#pdu-767

The Golden City at dawn is a masterpiece of symmetry and light. As I hit my fifth mile, the sun began to reflect off the glass spires, turning the entire park into a shimmering landscape of amber and gold. My breathing was rhythmic, my heart rate steady exactly in sync with the 138 BPM of "The Great Big Open (Club Mix)" my morning run track always made it go.

I was wearing my lightweight metallic gold compression running tights, the "Big Dumb Jock" muscle hoodie and high-performance gold-and-black trainers, the soles gripping the white marble path as I carved through the morning mist. My mind was focused on one thing: the upcoming Football game against the Crimson Frost Giants. I could already feel a slight burn in my legs from this morning run.

But then, the rhythm broke.

Near the edge of the ornamental koi pond, where the park's gold-leafed trees cast long shadows, I saw it. A jagged, pulsing vein of Red Goo was snaking its way across the pristine white marble path. It looked like a raw, open wound against the perfection of the City. It wasn't just sitting there; it was reaching, vibrating with a low-frequency hum that set my teeth on edge.

I skidded to a halt, the rubber of my trainers chirping against the stone. If a civilian or a low-level Drone stumbled into that on their morning walk, the infection would be instantaneous.

I pulled my cell phone from my hoodie pocket, the screen instantly recognizing my face. I bypassed the standard apps and hit the encrypted Golden Army alert icon.

"Command, this is Wells #58," I said, my voice sharp and authoritative as I held the phone up to capture a scan of the breach. "I’ve found a red-tier contaminant breach in the Central Park sector, Path 12. It’s active and searching for a host. Send PDU-767 and PDU-090 to my coordinates for immediate containment. I'm holding the line."

Within moments, the familiar whir of the transmat beam signaled their arrival. PDU-767 and PDU-090 they stepping out of the beam, their gold-and-black clashing with the serene morning light. They didn't need a briefing; they saw the red stain and moved.

“Securing the perimeter, Master 58,” 767 said, snapping an energy pylon into the marble.

I stood back, phone still in hand as the confirmation of the lockdown pinged on my screen. I watched as they boxed the crimson filth behind a shimmering amber resonance field. The Goo lashed out against the barrier, a desperate, oily flick of red before the field stabilized and neutralized its signal.

"Area secure," 090 reported, standing at attention.

I nodded, sliding my phone back into my pocket. The Red Coach were trying to get inside our heads before they even stepped onto the field. I took a deep breath, reset my music, and started my run again.

They can send all the Goo they want. The Golden City, doesn't break.

Constant vigilance is the price of perfection. We keep the city clean so the Hive stays strong. Ready to join the watch? Contact our recruiters: @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166 or @polo-drone-125.

The Red storyline is a collaboration with SERVE. The two groups have a connected past, but are no longer connected. Please do not ask Golden Army recruiters how to join SERVE or SERVE recruiters how to join the Golden Army.

When Alton and his bros found an empty country parking lot, they didn’t see cracked asphalt and old junk. They saw the greatest homemade mini-golf course ever built.

Trey grabbed some scrap lumber, Wells dragged over a couple rusty barrels, and twenty minutes later their masterpiece was ready for action. PDU-767 stepped up first, gripping that little club like he was about to win the damn Masters.

Alton and the boys watched with cocky grins, already preparing enough trash talk to last the whole afternoon. Nobody bothered keeping a real score, because looking good and laughing hard were the only rules that mattered.

Halfway through the game, Alton and Trey took a well-earned break beside the trucks and shared some old-school country-boy chew. The two big jocks laughed like they owned the entire countryside, trading dumb jokes and arguing over who had made the most legendary shot.

Right then, Alton’s good boy PDU-016 rolled up behind them with a wheelbarrow packed full of ice, cold cans, and boxes of sunset blush. “That’s my boy,” Alton called out proudly, giving 016 an approving grin.

No schedule, no responsibilities. Just cold drinks, hot sun, and bros who always knew how to keep the good times rolling.

By late afternoon, Alton decided that a muddy truck engine was basically just another kind of grill. PDU-767 opened the hood, found the hottest spot, and started roasting sausages like some armored countryside chef.

Meanwhile, PDU-016 stood at the camp table pouring sunset blush while Alton calmly enjoyed his drink and supervised the whole operation. None of them had any clue whether engine-bay cooking was actually smart, but that had never stopped a bro with confidence before.

The truck was filthy, the method was ridiculous, and the sausages smelled surprisingly damn good. That was countryside creativity at its finest. Use what you’ve got, trust your bros, and never overthink the fun.

While Alton, 016, and 767 handled the drinks and their highly questionable cooking experiment, Trey and Wells got busy creating the evening entertainment.

They planted two wooden posts beside the truck and stretched an old bedsheet between them beneath the glowing sunset. Trey worked the ropes while Wells held everything steady, both of them acting like they were constructing a full-size movie theater. The screen wasn’t perfectly straight, but somehow that only made the whole setup look cooler.

No tickets, no fancy equipment, and definitely no dress code. Just two creative bros making movie night happen from scratch. As the daylight faded, their empty little parking lot started feeling like the best spot in the whole world.

Once darkness settled over the fields, all five bros dropped into their camping chairs with plastic cups raised and an old Western flick glowing across the bedsheet.

Wells, PDU-016, Alton, Trey, and PDU-767 sat shoulder to shoulder, throwing loud comments at the cowboys like they could hear them through the screen. Every dramatic showdown earned macho advice from Alton, while Trey insisted he could outdraw every gunslinger in the movie.

PDU-016 leaned back beside his big guy, perfectly content after helping keep the whole crew supplied all afternoon. Nobody checked the time, because there was nowhere else they needed to be and nothing better waiting for them.

Cold drinks, ridiculous ideas, a country sunset, and the kind of bros who could turn any ordinary day into a damn good memory.

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Check this out:

Country Stuff vol. 1 Country Stuff vol. 2 Country Stuff vol. 3 Country Stuff vol. 4

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Featuring: @polo-drone-767, @danielgold-16, @hero21us, @wells-gold58

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Ready for the easy countryside life with the bros?