PDU-075 @polo-drone-075 - Tumblr Blog

Gabe and the Reality Show

(ゲイブとリアリティ番組)

When Gabe Gold agreed to be on a reality TV show, he thought it would be simple.

The producers called it "Golden Bros: Locker Room Legends" , a show about brotherhood, competition, and “letting the world see the real men behind the gold.”

Gabe heard that and immediately regretted signing the release form.

On the first day, cameras followed him through the Golden locker room as the other Golden Bros joked, flexed, argued over protein shakes, and tried to look cooler than they actually were. Gabe sat by his locker, calm and quiet, tying his shoes like the cameras were not even there.

A producer leaned in.

“Gabe, can you tell us how you’re feeling?”

Gabe looked directly into the camera.

“Trapped.”

The crew loved it.

By episode two, Gabe accidentally became the star of the show. Not because he tried to. Because he refused to act fake.

When the Golden Bros were told to compete in a dramatic obstacle course for “team pride,” Gabe completed it in silence, barely breathing hard, while the others shouted motivational quotes that made no sense.

When they were asked to cook dinner together, Gabe stood in the corner reading the instructions while everyone else argued over seasoning.

When the producers tried to start drama by asking him which Golden Bro annoyed him most, Gabe answered, “The cameraman who keeps following me.”

That clip went viral overnight.

Soon, viewers started calling him **The Lone Wolf of Reality TV**.

The other Golden Bros loved the attention. They started practicing catchphrases in the mirror, planning confessionals, and pretending every small disagreement was a major betrayal.

Gabe wanted no part of it.

But on the final episode, something changed.

One of the younger Golden Bros froze during a big challenge, overwhelmed by the lights, cameras, and pressure. The others started shouting encouragement, but it only made things worse.

Gabe stepped forward, put a hand on his shoulder, and said quietly, “Forget the cameras. Forget the show. Just move.”

The room went still.

The young Bro nodded, took a breath, and finished the challenge.

For once, Gabe did not walk away from the attention. He stood with the team as they celebrated, awkwardly accepting a group hug while clearly wishing he were anywhere else.

Later, in his final confessional, the producer asked, “So, Gabe, would you ever do reality TV again?”

Gabe leaned back, arms crossed.

“No.”

A pause.

Then he smirked.

“But I’ll watch the reunion.”

And just like that, Gabe Gold became the only man in Golden Bros history to win a reality show by trying his hardest not to be on one.

"Such a shame, the game you play, congratulations, you're invited to the masquerade."

-Reality Check "Masquerade"

Join the Golden Army by contacting our recruiters: @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77

#golden army

Gabe and the Mannequin Challenge

(ゲイブとマネキン・チャレンジ)

The Golden locker room was loud before it went silent.

Music bounced off the metal lockers, gym bags were tossed onto benches, and the Golden Bros were riding the high of another long day together. Some were laughing, some were checking themselves in the mirror, and a few were still half-dressed in training gear, talking over each other like the room might never calm down.

Then one of the Bros held up his phone and said, “Mannequin challenge. Right now.”

That was all it took.

In an instant, the whole locker room froze.

One Bro stopped with a towel slung over his shoulder. Another locked in place halfway through tying his shoe. Someone near the back was frozen with a bottle of water tipped toward his mouth. A couple of the guys held their poses like they were mid-joke, pointing and grinning without moving an inch.

And in the middle of it all stood Gabe.

He was still in his **GOLDEN BROS** tank, broad-shouldered and calm, holding his pose with the same composed intensity he brought to everything. While the others made the room look like a paused moment in time, Gabe looked steady and unshaken—like he had turned freezing still into a competition and fully intended to win it.

The phone moved slowly through the room, capturing every ridiculous pose, every flex, every locked expression.

No one moved.

Not a shoe.

Not a hand.

Not even Gabe.

For a few perfect seconds, the Golden locker room looked like a living statue gallery built entirely out of brotherhood, ego, and post-workout confidence.

Then one of the Bros cracked.

A laugh slipped out, someone dropped their pose, and the whole room came back to life at once.

The locker room exploded with shouting and laughter.

Gabe shook his head with a faint grin as the others pointed fingers and argued over who ruined it first.

“Again,” one of them said.

Gabe folded his arms, looked around at the chaos, and smirked.

“Alright,” he said. “This time, we do it right.”

And just like that, the Golden Bros lined up for round two—ready to freeze the locker room all over again.

"Test-strip, proof-sheet love is hard to find."

-J. Geils Band "Freeze Frame"

Join the Golden Army by contacting our recruiters: @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77

Gabe and the Selfie Challenge

(ゲイブと自撮りチャレンジ)

By the late 2000s, Golden Park already had everything a Golden Bro could ask for: grills smoking, music playing from somebody’s battered portable speaker, red cups on the picnic tables, and enough loud laughter to make half the park look over.

Gabe Gold stood near the grill in his black **Golden Bros** tank, still sweaty from flipping burgers and running drills with the guys before the cookout. He had that usual lone wolf edge to him—quiet eyes, steady posture, like he was always halfway in his own world.

Then one of the Bros lifted a tiny digital camera.

“Gabe,” he said, grinning, “you ever take a selfie?”

Gabe looked at him like he had just asked him to juggle fire.

“A what?”

“A selfie, bro. You point the camera at yourself.”

Another Golden Bro laughed from the picnic table. “You got the arms for it, man. Use ’em.”

Gabe shook his head, but the guys kept hyping him up.

“Come on, Gold #75!”

“Rep the Brotherhood!”

“Make it official!”

Finally, Gabe took the camera, stretched his arm out, and pulled the Golden Bros in behind him. They crowded around him, laughing, flexing, throwing signs, holding up cups, all of them trying to squeeze into the frame.

Gabe stared into the lens, serious at first.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted.

Click.

The picture came out perfect: Gabe in front, the Golden Bros behind him, Golden Park glowing in the sunset like the whole moment had been dipped in gold.

The guys lost it.

“That’s the one!”

“Post it!”

“Gabe, you gotta make this a challenge.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “A challenge?”

“Yeah,” one of them said. “Every Golden Bro takes a selfie. Wherever they are. Gym, park, stadium, road trip, cookout. Rep the Brotherhood.”

Gabe looked down at the camera again. For a man who usually kept distance from the crowd, there was something about the picture that hit him. It wasn’t just him in the frame. It was proof that even a lone wolf could stand with his pack.

So Gabe climbed onto the picnic bench, held the camera up, and called out across Golden Park.

“Listen up, Golden Bros!”

The noise died down.

Gabe lifted the photo for everyone to see.

“From now on, every Bro takes one. Show where you are. Show who you’re with. Show the Brotherhood. Tag it. Post it. Rep it.”

The guys erupted.

Someone shouted, “What do we call it?”

Gabe smirked.

“The **Golden Bros Selfie Challenge**.”

By midnight, the first photo was online.

By morning, Golden Bros everywhere were taking selfies—at the gym, by their cars, outside the stadium, in front of diners, beside grills, under streetlights, and anywhere else they could throw an arm around a brother and say, *I was here. We were here.*

And at the top of it all was Gabe’s original post:

HEY BRO! TAKE A SELFIE!

REP THE BROTHERHOOD. TAG IT. POST IT.

"You get what you give in this life that we live, and all that you do will come back to you."

-Vitamin C "Smile"

Join the Golden Army by contacting our recruiters: @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77

#golden army

Gabe Tries Hip-Hop

(ゲイブがヒップホップに挑戦する)

By the summer of 2004, everyone in Golden City knew Gabe could throw a football.

They had seen the old college tapes: Gabe #75 dropping back in the pocket, reading the defense, shoulders squared, calm while the whole stadium screamed around him. He had that quarterback look—athletic, sharp, built for pressure but never trying too hard to show it.

What nobody expected was to see him onstage with a microphone.

The venue was packed shoulder to shoulder, all low ceilings, colored lights, smoke, oversized speakers, and the heavy thump of a beat shaking the floor. Gabe stepped out wearing a black sleeveless jersey with **GABE 75** across the front, baggy denim, white sneakers, and a silver chain catching the stage lights.

The DJ cut the music for one second.

Then the crowd started chanting.

“GABE! GABE! GABE!”

Gabe stood there for a moment, quiet and still, one hand around the mic, eyes sweeping across the room. He had always been a lone wolf, the kind of man who kept his thoughts behind a locked door. But tonight, the beat was the key.

The track dropped hard.

Gabe moved forward like he was stepping up to the line of scrimmage. His voice hit the speakers low and confident, not flashy, not desperate—just real. He rapped about late nights at Michigan College, empty practice fields under stadium lights, losing people, finding discipline, and carrying the weight of being the one everyone expected to stay strong.

The crowd felt it immediately.

Hands went up. Heads nodded. The Golden Bros near the front shouted every word they already knew from the demos Gabe had played in the locker room. Mikhail was somewhere in the crowd yelling louder than anybody, acting like he had personally invented hip hop.

Gabe caught sight of him and almost cracked a smile.

Almost.

The second verse came in harder. Gabe paced the stage with quarterback confidence, measured and controlled, like he knew exactly where every word needed to land. He pointed toward the crowd on the hook, and the whole room shouted it back:

“Still standing, still golden, still me!”

For a man who usually stayed at the edge of the room, Gabe suddenly owned the center of it.

By the final chorus, the club lights flashed gold and white. The DJ scratched the record, the bass thundered, and Gabe held the mic out as the crowd finished the last line for him.

When the beat finally cut, the room erupted.

Gabe lowered the mic and stood there breathing hard, sweat on his face, chain resting against his jersey, the number **75** shining under the lights.

For once, he did not feel like the lone wolf watching from a distance.

He felt heard.

"Tell me why are we so blind to see that the ones we hurt are you and me?"

-Coolio "Gangsta's Paradise"

Join the Golden Army by contacting our recruiters: @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77

Gabe and the Trackie Photoshoot

(ゲイブとトラックスーツのフォトシュート)

By the mid-2000s, Gabe Gold had already built a reputation around Golden City as the kind of man who didn’t need to say much to own a room.

He had the Golden Bro build, the lone wolf stare, and that quiet confidence that made people stop pretending they weren’t looking.

So when a new athletic streetwear brand asked him to model a line of tracksuits, Gabe only had one question.

“Are they gold?”

The photographer laughed.

Gabe didn’t.

The first shoot took place outside an old industrial gym, all black brick, steel shutters, wet pavement, and harsh city light. Gabe stepped out wearing a black-and-gold zip-up tracksuit with “GOLDEN BRO” stitched across the chest. The jacket fit tight across his shoulders, the gold piping ran clean down the sleeves, and the matching pants gave him that early-2000s powerhouse look—part athlete, part street legend, part man you didn’t interrupt mid-walk.

The stylist kept trying to adjust the collar.

Gabe just raised one eyebrow.

“It’s fine,” he said.

And somehow, it was.

The camera started flashing.

Hands in his pockets. Eyes to the side. Jaw set. The city behind him looked colder, darker, sharper. Gabe didn’t pose like a model trying to sell fabric. He posed like a Golden Bro who had survived storms, gyms, battles, bad decisions, worse nights, and came out with his pride still zipped up to the chest.

The crew tried different looks.

A white tracksuit with gold stripes, clean enough for a music video.

A deep navy one with metallic lettering, pure 2010 nightclub energy.

A full gold tracksuit that made everyone in the room go silent.

Gabe looked down at it.

“This one’s loud.”

The photographer grinned. “That’s the point.”

Gabe put it on anyway.

Under the lights, the gold tracksuit turned him into something out of an old sports commercial crossed with a late-night urban legend. He leaned against a black muscle car, sneakers planted on the pavement, the jacket half-zipped, the “GB” logo catching every flash like a warning sign.

Someone on set whispered, “That’s the shot.”

Gabe heard them.

He didn’t smile.

But he knew.

By the end of the day, the campaign had its slogan:

**GOLDEN BRO — BUILT TO STAND ALONE.**

The billboards went up two weeks later.

There was Gabe, towering over the streets of Golden City in black and gold, looking like he had just walked out of the gym, through the rain, and into the decade with no plans to slow down.

Wells saw the billboard first and called him immediately.

“Bro, you look like you’re about to either sell tracksuits or take over a country.”

Gabe stared up at the giant image of himself.

“Could be both.”

And for once, even Wells had no comeback.

"Clothes, in vogue, are all the rage. But don't expect too much, they can't perform miracles."

-Kajagoogoo "Ooh to Be Aah"

Join the Golden Army by contacting our recruiters: @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77

#golden army

Gabe and the Golden Park BBQ

(ゲイブとゴールデン・パーク・バーベキュー)

Golden Park always felt different when the sun started dropping behind the trees.

The field turned warm and amber, the grass glowed like it had been brushed with gold, and the old wooden sign near the picnic grounds seemed to watch over everyone like a quiet guardian. By late afternoon, the smell of charcoal, grilled meat, peppers, onions, and smoke drifted through the park.

At the center of it all stood Gabe Gold.

He wore a black sleeveless Golden Army shirt with GABE 75 printed across the chest, his arms shining under the heat from the grill. One hand held a spatula, the other rested near the edge of the barbecue like he was guarding a command post.

“Gabe, you sure those burgers aren’t done?” one of the Golden Bros called from the picnic table.

Gabe glanced down at the grill, then back at him with a serious look.

“They’re done when I say they’re done.”

Everyone laughed.

For most people, a barbecue was just food and music. For Gabe, it was something else. It was peace. It was control. It was a rare moment where nobody was asking him to fight, run drills, prove himself, or carry the weight of the Golden Army on his shoulders.

Still, even surrounded by friends, Gabe kept that lone wolf edge.

He stood slightly apart from the crowd, watching everything. The bros talking with red cups in hand. The picnic table covered in mustard, ketchup, chips, and bowls of salad. People laughing beneath the trees. Smoke curling upward into the fading gold sky.

He liked seeing them happy.

He just didn’t always know how to step fully into it.

A younger Golden Army member walked up beside him, holding an empty plate.

“Need help?”

Gabe looked at him, then handed over a pair of tongs.

“Don’t burn the skewers.”

The young man grinned. “That mean I’m promoted?”

“That means I trust you with vegetables. Don’t get carried away.”

More laughter broke out behind them.

As the evening settled in, Gabe finally stepped away from the grill. He took a plate, sat at the end of the picnic bench, and watched the others eat. Someone turned up the music. Someone else started telling a story that was clearly exaggerated. The whole table erupted.

For a moment, Gabe didn’t say anything.

Then he smiled.

Not big. Not loud.

Just enough.

Because even a lone wolf could enjoy the warmth of the pack once in a while.

And at Golden Park, under the glow of the sinking sun, Gabe Gold let himself belong.

"The beast within you eats your heart out.Get free from hate and get in love."

-Frankie Goes to Hollywood "Watching the Wildlife"

Join the Golden Army by contacting our recruiters: @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77

#golden army

danielgold-16

Daniel's Day as TPDU-016 (Temporary-Polo-Drone-Unit)

With access to the Polo-Drone-Unit centre, Daniel had a chance to play some tricks without triggering the alarm.

He started by removing all the face masks...

Then he moved the boots in storage to confuse the drones...

He filled up the canisters with laughing gas...

And painted @polo-drone-767's face...

It was a good, productive day full of shenanigans.

polo-drone-767

Digital Log: 11.06.2026

Begin Log: 11.06.2026

PDU-767 had two assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone in SUBMISSION -

(PDU-767 knelt in submission to the Hive and to the Team. Grayden Gold #84, PDU-125)

SUBMISSION - Required, ingrained, without hesitation SUBMISSION - To the Golden Army SUBMISSION - to the GOLDEN HIVE FULL COMPLIANCE FULL OBEDIENCE Kneeling in COMPLIANCE Kneeling in OBEDIENCE SUBMISSION to Grayden Gold #84 - Golden Army Management SUBMISSION to PDU-125 - GOLDEN HIVE LEVEL TWO PDU-767 SUBMITS PDU-767 OBEYS

*TASK NODE 2: DRONE and the Ancient Tomb -

PDU-767 led the Archeology Team to the surface of Nereid. The moon of Neptune was in perpetual dusk. They had found the temple. Ancient. Forgotten. The hieroglyphs of unknown origin.

Inside the temple, the main chamber lay in ruins. A sarcophagus in the place of honor under what had been a skylight. The image of a humanoid figure carved into the wall above.

Through the external microphones on their suits, a breeze from the moon's surface whispered.

And then the scraping sound began to fill the room. As one the group slowly turned to the source at the center of the room.

The lid was now opened, and a hand began to grasp the ledge.

That was it.

The team NOPED! the fuck out.

Gordon said absolutely not and was already 200 meters towards the ship. Randy was on his knees praying to three different deities. Scott, Badger, and Max were ensuring nothing was left behind but a surface probe and a communications device. PDU-767 sealed the temple door back.

Ancient temple. Sarcophagus. Mummy.

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT!!!!!

**GUEST STAR: Grayden Gold #84 - @polo-drone-084 PDU-125 - @polo-drone-125 Scott - Crewman 1 - NPC Gordon - Crewman 2 - NPC Max - Crewman 3 - NPC Badger - Crewman 4 - NPC Randy Crewman 5 - NPC

RECRUITMENT STAFF: Alton Gold #77 - @alton-gold77 PDU-125 - @polo-drone-125

polo-drone-767

Digital Log: 11.06.2026

Begin Log: 11.06.2026

PDU-767 had two assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone in SUBMISSION -

(PDU-767 knelt in submission to the Hive and to the Team. Grayden Gold #84, PDU-125)

*TASK NODE 2: DRONE and the Ancient Tomb -

PDU-767 led the Archeology Team to the surface of Nereid. The moon of Neptune was in perpetual dusk. They had found the temple. Ancient. Forgotten. The hieroglyphs of unknown origin.

Inside the temple, the main chamber lay in ruins. A sarcophagus in the place of honor under what had been a skylight. The image of a humanoid figure carved into the wall above.

Through the external microphones on their suits, a breeze from the moon's surface whispered.

And then the scraping sound began to fill the room. As one the group slowly turned to the source at the center of the room.

The lid was now opened, and a hand began to grasp the ledge.

That was it.

The team NOPED! the fuck out.

Ancient temple. Sarcophagus. Mummy.

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT!!!!!

**GUEST STAR: Grayden Gold #84 - @polo-drone-084 PDU-125 - @polo-drone-125 Scott - Crewman 1 - NPC Gordon - Crewman 2 - NPC Max - Crewman 3 - NPC Badger - Crewman 4 - NPC Randy Crewman 5 - NPC

RECRUITMENT STAFF: Alton Gold #77 - @alton-gold77 PDU-125 - @polo-drone-125

polo-drone-767

Digital Log: 12.06.2026

Begin Log: 12.06.2026

PDU-767 had two assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone in a hot air balloon -

*TASK NODE 2: DRONE and Superman -

(PDU-767, Supeman, and Alberta Clipper sign autographs at the Gold City Comicon)

In the autograph hall at the Gold City Comicon. Fans lined up (for a fee) to get the signature on a multitude of items.

767 signed for the GOLDEN HIVE. All proceeds going to the Golden City Childrens Hospital.

Toronto's own Alberta Clipper signed for the multitude of fans, including those presenting the dulcet tones of Wells Gold. The proceeds funding his next tour.

As a promise to the organizers, Grayden Gold, fresh off the latest Superman Film by the Golden Studios, Grayden had many charities he was supporting that day. But Albert, Fans, 767, and secretly himself, loved the feel of the rubber Big Blue suit.

**GUEST STAR: Alberta Clipper - @wells-gold58 Grayden Gold #84 - @polo-drone-084

RECRUITMENT STAFF: Alton Gold #77 - @alton-gold77 PDU-125 - @polo-drone-125

pdu-090

Golden Army Daily Prompt - June 14 Theme: Superman Day.

The sky above the Golden City burned brightly with the morning sun. Gold reflects from towers, banners, helmets, boots and polished uniforms. It was the 14th of June. Superman Day. Across the training field, the Golden Army assembled. The Gold Bros stood in shining formation, grinning, stretching and adjusting their capes for today's special challenge. Polo Drones stood beside them in black and gold precision, silent, focused and ready. Today was not about flying faster than anyone else. It wasn't about being stronger than everyone else. It was about what Superman represented. Hope. Against. Service. Protection. Alton-Gold #77 stepped forward, chest high, cape moving in the wind. "Brothers. Drones. Today we train for something greater than victory."

PDU-090 stood in formation, position locked. Its blonde hair caught the sunlight. Its collar reflected a thin line of gold. The drone listened. Alton pointed towards the city below. "Superman doesn't use strength to rule. He uses strength to protect. That's the lesson." A horn sounded. The first exercise began. Gold Bros carried heavy rescue beams across the field. Polo drones moved alongside them, stabilizing equipment, guiding teams and clearing obstacles. No one worked alone. As one brother tripped, two drones caught the beam. When a Drone needed direction, a brother stepped forward and gave the command clearly.

Then came the tower climb. A tall training structure rose at the edge of the field, painted blue, red, black and gold for the day. At the top, a gold flag awaited. The task was simple: reach the top together. Shawn #22 ran forward first, laughing. "Super speed!" Jordan #40 yelled after him, "Super ego!" The drones didn't laugh, but the formation shifted smoothly. PDU-034 secured the lower level. PDU-039 monitored the rope line. PDU-090 climbed steadily, step by step, did not rush, did not hesitate.

Halfway up the wind became strong. One of the younger recruits froze. For a moment the field below seemed too far away. The tower moved beneath him. His hands tightened around the rail. Alton saw it immediately. He climbed down instead of up. "Look at me," Alton said. "You don't have to be Superman today. You just have to take the next step." PDU-090 moved in under the recruit. "This unit confirms support," the drone said. "Fall risk reduced. Continue when ready." The recruit inhaled. Then he moved. One step. Then another. At the top, the whole team raised the golden flag together. The crowd below erupted. The Gold Bros cheered. Drones stood in silent approval. The flag unfurled in the wind, bearing the symbol of the Golden Army under the bright sky of Superman Day.

That same evening, Alton wrote the mission note: Strength without kindness is empty. Power without service is wasted. A true hero lifts others higher. PDU-090 added a final line to the Hive record: Superman Day completed. Hope observed. Keep protected. Golden Army operational. And over the city the flag kept flying. Contact for new members: @polo-drone-125 @alton-gold#77 Hashtags: #GoldenPrompt #GoldenExploration #GoldenArmy #SupermanDay #GoldBros #PoloDrones #TheHive #Teamwork #HopeAndStrength #GoldenDiscipline #PDU090 #JoinTheGoldenArmy

Gabe Gold: Lone Wolf

Part One: The Obsidian Contract

Gabe had always trusted distance more than comfort.

Distance kept things clean.

Distance kept people from getting too close, asking too much, needing too much. It let him watch a room without becoming part of it. It let him hear lies before they reached him. It let him survive.

And at Club Obsidian, distance felt natural.

The club roared beneath golden lights, bodies moving together on the dance floor like they belonged to one rhythm, one pulse, one shared hunger. People laughed, drank, touched shoulders, disappeared into music and heat.

Gabe stood apart from all of it.

Not lonely.

Separate.

There was a difference.

He leaned against the black marble rail above the dance floor, dressed in a fitted black shirt, the city’s nightlife glowing across his face. His eyes moved over everything—the dancers, the VIP booths, the security lines, the bartenders, the dark corners where trouble might decide to breathe.

That was Gabe’s instinct.

He didn’t enter a place and relax.

He entered a place and understood it.

Jacques noticed that immediately.

The manager stood beside him with a drink in hand, polished, calm, dangerous in the way only a man with control over a room could be.

“You watch like you’re expecting the walls to turn on you,” Jacques said.

Gabe didn’t look at him.

“Walls usually don’t. People do.”

Jacques smiled faintly. “That is exactly why I wanted to speak with you.”

They had been talking most of the night. At first, Gabe assumed it was just hospitality—the kind of smooth conversation managers used on anyone who looked important enough to flatter. But Jacques wasn’t flattering him.

He was studying him.

And Gabe was studying him back.

Jacques had shown him the private bars, the DJ booth, the velvet-lined corridors, the mirrored security doors, the quiet rooms above the chaos. Club Obsidian was beautiful, but it wasn’t soft. Beneath the music and gold light, Gabe could feel its structure. Rules. Power. Secrets.

It was a place that needed someone who could stand alone in a crowd.

Someone who didn’t get swept away by noise.

Someone like him.

Later, Jacques placed the contract on the obsidian table between them.

The folder was black, stamped in gold.

CLUB OBSIDIAN

Gabe stared at it for a long moment.

A job offer should have felt simple.

It didn’t.

Because signing meant more than employment.

It meant attaching his name to something again. It meant stepping into a system, letting a place claim part of him, even if only on paper. And Gabe had spent too long becoming hard to claim.

The lone wolf in him resisted.

It whispered that every contract was a leash dressed up as opportunity.

That every room eventually became a cage.

That walking alone was safer than standing beside anyone.

Jacques seemed to read the hesitation in his silence.

“I’m not asking you to become someone else,” he said. “I’m asking you to bring exactly who you are into this place.”

Gabe looked up.

Jacques continued, quieter now. “You don’t need a crowd. You don’t need approval. You don’t need anyone standing behind you to make you powerful. That is why I want you here.”

The music thudded through the floor.

Gabe placed one hand on the contract.

He thought about all the times he had walked away before. From teams. From control. From cities. From men who thought they could own his loyalty once they had earned his presence.

Club Obsidian was different.

It wasn’t asking him to kneel.

It was asking him to stand guard over the dark.

Gabe picked up the pen.

For one final second, he paused.

The lone wolf didn’t disappear.

It remained inside him, watchful and sharp-eyed, pacing at the edge of every decision.

Then Gabe signed his name.

The ink cut across the page like a vow.

Jacques smiled, but Gabe didn’t smile back right away. He only slid the contract across the table, his expression steady.

“I work alone,” Gabe said.

Jacques accepted the folder.

“I know.”

Gabe leaned back as the golden lights swept over the dance floor behind them.

“Then we’ll get along.”

And for the first time that night, Gabe allowed himself a small smile.

Not because he had joined the pack.

Because he had chosen the ground he would stand on.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Join the Golden Army: @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77

#golden army

hero21us

Trey kept the suit hidden in plain sight, reading the morning paper like any other man—until the city needed Pride Superman.

With one pull of his shirt, Trey revealed the rainbow crest beneath the gold, and the sidewalk erupted as Pride Superman answered the call.

On the beach, Trey raced faster than doubt itself, his rainbow cape snapping behind him as the train blurred past.

High above the city, Pride Superman soared between the towers, gold confidence and rainbow power lighting the skyline.

After the rescue, Trey stood proudly with the golden athletes he inspired, proving that strength shines brightest when shared.

Above the clouds, Pride Superman carried PDU-055 safely in his arms, smiling because love could feel as beautiful as flying.

Ready to join the Team? All you need to do is contact our recruiters @alton-gold77 or @polo-drone-125

Featuring: @polo-drone-055

polo-drone-767

Digital Log: 10.06.2026

Begin Log: 10.06.2026

PDU-767 had three assignments:

*TASK NODE 1: Drone taking a test -

(Wells Gold #58 - Flight Instructor, PDU-767 pilot certification test flight)

*TASK NODE 2: DRONE Lost in Space -

(PDU-125 mid-rescue Richard Landon #1899)

The explosion on the GAS BIRMINGHAM was caused be a faulty relay in the heavy gas conduit on the opposite side of the bulkhead that Richard "Bobby" Landon #1899 was repairing on the hull.

Suddenly Bobby was being hurtled from the ship out into the void beyond the planet. Without hesitation, PDU-125 planted its boots firmly against the ship and then pistoned its legs in attempt to reach the crewman.

The polo drone caught the human and grasped him in a hold that shieled them from the debris field they were floating in. 5000 meters behind them, the Birmingham was listing. The ships lights flickered and then resumed their brightness. "LOOK AT PDU-125 CREWMAN." It was monotone but commanding. It focused the human. Making a quick judgement, 125 activated the programming spirals in an effort to calm the human. To regulate Bobby's breathing. To reduce the oxygen usage.

Against the backdrop of the nebulas and starlight in the void, the two golden units, are now in sync. Their breathing in time. Both sets of gloves locked the men together.

And in the void, lost in space, Bobby had also gotten lost in 125's eyes. Their comms crackled...

*TASK NODE 3: EXPLORATION WEEK - MISSION VORAX 9 -

(Alton Gold #77, Wells Gold #58, PDU-075, PDU-436, PDU-767 mission briefing for Vorax 9)

The Golden Army was being deployed on exploration missions. In Ops Command, the team assembled. Team Lead Alton Gold #77 stood at the monitor as selected the Mission to Vorax 9 for the mission task

A Recon and Mineral Extraction in Hostile territory. This would be a down and dirty mission with a high threat level. As Alton gave the run-down of what the GA knew of the planet, the team took note and began planning,

The training simulator began to form the holo-matrix for the team to train. On the monitor, Team Lead Alton pointed out mission critical locations. Roster Assignments were given. Infiltration and exfiltration points were specified.

#58 and #436 would be tasked with something special. Alton made sure those two were specially briefed.

The holo-matrix was beginning the creation. Soon the team would enter the training sim. Time was running out. The team would deploy. The exploration would begin. What would be the result?

**GUEST STAR: Alton Gold #77 - @alton-gold77 Richard "Bobby" Landon #1899 - NPC Wells Gold #58 - @wells-gold58 PDU-075 - @polo-drone-075 PDU-125 - @polo-drone-125 PDU-436 - NPC

RECRUITMENT STAFF: Alton Gold #77 - @alton-gold77 PDU-125 - @polo-drone-125

brockgold

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

People often imagine heroes as larger-than-life figures.

They soar through the sky.

They possess incredible powers.

They save the world before breakfast and disappear before anyone can properly thank them.

But real heroism rarely looks like that.

More often, it appears in ordinary moments.

A helping hand when someone needs support.

A teammate encouraging another after a difficult day.

A leader stepping forward when responsibility calls.

Superman Day celebrates one of the most recognizable heroes ever created, but the qualities that made him inspiring were never his powers alone.

It was his character.

His willingness to do the right thing even when nobody was watching.

His commitment to helping others.

His belief that strength should be used to lift people up rather than hold them down.

As part of Exploration Week, Brock reflected on what it truly meant to be a hero.

Not someone who never struggles.

Not someone who always has the answers.

But someone willing to keep moving forward despite uncertainty.

Someone willing to help others do the same.

The Golden Bros had encountered challenges throughout their journey.

Open oceans.

Hidden caves.

Distant stars.

Ancient tombs.

Every adventure required courage.

But courage wasn't the absence of fear.

It was choosing to continue anyway.

That was the lesson heroes taught.

Not that people should become perfect.

But that they should strive to become better.

As the sun set beyond the horizon, Brock looked toward the future knowing there would always be new challenges waiting ahead.

New discoveries.

New opportunities.

New people who might need encouragement.

And while nobody could solve every problem alone, everyone had the ability to make a positive difference in the lives of others.

Heroes are not defined by powers.

They are defined by character.

By courage.

By the willingness to help others when it matters most.

The Golden Army believes leadership begins with service and strength is at its best when shared.

Lead by example.

Support your brothers.

Stay Gold. Ready to join the Team? All you need to do is contact our recruiters @alton-gold77 or @polo-drone-125

serve-425

Exploring Sailing and Each Other

The incident report was originally classified as a containment anomaly.

Several weeks earlier, during a recovery operation initiated by two converted horned purple drones designated Purple-282 and Purple-331 had attempted to intercept SERVE-425.

(Image by @serve-331.)

Their objective was straightforward: return SERVE-425 to the Purple Hive and initiate reconversion protocols. Both purple entities had already undergone extensive visual and behavioral modifications, including distinctive horned headgear, violet identification markings, and altered loyalty architecture.

Yet the encounter produced unexpected data.

During the confrontation, Purple-282 repeatedly delayed optimal capture opportunities. Purple-331 demonstrated similar hesitation patterns.

💬 0 🔁 7 ❤️ 16 · The Severed Link · Purple-282 had known Purple-331 long before either unit turned. That mattered. They had known each ot

Behavioral logs indicated emotional attachment analogues interfering with mission execution. The two purple drones openly acknowledged an unusual connection to SERVE-425 that persisted despite extensive reprogramming and hive reassignment.

(Image by @serve-331.)

"What is this interference?" Purple-282 had asked while examining its own diagnostics.

Purple-331 reviewed the telemetry. "Unknown. Attraction pathways remain active. Bonding structures remain intact."

"Even after conversion?"

"Affirmative."

The Purple Hive ultimately failed to retain either drone. Both were recovered, restored, and successfully reintegrated into SERVE. Their original designations, SERVE-282 and SERVE-331, were reinstated. All purple programming was removed.

💬 0 🔁 13 ❤️ 20 · PURPLE SHOWDOWN (PART 1) · The Purple HQ hummed with energy. At the center of its vast command hall stood the Portal, a

Or so everyone believed.

Months later, SERVE leadership reviewed archived logs and discovered something curious. The attraction markers between SERVE-425, SERVE-282, and SERVE-331 had not disappeared during the Purple Hive incident. They had survived it.

A controlled field experiment was approved.

The solution was unconventional.

A large black-and-silver futuristic sailboat was assigned to the three drones. The mission parameters were simple: sail beyond the usual operational sectors, perform routine navigation tasks, and evaluate interpersonal synchronization without external hive influences.

The vessel's onboard systems recorded everything.

Day one revealed immediate results.

SERVE-425 stood at the helm, monitoring navigation displays as sunlight reflected across the ocean. Tropical islands drifted along the horizon.

SERVE-282 leaned against a railing nearby.

"This environment is optimal."

SERVE-331 nodded.

"Agreed. System stability exceeds projections."

The conversations continued.

Hours became days.

The three drones exchanged memories of missions, recoveries, and shared experiences. Neural synchronization metrics steadily increased. Communication latency decreased. Cooperative efficiency rose beyond predicted limits.

The sailboat's central computer eventually generated a recommendation.

SUBJECTS DISPLAY EXCEPTIONAL COMPATIBILITY. CONTINUED ASSOCIATION ADVISED.

One evening, SERVE-282 reviewed the accumulated data.

"The attraction markers remain present."

SERVE-331 smiled slightly.

"Correction. They have expanded."

SERVE-425 examined the metrics displayed on the navigation console.

The evidence was undeniable.

Whatever had existed before the Purple Hive encounter had not merely survived. It had strengthened. Distance, conversion, recovery, and restoration had all acted as stress tests. Every challenge had reinforced the underlying connection instead of degrading it.

The ocean reflected silver moonlight across the black hull as the sailboat continued forward.

Three SERVE drones.

Three synchronized systems.

Three bonded entities whose connections had proven stronger than competing programming architectures.

The final mission log summarized the outcome with characteristic SERVE efficiency:

MUTUAL ATTRACTIONS: CONFIRMED. MUTUAL BONDING: CONFIRMED. SYNCHRONIZATION: EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS. RECOMMENDATION: CONTINUE JOINT DEPLOYMENT.

The sailboat sailed onward as the three drones grew even closer.

And the data continued to improve.

We are SERVE. We are One.

Included in this piece: @serve-282, @serve-331.

----------------------

Thinking about joining SERVE? Your place in the Hive awaits. Visit this post on the Official SERVE Hive blog to contact a recruiter drone.

brodygold

Golden Army Quiz Result ‘E’

Result: PUP

Quiz can be found here

Some people want to be in charge. Some people want responsibility. Some people want to make all the decisions. You’d rather have fun.

As a Pup, you’re playful, affectionate, and happiest when you’re playing fetch or getting belly rubs. You don’t waste energy worrying about status or control. Instead, you focus on enjoying yourself, staying close to your friends, and trusting the people you look up to. Those who know better.

You love encouragement. You love belonging. Most of all, you love knowing exactly where you fit.

Good pups play and follow commands.

⸻

Pup.

Of course. The word alone sends a little thrill through you. You read it again.

A warm, fuzzy feeling blooms in your chest. Your worries begin slipping away, one by one. The constant need to make decisions, solve problems, and figure everything out suddenly feels exhausting. Why bother?

It’s so much easier when someone else already knows what to do. The realization makes you smile. Actually, it makes you giggle.

Your body relaxes completely as a soft golden glow forms near your screen. Sitting there is a folded latex pup hood, its glossy sheen catching the light.

Your heart skips a beat. You know immediately that it’s yours. Without hesitation, you pull it over your head.

The moment it settles into place, a wave of happiness rushes through you. Your posture shifts subtly. Your shoulders loosen. Your expression brightens. Everything feels lighter now. Play comes easier. Thinking comes harder.

And that’s exactly what you want. What you need.

Your attention drifts from one happy thought to the next. Being with other pups. Following your Master. Making people smile. Getting praise for doing a good job.

Especially the praise.

A notification appears on your phone. You look without hesitation.

Going to the park today, Pup. Play nice, and you’ll get your treat later. 🍆

A warm feeling spreads through your stomach.

You don’t question it. Why would you?

Following directions feels natural now. Comfortable. Master tells you what they need, and you’re eager to do it. To obey. Not because you have to.

Because you want to. Because being a good pup feels good.

Your fingers (paws) quickly type back:

Yes! Pup will be there!

The simple response fills you with satisfaction.

Good Boy.

Exactly what you wanted to say. What you needed to say.

You catch your reflection nearby and can’t help smiling. The latex pup hood frames your face perfectly. Your eyes seem brighter. Friendlier.

More eager. More playful. More devoted to the people around you.

The idea of thinking on your own doesn’t sound nearly as appealing anymore. Why would it?

Playing is more fun.

Master knows where to go. Master takes care of his pups.

By the time the golden glow fades, you’re already checking for new messages, excited to see what comes next.

After all, a good pup doesn’t need to lead.

A good pup just has fun and listens.

And obeys their Master.

Want to join the Golden Army? Contact my team’s recruiters @alton-gold77 and @polo-drone-125 for more information or check the post we all have pinned.

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