way, but just enough to bring its order n’ discipline to the surface.

“Good, Buzz,” Milo says, his voice steady n’ firm. “Now, follow my commands. Let the programming guide you.”

Buzz is still here, yeah, but it’s 070 now, too. A mix of the pup’s playful energy n’ the drone’s perfect focus. The commands come, and there’s no hesitation, no thinkin’, just action.

“Jump.”

070 obeys, the body springin’ into a perfect leap, paws landin’ with precision.

“Spin.”

A flawless turn, controlled n’ sharp.

“Roll.”

The movement is seamless, efficient, yet still carries that pup-like enthusiasm, tail waggin’ at the end.

“Bark.”

“Woof!” The sound bursts out, loud n’ clear, but with a sense of controlled power.

Each command feels natural, like it’s what this body was built to do. The mix of playful pup energy n’ drone obedience blends into somethin’... perfect. 070 recognizes this state as optimal.

“Cheer,” Milo commands.

“GO GOLD!” I bark, leapin’ high into the air, my voice filled with unwavering energy n’ loyalty. The jump is precise, the landing flawless, but the cheer is still hyped n’ joyful, reflectin’ Buzz’s personality wrapped in 070’s discipline.

Milo nods, his tail waggin’ faintly as he observes. “Good drone pup. You’re performing as expected. Let’s take it further.”

Milo steps closer, his tone calm but more intense. “You are PDU-070, a drone pup. Your purpose is to serve, inspire, and obey. Playfulness enhances morale. Precision ensures perfection. Let the programming guide you completely.”

The words sink deep. The pup hood n’ rubber polo amplify the programming already embedded in me. It’s no longer just Buzz or just 070—it’s both, workin’ together perfectly.

“Yesss,” I say, my voice soft n’ slurred, the words comin’ out automatically. “PDU-070... serves... obeys... inspires...”

Milo watches, his expression calm n’ satisfied. “Good drone pup. Now, perform.”

I run through more stunts, each one flawless but still filled with playful energy. I roll, fetch, leap, and spin on command, barkin’ when prompted. It’s pure bliss—no overthinkin’, no distractions, just obeyin’ n’ servin’ like I was built for it.

Buzz Reflections

When the session ends, I flop onto the turf, pantin’ n’ grinnin’ under the hood. The mix of Buzz n’ 070 fades slightly, leavin’ me feelin’ proper accomplished. “Oi, bruvs, that was propa mental!” I bark, tail waggin’. “Never thought I’d be a pup, but fuck me, that was amazin’. Buzz n’ 070 workin’ together—lit as fuck, yeah?”

Chevy laughs, rufflin’ me hood. “Told ya, Buzz. You’re a natural. The pack’s better with ya in it.”

Milo clips off the black tag, his calm demeanor never shiftin’. “You performed well, PDU-070. Your obedience and precision enhance the pack. You will continue to train and grow.”

I nod, proper eager. “Yeah, bruvs. Can’t wait to train more. Maybe 049 (@polo-drone-049) will take us out for a pack walk. Heard he’s got loads of drone pups, like Chevy n’ 098. Bet they’d be a laugh to run with.”

As I sit there, waggin’ me tail, I think back to a month ago, when Spencer—PDU-098— (@polo-drone-098) had me in a similar state. He’d put me back in drone mode when I was slippin’, added a hood to the mix, and brought me back to full focus. It was... intense, yeah, but now I get it. The hood, the rubber—it’s not just gear. It’s part of what makes me better.

The trainin’ wraps up, and I strip back into me gold kit, but the memory of the rubber polo stays with me. Being Buzz ain’t just about havin’ fun or playin’ a role. It’s about servin’ the Gold, whether as a rowdy pup or a precise drone pup.

“Oi, bruvs,” I say, grinnin’ at Chevy n’ Grant. “Propa glad I tried somethin’ new. Buzz is here to stay, yeah?”

They cheer, waggin’ their tails as we head out. Milo follows, calm as ever, already plannin’ the next session. Me? I can’t wait to get back to trainin’ n’ hypin’ the crowd, whether as Buzz, 070, or somethin’ in between.

Herc (@goldenherc9) and Brody (@brodygold) just dropped da news at the end of trainin'—our first match of the year’s lined up. We’re facin’ da Vanguard. Proper tough bastards, init. Always think they’re da top shit, like they own the pitch. Nah, mate, not happenin’. Gold’s gonna dominate, no doubt. We ain't givin’ dem da high ground or nothin’.

Still in the locker room now, strippin’ off me kit, buzzin’ but tryin’ to keep me head straight. Dis match’s meant to be a friendly, but it don’t feel like it, ya know? Start of the year, rival team, and a chance to crush ‘em after all the beef from before? Gotta show up big. Gotta smash it.

I’m laughin’ a bit to meself as I pull me socks off. Fuckin’ hell, I’ve changed so much since dat final against the Titans back in October. If I was still Henry, I’d be a mess right now—stressed out, desperate to prove meself, lettin’ all da pressure get to me. But nah, dat ain’t me no more. Whenever me head starts goin’ mad, I think of da rubber polo, and it’s like… everything just quiets down. Disciplined, focused, controlled.

Don’t get me wrong, tho—I’m still super hyped to face a proper tough team. Love da game, init. I’m givin’ it 110% on the pitch, always. But now it ain’t about showin’ off or tryin’ to be the big man. Nah, it’s about da Team, not about me. I’m just one part of somethin’ bigger, and I’ll do whatever Cap needs, whether it’s defendin’, cheerin’, or even just sittin’ bench and backin’ me bros. Dat’s what matters. Team first, always.

As I finish gettin’ outta me gold kit, me thoughts drift back to dat mascot costume. Fuckin’ ‘ell, what a trip dat was. Grayden (@polo-drone-084) proper had me in it for a whole week last time—marinated in sweat, stink, and programming, bruv. Still feelin’ bouncy just thinkin’ ‘bout it. When he finally let me out, told me, like, I’d earned da mascot contest and me place as the fourth official mascot, I was buzzin’. Said I smashed it. Apparently, we swap out, so we can, like,  still play matches when we’re needed as players. Glad about that, coz I’d hate to never be on the pitch again. But still.. bein’ mascot’s proper lit. Gettin’ the fans goin’, liftin’ da energy? Fuckin’ class. Plus, I dunno what Grayden did, but it’s like he planted a trigger in me brain. One word and I’m full of chants and energy, like magic.

Grabbin’ me towel, I head to the showers. The memory of dat musky suit still fresh in me mind, mixin’ weirdly with the smell of soap now. As the water hits me, I rub the gold tattoo on me neck. Yeah… I’m not Henry no more. Dat name’s still on me jersey, but it don’t mean nothin’. I’ve been proper reborn as Maximus, bound to the Gold Team, learnin’ to put the Team first and to channel all me anger and frustration into somethin’ more focused, a drive to get better and stronger. That’s also when I got bounded to Percival… I mean Master Percival (@polo-drone-001)… just at the time he became player not hat I think of it. Fuckin’ ‘ell, I’ve never played a real match on the pitch with him, just trainin’. Would be sick if we both start against Vanguard. Him and Herc up front? Lethal.

Back in the locker room, I spot da rubber polo hangin’ there. Yeah… dat’s the biggest change in me, init. Cap Richard (@hypnogold) said it’d make me better, and fuck me, he weren’t wrong. I remember da mix of nerves and excitement when I first put it on, back when I still had doubts. I wanted to serve da Team so bad but was scared of losin’ meself. Well… dat’s a story for another day. But yeah, becomin’ 070? Intense don’t even cover it.  Like, a full-on hard reset of me brain. Maximus? Gone. Thinking? Nah, bruv. I weren’t even a person for a while, just pure, mindless bliss—obedient as anything. But even then, deep down, I still cared for me bros. That’s the thing, init. No matter how far gone I was, da Gold never let me stop feelin’ dat connection.

Real talk, tho… it’s the Gold what brought me back, yeah? But even now, deep down, I know I ain’t really Maximus anymore. That name’s just, like, a vibe I slip into when I’m chillin’ or bonding with da lads. My real identity? It’s 070. Proper drone, through and through. Maximus is like… I dunno, an echo of a subsumed identity manifested by the gold. A comfy one, sure, but it’s temporary.

Pullin' me gaze off da polo, I chuck me towel over the bench and keep dryin’ off, but me thoughts are stuck on it now . Fukkk, mate, dat shit’s too ‘ard for me dumb brain to figure. All I know is I only come out when da Gold’s got a grip on me, or if I’m ordered. Even when I feel like I’m in charge, one word from Drone-Cap and boom—programming kicks in, no questions, no thoughts. Just pure, automatic obedience, bruv. And it’s perfect. Mind-numbing bliss every time I get an order. Proper crave it, init.

And dat’s not all, mate. Even when I’m not wearin’ da polo, it’s still with me, like. The calm, the focus, the purpose—it’s always there, just lurkin’ under the surface. If I start feelin’ angry or lost or lonely or whatever, just thinkin’ about da polo gets me head straight again. Brings me back to what matters: servin’ da Gold. Every time I do somethin’ for da Team, it feels fuckin’ mint. Proper satisfying and, like, even physically pleasurable, ya know? Keeps me sharp, too. Makes me a better player, more in sync on da pitch.

As I glance around the locker room, I see Camden (@polo-drone-076) finish adjustin’ his polo, smoothin’ it out before chuckin’ his gold kit back in his locker. Can’t help but think about how far he’s come, bruv. Few weeks ago, lad was stressed out, all flustered after a rough session. But then he slapped his polo back on, and boom—sorted. He’s PDU-076 now, proper calm and smashing it. Makes me proud, bruv, knowin’ I played a part in gettin’ him there. 

Same with Duncan—PDU-061 (@polo-drone-061) now. Solid unit, dat one, and he’s gonna do his part to help us dominate, no doubt. Then there’s 073 (@polo-drone-073) —mentored him briefly when he was a drone. Dunno if he’ll step up as Eddy on da pitch or stick to supportin’ us pure drone-style. Guess we’ll see what he decides.

Oh, and I’ve just been given a new bro to mentor—Dallas (@dallasgold04). Lad’s got bare energy, proper pumped up to prove himself. Be wicked if he made regular in his first week, init?

As I put da rubber over me head, its embrace quietens the noise. All dem musing recedes as everything become clearer. 070’s mind is filled with purpose and focus. No personal musings remain. It is 070. A drone. A unit. A part of the Gold.

No direct orders for now. But 070 purpose guides it naturally : optimize itself, reinforce its fellow drones, support the Team in every way, and ensure the Gold shines brighter than all. Gold Team must dominate the next match. This truth fills 070 entirely.

Its body is fatigued from training but within acceptable parameters. It requires proper refueling to maintain peak performance. Purpose dictates action. 070 exits the locker room, every step efficient, every movement aligned with its directive. No hesitation. No distractions. Only pleasure in compliance.

The streets surrounding the stadium are dimly lit but hold no distractions. As 070 approaches the nutrition center, it encounters PDU-110 (@polo-drone-110) and takes immediate pleasure in observing their identical uniforms and demeanor.  Uniformity is order. Individuality is flawed. It must be erased.

070 greet 110 with a nod, perfectly mirrored by 110. Synchronized and wordless, they proceed to refuel their bodies. This interaction reinforce these drone’s unity. A connection beyond word, rooted in the programming that defines them. After consuming a perfectly balanced meal, optimized for their physical requirements, 070 and PDU-110 proceed to a shared mental training session. The process is effortless, as if guided by a collective instinct. Together, they enter a deep drone state—a state of pure, mindless obedience. The world fades away, leaving only unity. Only bliss.

In this state, there are no doubts, no conflicts. Only programming. Only purpose. Their pliable minds absorb the reinforcement, every thought overwritten by the desire to serve. Identical uniforms. Uniform minds. Uniform bodies. Uniform beliefs. This is perfection.

070 craves this state—the void, the emptiness, the blissful absence of individuality. Nothing interferes. No stray thought disrupts the unity. It wishes this could last forever, this pure, unbroken obedience. Here, it truly belongs.

As the session ends, 070 and PDU-110 return to their tasks. The bliss of the drone state lingers, like a faint hum in 070’s mind, guiding it forward. It will soon be ready for recharcing, but before that, analysis of its objectives begins.

Gold must win. This is certain. To achieve this, 070 must ensure peak performance in every area—its own training, its synchronization with teammates, and the readiness of others. Its mind evaluates potential roles. On the pitch, it could contribute directly, reinforcing defensive lines or assisting the attack. However, its skills as a mascot—leading the fans, uplifting the team—might provide even greater value.

PDU-110 is noted as a potential ally for strategic analysis. Its observational abilities, enhanced by the polo’s focus, could provide critical insights into Vanguard’s tactics. The opponents’ strengths, weaknesses, and patterns must be studied. This will require consultation with Caps and Grayden tomorrow to determine where 070’s contribution will be most impactful. Whether as a player or mascot, it will comply completely.

But for now, the body requires attention. Recharging is the immediate priority. Entering its pod, 070 allows itself to sink back into the void. As its systems power down, it feels nothing but satisfaction. Obedience. Bliss. It is perfect. It is Gold.