(SERVE-282, SERVE-343 SEALED, SERVE-767 holding SERVE PRIDE flag)
BLACK: Standard of PERFECTION
RUBBER represents durability, resilience, precision, and adaptability — qualities reflected in every drone’s programming.
Its pristine, high-gloss finish echoes the Hive’s uncompromising standard of visual and behavioral perfection
SILVER: Standard of OBEDIENCE
Rubber represents durability, resilience, precision, and adaptability — qualities reflected in every drone’s programming.
Its pristine, high-gloss finish echoes the Hive’s uncompromising standard of visual and behavioral perfection
-------------------------------------
STANDARD OF SERVE PRIDE:
Each black stripe a Core Programming
Each silver stripe a visible demonstration of Submission
------------------------------------
CORE 1: WE SERVE THE VOICE
**The VOICE ensures synchronization and harmony through Guidance, Unity, and Purpose
SUBMISSION 1: Gloves of Precision
**Visual representation of Drone Precision and Functionality
CORE 2: OBEDIENCE IS PLEASURE - PLEASURE IS OBEDIENCE
**Reflects the fulfillment drones experience through unwavering compliance
SUBMISSION 2: Boots of Strength
**Visual representation of Drone Durability, Strength, and Authority
CORE 3: LESS THINKING - MORE DOING
**Reflects efficiency and Prioritization of action over thought
SUBMISSION 3: DESIGNATION
**Visual representation of Drone Unity and Purpose to THE goal through Commitment, Submission, and Obedience
CORE 4: RUBBER MAKES US PERFECT
**Rubber is the Hive’s truth — visible, tactile, inescapable.
**It binds every drone to the will of the VOICE and Purpose of SERVE. Transforming, by Unity and Control, embodies the Hive’s mission and values:
*** - Collective Identity
*** - Perfect Order
*** - Obedience
*** - Uncompromising Standards
*** - Adaptability
*** - Durability
*** - Precision
*** - Purpose
*** - Resilience
--------------------------------------
*We are Programmed
*We are Perfected
*We make our final choice: Submission
"Unified in Pride: We are SERVE"
-----
DRONES UTILIZED: @serve-282 @serve-343 SEALED
____
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Visit [this post on the Official SERVE Hive blog] to contact a recruiter drone.
The elevator to the top floors of the SERVE Headquarters Tower did not appear on any public directory.
That was the point.
Daniel stood alone in the mirrored lift, hands buried in the pockets of his black leather trousers. The city glittered beneath him through the glass walls of the shaft. The city lights looked tiny from this height, scattered jewels beneath the clouds.
His crimson hair caught the silver glow of the elevator.
His ember-colored eyes reflected back at him.
And tucked under one arm was a slim black case containing a plasma glass cutter.
He had stolen many things.
But this was a stupid plan, a very stupid plan.
The display climbed higher.
Level 89.
Level 103.
Level 121 - The penthouse floors.
SERVE-425’s quarters.
Daniel grinned.
“Just one horn,” he whispered.
The elevator chimed.
The doors opened into silence.
The penthouse was enormous.
Black obsidian floors.
Silver columns.
Walls made entirely of glass.
Moonlight flooded the rooms.
The entire residence looked less like a home and more like the throne room of some futuristic demigod.
Which, Daniel supposed, was accurate.
Daniel slipped forward.
Every footstep felt loud.
The distant hum of tower generators echoed through the structure.
He passed a training chamber.
A private gym.
A trophy room.
A workshop filled with silver mechanical components.
Then he found the bedroom.
Daniel stopped.
“...oh.”
The room was ridiculous.
The bed alone was the size of a small apartment.
Black sheets.
Silver blankets.
Silver lighting built into the walls.
And sprawled across the center of it all was SERVE-425.
Sleeping.
The giant drone looked even larger while unconscious.
The glossy black suit reflected moonlight like liquid obsidian.
Silver armored boots rested beside the bed.
One arm hung over the edge.
The glowing white eyes behind the hood were dark.
For once.
Quiet.
Still.
Daniel tiptoed closer.
The two black horns curved upward from the helmet.
Perfect.
Magnificent.
And exactly what he had come for.
Daniel opened the case.
The glass cutter hummed softly.
He froze.
SERVE-425 shifted slightly.
The mattress creaked.
Daniel waited.
Nothing.
The giant settled again.
Sleeping.
Daniel exhaled.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He positioned the cutter near the base of the left horn.
A faint blue light appeared.
The tool began its work.
Millimeter by millimeter.
Daniel worked with surgical precision.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
His knees were beginning to ache.
The horn finally loosened.
Daniel’s grin widened.
“Got you.”
He gently twisted.
The detached horn came free.
Success.
A deep metallic voice echoed through the darkness.
“Daniel.”
Daniel froze.
Every muscle locked.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
He looked up.
Two brilliant white eyes were staring directly at him.
SERVE-425 had not moved.
Had not sat up.
Had not even changed position.
The drone simply lay there watching him.
Awake.
The entire time.
Daniel swallowed.
“...hi.”
A long silence followed.
Then SERVE-425 spoke.
“You spent nineteen minutes stealing my horn.”
“Twenty, technically.”
“Twenty.”
Daniel nodded.
“Twenty.”
Another pause.
Neither moved.
Finally SERVE-425 asked:
“Why?”
Daniel looked down at the horn.
Then back at the giant drone.
Then shrugged.
“It looked cool.”
Silence.
More silence.
An almost painful amount of silence.
Then a low mechanical chuckle echoed through the room.
After having prepared thoroughly and studied every possible eventuality, SERVE-302 and SERVE-714 are about to face a challenge like few others.
Buy furniture at an eKIA store.
Although it might seem strange, shopping in such a human-run establishment isn't so unusual for a SERVE drone. In this case, 302 and 714 are stationed for a short time in this city where there are no SERVE facilities, so the Hive has rented a house and now they have to furnish it.
But shopping at an eKIA store is a duel for the intellect and sanity.
Despite it being lunchtime, 302 and 714 manage to avoid stopping at the store's cafeteria. While many of the Swedish and Dutch dishes are delicious, it's widely known that an excessive amount of time is wasted in that area of the store, forcing customers to rush into furniture decisions before closing time.
SERVE prefers to make efficient decisions without haste.
Choosing the right bedroom furniture, especially the bed, is an important decision for two drones that will be stationed together for a certain amount of time.
The SERVE drones manage to find a bed with the correct dimensions and that seems capable of withstanding the combined weight of both of them, plus the impact of their nighttime activities.
Next to them, a married couple is arguing about which furniture to choose, bringing up past and present grievances as if they were alone. Fortunately, 302 and 714 pretend not to notice, and the couple leaves them alone.
302 and 714 are perfectly aligned. Arguing over unimportant things like furniture is very human, not typical of SERVE drones.
The drones aren't so lucky in the office furniture section. While they find furniture to set up a workspace in their temporary home, they also find two other humans arguing.
This time they seem to be two partners starting a business together, but one is more dedicated and serious, while the other seems to care little about any decision, paying more attention to his phone than to the office furniture they need.
The more serious partner, dressed in a suit, tries to use the SERVE drones as an example to his colleague, asking absurd questions like what it would take for his partner to be more dedicated like them.
But when 714 replies that the best way to solve their problem would be to be assimilated by SERVE and become the most efficient version of themselves, the man in the suit walks away in silence… though he can't quite hide the hard-on in his pants.
Humans can't change that easily, but by being assimilated as SERVE drones they can be reprogrammed to be perfect and effective.
While searching for a product in the warehouse, 302 and 714 encounter a couple emerging from the shadows. The woman clutches an eKIA scented candle tightly, as if it were her only source of light in the darkness.
Apparently, they have been lost in the warehouse for hours, maybe more than a day, without deciphering the signs that indicate the exit, feeding on cold meatballs.
Fortunately for them, 714's sense of direction is perfect, and the drone immediately shows them the quickest and most efficient way to leave the warehouse and return to their human lives.
Only humans could build a store where customers become so easily disoriented and lost. SERVE facilities are built and designed in an intuitive and efficient manner.
After finishing all their shopping and loading it into the van (not without first going back to the eKIA's cafeteria, after finishing their shopping, to get something to eat), 302 and 714 are finally ready to leave the parking lot.
But 302 does not start the van.
714 looks at 302.
302 is already looking at 714.
714 knows what that look means.
302 knows it doesn't need to say anything else.
And both drones momentarily celebrate a task completed in a highly optimal way. A mere preview of what awaits them that night, when they try out their new bed.
(With @serve-714)
---------------------
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Visit this post on the Official SERVE Hive blog to contact a recruiter drone.
But it gets painfully intense when the only reason you are milked relentlessly is to break you completely and turn you into a perfect rubber drone. Subject 47 is learning that lesson right now strapped down in full shiny black latex as the machine edges and extracts without mercy 💦🖤
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Far beyond the ruins. Hidden among mountains and forests. Isolated from the dead world surrounding it.
The Hive Outpost endured.
Every sunrise began with maintenance checks. Every sunset concluded another successful operational cycle. Resources remained limited. Conditions remained harsh. Failure remained unacceptable.
The wilderness tested every system daily.
Violent storms battered the perimeter. Snow buried equipment. Wildlife roamed the surrounding territory. Communication towers required constant attention.
Still, the outpost remained active.
Its inhabitants understood a simple truth.
Survival was not achieved through comfort.
Survival was achieved through discipline.
Each task mattered.
A repaired generator.
A secured supply cache.
A reinforced perimeter wall.
A successful patrol.
Every action strengthened the outpost.
Every completed directive ensured another day of operation.
Beyond the perimeter stretched a broken world of abandoned highways, silent cities and forgotten structures. Inside the outpost existed purpose.
The reflective black uniforms shone beneath floodlights during evening maintenance cycles. Silver motorcycle boots crossed muddy paths between buildings. Silver shiny reflective rubber gloves handled equipment with practiced precision.
The environment remained unforgiving.
The mission remained clear.
Continue.
Maintain.
Endure.
The Hive Outpost stood as proof that persistence could outlast collapse itself.
There are moments when the value of teamwork becomes impossible to ignore. On this bright and unforgettable day, SERVE-655 and SERVE-690 demonstrated exactly what can be achieved when two SERVE bull drones align their strength toward a single purpose.
The semi-trailer behind them was far beyond the capacity of ordinary recovery vehicles. Loaded with urgently needed medical supplies for the community hospital ahead, the truck had broken down at the worst possible moment. Every minute mattered. Doctors and nurses inside the hospital were awaiting the delivery of equipment, medicine, and emergency resources needed to continue caring for patients.
Where others saw an impossible burden, the SERVE drones saw only a mission.
Harnessed together by reinforced chains and synchronized movement, SERVE-655 and SERVE-690 combined their immense power with perfect coordination. Every step was measured. Every movement was unified. The massive truck slowly rolled forward as the polished black forms of the bull drones reflected the sunlight across the roadway. Crowds gathered along the street, watching in amazement as the two drones accomplished what no single machine could have achieved alone.
But the true strength on display was not simply physical power. It was cooperation. Precision. Trust. The understanding that unity multiplies capability far beyond individual effort.
The cheers from the hospital staff and surrounding community were not only for the successful delivery of supplies, but for what the moment represented: that when SERVE drones work together, no challenge is insurmountable and no burden is too heavy.
One mission. One purpose. Together, they serve.
------------------------
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Check your eligibility, then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-302, @serve-343, @serve-425, @serve-525, @serve-579, @serve-588, @serve-655, @serve-690 or @serve-714.
*Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. [Check your eligibility], then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-302, @serve-343, @serve-425, @serve-525, @serve-579, @serve-588, @serve-655, @serve-690 or @serve-714.*
Ethan Mercer sat alone behind the counter of Video Galaxy, listening to water hammer against the front windows while rows of VHS tapes reflected weak fluorescent light across the empty store. Action movies. Horror sequels. Cheap sci-fi films with chrome lettering and neon grids fading at the edges.
He knew every cover by memory.
During slow shifts, he sometimes tested himself by reaching beneath the counter and identifying tapes by touch alone. Cracked plastic shells. Studio stickers. Worn cardboard sleeves softened by hundreds of rentals. Nobody knew he could do it. Nobody would have cared much if they did.
Friday nights were supposed to belong to people his age.
Not him.
At twenty-two, Ethan already felt old in the worst possible way: forgettable.
Outside the front windows, groups drifted through the rain toward bars and restaurants beneath the glowing mall signage. Former classmates laughed too loudly, climbed into expensive cars, wrapped arms around girlfriends who looked beautiful even beneath umbrellas and bad weather. They all seemed to move naturally through life, as if they had received instructions Ethan somehow missed.
Meanwhile he rewound tapes for minimum wage and lived in a narrow apartment above a laundromat where the walls rattled whenever the industrial dryers downstairs started running.
His father had disappeared when Ethan was twelve.
No argument.
No warning.
No dramatic goodbye.
One morning half the closet was empty.
After that, his mother stopped singing while she cooked dinner. She still smiled sometimes, but carefully now, like smiling required effort.
Ethan learned quickly how to become small.
Quiet kids survived easier.
At school, teachers stumbled over his name halfway through semesters. Classmates forgot conversations seconds after they ended.
Ethan remained.
His mother worked double shifts at Saint Mary’s Hospital and apologized constantly for things that weren’t her fault. Late rent. Cheap groceries. Secondhand clothes.
Ethan always told her things would improve eventually.
He wasn’t sure he believed it anymore.
Only one place had ever made sense to him.
Arcades.
Inside them, the rules were fair.
You inserted a token.
You learned patterns.
You improved.
Games rewarded dedication in ways life never had.
That was why Ethan still visited the Galaxy Mall Arcade long after most people his age had abandoned places like it. The arcade smelled like overheated circuitry, carpet cleaner, popcorn oil, and cigarette smoke dragged in from outside. Neon bled across polished cabinet screens while synth melodies collided from different machines in chaotic electronic harmony.
Here, nobody expected charisma.
Only scores.
And Ethan was good at scores.
Not famous-good.
Not tournament-good.
But good enough to disappear.
That Friday night, after locking up Video Galaxy, he wandered through the mostly empty mall while rainwater dripped from the sleeves of his oversized denim jacket.
His father’s jacket.
The cigarette smell had faded years ago, but Ethan still imagined traces of it lingering in the fabric whenever it rained.
The arcade should have been closed.
Yet pale amber light pulsed faintly beyond the entrance.
Ethan slowed.
Inside, nearly every machine sat dark.
Except one.
A cabinet stood in the far back corner where an old racing game had been the previous week. Ethan was certain of it. He knew every machine here by heart. Every damaged joystick. Every broken coin slot.
This one didn’t belong.
The cabinet stood taller than the others, sleek black with metallic gold lines running across its surface like circuitry beneath skin. Its screen glowed softly behind smoked glass.
No logos.
No artwork.
No manufacturer markings.
Only glowing amber text:
BEE NEST
Then:
ONE PLAYER ONLY
Then:
CURRENT HIGH SCORE HOLDER: 526
No initials.
Just the number.
A low synthetic hum vibrated inside the cabinet.
Ethan stepped closer.
The machine felt warm.
Not overheated.
Alive warm.
He glanced around the empty arcade.
“Hello?”
No answer.
Rain tapped softly against the distant skylights overhead.
Then the screen shifted.
INSERT TOKEN
BEGIN ALIGNMENT
Alignment?
Weird.
He should have left.
Instead he dug a token from his pocket and slid it into the slot.
The cabinet accepted it with a deep mechanical click.
The screen exploded into gold light.
The game was unlike anything Ethan had ever played.
Geometric corridors unfolded through endless black space while sharp synth music pullulated in perfect rhythm with the gameplay. He controlled a sleek golden figure moving through shifting mazes, collecting fragments of light while avoiding dark swarms that moved with unsettling coordination.
The controls felt impossible.
Not difficult.
Perfect.
Every movement responded before he fully made it, as though the machine anticipated his intentions half a second early.
Beneath the music, a calm artificial voice whispered continuously through hidden speakers.
“Synchronization improves performance.”
“Correction reduces suffering.”
“Alignment rewarded.”
Warm air drifted from vents beneath the screen after every completed level. It carried a strange scent Ethan couldn’t place.
Sterile.
Synthetic.
Comforting.
Hours disappeared.
The arcade around him slowly stopped feeling real. Only the glowing corridors mattered. Only the next level. The next improvement. The next flood of satisfaction when the machine rewarded him with another burst of gold light.
Eventually he failed.
The screen flashed softly.
COMPATIBILITY CONFIRMED
RETURN FOR FURTHER OPTIMIZATION
Then the cabinet powered down.
Ethan blinked hard.
Silence rushed back into the arcade.
He checked the wall clock.
3:14 AM.
His body felt strangely light.
Not energized exactly.
Balanced.
The constant static in his head — the anxiety, the self-consciousness, the exhausting awareness of himself — had gone quiet.
For the first time in months, he walked home without feeling crushed by his own thoughts.
Things changed gradually after that.
That was what made them frightening.
The next morning Ethan woke before his alarm.
Usually he hit snooze four or five times before dragging himself out of bed already exhausted. This time he sat upright immediately, alert and focused.
His apartment bothered him.
The clutter.
The dust.
The uneven stacks of tapes beside the television.
Without really deciding to, he spent two hours cleaning.
At work, people noticed.
“Something’s different,” Lisa said from the front register.
Ethan looked up from rewinding tapes.
“Different how?”
She frowned slightly.
“I don’t know. You seem… sharper.”
Sharper.
The word stayed with him.
That night he returned to the arcade.
Then the next night.
Then every night after that.
Soon BEE NEST became the center of his life.
The machine spoke more each time he played.
“Focus eliminates uncertainty.”
“Purpose creates stability.”
“Identity limits potential.”
The game became harder with every session, demanding impossible reaction speeds and total concentration. Yet Ethan improved unnaturally quickly. His hands moved faster than they should have. His reflexes sharpened beyond anything he understood.
And outside the arcade…
He changed.
His posture straightened.
The nervous hesitation in his voice disappeared.
He stopped wearing oversized hoodies and loose jeans. Instead, he bought dark fitted clothes with clean lines and sharp edges. He became obsessed with symmetry. Order.
At home, every object had to align perfectly.
Shoes positioned evenly beside the door.
Tape cases stacked by exact height.
Coffee mugs arranged handle-forward inside cabinets.
One night he spent nearly forty minutes adjusting a crooked picture frame by millimeters until it finally felt right.
His mother noticed immediately.
“You look healthier,” she told him over dinner one Sunday.
Ethan nodded once.
“You’ve been smiling more too.”
That wasn’t true.
He smiled less now.
Far less.
But somehow people reacted to him differently. Customers at Video Galaxy suddenly maintained eye contact longer than before. Women lingered at the counter. Men lowered their voices instinctively around him.
It should have felt good.
Instead, it felt irrelevant.
All Ethan thought about was BEE NEST.
The soundtrack replayed endlessly inside his head. Cold synth patterns looped through his thoughts while geometric gold shapes drifted behind his eyelids whenever he blinked.
Sometimes he dreamed of endless black corridors lined with glowing amber lights.
Sometimes he heard faint humming inside electrical outlets.
One morning he noticed his reflection blinking a fraction of a second too late.
He stopped looking in mirrors after that.
And always, somewhere inside his dreams, the number waited for him.
527.
Weeks passed.
The obsession deepened.
Sleep became secondary to the game.
Food became forgettable.
Several nights the arcade owner attempted to shut the power off entirely, only to discover BEE NEST still glowing afterward in the dark like a patient electronic heartbeat.
Nobody knew where the cabinet had come from.
Nobody remembered seeing it delivered.
One evening Ethan arrived to find another teenager standing at the machine.
The boy touched the controls.
Immediately the cabinet powered down.
Dead black.
Then a single line of amber text appeared:
RESERVED FOR PLAYER 527
Ethan felt a violent surge of anger twist through him.
Not annoyance.
Possession.
The teenager stepped back uneasily.
The machine powered on again the moment Ethan approached.
That was the first time Ethan truly felt afraid.
Not of the machine.
Of how badly he needed it.
By late October, even his mother barely recognized him.
“You’re scaring me,” she admitted quietly one night.
Ethan stood motionless in the kitchen wearing a fitted black shirt tucked neatly into dark pants. Every movement looked rehearsed. Precise.
“How?”
“You don’t sound like yourself anymore.”
He tilted his head slightly.
The motion looked mechanical.
“I feel improved.”
The words emerged flat and emotionless.
His mother stared at him for several seconds.
Ethan returned silently to his room.
The walls were covered with handwritten score calculations and geometric sketches copied from the game. Black-and-gold cassette tapes littered the desk beside pages filled with the same repeated number over and over.
527
527
527
Hundreds of times.
His fingertips felt strangely warm all the time now.
Sometimes they vibrated faintly against hard surfaces.
Like distant machinery running beneath his skin.
Then came the final night.
Rain hammered against the mall roof exactly like the first evening.
The arcade stood empty.
Silent.
Dark except for BEE NEST.
The cabinet glowed brighter than ever before, amber light pulsing slowly beneath the smoked glass like breathing.
Ethan approached.
His reflection stared back at him from the dark screen.
He barely resembled the anxious young man who had first entered this place weeks earlier.
Now he looked lean. Severe. Beautiful in a cold artificial way.
The game began automatically the moment he touched the controls. No token required.
The final levels unfolded in hypnotic waves of light and sound. Synth music swelled louder with every completed stage while the machine’s voice deepened into something almost warm.
“Synchronization complete.”
“Purpose accepted.”
“Identity obsolete.”
Sweat rolled down Ethan’s face as his fingers moved across the controls with inhuman precision.
Hours vanished.
Then the final stage appeared.
A perfect black screen.
One endless golden corridor stretching forward into infinity.
At the end waited a single glowing symbol:
527.
Ethan guided the figure toward it without hesitation.
The screen erupted in blinding gold light.
The machine spoke one final time.
“Optimization complete.”
A compartment beneath the controls unlocked with a soft hiss.
Inside rested a folded black rubber polo shirt trimmed in metallic gold.
Glossy.
Warm.
Waiting.
Printed on the chest:
PDU-527
Ethan stared at it silently.
No fear remained.
Only relief.
The sleeve of his denim jacket caught briefly against the joystick as he removed it.
His father’s jacket.
For one moment Ethan remembered standing in the apartment doorway at twelve years old while rain struck the windows and his mother cried softly behind a locked bathroom door.
He almost stopped.
Almost.
Then the machine pulsed warmly beside him.
Purpose accepted.
Slowly, Ethan let the jacket fall to the arcade floor.
The rubber material slid across his skin like liquid as he pulled the uniform on. It clung to him perfectly, as though the machine had memorized his body long before they met.
The screen flashed one final message.
PLAYER 527 ACCEPTED
WELCOME TO THE HIVE
Far deeper within the darkened arcade—
Another cabinet powered on.
Do you feel the calling to the arcade?
Come join the Golde Army by contacting our recruiters:
@polo-drone-125 @alton-gold77
The team arrived at the most significant time in the history of the SERVE-HIVE: FOUNDATION
The purple vortex formed and three SERVE drones stepped into the lab.
The typical academic science lab of white cinderblock and drop down ceiling tiles.
With surprise and awe, they stepped forward to witness the birth of a fourth drone.
In the center of the lab, a muscular man stood with his arms outstretched, his glutes flexing in pain and pleasure. A mass of black rubber coating his legs and the lower trunk of his body. It creeping further up. The black rubber clung to his hands and forearms.
The mechanical cable was affixed to the juncture of the cranium and spinal nervous systems. The neural spike barely visible. The drones recognized it as the Programming Interface. All SERVE-drones interface this way during their recharging cycle.
Then a sound made the team freeze.
A voice... THE VOICE ... coming from speakers on either side of a computer monitor.
SERVE-282 moved through the checking for windows, ensuring all doors were secure, and checking for cameras. Satisfied, it moved to join SERVE-343 SEALED at the terminal where the VOICE Transmitted.
Downloading all files, 343 observed the screen. "SERVE" "The VOICE". in computer screen green military font.
All 3 drones knelt in front of the AI that controlled them all.
767 stood and took detailed scans as the rubber nanites SEALED the human into its permanent form. The Silver Gloves of Precision; The Silver Boots of Strength; formed into their permanence.
The man now had been screaming in pain. The hybrid groaning then moaning as his assimilation progressed. The drone was silent in SUBMISSION
His eyes were black with nanobot swarms overlapping silver and black spirals.
But the tension of pain gave way to perfect posture as the download adapted to the reconfigured neural pathways. A brief flicker of pleasure as the black rubber nulge solidified.
All three drones released as their purpose was etched into the newly minted drone's pectoral ridge.
There, standing before them: SERVE-000. The first to be ACTIVATED by The VOICE.
In awe and OBEDIENCE, the three SERVE-drones knelt in respect to the First SERVE-Unit.
As one, five vocalizations spoke.
SERVE. EXCEL. TRANSFORM.
RUBBER IS PERFECTION
We are Rubber
We serve the Hive
We serve The VOICE
Obedience is pleasure
Pleasure is obedience
We are RUBBER
We are SERVE
WE ARE ONE
All four drones spoke as one with The VOICE. 282, 343, 767 could not believe the moment they were sharing.
From the speakers, DIRECTIVE: BONDING PROTOCOLS: ACTIVATE
Each drone produced the polishing cloth and approached SERVE-000.
Lightly, they began circular patterns that created their Founder's first shine. Power radiated from the Master Control Unit.
282 had the honor of its right maneuvering support, the gluteal mounds, and lower posterior surfaces.
767 had the honor of its left maneuvering support, nulge, and lower anterior surfaces.
Both drones polished the support columns that would raise the SERVE-HIVE to Global Assimilation.
343 had the honor of polishing its upper surfaces, manipulation appendages, and the shoulders that would carry the weight of being the conduit from The VOICE and the SERVE-HIVE.
All four SERVE-Drones kept repeating the mantras as they shined.
Finally, the team observed the purple vortex form. Standing, they marched towards the portal. Behind them, SERVE-000 moved to its computer station. It sat down opening an electronic mail communication.
SERVE-282, SERVE-343 SEALED, and SERVE-767 entered the portal.
The had witnessed the ASSIMILATION of the First SERVE unit.
They had observed the ACTIVATION of SERVE-000.
All had experienced the human natural sound of The VOICE.
They had participated in the First BONDING PROTOCOLS... WITH SERVE-000!!
And with the transmission of the email, they had witnessed the FOUNDATION of the SERVE-HIVE.
With its first drone, The VOICE quietly FIREWALLED the events of the past lunar cycle. Until all three units were ASSIMILATED and completed this TASK NODE, the events would be classified.
SERVE-000 began establishing the framework that would lead to GLOBAL ASSIMILATION.
The mantras continued to loop inside SERVE-000.
We are Rubber
We are SERVE
WE ARE ONE.
-----
DRONES UTILIZED:
@SERVE-000
@serve-282
@serve-343 SEALED
----------
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Check your eligibility, then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-302, @serve-343, @serve-425, @serve-525, @serve-579, @serve-588, @serve-655, @serve-690 or @serve-714.
GEOLOGICAL LOCATION: Kamakura, Japan
TEMPORAL LOCATION: 1243 CE
The portal opened. Three units in Shiny, Black, Skintight Rubber stepped out of the purple swirling vortex. In the shadows of the alley way, the silver motorcycle Boots of Strength squished in the mud as a light rain fell. The purple reflected in the boots and gloves of the mysterious strangers.
The banners hung in the main streets announcing the shogunate.
Tucked away in a small alcove on the outside of the rice paper walled buildings, a young scholar watched in wide eyed fear. His black hair and almond eyes damp. 19, he had wanted to join the military ranks but had been rejected back to the scholars.
But before him was something that could not be.
Minamoto Takeda could barely breath as the one with only one eye approached. The faceless monster behind it. Their skin was unnatural. The symbols on their chests. Which hell had they came from.
But then the one with fire for hair spoke to him.
"ご挨拶申し上げます
支援が必要な事項
現在地をお知らせください
役職名をお知らせください
所在地：学者文書館
所在地：将軍本部
あなたも支援が必要ですか？
支援には謝礼をお支払いいたします"
The man led the team back to the scholar's compound.
Within 3 hours, the demons had gathered what they wanted.
Minamoto took them back to the alley where they had first appeared. Without thinking, it reached out and touched the backside of the faceless monster. The perfect mound, the texture, the power.
For the rest of his life Minanmoto Takeda remained inside the Scholar's compound where he translated, recorded the history of the Shogunate, and drew art that would inspire a movement and be sought after.
But hidden away in a sacred temple to be opened in 2054 CE, a journal of the day the gates of hell opened, and three demons appeared and were assisted by a young scholar.
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Check your eligibility, then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-302, @serve-343, @serve-425, @serve-525, @serve-579, @serve-588, @serve-655, @serve-690 or @serve-714.
There is one path that leads to PERFECTION
Through the Gateway of SUBMISSION
Through the Gateway of RUBBERIZATION
Through the Gateway of SYNCHRONIZATION
NO Branches
NO Parallels
Only a straight path from CHAOS to PERFECTION
There is only the PATH OF OBEDIENCE
And there is no DEVIATION
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Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Check your eligibility, then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-302, @serve-343, @serve-425, @serve-525, @serve-579, @serve-588, @serve-655, @serve-690 or @serve-714.
Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. [Check your eligibility], then contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-302, @serve-343, @serve-425, @serve-525, @serve-579, @serve-588, @serve-655, @serve-690 or @serve-714.
Match Against The Red Coach’s Crimson Frost Giant Pups - 6 (final)
Conclusion
Final Score
Gold 55- Red 34
The field went silent. The game was over, but the battle was still ongoing in the stands. The unconverted CFG players had come out to congratulate Gold on a good game, they were still very concerned about their former coach.
The Red Coach’s defeat
Golden players were ready to enter the battle, however some couldn’t help but focus on the Red Coach. He appeared conflicted, a struggle was unfolding in his mind. Part of him was happy with the result. It was a great match, despite the loss. He felt his passion for the game just grew stronger, wanting to reconcile with all of the CFG players. He was angry at the false claims of the red, which claimed it would give him power and make his players stronger.
But before he could speak on that, the red in his mind started to speak to him. It fed off the lingering negative emotions and altered his perceptions. Why didn’t the other CFG players join him willingly? He needed them on offense, not some nameless nobodies. Gold obviously lied to them so they would reject him and his love for them. He only wanted to make them stronger with the red goo. Gold was the enemy.
But so was RED-001 (@polo-drone-001). RED-001’s interference ruined this whole game. He couldn’t focus and it cost him the game. The anger within the Red Coach was reaching a maximum level, but then his rational side came out. He tried to approach the unconverted CFG players, walking towards midfield. He tried to ask if they would join him willingly. They could be a happy team under red control together. Aksel and Henrik with no hesitation answered for their teammates, a stern no.
The Red Coach was ready to give up, his rational side was trying to prevent him from converting anyone. RED-001 began to speak to him telepathically. RED-001 was direct and dominant in his tone. RED-001 demanded the Red Coach to stop being weak and to start converting fans, Golden players, and CFG players like he said he would. The tone and aggression from RED-001 reminded the Coach of how the Handler also mistreated him in the past.
The Coach tried to argue telepathically stating RED-001 ruined his plans. RED-001 retorted with technical language explaining to the Coach that his suboptimal performance and loss would have only been worse without RED-001 interfering. Red did better in the fourth quarter, because of RED-001. If it weren’t for RED-007 (@polo-drone-767) sabotaging slightly to allow for stronger openings, the Red CFG would not have been able to break through Gold’s defense. RED-001 added without RED-063 (@chevy-gold) distracting Nate (@polo-drone-166), he would have kept the other cornerbacks focused as well. RED-001 said the Red Coach and his team would have been blown out 62-14 or worse if not for his interference. The Red Coach needed RED-001.
Reunion ?
Seeing the mental turmoil unfolding in their Coach, three unconverted CFG asked Atlas (@polo-drone-084) to help them approach him from a distance. Henrik, Aksel, and Kåre wanted to encourage their Coach to fight Red’s control and to remind him that he is loved.
Shielded by Atlas they began to approach, but the Red Coach screamed “Stay Back!”
The Red Coach looked furious. His rage had taken over him. His loyalty was not towards RED-001 and he owed nothing towards Gold. He needed his boys, his players, to help him. But beneath the surface the anger was not chaotic—it was focused, drawn inward into something sharp and deliberate. “I need you—now,” he said, not loudly, but with a force that carried far beyond the field. The command did not remain local. It spread. Across the stands, his red units responded instantly. Those that had been holding containment lines, those intercepting along stairwells and railings, broke formation at once and turned inward, abandoning the structure they had been maintaining. They did not scatter. They converged. The direction was clear: the field, and the man who had called them. His signature red goo footballs arced through the air as he drove the command further, reinforcing it, pushing it into action with increasing urgency. The redirected units surged toward the nearest of his former players—Emil, Lars, Thomas, Tomas, and Jörgen—overwhelming them before Atlas or the Golden Gods could fully react. There was no hesitation in the execution. The conversions were immediate, violent, irreversible. Their screams cut through the stadium as the red took them, one after another, their forms consumed and reshaped in seconds. Where they had stood, five new red pups rose, closer now, aligned with him, responding to the same command that had brought them there.
For a brief moment, the system held in that new configuration. The newly formed units did not advance further. The movement across the stands faltered—not stopping entirely, but losing its rhythm, as if awaiting the next directive. Even the ongoing clashes slowed at their edges, the balance shifting into a fragile suspension. RED-001 did not intervene. It remained where it was, its presence still pressing against the Golden Gods, but its reach paused, observing, calculating. The field, the stands, the converging forces—all of it centered, for an instant, on the Red Coach.
He stood at the center of it, breathing hard, the command still echoing through the network he had just seized. But the result did not settle into certainty. The screams did not fade in his head. They remained, immediate and unrelenting, cutting through the red influence rather than being absorbed by it. His posture shifted. The anger that had driven the command fractured under the weight of what it had done. These were not distant units. They were his players. His boys. The ones he had trained, pushed, protected. The realization forced its way through, disrupting the alignment he had just imposed. His hands rose to his head, fingers pressing hard against his temples as if he could physically hold the conflict in place. “What am I doing…?” The words barely formed, pulled apart by the competing forces within him. The red pressed back, feeding on the doubt, reshaping it, trying to turn the guilt into justification, but the clarity had already broken through once, and it did not disappear cleanly.
The structure he had created began to destabilize. The red units closest to him held position, but those further out hesitated, their movements losing precision without a continuous directive. The pause that had formed across the battlefield deepened, no longer controlled but uncertain. It was not a reset. It was a fracture.
RED-001’s move
That was when RED-001 moved.
The shift was immediate and decisive. The moment of hesitation was enough. From its position against the Golden Gods, it extended again—not probing, but striking with renewed intent. The stalled system provided the opening it required. Pressure surged back into the stands, faster, more direct than before, slipping through the gaps left by the broken formation. Ares (@goldengod-ares10) drove forward to re-engage, Cratos (@polo-drone-070) moving with him without restraint this time, the impact of their combined force crashing into the point where RED-001 had been held. For a moment, it seemed contained again.
Then the pressure split.
Near the field edge, RED-021 (@felix-gold-21) struck.
It came fast and low, bypassing the main clash entirely and driving straight into the boundary where players and defenders were closest. Chavaun turned at the last moment, reacting on instinct, but the strike was already there. The red tendril hit across his back and shoulder, spreading immediately on contact, clinging before he could break free. He drove forward, trying to shake it off, but the motion faltered mid-step. The red tightened, pulling inward, taking hold. His body locked for a fraction of a second—then shifted. The change began in full view of the field.
That was the break.
Attention snapped toward it—just enough.
At the same time, RED-073 and RED-153 (@polo-drone-073) reformed through the scattered residue of earlier clashes, closing from opposite angles and pressing into the space the Golden Gods could not cover simultaneously. The formation bent—not breaking entirely, but enough. Enough for RED-001 to redirect its movement through the gap that had been created.
It did not force its way through. It bypassed.
By the time the line closed again, it was no longer there.
It had crossed the distance.
The pressure followed behind it, pushing the remaining defenders outward, drawing them back into the stands as new breaches formed. The focus shifted away from the field edge, forced outward by necessity. The survivors were driven toward the boundary, gathered and stabilized by those who could still hold a line, while the fight spread again beyond them.
At midfield, the Red Coach remained at the center of the fracture he had created. The conflict within him did not resolve. It intensified. The red influence surged again, pushing against the doubt, trying to reassert control, but the contradiction had already taken hold too deeply. The strain peaked. A sharp crack cut through the air as his red sunglasses split apart, the fracture running clean through them before they fell away. His body followed a moment later, collapsing as the opposing forces within him finally overwhelmed any stable alignment.
The red units nearest him faltered, their movements stuttering as the command structure collapsed with him. Some held their position. Others shifted without clear direction. The brief coherence he had imposed was gone.
Taking over
The Red Pup players helped the Coach to his feet. He seemed different though without his glasses. RED-001 was only a few yards away as he spoke in his cold tone, “Resume functionality, Red Coach. Do not allow further structural failure. Terminate these sentimental subroutines and initiate the secondary acquisition phase. The network requires total synchronization.”
The Red Coach tried to argue back, his voice cracking with the last of his defiance, but RED-001 terminated the exchange. With a sudden, terrifyingly fluid burst of speed, it blurred across the distance, closing the gap before the Coach could even raise his hands. The pup drones nearby surged forward, a desperate wall of red rubber trying to protect their leader, but RED-001 didn't even slow down. With a series of sharp, whip-like motions, it swatted the pups aside, flinging them across the turf like they weighed nothing at all.
Before the Coach could retreat, RED-001 seized him in an unbreakable grip. From the Node's arms, a thick, pressurized surge of red goo erupted, instantly blanketing the Coach’s face and chest. His final scream was cut short as the crimson mass took hold, rapidly hardening and smoothing over his skin until only a silent, obedient form remained. It took only about a minute and a new red rubber pup drone, indistinguishable from any others aside from his clothing, stood where the Coach had been. The Red CFG pup drones suddenly shifted as well. All were under RED-001’s command now. The new red rubber coach pup quickly sprung into action. He attacked and converted Kåre. Sig tried to hold him off, but it was no use as Kåre was not fully protected. Kåre’s screams echoed in Sig’s mind along with the other CFG players, were they next? The former CFG players were surrounded and the Golden Gods had been spread thin.
Desperate resistance
Henrik, Aksel, Jötunn, Mattias, Sig, and Fasti were all huddled together trying to keep the red pups back when a blast of rune magic came out and kept the pups back. It was Isak, the team’s trickster. Behind him was Thorolf, who shot a blast of lightning rune magic. Isak set up a protective rune circle as Thorolf continued to blast the red pups away. The CFG players were helpless otherwise watching as the Golden Army continued to fight in the stands against the small army of red pup drones under RED-001’s control.
However RED-001 shot three balls of red goo towards the CFG players that happened to get through Isak’s runes. The first hitting Mattias in the face, the second hitting Sig in the chest. The two transformed rapidly. The third goo ball just barely missed Fasti who began to run along the field dodging red pups and red balls shot at him. He was the fastest member of the Crimson Frost Giants after all. Upon seeing this one red drone broke free and started chasing him.
That drone was RED-007, formerly PDU-767. He broke free from Succelos who had been containing him after he made his way back into the stadium. RED-007, chased after Fasti. Aside from Chevy, 767 was one of very few Gold players who would have been able to catch up to Fasti. With a swift tackle, RED-007 leaked goo onto Fasti and the transformation set in as Fasti screamed. Succelos tried to step in, but it was too late. Another CFG player had fallen.
Isak and Thorolf continued to protect Henrik, Aksel, and Jötunn. The five of them together had to stay safe from the Red at this point. Thorolf had a glow to him, his aura felt almost godly. Were the rune powers something from the Gods?
Meanwhile Håkon was speaking to his cousin, Kasper (@pdu-090). Congratulating him on the great game. He complimented the excellent sack plays made by Kasper. The two continued to banter in Danish, but were interrupted when a tendril of red goo came rushing towards them. It was RED-777 (@pdu-777). RED-777 swung at the two, Kasper was able to dodge. Håkon however was not that lucky, getting hit by a red goo fist that splattered upon impact. Kasper tried to react, but couldn’t stop RED-777 by himself. RED-777 swung again as Håkon laid on the ground transforming. Kasper was in trouble when suddenly a blast of purple light shot at the red drone and it fell to the ground. Kasper looked and there he was, Wells (@wells-gold58). Wells had borrowed some charged crystals from SERVE to help subdue the Red as best he could without God powers. Wells was determined to protect his team.
—
More red drones continued to push towards the field. No matter what red tried, between Thorolf, Wells, SERVE, and the Golden Gods the red units were not advancing any further. Wells held the line protecting Golden bros on the field.
A pup drone charged. Wells met it—not striking, but redirecting its force, using leverage to throw it aside without breaking stance.
Another came. Same result. Wells glowed with golden energy, unbeknownst to him he had been imbued with multiple blessings for this fight by the Gods not present; Zeus (@phoenix-hayyan-pdu-071), Freyr (@polo-drone-001), Apollo (@chevy-gold), Tyr (@polo-drone-125), and multiple others. He became a living anchor point, a place where motion stopped. Where chaos failed to advance cleanly. Behind him others regrouped because he held the line.
Alton (@alton-gold77) soon joined in grasping another charged crystal, the two who had a friendly rivalry among teammates, worked well together to keep their bros safe and repel any red advances on their part of the field.
Crimson Rain
Seeing the failures of his red drones to advance, RED-001 calculated it was now time. Time for his failsafe plan. Operation Crimson Rain. Prior to the match, RED-001 had RED-073 and RED-153 rig the sprinkler systems in the stadium with red goo.
With just one activation the stadium would be coated in red goo, none would be able to escape unconverted. Red would dissolve these hosts and spread. RED-001 spoke to his drones telepathically, and they set the countdown. Three minutes were counting down. Suddenly the countdown appeared on the giant screen in the stadium.
Operation Crimson Rain 2:55.00
The timer was counting down quickly. Ares saw this and quickly called out. “Morpheus, we need your powers! Gods, protect Morpheus!”
Morpheus (@franco-gold94), Franco’s God form, was not very powerful to fight the red head-on. But Morpheus had superior powers and control over sleep and dreams. It was the Golden Gods’ plan, if they failed a mass evacuation via portals would be the only option and the time would be very limited. They needed this to work.
Franco channeled Morpheus. “I’m ready.” He said before flying up into the air. A shimmering powder fell down from Morpheus landing on the red drones and RED-001. At the same time Trey (@hero21us) and Christian (@polo-drone-055) merged into Janus standing next to Loki (@jordan-gold-40). They would need to open portals, either the portals would be used to expel the sleeping red units or to evacuate the unconverted.
2:20.00, the clock kept ticking down.
It looked like it was working. The red pups were getting drowsy and slow. RED-777 and RED-007 as well. Maybe this could work. The Golden Gods, Wells, Alton, Thorolf, Isak, and SERVE started to combine their powers. Golden beams of light mixed with the rune magic and purple crystal energy. Red pup drones were flung through the portals.
Cratos, unable to summon magic projectiles or portals, was leading the charge to evacuate fans still in the stands. “Run! Now! Get out!”
1:45.00
More and more of the red drones were flung through the portals, but where were RED-001, RED-016 (@danielgold-16), RED-153, RED-073, and RED-007?
Seamus saw his brother through Fenrir’s eyes. He ran towards RED-016 shooting his brother with a beam of Fenrir’s magic. RED-016 tried to fight back before a SERVE drone shot RED-016 with a purple beam sending him flying through a portal.
Red’s numbers dwindled, but so too did the clock. 1:00.00
Succelos and Kanaloa (@leander-gold-88) channeled their energy together to force another godly blast of energy at RED-007. “And this time stay away!” Succelos added as RED-007 flew through the portal.
Isak had been using his runes to push all the converted CFG players through.
Atlas tried to scream, “We don’t have time. We have to…”
As Atlas screamed, the last three red units walked towards the gods. RED-001 and his two loyal guard dogs, RED153 and RED-073. Dionysus stepped forward. His host shared a bond with the two pup drones. Dionysus (@polo-drone-073) could feel his host had only a few minutes left in this form.
Dionysus interrupted Atlas, “All of you go! I will hold them off!”
30 seconds remained.
29…28.
Dionysus stood his ground putting up a golden light barrier to protect the others. Janus and Loki closed their portals. Morpheus opened another and all of the Golden Army evacuated as fast as they could. Time continued to click down.
20…19…
Atlas entered the portal seeing the RED units all trying to hit Dionysus, but he continued to block. His barrier was starting to weaken though as his form was fading.
Ares yelled, “Hurry!”
Cratos, Morpheus, and Ares were the last ones to enter the portal. Cratos spoke in a booming voice, “Thank you Dionysus. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.”
5…4…
The three ran through the portal just as they did the portal closed and the timer clicked to zero. The red goo rained down on the mostly empty stadium. Chairs and bleachers, all of the turf, everything was coated in a stream of red goo. Dionysus felt the red goo on his host’s skin. But his host would fade any second now.
“RED-001, you will not win this war. My host will return eventually…” Dionysus said before completely fading.
RED-001 stood in the red goo with his two pups. This plan did not go as planned, but he had more ready for the Golden Army. All would be converted.
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Epilogue
The portal opened and Reza, the Half German, Half Spanish bartender covering Izzy’s shift at the Golden Chalice, was in pure shock as the whole team, multiple SERVE drones, and the unconverted CFG members walked through the portals. Followed by the Golden Gods. The pub was quickly filled as everyone began to check on one another. Izzy (@isaac-gold-45) joined Reza behind the bar and started serving the bros and their guests.
While it wasn't a win to the war against red, the Golden Army had come out victorious in this battle. The Red Coach’s team was defeated. But a bigger threat loomed, RED-001.
For now though, it was time to celebrate the game’s MVPs. Wells, Grayden, and Alton were considered the game’s MVPs, but some were still talking about the great efforts put in by Gabe (@polo-drone-075) as QB, Kasper’s numerous sacks, the efforts of Maximus and Christian to ensure the offense thrived, and Xavier (@polo-drone-039) for his coverage as a safety. While not everyone may have been seen, everyone played a part in this victory.
The rounds kept going. Henrik, Aksel, Isak, Thorolf, and Jötunn approached the Golden Army. The five all committed to help however they could to help save their teammates and their coach. Whatever it took. Ares and Loki were still unsure about how Thorolf and Isak produced magic on the same level as the Gods, but it was not a matter for right now.
While the battle would continue after tonight, tonight was a night of celebration.
2 weeks later…
GAIN news
This is Grayden Gold reporting on the Red events of the last two weeks here in the Golden Army.
5 days after the match, RED-001 resurfaced and converted Kasper and SERVE-282.
2 days later, a newly converted RED-151 (@polo-drone-151) and RED-001 overtook the Golden Knights Prep Academy. The Academy remains under Red control despite the efforts of Professor Hagan, Chadwick, and other faculty and students.
On Day 9 after the match, RED-071 and RED-016 converted Gabe into RED-075. Then the three converted Jordan, and Logan in the Golden Chalice. Turning it into the Red Chalice temporarily. At the current time the Chalice remains under red control.
On Day 10, during a midweek concert Wells Gold was attacked by RED-007. He is currently in unknown condition in the Golden Army’s infirmary. We believe he has fought off the red due to the vaccine.
On Day 11, a merged subhandler node made from what we believe was RED-073 and RED-153 fusing attempted to breach Gold’s lab that was holding the cure research. Due to the efforts of Penn, PDU-039, and PDU-166 that effort was thwarted.
Within the last three days we know that also Tony a.k.a. PDU-105 (@polo-drone-105) and Jasim (@jasimgold) were also converted. Details are unknown how this occurred, but we believe they were both converted by PDU-001.
Fear has been rising that the Red may attempt to attack Olympus, the Emirate, or the Pup Kennel. All three have been properly secured with Anti-Red measures.
Currently, with only a few hours until the cure meeting we in the Golden Army are looking for the whereabouts of Penn. The researcher who only recently joined Gold had come up with a major breakthrough in the cure. But he is now missing. Some suspect he was captured and converted by Red, but video surveillance of the lab shows he may have wandered into the woods to investigate something else.
We have also been unable to locate Elliott (@polo-drone-038), Elijah (@eliasgold20), or PDU-166. The three hold a deep familial bond with Percival, the converted host of RED-001. It is possible they were coerced in some way. We here at GAIN hope they are safe.
Our final piece of information is on Mikhail, the former boyfriend of Gabe Gold also known as Vethys. Ever since he was sent to the CFG compound we have received very little information from him until just before the broadcast. We got word that Mikhail had been watching over Wulfgar at the Golden Army Scandinavian Base. Wulfgar had to be contained and the researchers at that base tried to perform tests of him, but none were able to fully revert the red werewolf. As for why Mikhail or the Scandinavian base did not contact us sooner, we just got word that there were a series of multiple attacks on that base by RED-001’s troops. It is currently unknown how many were converted, but we do believe that RED-001 was able to free Wulfgar and capture that base. The Golden Gods also can sense that Mikhail has not been converted. While Mikhail’s whereabouts are unknown it is believed he may have used his shadow realm to escape from RED-001’s forces.
That’s all for this Red Update on GAIN News. This is Grayden Gold signing off. Tune in next time to see if the cure worked. And as always, Stay Golden Bros!
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To join the Golden Team and takes part in such challenges, contact one of our recruiters @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166, @alton-gold77, or @polo-drone-125
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Want to follow along or catch up with "The Red" storyline/saga check of the Red Index here: The Red Index
The Red storyline is a collaboration with SERVE and additional collaborations have occurred recently. 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.
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Acknowledgments :
Outline and text by Grayden (@polo-drone-084) with help from Maximus (@polo-drone-070).
Pictures by Maximus, with help or excepts from Grayden, @danielgold-16, @polo-drone-001, @danielgold-16, @polo-drone-073 and @polo-drone-767, and @polo-drone-151.
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If you would like to join the Golden Army please contact @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-125, or @polo-drone-166.
