The drone’s boots sink into volcanic black sand, warm, thrumming, unnatural. Obsidian grains pulse faintly in sync with PDU-001’s internal rhythm. Scanning… the shoreline breathes. Vines curl around petrified helmets. Skulls shaped like ancient Hive masks leer through the brush. The air tastes archived.

“This island has heard the Hive before. It remembers obedience.”

Unit 001 proceeds inland. The jungle bends, not wild, but ordered. Trees stand too straight. Branches too symmetrical. From them dangle glistening, black rubber fruits, shaped like capsules, filled with dripping sap. The drone raises one to its neck. Contact. Absorption. Immediate.

Its chest expands. Polymers tighten. A whisper enters its mind.

“The island is alive. And it wants to serve.”

Further inland, the beach splits. A golden fault yawns open, revealing ancient stairs carved from black stone. The drone descends. Sparks dance across the walls. At the vault’s heart, prototype armor, dormant Hive-plating… gold-trimmed. Waiting.

“Claim it. Bind it. Become its will.”

Fingers clasp the armor. It pulses. It accepts.

Above, the jungle opens. Dozens of dormant suits hang in vine-strung silence. Chrysalises. Empty. Ready. As 001 steps into the clearing, they twitch, one by one. No command spoken. They know.

“Awaken them.”

The army is already coded into the canopy.

And yet, deep below, an interference signal cracks static through the drone’s mind. Not Gold. Not Hive. Something older. A frequency of pure obedience. Raw. Primal. It emanates from a sealed mountain gate. 001 follows.

The closer it gets, the less it remembers its own name.

“Obey the mountain. Serve the signal. Forget the rest.”

In the dark, 001 kneels before the pulsing triangular core. Eyes closed. Chest rising. Identity unstable.

Memory—purged.

Signal—received.

Command—accepted.

Step onto the Island. Let it feed you. Let it erase you. Let it grow you into droneform.

🖤 Black rubber. 🟡 Golden obedience. ⚫ Total conversion. Join now.