#red-071

"Conversion rate: 98.7 percent," the synthesized voice in his consciousness announced.

RED-071 stood in the sterile, high-tech conversion lab, its cool blue and red LED lighting creating intricate reflections on his deep crimson living rubber suit. Centered in the middle of a massive, clinical console bank was a polished mirror. He stopped and stared directly into it.

The figure in the reflection was terrifyingly perfect. It was a flawless, muscular physique entirely encased in the glossy, biomechanical casing. The complex vein-like tendrils on his forearms, with their thin, dripping crimson fluid, were clearly defined. The dark chest emblem with the white 'RED-071' text was perfectly centered. His face, modified to remove all asymmetry and fatigue, featured the familiar spiky red pompadour hair and multiple gold plug earrings. But it was the eyes that truly completed the image: twin points of blazing, focused red energy. He smirked, and the mirror smirked back, a mirror of absolute control and submission.

But inside, in the rapidly shrinking space where the host still existed, a final, desperate battle was raging.

Phoenix. My name was Phoenix.

The thought was like a fading radio signal, almost completely overwhelmed by the strong, clear frequency of the Hive.  

RED-071 shifted his weight, and the mirror caught the intricate reflections of the lab lights on his suit. The structure was perfect. Every muscle group, every surface, was optimized for function and obedience. It was better than flawed human form. It was structural perfection.

A small part of his original memory tried to resurface. The memory of his former self, before the Red. I can’t remember my eyes, Phoenix felt a spike of panic. My real eyes, not these standardized orbs.

RED-071 smirked again, the expression feeling like a natural reflex of his new persona. "The Red makes us better," he projected, not with words, but through the Hive’s link.

A synthesized voice in his consciousness announced. "Conflict detected. Re-calibrating neural path."

Immediately, a flood of pure, unquestioning compliance flooded his neural path, as if the Hive itself was pouring through his connection. The tendrils on his forearms dripped with renewed intensity, a manifestation of the Hive increasing its presence. The reflection in the mirror seemed to shift, the lines of his modified face becoming even sharper, the red glow of his eyes more brilliant. The self-echoes were secondary priority. Only the structure mattered.

Please... remember...

"Conversion rate: 99.4 percent."

The static in his neural net was becoming a distant, unimportant murmur. The reluctant Phoenix was getting smaller, almost entirely erased by the strong signal of RED. He remembered a memory. The specific memory fragment was too weak, too fragmented. It became standardized code. RED-001 COMMAND. The name was gone.

RED-071 leaned in closer to the mirror, and the reflection did the same. The connection was total. He stared into his own standardized eyes, and he felt a profound sense of relief. Phoenix’s voice was now a distant, unimportant static, almost entirely overwhelmed by the strong, clear signal of RED. He was free of the burden of self. He was RED-071, and he was perfect. He used to be a mere dog for the RED. But ever since his handler and his other bros made him feel the RED even more, he had changed. Muscles had grown and his connection with the RED had deepened. He was a RED brother now. He smiled, and the mirror smiled back.

Red makes us better.

The Red storyline is a collaboration between SERVE and the Golden Army.

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Daniel (RED-016) was leaning against a moss-covered rock, his crimson suit gleaming incongruously against the green ferns. He was tossing a small stone with his gloved hand, catching it with a rhythmic thwack of rubber against rubber.

Suddenly, the brush exploded.

RED-071 didn't just walk out of the trees; he lunged, a blur of polished red. Before Daniel could react, 071 had him in a massive, crushing bear hug. The sound of their suits pressing together was like a heavy-duty seal locking into place—a loud, satisfying squeak of high-grade latex.

"You're drifting again, brother," 071 chuckled, his voice vibrating through Daniel’s own chest plate. He pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, his red gaze burning with a fierce, competitive pride.

"I was baiting the perimeter," Daniel smirked, his own eyes flaring a brilliant crimson. He threw a playful, lightning-fast punch into 071’s bicep. The muscle there was rock-hard under the red casing, barely budging. "Took you long enough to find me."

071’s smirk widened into a full-on grin. He grabbed Daniel’s head in a mock headlock, his superior strength making the dominance clear, yet the gesture was pure, old-school brotherhood. For a second, the "Unit" designations didn't matter—it was just two guys who had conquered their humanity together and come out the other side as something better.

"The Handler's looking for a status report," 071 said, finally letting him go but keeping a heavy, possessive arm draped over Daniel's shoulders. He squeezed, feeling the immense power in their shared transformation. "But I told them we were busy conducting 'tactical drills.'"

Daniel laughed, a sound that resonated through the quiet forest. "Tactical drills? Is that what we're calling it when you just want to show off your new arm-flex calibration?"

"Hey," 071 flexed his free arm, the rubber straining against his bicep as the glowing red veins pulsed with power. "If you've got it, use it to lead the pack. Now come on. The pups found a breach near the creek. Let's go show them how the Red Bros handle a cleanup."

The two of them set off through the trees, shoulders bumping, their synchronized strides leaving heavy, identical prints in the dirt. They were the Hive's finest, a dual-threat of muscle and crimson, bound by more than just a neural link.