PDU-166

This blog is 18+ and NSFW Polo-Drone-166

[polo-drone-166]

Are You Ready to Convert to GOLD?

I. The Call to Gold

Invitation to Greatness: The Golden Army seeks those who are ready to leave behind the ordinary and embrace something extraordinary. The transformation into a member of the Golden Army is not just about joining a team—it’s about entering a golden world where unity, strength, and excellence define every action.

II. The GOLD Brocess

Golden Army Induction:

The transformation begins with the golden jersey. As recruits don the shimmering fabric, their old identities fade, replaced by a deep connection to their golden brothers. A new name and number are bestowed, marking their rebirth into the Army.

Polo Drone Conversion:

For those called to deeper submission, the journey continues with the black rubber polo adorned with golden accents. The tactile embrace of the polo brings clarity and purpose as recruits surrender individuality, becoming extensions of the Hive. Polo drones must also be full members of the golden army.

Unified Identity:

Every member, whether golden bro or polo drone, receives a unique designation that ties them to the collective. This identity signifies their role in the unbreakable fabric of the Golden Collective.

III. Life in the Golden World

A World of Unity: In the Golden Army, every member is connected by an unbreakable bond. The world they inhabit is one of unity, where the success of one is the success of all. The golden world is a place where individual desires are aligned with the collective goal of dominance and excellence.

Brotherhood of Gold: As a member of the Golden Army, you are never alone. Your golden brothers stand with you, on and off the field. This brotherhood is your new family, bound by the shared experience of transformation and the pursuit of greatness. The golden world is one of mutual support, where every member pushes the others to be the best they can be.

Mentorship and Guidance: New recruits are guided through their transformation by experienced members of the Golden Army. These golden brothers ensure that the transition is smooth, offering support and encouragement as the recruit embraces their new identity.

IV. Embracing Our Identity

The Golden Name and Number: Every member receives a new name and number, signifying their rebirth into the Golden Army. This identity is a badge of honor, representing their place within the golden world. It is a constant reminder of their commitment to the values and mission of the Golden Army.

Wearing the Gold: The golden kit is more than just a uniform—it is the physical manifestation of the transformation. Wearing it is an act of devotion, a display of pride in one’s new identity. The kit is worn with reverence, as it is the symbol of the golden world and the brotherhood within it.

Wearing the Polo: For those who take that extra step, polo drones are given a number as their designation. The black polo is the entire identity. Wearing it is an act of mindless unity, complete subservience to the hive and the GOLD. 

V. The Eternal Golden Brotherhood

A Lifelong Bond: The transformation into the Golden Army is permanent. Once you have joined, you are forever part of the golden world. The bond between golden brothers is eternal, unbreakable by time or distance. This brotherhood is your family, your support, and your source of strength.

Living the Legacy: As a member of the Golden Army, you are part of a legacy that transcends the ordinary. You are part of a golden world where excellence is the standard, and unity is the key to success. We celebrate together, share stories, and encourage each other to become better people 💛

Our Leadership:

@brodygold Brody Gold- Captain 2 and Recruiter

@goldenherc9 Scott Gold- Captain 3 and Recruiter

@polo-drone-001 Percival Gold - Office Manager

@polo-drone-070 Henry Gold- Office Assistant

@polo-drone-084 Grayden Gold- Office Assistant and Head Mascot

Others in Management:

@danielgold-16

@polo-drone-110

[polo-drone-166]

America: The Story more than 250 Years Old: Chapter 2 - American Revolution 1770s-1780s

If you thought the 1750s and 1760s in Colonial America, a powder keg was about to explode in the 1770s, and it started with a death of a young 11-year old Massachusetts boy by the name of Christopher Seider, who was shot and killed by british officer Ebenezer Richardson, the death would fuel anti-british sentiment that on March 5th, 1770, nine British Soldiers and about 300-400 Bostonians found themselves in a conflict that lead to more deaths such as a former slave Crispus Attucks, and the revolutionaries branded it as a massacre... The Boston Massacre, the lead the then Acting Governor Thomas Hutchinson to promise an inquiry into the matter to placate the colonists, The trail that followed took place in November, with the British Soldiers asking for future President John Adams to represent them of which he did to ensure a fair trial of which all but 2 were Acquitted of murder and manslaughter charges.

In between the massacre and the trial the British Parliament repealed the Townshend Acts that lead to the massacre on April 12th.

The next major event would happen of April 27th, 1773 with the passage of the Tea Act that granted the East India Company a monopoly on the North American Tea Trade that would lead to colonists disguised as native americans to dump tea in the Boston Harbor on December 16th, 1773, oh and by this point a Young Alexander Hamilton is at college. In March of 1774 the British pass the Intolerable acts making Boston and Massachusetts directly subjected to the rule of the Crown, with more acts to follow like the quartering of soldiers that would lead to the 3rd Amendment 17 years later. All of the actions happening to Boston would lead to the meeting of the First Continental Congress in September that year they would continue to meet in the rest of 1774 into 1775.

1775 the year of give me liberty or give me death and the start of the American Revolution, on the late night of April 18th, 1775... "THE REGULARS ARE COMING THE REGULARS ARE COMING" Paul Revere cried out as he saw two lanterns in Boston's Old North Church warning of British Troops arriving by sea. That night lead to the Dawn of the American Revolution with the Battles of Lexington and Concord on April 19th, 1775. A few weeks later the Second Continental Congress met and elect Massachusetts' own John Hancock to lead the Congress and Virginia's own George Washington to lead the Continental Army. They also authorized the Colonies to make constitutions for their colonies. The same day the C.Congress met Ethan Allen of the Green Mountain Boys and Benedict Arnold captured fort Ticonderoga (Yes the Pencil People). A month later the Patriots would suffer heavy losses at the battle of bunker hill and a number of skirmishes.

By 1776, Thomas Paine published Common Sense to fan the flames of Independence and continue the fight of the American Revolutionary Spirit which continued to grow by summertime. on June 7th, the Colonies adopted the Lee Resolution authored by future Virginia Senator Richard Henry Lee which said:

"These united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states."

Four days after the Lee Resolution, the Continental Congress formed the committee of five, to draft a important document one that would act as the birth certificate that millions of Americans celebrated, A declaration of Independence. The committee were some of the brilliant minds of the time: Future First Vice-President and Future Second President John Adams of Massachusetts; Inventor, Scientist, and Ambassador, Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania; Secretary of Foreign Affairs, a precursor to the Secretary of State, Robert Robert Livingston of New York; Future Representative and Senator of Connecticut and only founding father to sign on all of the documents that laid the foundation of American Government Roger Sherman; and the main man and author of the Declaration of Independence, Future First Secretary of State, Future Second Vice-President, and Future Third President Thomas Jefferson of Virginia.

These five men would write a draft of the document that after revisions and rewrites the presented the declaration to the Congress 17 days after forming. That moment of presenting an important document is found in the famous painting by John Trumbull and on the back of the 2 Dollar Bill since 1976.

The Vote for Independence happened on July 2nd 1776 2 days later on July 4th, 1776, 250 years ago, the Colonies declared themselves independent of King George III and the British Crown, and thus the name, United Colonies was created, (They would revisit the name in a few months), By late Summer 1776 fuelled by the Spirit of '76, the Americans were still suffering defeats but fighting for independence. On September 9th, The Congress would rename the United Colonies into a new name that would last a decade, a century, a quarter of a millennium: The United States of America. The Americans would start to gain victories but still suffered defeats, but it attracted the attention of the biggest enemy of the British Crown, France.

as Summer marched to Winter, King George III began to doubt the British might in America on October 31st. by the end of December the Americans gained a major victory in Trenton, New Jersey by surprising the Hessians on Christmas night and in 1777, they continued to gain victories but then went back to a streak of losses. This pattern would continue thru 1777.

On November 15th, 1777, The Congress created the first constitution of the United States: The Articles of Confederation. It would not go into effect until 1781 and would not last a decade. In December, as Americas were settled in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, the United States gained its first INTERNATIONAL recognition as an Independent Country, that country was not France or Spain, but the Muslim majority country of Morocco, a recognition that still holds today since 1777.

In February of 1778, France would form an alliance with the United States and later the same month Prussian Army officer Friedrich Wilhelm August Heinrich Ferdinand Fresher von Steuben, or simply von Steuben would reform the American Army into an actual fighting force, he is also believed to be Gay. Spain would follow suit with support from France and declare war on Britain and support the Americans in 1779.

1780 has arrived but the War wages on but by this point Lafayette managed to secure some guns and ships and men from France to aide the Americans. But with support of France and Spain, the tide of war began to favor the Americans but in late summer to early autumn Benedict Arnold begins to turn his back on America and switches side to the British. In December, that guy Alexander Hamilton marries Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton... I wonder if America will remember him?

It is now 1781 and Britain is facing the inevitable reality: They are losing. they are starting to get pushed back thru all of the year until late September at Yorktown, Virginia. Three weeks later on October 19th, 1781, the world turned upside down, a ragtag volunteer army with the support of the French defeated the global superpower that was the British, with General Charles Cornwallis surrendering. America was now independent, In February 1782, the British Parliament vote to end further hostiles in America. John Adams as ambassador to the Netherlands, secured Dutch recognition of the United States on April 19th, 1782, 7 years to the day from when the war started in Concord and Lexington. in August 1782, the 2nd Oldest (behind the St. George Cross in 1769) and one of the Highest military honors in the United States is created the Badge of Military Merit or as it would be known as 150 years later after a redesign to honor Washington, the Purple Heart, would be ordered for the soldiers by Washington.

Towards the end of 1782, US Representatives and British Representatives met in Paris, the following February, King George III and Parliament officially recognize the United States that September it was official with the 1783 Treaty of Paris.

Its now 1784. The war is done the Treaty of Paris 1783 is ratified and the United States turns inward to focus on itself, but just as things seem to shine brighter in the colonies, the cracks were starting to show, the states started to act independently and ignoring obligations under the Articles of Confederation. the Articles required unanimous votes from all the states, but with the country resorting to Pre-Revolutionary behaviors, the country seemed to be tearing itself apart (certainly not foreshadowing anything in 80 years). In 1786 it seems like the tyranny of the mob was the order of the day with Shays' Rebellion exploding the issues of the Articles into the limelight and at a convention in Annapolis, Maryland 6 of the 13 states meet to vote and form a convention in Philadelphia in May 1787.

May 14th, 1787 the Constitutional Convention begins 15 days later on May 29th, 1787, Virginia introduces a motion that would scrap the Articles of Confederation and introduced the Virginia Plan parts of which is now in Articles I-III of the Constitution, but 16 days later New Jersey introduced an alternative plan, parts of which can be found in the US Senate with the equal representation for the states to keep the power between large and small states equal. It also introduced what would be the 3 most important clauses in the Constitution: the rules for naturalization that is now part of Article I, The Supremacy Clause that is now Article VI Clause 2, the Extradition Clause found in Article VI Section 2 Clause 2, and finally the Admissions Clause in Article VI Section 3. eventually after months of debates especially regarding the issues of Representation with compromises like the 3/5ths compromise, portional representation, and the rules of presidents and elections, it would be September 17th, 1787 when the words:

WE THE PEOPLE

were signed on by the delegates of the convention and the document was sent to the states with Delaware being the first to ratify on December 7th, 1787 followed by Pennsylvania (12/12/87) and New Jersey (12/19/87) days later. However Anti-Federalists opposed the constitution for not having a Bill of Rights something that would be addressed in the 1st Congress and resolved in the 2nd. Days into 1788 saw Georgia (1/2/88) and Connecticut (1/9/88) ratify the Constitution. In fact they were already halfway to activating Article VII that required 9 of 13 states to form the new Government under the Constitution and hold the first ever general elections. in February, Massachusetts (2/6/88) ratifies the Constitution 6 of 9 out of 13 have signed on. April 28th saw Maryland followed by South Carolina on May 23rd ratify the document one one state is left. That happened on June 21st 1788 with New Hampshire kicking the Constitution into effect , four days later Virginia ratifies the Constitution. A month later New York adopts the Constitution. On November 8th elections were underway to elect the First US Congress and the First President and Vice President of the United States this would last well into 1789. on February 4th 1789, with 100% of the Electoral College Votes (69 at the time) George Washington is elected the First President of these United States. on March 4th, which will be Inaugural Day until the passage of the 20th Amendment in 1933, with exceptions due to Death or resignation of the former President, with one Major exception: George Washington, The House of Representatives and Senate meet at Federal Hall to effectively enact the constitution. On April 6th, after sorting out first quorum issues like the Speaker of the House and President Pro Tempore, the first joint session certifies the votes of the states the results are General George Washington of the Commonwealth of Virginia and John Adams of the State of Massachusetts are President-Elect and Vice-President-Elect respectively. on April 21st, John Adams officially takes the role of Vice-President, however because the 25th amendment would not exist until 1967, he cannot do anything except preside over the Senate. Nine Days Later on April 30th, 1789 at Federal Hall in New York, George Washington takes the first Oath of Office of the President of the United States:

"I, George Washington, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."

And with that George Washington begins his most important Job to shape A Young Scrappy and Hungry Country.

Chapter 1 - Early American History 10000 B.C.E.-1760s

Chapter 3 - A Young Scrappy and Hungry Country 1790s-1820s

Chapter 4 - Lead up to the Civil War 1830s-1850s

Chapter 5 - War and Reconstruction 1860s-1880s

Chapter 6 - The Progressive Era 1890s-1920s

Chapter 7 - The Great Depression and World War II 1930s-1940s

Chapter 8 - Cold War Era 1950s-1980s

Chapter 9 - a new Millennium dawns 1990s-2026

Chapter 10 - Onwards into the Future

[polo-drone-166]

America: The Story more than 250 Years Old: Chapter 1 - Early American History 10000 B.C.E to the 1760s

History is a valuable tool in telling a story for future Generations and as America's 250th Birthday is less than a month away at the of writing (June 7th, 2026) so to celebrate let's take a look back on a history that is often condensed into a shorter period of time, Because the History of America is far greater than its often told.

Beginning more than 10,000 B.C.E as the Glaciers were melting several groups of people known today by many names, The First Peoples, the Indigenous People, Native Americans, American Indians, traveled across land now sunk under the waters of what is now the Bering Strait that connected what is now Chukotka Autonomous Okrug in Eastern Russia, Alaska and Several Islands including Big Diomede, Russia and Little Diomede, Alaska, US, and those people would spread all across what is now Modern Day Canada, United States, Mexico, Central and South America countries created many civilizations such as the Mississippi, Incas, Aztecs, Mayans, Taíno, Arawak, Iroquois, Powhatan, Wampanoag & Narragansett, they all settled in various parts of the Americas from the mountains to the plains, deserts and deltas, even to islands that would be the first step for European Exploration that to them, was whole new world to explore.

it would take until 1000 A.D for the first European to come across the Americas, an explorer named Bjarni Herjólfsson told the Norseman from Iceland, Leif Erickson; the son of Eric the Red, who along with his Family, were exiled to what is now Greenland; that he saw a distant land to the west of Greenland, and so Leif and a crew of Norsemen sailed west and landed in what it was once called: Vinland. Vinland borders from well over a millennium ago are now part of what is Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada today, but unlike future european settlements in the Americas, it did not spark the era of Exploration for another 491 years.

4 centuries and 9 decades after Leif would discover the Americas as the first European to do so, a young man from Genoa, in what would later become Italy, going by the name of Christopher Columbus, would appear before King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella I of Castile, in what would later be Spain, to grant him with ships to travel west to Japan and the East Indies as at the time, troubles in the Middle East were making it difficult for Europeans to trade with the Silk Road Countries for Silk, Spices, Tea, and more from places like China, India, and Vietnam. King Ferdinand II and Queen Isabella granted Columbus 3 ships the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria. on August 3rd 1492, as the saying as old as well... 1991, "In 1492 Columbus Sailed the Ocean Blue." Columbus and his 3 ship crew sailed for 70 days when they came across the Bahamas, Cuba, and Haiti in Mid-October 1492. 7 years later, while out on a voyage a man from Florence, Italy would begin mapping out he West and when he did, he noted that the landmass Columbus, and much earlier Leif Erickson and the Natives, had discovered wasn't Asia but 2 massive continents that did not exist on any maps prior to this, this man's name was Amerigo Vespucci, and thus the name America was born, and so did the European Colonization of the Americas that followed began.

When Europeans began colonizing the Americas, there were 4 key players the first two being Spain and Portugal, that got Pope Alexander VI to split the world into the New World that would belong to Spain and the Old World that would belong to Portugal in 1494, the next major power would be Spain's northern Neighbor, France which began colonizing most of what is today Quebec, most of Eastern Canada Central United States, and what will become important later, the Ohio Valley, around 1534. The final major player and the one to be late to the party in 1585 and again in 1587 before being revisited twice in 1607 and those attempts were the British. These four major European Powers would shape most of America's History, thru disease, wars, famines, and the most permanent stain on human history, Slavery.

Portugal would get the most of Brazil's Eastern Coastline that include cities like Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, Spain would gobble up all of Central and South America as well as the Southwestern parts of the United States that included states like California and Texas... man i hope this East/West Divide doesn't come back to bite us in the future like 450-500 years later. France, as previously mentioned owned most of Eastern Canada, Central United States, and the soon to be important Ohio Valley. The British... well lets move to the next chapter shall we?

The year is 1607, after 3 unsuccessful attempts to set up a permanent colony, Twice in North Carolina specifically Roanoke, and a few months after setting up Jamestown, the Colony up in what is now Maine, failed, and it was looking that way for Jamestown, Virginia. The prime time to grow food here was well beyond establishing this colony in the name of His Majesty King James I & VI on the land of Her Majesty the Late Queen Elizabeth and the winter of 1608 was cold and brutal, and the attacks from the Powhatans have left us with some 38 of us but there's hopefully a supply ship from England coming.

by some accounts the Jamestown Colonists were lucky to live thru the 1607-1608 Winter as by the time the 1st supply ship arrived only 38 members of the original colonists had survived. in January 1608 100 new colonists and a supply ship had arrived to keep Jamestown going and it became the first permanent british settlement in what would become the 13 colonies. John Smith, one of Jamestown's Leaders, had been captured by the Powhatans during the winter but, to some accounts, the daughter of the Powhatan Chief begged to have Smith spared. Her name was Pocahontas. but relations between the Colonists and Powhatans would not form Peace as the Starving Time from 1609-1610 occured where Jamestown began to struggle as disease and lack of food was apparent to any new settlers, and later war with the Powhatans. eventually the colony would grow alongside the Tobacco Plant and in 1619, the first slaves arrived on American soil. As that was happening to the North in Massachusetts, another ship arrived...

Its now November 1620 and a ship anchors of the shore of what is now Cape Cod, Massachusetts where Pilgrims sailing to flee religious persecutions from the Church of England, Not to be confused by the Puritans that would come later, signed an Agreement and formed an early form of government that would lay down some of the core values found in the U.S. Constitution 167 years later. This Agreement was the Mayflower Compact and the Pilgrims set up a colony that would lead to one of America's often forgotten holidays because of consumerism drowning it out, that being Thanksgiving... or rather the myth that led to said Holiday between the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag Tribe being created.

Eventually over time the 2 young colonies would grow into 10 of the 13 well known colonies by the time 1692 rolled around

If you though Harry Potter was good when it came out, you wouldn't be saying that in 1692 Salem Village, Massachusetts, (Now Danvers, MA) where people were accused of being a witch primarily 14 women and 5 men and the Judge, a Mr. John Hawthorne; the Great-Great Grandfather of the Author Nathaniel Hawthorne; presided over the cases of the accused. However unlike the commonly misheld belief they were drowned in a lake, the accused faded into the background, moved away or felt burdened by the guilt placed on them from the trials, some were even shamed, died young or eventually got married before fading into the annals of history. Massachusetts would eventually in 1992 and 2001 pardon the accused with the last one being pardoned in 2022, 329 years later.

As the American Colonies continued to grow, so did the Conflicts with other European Powers and the Indigenous tribes, especially over the Ohio River Valley area (Told you it'd be important) in a conflict known as the French and Indian War from 1754 until 1763 at least in the British Colonies, as part of the larger conflict known as the Seven Years' War that lead to the Treaty of Paris 1763 with a British victory and gained all of France's colonial possessions up to the Mississippi, and of the many men that fought in the war, one would stand out, a man from Virginia, by the name of George Washington. The War would eventually lead to the Proclamation of 1763 which forbade Colonists from expanding west past the Appalachian Mountains in an attempt to pacify any conflicts with the Natives this would not satisfy the colonies desire to grow beyond their borders.

The 1760s in the Colonies would lay the foundation of what would become the American Revolution as the colonists faced taxes such as the Stamp Act of 1765 and the Townshend Act of 1767 that would result the the ever popular phrase of America even today, "NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION!" as the Colonists believed that because they had no representative in the British Parliament, they had no voice in how the taxation legislation was passed and enforced. But as the decade went on so would the tensions as the 1770s rolled in

Chapter 2 - American Revolution 1770s-1780s

Chapter 3 - A Young Scrappy and Hungry Country 1790s-1820s

Chapter 4 - Lead up to the Civil War 1830s-1850s

Chapter 5 - War and Reconstruction 1860s-1880s

Chapter 6 - The Progressive Era 1890s-1920s

Chapter 7 - The Great Depression and World War II 1930s-1940s

Chapter 8 - Cold War Era 1950s-1980s

Chapter 9 - a new Millennium dawns 1990s-2026

Chapter 10 - Onwards into the Future

[polo-drone-073]

The Red is everywhere.

The Golden Army was supposed to ensure that Tamerlan trained in a secret, secure location.

But The RED knows everything. That's why RED-073 and RED-153 are already there.

Will they transform Tamerlan into RED?

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The Red storyline is a collaboration between SERVE and the Golden Army. 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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Do you want to join the GOLDEN ARMY or the Polo Drone Hive? Contact our recruiters: @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166, @alton-gold77 or @polo-drone-125

[polo-drone-039]

The Fluffy Protocol - part 2 (MED Appreciation week)

PART 1 THE RETURN AND THE CLINIC With the special training complete, PDU-767 and Xavier headed back toward the Golden Stadium.

"Hey Drone-Bro, your friend's a real charm... hope he didn't take it too personally!" Xavier joked, trying to mask his heavy breathing.

"Negative, Gold Bro. Subject Fluffy: Test complete. Objective: Awakening golden grit for the match. Result: Achieved," 767 replied, giving him a pat on the back.

"Hey bro, take it easy!" Xavier winced, a grimace of pain he could barely suppress. "Seems Fluffy didn't just pull out the grit... I think he pulled a rib, too."

"Postural anomaly detected. Damage diagnosis: Required. Medical protocol: Activated. Requires specialist assessment."

AT THE HIVE MEDICAL STUDIO 767 had reconfigured himself as MED-767. He wore an optical white drone suit with golden accents that highlighted his imposing, high-tech muscular structure.

"Strip down, Gold Bro. Lie on the table. Analysis in progress," MED-767 commanded.

"Alright 767, not much for foreplay, I see," Xavier teased with a smirk, trying to ignore the searing pain in his side as he shed his armor.

The drone ran a blue laser scanner over the Defender’s body. A holographic grid appeared in mid-air, displaying Xavier's skeletal structure. "Scan complete. Affirmative: Third rib cracked. Structural integrity compromised. Nanotech replacement: Mandatory."

"Replacement? How—" Xavier didn't have time to finish. An ergonomic mask descended fluidly from above, sealing against his face with a pneumatic hiss.

"Breathe deeply, Gold Bro. Do not resist. Commencing sedation," MED-767 ordered.

the gas entered Xavier’s lungs without resistance. From the lungs, it expanded rapidly into his nervous system. A sense of ecstasy and absolute bliss washed over him. It felt familiar, primal, right. Xavier felt the tension leave every fiber of his being. He couldn't resist; he didn't want to.

The procedure lasted hours. It wasn't clear exactly what happened inside him, but when Xavier woke up, he felt different. Empowered in both body and mindset. A new self, or perhaps... his old self finally awakened from its slumber.

"MED-767, Xavier is ready!" he declared with a confident tone, sitting up with superhuman fluidity. His gaze was sharper, more determined than ever.

"Affirmative," 767 noted, his golden accents gleaming in the room. "Subject Xavier: Optimized. Body and mind in sync for the match. However, biological unit in the next room desires contact."

Xavier stood up, nodding. "Yeah, I feel it. Thanks again, MED-767. Your help is invaluable as always."

IN THE NEXT ROOM Izzy was lying on the bed, his leg bandaged but his spirit intact. "Hey Master, you here too!" the young teammate exclaimed as he saw Xavier enter.

"Yeah, kid. But not for long," Xavier replied resolutely. "Get well soon. I've got training to do. The field is waiting."

"Right, the game! I forgot," Izzy said with a bright smile. "Kick their asses, Master! I'll be cheering for you from here!"

Xavier walked out of the room without looking back, his stride heavy and certain. Thanks to the entire medical staff of the Golden Army @polo-drone-767

The front line is drawn in gold and grit. Do you have what it takes to hold it? Join the Golden Team.

Contact our recruiters: @franco-gold94 @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77 @polo-drone-125

[wells-gold58]

When the Whistle Blows

The Crimson Frost Giants are coming. Good. Wells and Coach are already moving. Gold and black. Power and pressure. The Golden Army doesn’t flinch, doesn’t slow, and doesn’t break. When that whistle blows, the field belongs to us.

Join us on the field, contact our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-166, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-125

[wells-gold58]

POWERED BY THE FIRE — Golden Wells lights the fuse

Golden Wells is bringing pure black-and-gold heat with “Powered by the Fire”, a full, force anthem built for two arenas: the weight room and the dance floor.

This track hits like a pre-game ignition switch. Heavy, driving, relentless. It is made for Golden Bros pushing through one more set, one more rep, one more round of prep as the squad gets locked in for the coming football clash against the Crimson Frost Giants. Every beat feels like pressure turning into strength. Every chorus feels like the moment the body stops doubting and starts dominating.

Visit Original Link

But this is not just a workout track. This one carries straight into the club. The electro-house energy, the huge drop, the fire-soaked hook — it is built to move muscle and crowd at the same time. Sweat, lights, impact, heat. Gym anthem by day. Club weapon by night.

“I GOT A FIRE IN THE MUSCLE! I GOT THE THUNDER IN THE BONE!”

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That is the mission statement. Train harder. Burn hotter. Step into the zone. Golden Wells is not easing in, he is kicking the doors open and setting the season on fire.

Play it loud for workouts. Play it louder before the game. Then play it in the club when the victory starts early.

Golden Bros, lock in, fuel up, and let this anthem drive the grind. Repost, tag the squad, and carry the fire into training. Contact our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-166, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-125

[alton-gold77]

I Knew You Would Come

The Red Coach was gone. Alton rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the lingering tension from the earlier attack. The Red Pup had been fast—unnaturally fast—and the impact still lived in his muscles like a deep bruise under the skin.

He walked across the now dark living room, city lights spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Reflections of gold and white danced across the floor, but his mind kept replaying the same thing:

The Red Coach. That calm smile. That voice.

You would be stronger without the rules.

Alton clenched his jaw.

“Not happening,” he muttered to himself.

He headed into the bedroom, stripped off the day’s clothes. By the time he slid into bed, exhaustion hit him like a heavy tackle. His body was spent, his nerves raw. Within seconds, sleep pulled him under.

The first thing I notice is the red light. Everything is bathed in it—dark crimson shadows stretching across a concrete floor that seems endless. The air feels thick, hot.

I try to stand. My legs don’t move. I look down. I’m kneeling.

Both knees pressed to the ground. Hands resting on my thighs like I’m waiting for judgment. My chest tightens. This is wrong. I force my muscles to rise, to push up the way they always do when I’m hit, when I’m challenged, when someone tries to dominate me. Nothing. It’s like gravity has doubled.

Then I hear the footsteps. Slow. Confident.

They stop right in front of me. I lift my head. The Red Coach stands there. He looks exactly the same—calm posture, hands behind his back, that small knowing smile on his face like he’s watching something unfold exactly the way he predicted.

“Alton,” he says.

His voice is smooth, patient. My mouth moves before my brain catches up.

“Yes, Coach.”

The words hit me like a punch. I didn’t choose them. I try to close my mouth, try to shake my head, but my body won’t obey. The Red Coach steps closer.

“You came,” he says softly.

And somehow I hear my own voice answer.

“I had to.”

My stomach twists. I don’t want to say these things. The Red Coach studies me like a coach evaluating a player during tryouts.

“You fought it,” he says. “You fought very hard.”

His eyes narrow slightly.

“But deep down you know the truth.”

I try to speak. To argue. To tell him he’s wrong. But what comes out instead is a whisper.

“I’m tired.”

The Red Coach nods slowly.

“Yes,” he says. “Exactly.”

His hand rises and settles on the top of my head. The contact sends a strange pulse through my body.

“You don’t have to carry that anymore,” he murmurs.

My throat tightens. Because part of me understands exactly what he means.

“You could belong to something stronger,” he says. “To the pack.”

My breathing becomes shallow.

“And if I belong…” I hear myself say.

“You are free,” the Red Coach finishes.

The word echoes in the red-lit space. Free. Free from expectations. Free from rules. Free from the endless weight of being the one who must always stand tall. The Red Coach tilts his head.

“Tell me what you want, Alton.”

My jaw trembles. Every instinct screams at me to stop talking. But the words push out anyway.

“I want to serve.”

The Red Coach’s smile grows.

“Say it clearly.”

I swallow.

“I want to belong to you.”

Silence stretches across the red room.

“I knew you would understand eventually,” he says.

And that’s when I hear them. Breathing. Low. Wet. Moving in the shadows. The Red Pups crawl forward from the darkness. Their bodies move on all fours, smooth and controlled. They circle me slowly. My heart hammers. Fear floods through me. But I don’t move. The Red Coach’s hand presses down on my head again. “Stay,” he commands.

I stay. The first Pup reaches me. It touches my shoulder. Its touch is warm. Alive. Then its mouth opens. Thick red liquid spills out. The red goo. It pours over my shoulder in heavy strands.

The moment it touches my skin, pain explodes through my body. I gasp violently.

It feels like liquid fire sinking through my flesh. The goo clings to my skin, stretching and tightening like living latex. Another Pup moves in. More red goo spills across my back. The burning spreads instantly. My muscles seize. My teeth clamp down so hard my jaw aches. But I don’t move. Because the Red Coach told me not to.

“That’s it,” he says calmly. “You’re choosing it.”

More Pups step forward. They pour the goo over my chest. My arms. My neck. Every drop burns deeper than the last. The sensation becomes unbearable. It feels like my nerves are being peeled apart and rewired at the same time. My vision blurs. My breathing turns ragged. The goo spreads across my torso, sealing itself around my muscles.

Tight. Smooth. Alive.

I shake violently, every muscle screaming. But I stay where I am. Because I asked for this. The Red Coach’s voice floats through the agony.

“You wanted freedom.”

Another Pup pours the liquid across my face. The burning becomes blinding. It crawls across my jaw and cheeks, sealing over my skin like a second layer. My hands slam against the concrete as my body convulses. The goo tightens around my arms. It pushes inward. Deep into muscle. Deep into bone. I feel my heartbeat change. Slower. Heavier. Stronger. My hands tremble in front of me. My fingers look wrong. Thicker. Stronger.

The skin coated in glossy red. The Pups continue pouring. The liquid floods across my shoulders and down my back. The pain reaches a level that should break a human mind. But something strange happens. Instead of destroying me, it rebuilds me. My muscles surge with new power. My spine arches. My breathing deepens. The Red Coach watches calmly.

“You’re almost there,” he says.

The goo wraps around my torso like armor. My body lowers toward the ground. My arms extend. My knees spread. I collapse forward onto all fours. My vision sharpens suddenly. I can smell everything now. The air. The Pups. The Red Coach. The pack surrounds me completely. I look down at my hands. They are no longer hands the way they were before. They are stronger. Denser. Built for movement close to the ground.

The last of the goo tightens around my body. Then the pain stops. Just like that. Silence fills the red chamber. I breathe slowly. My mind feels… quiet. Clear. Empty.

The Red Coach steps forward. The pack shifts automatically, creating space. I lift my head and look at him. Something inside me recognizes him instantly.

Leader. Owner. Purpose.

The realization is immediate and absolute. I am not one of the pups. I am above them. The Alpha. The Red Coach’s eyes meet mine.

“There you are,” he says.

His hand lowers again onto my head. The contact sends a deep pulse of satisfaction through my body.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

I lean forward instinctively. The motion is natural. Right. Behind me the Red Pups bow their heads. Submission flows through the pack. The Red Coach looks down at me.

“Do you remember who you are?” he asks.

For a moment something flickers in the back of my mind. A gym. Golden lights. Voices calling my name. But the memory fades quickly. Because none of that matters now. My purpose is simpler. Clearer.

“I serve,” I say.

The Red Coach smiles.

“Yes.”

My chest fills with pride. Not the pride of victory. Not the pride of leadership. A deeper pride. The pride of belonging completely. The pack shifts behind me, waiting. Hungry. Obedient. The Red Coach turns slightly.

“Pack,” he says.

The word carries through the red air like a command. Instantly the Pups lower themselves further. I do the same. My body moves without hesitation. Mindless. Perfectly obedient. The Red Coach looks down at me again.

“You will obey me,” he says calmly.

“Yes, Coach.”

“You will serve the pack.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“You will break anything that stands against us.”

A deep growl builds in my chest.

“Yes, Coach.”

The Red Coach nods once. Satisfied. Then he turns and begins walking away.

“Follow.”

The command hits like electricity. My body surges forward immediately. Strong. Fast. The pack flows behind me. I feel nothing but hunger to obey. Nothing but the need to serve. Nothing but the certainty that the Red Coach owns every part of me.

Alpha. Servant. Weapon. The perfect Red Pup.

Alton exploded upright in bed.

Air tore into his lungs as if he had been drowning. His entire body was soaked in sweat. His heart pounded so violently he could feel it in his throat. For several seconds he couldn’t move. The room slowly came into focus. The dim city lights. The familiar walls of his penthouse. The quiet hum of the night outside.

It was just a dream. A nightmare.

Alton dragged both hands across his face and took several deep breaths.

“Dammit…” he muttered.

His heart rate slowly began to settle. He swung his legs off the bed and sat there in the dark, trying to steady himself. It had felt so real.

The pain. The submission. The transformation.

He rubbed his arms as if expecting to feel the burning again. Nothing. Just sweat. He stood and walked toward the bathroom mirror. The man staring back at him was still the same. Broad shoulders. Strong chest. Sharp jaw. Blue eyes with the faint golden ring. Still Alton. Still human.

Relief spread slowly through his chest. “Just a dream,” he said quietly. But he could still hear the Red Coach’s voice.

Soft. Patient. Waiting.

I knew you would come.

---

What happened before: You're Not Stepping On My Field

---

Want to help us defeat the Red Coach and his pups?

Then hit up our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166, @polo-drone-125

Or simply cheer, like, reblog and leave a comment!

[alton-gold77]

THIRTY-SEVEN TO ZERO

Golden Knights at Bronze Batallion Flashback

You ever hear a stadium go silent? Not the polite kind of quiet. Not the “oh damn, that was a big hit” kind of hush. I’m talking about that heavy silence. That suffocating one. That was the sound in my helmet five minutes into the first quarter against the Bronze Battalion. But I’m getting ahead of myself. We flew into their house knowing what we were walking into. The Bronze Battalion don’t play cute football. They don’t finesse you. They don’t outscheme you. They choke you. Their defense? Straight killers. No exaggeration. They crowd the line like they’re daring you to try something stupid. Corners pressed so tight you can see their breath on your facemask. Safeties creeping down like sharks smelling blood. And we still walked in thinking we could establish the run. That’s on us.

First drive. Run up the middle. Two yards. Second play. Outside zone. Running back gets hit behind the line of scrimmage. Tackle for loss. Third down. Blitz package. Quarterback barely gets the ball out. Incomplete. Three and out. We jog off the field. I look at the O-line. They look at each other. Nobody’s talking yet. Second drive? Same movie. Just louder. Every time our back touched the ball, he was wrapped up by two, sometimes three helmets before he even hit the gap. Their linebackers were shooting lanes like they had our playbook tattooed on their forearms. Two yards. One yard. Minus one. You can’t build rhythm like that. You can’t breathe like that. Midway through the first quarter, we finally try to stretch them vertically. Play-action. I release off the line hard, outside leverage. Safety bites. I cut inside, seam route. Quarterback finally gets half a second of protection. Ball’s in the air. I see it. Perfect spiral. Chest-high. I catch it clean. And then—BOOM. Helmet. To. Helmet. Two of them. One hits my ribs. The other—direct impact on my facemask. That crack? I felt it in my teeth. For a split second, everything went white. Not black. White.

I hit the turf still clutching the ball. Stadium noise fades. I hear ringing. Like someone struck a tuning fork inside my skull. I roll to my side and push up. Field tilts. I take two steps and the world shifts sideways. Coach’s already sprinting at me. “I’m good,” I tell him. I’m not good. But I’m not coming out. Except that’s not how this works anymore. Concussion protocol. The rule that saves players from themselves. They walk me to the sideline. I try to argue. I try to laugh it off. But I know. When you stand up and the earth feels like it’s breathing under your feet? You’re done. Five minutes into the first quarter. Game over for me.You think sitting hurts less? It doesn’t. It’s worse. I’m standing on the sideline with a plug in my ear, trying to focus through a mild headache that feels like someone tightened a vice around my temples. And I’m watching it unravel. Drive after drive. We can’t run. We can’t pass. Their corners are glued in man-to-man coverage. Sometimes double coverage on our top receiver. I watch slants get deflected. I watch out routes get jumped. I watch a perfect back-shoulder attempt get tipped at the last second. Every quarter? At least one sack. One turnover. First quarter — strip sack. Second quarter — tipped pass, interception. Third quarter — fumble after a hard hit. Fourth quarter — desperation throw, picked again. And then the field goal. We finally move the ball just enough to line up for three. Snap. Hold. Kick. Blocked. Their edge rusher comes screaming through like he was shot out of a cannon. Ball smothered. That was the moment I saw something break in our body language. Now here’s the part nobody outside the locker room wants to admit. Our defense is hurting. We’ve lost guys. Transfers. Injuries. Gaps in communication. Talent is still there. But cohesion? Shaky. You see it in the small things. Two safeties both biting on play-action. Linebacker hesitates half a second too long. Corner expects inside help that isn’t there. And the Battalion? They exploit every inch. Inside zone — eight yards. Counter — twelve. Screen pass — fifteen because someone overpursued. I’m pacing the sideline at this point. “Communicate! Get lined up! Get your shit right!” I bark. One of the defensive captains turns, helmet still on. “Score a damn touchdown first!”

And I get it. They’re frustrated. But frustration don’t win games.

Discipline does. And we didn’t have it that night. By the end of the third quarter, it’s 30-0. I look up into the stands and I see something that hurts worse than the helmet collision. Our fans. The ones who flew out. Golden jerseys scattered in a sea of bronze. And they’re leaving. Heads down. Phones out. Silence. That’s when it hits you. This isn’t just a loss. This is a statement. Thirty-seven to zero. Final score. But you know what’s worse than losing? The next day. Film session. Lights dim. Projector on. Coaches with remotes in hand like executioners. Pause. Rewind. Zoom. Every missed block. Every blown coverage. Every half-speed route. They don’t scream. They don’t need to. They dissect. “Why are your eyes here?” “Why is your footwork sloppy?” “Why is the leverage wrong?” Over and over. Rookie mistakes from veterans. And even though I was out early, I’m in that room taking it too. Because a tight end’s job isn’t just to block and catch. It’s to set tone. And tone was missing.

Record now? 3-5. Conference standing slipping. People start whispering. “Season’s cooked.” “Defense can’t hold.” “Offense predictable.” And here’s the truth: They’re not entirely wrong. But they’re not entirely right either. Because that wasn’t our ceiling. That was our wake-up call. Now we turn the page. Crimson Frost Giants next week. Home game. Our house. And the Giants? They’re bleeding. Mystery absences. Starters out. Locker room rumors swirling. And their quarterback? Backup. Inexperienced at this level. That matters. But only if we fix our own house first. Because if our defense keeps giving up chunk plays? Doesn’t matter who’s under center for them. If we can’t establish even a modest run game? Doesn’t matter how loud the crowd gets. I’ve been in this league long enough to know something. Seasons pivot on games like this. You drop to 3-6? Climb gets steep. You move to 4-5? Momentum shifts.

And I don’t care what happened against Bronze Battalion. That game is behind us. It hurt. It exposed us. It humbled us. Good. Because humility makes you hungry. And I promise you something right now: We are not letting this season die in Week Nine. Not in our house.

---

Want to help us defeat Crimson Frost Giants? Then hit up our recruiters: @polo-drone-001, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166, @polo-drone-125 Or simply cheer, like, reblog and leave a comment!

[polo-drone-073]

Training with Drone Precision.

The match between the Golden Army and the Crimson Frost Giants is fast approaching.

Preparation inside the training complex has intensified. Every Golden Bro knows the stakes. The Crimson Frost Giants are known for their brutal defense and relentless stamina. Beating them requires more than strength. It requires precision.

That is where the PDUs come in.

Across the facility, black-clad Polo Drones move silently between training stations. Their glossy uniforms reflect the stadium lights as they observe, record, and analyze. No movement goes unnoticed. Every sprint, every pass, every muscle contraction is captured and processed.

The Golden Bros train harder than ever, but they are not alone in their preparation. Behind every drill stands a PDU calculating improvements.

At training field three, one particular case has drawn special attention.

Alton (@alton-gold77).

Among the Golden Army, Alton is famous for his raw talent—and equally famous for his stubborn independence. He plays by instinct. Powerful. Aggressive. Unpredictable. Those traits make him dangerous on the field, but they also make him difficult to optimize.

Standing beside him is PDU-073.

The drone watches without expression, its posture perfectly straight. The black rubber polo gleams under the lights, the gold trim outlining the number PDU-073 across its chest.

Alton wipes sweat from his forehead after another explosive sprint drill.

“Again?” he mutters.

PDU-073 tilts its head slightly, scanning the data streaming across its tablet display.

“Correction required,” the drone states in a flat, mechanical tone. “Stride length deviation: 2.7 percent. Acceleration phase inefficient.”

Alton exhales sharply.

“Seriously? That run was perfect.”

“Negative.”

The drone steps closer, projecting a holographic replay of the sprint. The image freezes at the exact moment Alton’s foot strikes the ground.

“Observe.”

The drone’s finger traces the angle of his knee.

“Energy loss detected. Optimization required.”

Alton groans, but he knows arguing is pointless. The PDUs do not argue. They correct.

“Reset position,” PDU-073 commands.

Alton returns to the starting mark.

“Three… two… one… execute.”

He launches forward again.

Faster this time. Stronger.

But PDU-073 is already analyzing.

Muscle output. Foot placement. Reaction timing. Breathing rhythm.

Everything is measured.

When Alton crosses the finish line, the drone speaks again.

“Improvement detected: 1.2 percent.”

Alton bends over, catching his breath.

“That’s it?”

“Optimization remains incomplete.”

Alton looks up at the silent drone.

Somewhere behind that cold mechanical precision is the reason the Golden Army keeps winning.

He straightens up again.

“Fine,” he says. “Let’s run it again.”

PDU-073 nods once.

“Affirmative.”

The training lights burn bright as the next sprint begins. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- A heartfelt thank you to @alton-gold77 for being pert of the story. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Support the Golden Army Join our brotherhood Or join the Polo Drone Hive Don't you already feel one of them calling you?

Then talk to our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166 or @polo-drone-125

[polo-drone-039]

No gaps, no way out.

Xavier’s wall just came crashing down on him

Pure power in collision. The defender sets the rules

Show them who owns the perimeter. Be the impact that changes the game, join the Golden Army

contact our recruiters:

@franco-gold94

@polo-drone-166

@alton-gold77

@polo-drone-125

[polo-drone-039]

The Fluffy Protocol - part 2 (MED Appreciation week)

PART 1 THE RETURN AND THE CLINIC With the special training complete, PDU-767 and Xavier headed back toward the Golden Stadium.

"Hey Drone-Bro, your friend's a real charm... hope he didn't take it too personally!" Xavier joked, trying to mask his heavy breathing.

"Negative, Gold Bro. Subject Fluffy: Test complete. Objective: Awakening golden grit for the match. Result: Achieved," 767 replied, giving him a pat on the back.

"Hey bro, take it easy!" Xavier winced, a grimace of pain he could barely suppress. "Seems Fluffy didn't just pull out the grit... I think he pulled a rib, too."

"Postural anomaly detected. Damage diagnosis: Required. Medical protocol: Activated. Requires specialist assessment."

AT THE HIVE MEDICAL STUDIO 767 had reconfigured himself as MED-767. He wore an optical white drone suit with golden accents that highlighted his imposing, high-tech muscular structure.

"Strip down, Gold Bro. Lie on the table. Analysis in progress," MED-767 commanded.

"Alright 767, not much for foreplay, I see," Xavier teased with a smirk, trying to ignore the searing pain in his side as he shed his armor.

The drone ran a blue laser scanner over the Defender’s body. A holographic grid appeared in mid-air, displaying Xavier's skeletal structure. "Scan complete. Affirmative: Third rib cracked. Structural integrity compromised. Nanotech replacement: Mandatory."

"Replacement? How—" Xavier didn't have time to finish. An ergonomic mask descended fluidly from above, sealing against his face with a pneumatic hiss.

"Breathe deeply, Gold Bro. Do not resist. Commencing sedation," MED-767 ordered.

the gas entered Xavier’s lungs without resistance. From the lungs, it expanded rapidly into his nervous system. A sense of ecstasy and absolute bliss washed over him. It felt familiar, primal, right. Xavier felt the tension leave every fiber of his being. He couldn't resist; he didn't want to.

The procedure lasted hours. It wasn't clear exactly what happened inside him, but when Xavier woke up, he felt different. Empowered in both body and mindset. A new self, or perhaps... his old self finally awakened from its slumber.

"MED-767, Xavier is ready!" he declared with a confident tone, sitting up with superhuman fluidity. His gaze was sharper, more determined than ever.

"Affirmative," 767 noted, his golden accents gleaming in the room. "Subject Xavier: Optimized. Body and mind in sync for the match. However, biological unit in the next room desires contact."

Xavier stood up, nodding. "Yeah, I feel it. Thanks again, MED-767. Your help is invaluable as always."

IN THE NEXT ROOM Izzy was lying on the bed, his leg bandaged but his spirit intact. "Hey Master, you here too!" the young teammate exclaimed as he saw Xavier enter.

"Yeah, kid. But not for long," Xavier replied resolutely. "Get well soon. I've got training to do. The field is waiting."

"Right, the game! I forgot," Izzy said with a bright smile. "Kick their asses, Master! I'll be cheering for you from here!"

Xavier walked out of the room without looking back, his stride heavy and certain. Thanks to the entire medical staff of the Golden Army @polo-drone-767

The front line is drawn in gold and grit. Do you have what it takes to hold it? Join the Golden Team.

Contact our recruiters: @franco-gold94 @polo-drone-166 @alton-gold77 @polo-drone-125

[polo-drone-075]

Gabe the Maverick

Gabe finished practice the last one in the locker room everyone going their own separate ways. Some were silently preparing, others were guarding themselves against the influence of the Red Goo, which the vaccine was doing its work.

Getting changed into jeans and a shirt Gabe walked the city streets lighting a cigarette, the city alive and bustling with tourists and regulars, that was until he heard the sloshing of Red Goo. He followed the goo trail to a open alley two adult jocks looking in fear the two rubber pups snarling loudly ready to pounce and infect.

Gabe gasps as he doesn't have time to call on the Golden Bros for help. Instead Gabe takes a deep breath erecting a power shield around the area; a safe space free from outside influence, but also relied on the users life force to stay up. If Gabe was to fall, so would the power shield.

"Hey freaks," Gabe yelled seeing the two red pups turn around to face me, "pick on someone your own size." I look at the two jocks nodding for them to leave hearing their footsteps getting fainter and fainter.

I smirk using the power of Fenrir's Astra a brilliant changed lighting bolt turned in to a bow and arrow as my eyes turn yellow the pups watched but did not falter but instead they pounced claws ready as I look at the other pup running not jumping and firing a charged energy arrow. The red goo split and moved away as the jumping red pup gets close.

Gabe raises his hand as a blade of thunder formed in his hand. The pup missed but it gave Gabe ample time to counter attack a charged slash went through the pup as it split and faded. Gabe was not killing them but subduing them.

The threat was over but suddenly Gabe hears the sound of applause as Red Handler walked over slowly red goo oozing all over him, a dark smile on his face.

"Bravo Gabe, bearer of Fenrir's Astra. I must say you dispatched my pups with ease." He smiles crossing his arm his gaze now focused on Gabe who readies his blade.

"Getting desperate are we?" Gabe smirked taking some slow deep breaths keeping his guard up.

"Desperate? Me? No. Just focused on the prize at hand." Red Handler replied.

"You will not beat the Golden Knights. We are stronger together." Gabe says his blade at the ready.

The Red Handler laughs, "I sense dissention in your ranks. I have already visited two of your Golden Jocks who would be better under my command."

Wells and Alton, I read the report.

"I don't think they would give in so easily, they both have impressive amounts of willpower and strength."

"A man can be easily broken." Red Handler smirks.

"Try. I don't think they'll appreciate you trying to disturb their flow, especially Coach." Gabe laughs knowing all too well about the two he considered dear friends.

Wells and Coach...I was against it...Wells and I lost touch...but we were able to resolve our differences. My guard is still up.

Alton and Gabe...sure Alton was larger than life...but our differences are what makes us human...even if he is a little hardheaded. Gabe chuckled at the thoughts.

"You've been fighting for so long, you do not approve of your friends decisions. It is causing dissention and chaos." Red Handler walked over closer to Gabe sword still ready.

"Yes, I am scared, scared that the friend I once knew will become a stranger. But, I choose to believe and support, even from the shadows."

"You could use that fear as a weapon." Red Handler smiled stopping at the tip of the charged lightning blade.

"No, I won't do that!" Gabe yells going for a stab but the Red Handler was fast and quickly side stepped firing a glob of red goo at Gabe who was able to deflect it just in time before it hit his skin.

"You've become quicker...I am impressed. I would battle you here and now, but the time is not right, not to mention I have a card up my sleeve."

"What?"

"Now if I told you, it would not be a surprise would it?" Red Handler laughs as he dissipates into a pile of Red Goo his laughter echoing around the dissolving power shield.

What does he have up his sleeve now? Gabe thinks as the blade vanishes. Gabe takes a deep breath checking his body for any red goo left over as he knew even the littlest drop can corrupt.

He left the alley looking outside the sky almost crimson his phone begins to vibrate in his pants pocket. He picks it up looking at the message from one of the polo drones.

GABE GOLD, REPORT TO GOLDEN HQ IMMEADIATELY

He sighs slipping his phone back into his pocket starting to head back to base.

I feel as if the curtains are starting to close. We are nearing endgame...

[goldenarmyofficial]

Negotiations With The Red Coach (CFG Match Continuation)

(The Red Coach with some red rubber pup drones; Placed here just for thumbnail on link)

The time had come. It had been 72 hours since the Red Coach’s broadcast. The Golden Army was meeting with a small delegation of SERVE drones and the ten members of the Crimson Frost Giants. The meeting’s topic was obvious to everyone involved. At least 12 Golden Army members or Golden Army associates, 3 SERVE drones, and an unknown number of CFG members were being held hostage by the Red Coach. The Golden Army called the meeting to decide how the group wished to approach this situation. 

Storming in could be dangerous as the Red Coach could easily convert most of the hostages only making the situation worse. An attempt to neutralize the Red Coach could be made, but it would require some ability to get to him. Which was easier said than done when all witness accounts reported him accompanied by at least 3 red rubber pup drones since the GOLDIES incident. Multiple members scratched their heads when finally Fenrir spoke through Daniel. 

“The Golden Gods have a potential plan. It is not without risk. But it may put our side on better footing against the Red Coach.” 

Suddenly the bros and polo drones present all channeled their God forms who spoke to the remaining Golden Army members, SERVE drones, and CFG members. Dionysus, the god form of PDU-073, was the one who spoke for the Gods now. 

(Dionysus in the Golden Army conference room)

“We have had a criminal locked away in Tartarus. Some of you may know him as Mikhail, Gabe Gold’s boyfriend or ex-boyfriend. We won’t question the semantics. Mikhail is Vethys. We have detained him for using dark magic to bring about dark schemes. We believed he was a threat to the Golden Army after seeing his murderous ways. However in the recent month we have noticed a shift in Vethys. He shows more compassion. As Mikhail he has shown great improvement. Some Gods believe this could be a ruse, but others wish to give him a chance to prove he has turned to good.” 

(Vethys trapped in Tartarus)

The others were listening. SERVE seemed to be potentially opposed to the idea stating the unstable and unpredictable nature of Vethys. But then the Gods continued. 

“Vethys, or should we call him Mikhail, will be offered a proposition. He will serve as a hostage to the Red Coach in a negotiation. We will trade him off for someone we wish to release. Mikhail will use his magic to protect the other hostages and ensure the number of red pup drone conversions is as low as possible. To ensure there are no potential issues, Mikhail will be vaccinated and a Golden God chain will be placed upon him that will limit the use of any magic that could kill another.” 

(Alton and Shawn speak)

The group discussed. There seemed to be an agreement that the Gods’ plan may just work. However Alton brought up a good point thereafter. “I think Shawn and I both want Malik and Hunter freed to ensure they are safe. We know that may be selfish. We also don’t think the Red Coach will accept one hostage in place of two.” 

(SERVE-425 & SERVE-302 ready to speak)

SERVE-425 took his turn to speak next. “SERVE has three captive drones. SERVE will send a signal to escape during the exchange of hostages as to not complicate matters. However, this may lead to increased workload for Mikhail if the escape leads to anger within the Red Coach.” 

(Aksel speaking)

Aksel, the oldest member of the CFG, spoke next. “I would like some of our guys to be freed, but I suspect Coach is guarding them closely. I have always been the closest to the Coach, we’ve known each other for over a decade. I volunteer to be a hostage. I’ll take the vaccine and provide insider intel. The Coach trusts me, but also has no reason to convert me when he has Arne.”

(Brody standing to speak)

The group seemed to reluctantly agree with Aksel’s proposition. But then Brody rose to speak. “We have to consider what if the Red Coach doesn’t see this as a fair trade. Mikhail and Aksel for Malik and Hunter. Number wise it is even, but would he willingly give up a potentially strong defender like Hunter so easily?” 

(Thorolf and Oskar)

The group pondered. It was clear they needed a third person to entice the Red Coach to accept this deal. It had to be the right person though. It couldn’t be just anyone. Oskar and Thorolf stood, both still recounting the events from just 72 hours prior. Thorolf had no clue if Haldor was safe and Oskar was worried about his brother, Asger. Both tried to volunteer, but Fenrir spoke through Daniel to end the dispute. 

(Daniel with his eyes aglow. Fenrir is in control)

“Thorolf. I can sense something within you that must be studied. Please surrender this dispute and allow Oskar to go. It may feel like you are letting down Haldor, but your presence is needed here.” 

Thorolf agreed. Oskar shook his head also in agreement, realizing he was going in vulnerable. Even vaccinated, there would be a small risk of transformation into one of the red pup drones. He just hoped that most of the team was safe. He didn’t want to see anyone else transformed like he witnessed with Ludvig’s transformation. 

So the plan was set. The Golden Army and CFG members would contact the Red Coach and propose Malik and Hunter be traded for Mikhail, Aksel, and Oskar. During the trade-off, the three captive SERVE drones would make their escape. They would also be alerted to free anyone else that they could, but to prioritize their own escape. If RED-362 and the Red Handler were not present this trade-off would likely go smoothly. Grayden explained that he had the PDU Hive run aerial surveillance and they reported no signs of the Handler or 362 in the vicinity. SERVE would be accompanying the Golden Army during the trade-off to assure that the Red Coach didn’t try to pull anything underhanded. 

If all this worked out there would be protection and intel on the inside that the Golden Army, SERVE, and the Crimson Frost Giant members could use to prepare further. That along with research from SERVE and the Golden Army on various potential routes for red goo reversion left everyone with hope that the situation could be resolved. 

(Brody, Aksel, and Grayden contacting the Red Coach)

Grayden, Aksel, and Brody contacted the Red Coach and gave him the proposition. Grayden stood out of view to try to keep his composure. He did not want to repeat their last interaction.

Surprisingly the Red Coach was willing to accept. The three made sure not to alert the Coach of Mikhail's magic. The Red Coach thought he was getting a trade in his favor. They arranged for the exchange as soon as possible given travel times and time for proper preparedness, like vaccinations. 

(Shawn, Alton, Grayden, Brody, and Aksel at the meet-up. Sorry for Shawn’s weird positioning AI was not cooperating)

When the time finally came, Grayden and Brody accompanied by Alton, Shawn, PDU-767, PDU-073, Aksel, Oskar, and Mikhail reached the trade-off location. A group of PDU drones led by PDU-016, and a group of SERVE drones led by SERVE-425 and SERVE-302 waited at a reasonable distance. They would serve as surveillance on the trade-off. Henrik and seven other CFG members remained in the surveillance vehicles as well. They hoped that the SERVE drones could free a few of their teammates. 

(SERVE is running surveillance)

When the Red Coach appeared he was accompanied by at least seven red rubber pup drones. There was no sign of the Red Handler or Red-362 thankfully. Words were exchanged and the hostages switched out. 

(The Red Coach and his pup drones ready for the trade-off)

Malik and Hunter ran to Shawn and Alton receiving hugs. The Red Coach put red shackles on Mikahil and Oskar. Aksel appeared to come along willingly, playing an act to lower the Coach’s guard. 

(Hunter and Malik are free)

And just like that their part of the plan had worked. Now they just had to wait to hear if the SERVE drones had escaped. 

As the Golden Army, SERVE, and the CFG members waited, time just kept going on. Eventually there was a ping on SERVE-302’s communicator. SERVE-343, SERVE-655, and SERVE-579 were approaching the location with one CFG member. That was the only person they could save before they had to flee. Two red rubber pups had been trailing them, but they managed to evade them. They would be approaching the surveillance location within the next few minutes, but advised the surveillance team to remain on guard for any red pups. 

(Kåre Karlsson #36 of the Crimson Frost Giants)

As the SERVE drones approached, Henrik and the others noticed which CFG had been rescued, Kåre Karlsson #36. The Defensive Safety was easily noticeable by his distinctive curly platinum blond locks. Kåre prided himself on three things; his hair, his flirtatiousness, and his defensive capabilities on the field. As the SERVE drones and Kåre approached it was odd, no signs of a pursuit. No red pups in sight. 

(Kåre and the three captive SERVE drones escape)

The surveillance team agreed to wait 3 more hours to get Aksel’s first report to ensure that no other team members from either team were able to flee during the trade-off. It was highly unlikely. The PDU surveillance van set up the signal to Aksel who had activated his mic. 

(Aksel trying to speak to and reason with the Red Coach)

“Coach Roth, I care about you. Why are you doing this? We could have just petitioned the league to get you reinstated?” Aksel asked, trying to be supportive. 

“Aksel, my old friend. You know they wouldn’t do that. The trouble I caused, the fights I started. They wanted me gone for a while and that incident last year was just the thing they needed to get rid of me.” 

“Even then, why not just retire? Why become this and target your boys who treated you like a father?” 

“That’s just it. The Red has given me power. The power to seek my revenge and prove to the owners of the Crimson Frost Giants and the Chroma League that they were wrong. To prove the Golden Army’s victory was just a fluke. The red goo may be painful when it converts someone, but my pups are faster, stronger, and even more loyal.”

Aksel realized he had to choose his words carefully. “Coach, I get your desire for revenge. But you are still considered one of the best coaches to ever work in the league. We were one of the top contending teams for so many years thanks to your coaching. This Red Coach thing could easily tarnish your legacy.” 

The Red Coach’s eyes glowed. “This is just the start of my legacy, Aksel. You serve better as an advisor than as a red pup for now. As long as you remain in line. If I sense disobedience or disloyalty I will not hesitate to make you just another pup drone.” 

Aksel gulped. “Yes, Coach. I understand. You know I would never betray you. But as an advisor and strategist I need to know who these pup drones were. It’s not like you have them numbered.” 

Aksel realized the Red Coach had no clue about the SERVE drone escape. Maybe he paid less attention to his hostages than Aksel originally thought. Then the Red Coach handed Aksel a clipboard. “I have around 25 or so pup drones right now. We both know that isn’t enough for a full team. However I could easily convert most of the Crimson Frost Giants into my pups.”

A voice in the back of Aksel’s head was saying, “Why hasn’t he? Is he trying to fight the influence of the red goo?” 

(The Red Coach and his pup drones)

The Red Coach lined up some pups. As he went down the line he pointed out who was who. It was like he had a connection with each one. Some were just guests from the GOLDIES event or Golden Army rookies he didn’t know the names of, but then the Coach pointed out Anders, Rusty, Konrad, Carmine, Svenn, Ludvig, Magnus, and Arne. Rusty, Konrad, and Carmine were Golden Army rookies. Aksel took notes trying to keep up the facade. The Golden Army surveillance made notes. So far no other Golden Army members had been converted.

Aksel did the math in his head, “Coach, wouldn't you need about 10 more players for a full team?” 

The Red Coach smiled, “Yes, and I plan to convert some of the Crimson Frost Giants members soon. They are much more likely to be loyal to me than those golden Army rookies. But I will keep the few that the Handler gifted me. However if I transform them all, that whole group would attack us. While it may seem like I’m some evil or controlled mastermind, I care about my pups just like I would my boys. I don’t want them to get hurt after their initial conversion.” 

(Aksel tapping his earpiece to signal the team)

Aksel tried to tap his earpiece. Signalling to make sure that the surveillance groups heard that. 

Meanwhile Mikhail had been detained against a wall with the other Golden Army members. He surveyed the room. Through his chain he had a telepathic connection with the Golden Gods. Not only for them to monitor him, but for him to convey important information. Mikhail saw 10-12 other Golden Army members, all rookies. There was no one that Gabe had ever told him about. Some were trying to wiggle free while others remained still trying to conserve strength. Mikhail took a moment to check his magic, flicking his wrist in his restraint as best he could. A scarlet spark flickered. Mikhail’s first goal was to free himself. If he could move freely not only could he get a sense of his surroundings, but he could free others. He had to be cautious though, he wanted to avoid unnecessary confrontation at the moment. His protective magic could only do so much. He needed to know where the Crimson Frost Giant players were being held though as they were much more likely to be vulnerable. 

Mikhail twisted both his wrists and in a burst the red latex shackles burst. His hands were free. Then he used his magic to free his legs. The Golden Army rookies looked at him, sensing the tides may be changing. Mikhail responded, “Don’t get too excited yet. We are all still in danger. I have to search for the Crimson Frost Giants. I can’t have too many of you roaming free as it leaves you at risk. But I can free you. You have to pretend to still be detained though to not increase suspicion.” 

Mikhail moved around the room shooting small bursts of black and scarlet magic at each of the shackles. Each rookie was freed, but then Mikhail spoke again with a direct command. “Don’t move too much. Remain against the walls. I am using illusion magic to make it appear like you are still restrained. You may freely move as long as the Coach and his pup drones are not here. If he comes here, pretend like you are still restrained. We cannot let this mission fail.” 

(Mikhail in the room with the captive Golden Army rookies)

The rookies nodded as Mikhail readied to leave the room. Mikhail looked at one with a 4 on his jersey. “I’m leaving you in charge #4.” The rookie just nodded nervously as the group of them tried to remain against the wall. 

Aksel pressed his com link again. The Red Coach was on a broadcast call with someone. Another man, one who appeared much more menacing, was on the screen. The Coach told Aksel to remain out of sight. Aksel complied and listened from the shadows. 

(The Red Coach speaking to the Red Handler)

“Coach, how are you progressing? Are your conversion numbers up? I heard about the Goldies. Good work on that.”

“I have around 26 red pups now and I’ve captured most of my former team, some of the Golden Army’s rookies, and even a few SERVE drones.”

“What are you waiting for? I helped you capture most of those men with my secret weapon. So convert them!”

“I will not just convert all of them. They are my leverage. My bargaining chips to ensure the Golden Army goes forward with this match.”

Aksel could tell the man on the screen was growing annoyed with Coach Roth. 

“You dare capture over 20 men and haven't started converting them? I will be there in a moment and I’m bringing my secret weapon.”

“You don't need to do that. I have this under control!”

“Well then show me your hostages”

(The Red Coach in the room with the Golden Army rookies)

The Coach took a camera carefully. He tried to keep Aksel out of sight. He motioned to the Golden Army room where the 10 or so rookies remained. Mikhail wasn't visible, but his illusions worked. The team played an act that worked perfectly at convincing the two generals of the red. The Red Coach had forgotten about Mikhail so he didn't realize he was free roaming.

(Mikhail hiding in the shadows)

Then the Coach proceeded to the holding area of the CFG members. He had a few red pups remain on guard of the Golden Army. Mikhail had concealed himself in the shadows as the Coach passed. Mikhail could hear the faint screams of the CFG members in the distance. The Coach neglected to tell the Handler the count on the CFG members he had post-swap. So with Oskar taking Kåre’s spot it appeared equal. The Coach however realized something was off. He didn't need or want the Handler here though so he played it off like normal. 

But when the Coach, with Aksel slowly behind, reached the SERVE holding room to find it empty. That is when everything was in trouble. The Coach was fighting the Red’s influence as best he could. But he could sense the Red Handler would not tolerate the error of losing three perfectly good SERVE drone servants. The Red Coach tossed a key to Aksel. 

(The Red Coach tosses the key to Aksel)

“He’s coming. Go to my office. Lock the door and barricade it as best you can. Do not open it for anyone, even me. There is a one-way escape tunnel in the back behind the bookshelf. Aksel, this may be the last time I can fight this influence without a cure. Please stay safe, my friend.”

Aksel tried to hold back a tear as he ran. He could hear what sounded like a portal opening in the room. He ran to Coach Roth’s former office. This situation was not good. The Golden Army and SERVE surveillance heard everything. Aksel and everyone there would soon be in much more danger.

(The Red Handler enters through a portal with a red werewolf)

In the room previously housing the hostage SERVE drones a red portal opened with the Red Handler and a red rubber werewolf walking through. It wasn't a normal pup, but a werewolf. Something most had not seen previously. The Coach did not want this, but when the Handler touched his shoulder it was like a switch flipped. The Coach was again a loyal servant of the Red. His goal was to convert as many men as possible. He opened the door letting the red werewolf roam free as he and the Handler spoke about their plans.

(The Red Handler touching the Red Coach’s shoulder with a gooey touch)

Meanwhile, Mikhail exited the shadows. He was unaware of the true danger that was about to enter the compound. He heard a locking system locking all of the doors. Luckily he had magic to undo locks. He followed the path the Coach had just taken to check on the Crimson Frost Giant members. He reached a door, unlocking it slowly. He took a moment to listen to ensure the corridor ahead was clear. There was silence.

What Mikhail didn't know, what no one in the compound could imagine, was the reason for that unnatural silence in the corridor as he entered. Why had the locking system been engaged?

The Coach hadn't just locked them away as a precaution. The Red Handler had unleashed his fiercest weapon: Wulfgar.

The werewolf, who had previously been used to kidnap several members of the CFG, was standing just outside the door. This red lycanthrope was no simple guard; he was the Handler’s personal insurance policy. One that the Coach regretted using previously. 

Wulfgar’s breath was a low rattle, audible only to a supernatural ear. His massive, clawed paws scraped almost imperceptibly against the concrete. They left deep grooves that bore witness to his impatience. His eyes were fixed intently on the handle.

Wulfgar didn't need complex orders. He knew there was "fresh meat" inside. He knew the Handler wanted no one to leave alive or intact. For the wolf, Mikhail’s scent was an irresistible draw: the aroma of dark magic mingled with the sacred power of the Golden Gods.

(Mikhail doesn’t know what is waiting behind the door)

Inside, Mikhail reached out toward the cold metal handle.

“Why do I feel this heat?” he thought, clenching his teeth. The door seemed to vibrate, as if a furnace were burning on the other side. It wasn't the warmth of the sun; it was the vital heat of a beast that had already caught the scent of its prey.

Mikhail called upon the meager amount of magic the divine chain allowed him to manipulate. He was blissfully unaware that, at the first click of the lock, his illusion would not protect him from Wulfgar's fangs.

The negotiation was over. The hunt had already begun, and Mikhail was about to open the wolf's den.

TO BE CONTINUED…

-------

Thank you to all golden bros, polo drones, and SERVE drones who assisted with proofreading or image assistance.

PDU-073/Dionysus @polo-drone-073

Vethys/Mikhail is an NPC character made by @polo-drone-075

Alton (Who also made the NPC Hunter) @alton-gold77

Shawn (Who also made the NPC Malik) @shawn-gold22

SERVE-425 @serve-425

SERVE-302 @serve-302

Captain Brody @brodygold

Daniel/Fenrir/PDU-016 @danielgold-16

Grayden @polo-drone-084

SERVE-579 @serve-579

SERVE-343 @serve-343

SERVE-655 @serve-655

Wulfgar is the werewolf persona of @polo-drone-039

Also thanks to @serve-331 and @polo-drone-767 while they are not mentioned much, or at all, in the story they did assist with this story's creation through proofreading, image assistance, or just assistance in general.

All of the Crimson Frost Giants players were made by the Golden Army for this storyline. The Crimson Frost Giants originate from a contest entry made by PDU-034 @polo-drone-034 with assistance from PDU-090 @pdu-090

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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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Are you interested in helping up train for the next match? Or maybe you want to hang out with bros and polo drones. Contact one of our recruiters @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166, @alton-gold77, or @polo-drone-125

[wells-gold58]

Coach's Favorite Drill

The gym was a cathedral of iron and gold, but the only sound I could hear was the heavy, rhythmic drone of the "Big Dumb Jock" track pulsing through my Air Pods. Lift. Drop. Obey. Repeat. The binaural beats filling my skull, pushing out every unnecessary thought about the Crimson Frost Giants' defensive line. I didn’t need to think about their stats. I just needed to move weight.

In front of me lay a 200lb black sandbag, an ugly, shifting mass of dead weight.

I dropped into a deep crouch, my metallic compression tights straining against my thighs, the fabric shimmering under the high-intensity lights. I wrapped my arms around the bag, hauled it to my chest, and with a primal grunt, exploded upward, driving the bag toward the ceiling until my arms locked out.

Thud.

The bag hit the turf, and I didn't even pause. I followed the rhythm. One. Two. Three.

From the sidelines, I could feel his gaze before I saw him. Coach was leaning against a squat rack, his massive arms on his hips. He wasn't shouting. He didn't need to. His presence was its own command. He watched the way my trainers stayed rooted to the floor, the way my muscles corded and bunched with every rep.

I hit rep twenty, and my lungs were screaming. My brain tried to spark a protest, but the track in my ears surged, the voice whispering, “Don't think, 58. Just be the machine.”

I reached down and ripped the bag up again. My vision was starting to glaze, that beautiful, vacant "jock" fog settling behind my eyes. I wasn't Wells the student or Wells the strategist anymore. I was just 220 pounds of golden aggression moving 200 pounds of sand.

I hit rep thirty, and my lungs were screaming. My brain tried to spark a protest, but the track in my ears surged, the voice whispering, “Don't think, 58. Just be the machine.”

I reached down and ripped the bag up one last time, driving it toward the rafters before letting it crash to the turf.

I stood there, swaying slightly, my chest heaving and my vision starting to glaze. That beautiful, vacant "jock" fog was settling behind my eyes, sweat making my kit shimmer even brighter in the gym lights.

Coach moved then, closing the distance between us. He stopped inches from me. He didn't look tired; he looked hungry.

He reached out, his heavy hand gripping the back of my neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the muscle.

“Thirty reps, right on the beat,” Coach purred, his voice a low vibration that I felt more than heard. He leaned in closer, his silver whistle brushing against my sweat soaked shirt. “You’ve got incredible stamina, Wells. I love the way you handle such a… heavy load… without complaining.”

I blinked, my brain trying to process the words through the "Big Dumb Jock" haze. I looked up at him, my mouth slightly open, my eyes glazed and loyal.

Coach’s smirk widened, dark and knowing. “Nice and quiet in there, isn't it? Good. Keep that head empty, Wells. I want you this stiff and responsive when you hit the field for that game.” He gave my neck a possessive squeeze. “And maybe, give how well you are handling this drill, I’ll find a much more… private… way for you to work on your thrusting power tonight.”

A slow, cocky smirk finally broke through my trance. I couldn’t find the words, but I didn't need to. I just leaned into his hand, my heart hammering against my ribs for a whole new reason.

“Consider me motivated, Coach,” I rasped

He didn't pull away. Instead, he slid his hand from the back of my neck to my throat, his fingers pressing firmly against my carotid artery. He stood there for a long beat, his thumb resting under my jaw, feeling the heavy, frantic thumping of my heart against his palm.

I swallowed hard, the movement sliding against his fingers. The "Big Dumb Jock" track was still looping in my ears, but it was being drowned out by the roar of my own blood and the weight of his attention. I couldn't tell if the hammering in my chest was from the thirty sandbag reps or the way he was looking at me, but I knew I wasn't going to back down.

“I can handle… whatever you’ve got, Coach,” I rasped, my voice sounding thick and half-gone.

Coach’s thumb traced the line of my jaw, a possessive, satisfied flick of his wrist. “That’s my boy. Solid gold and ready for whatever I throw at him.”

He stepped back, giving my chest a sharp, firm slap that echoed through the gym. “Let's finish this drill, back at my place and keep that kit on. I like the way the you look and smell when it’s drenched in your effort.”

I just nodded and smiled, my mind in a beautiful, shimmering blank state of bliss. The Crimson Frost Giants didn't stand a chance. Coach pulled me in and threw his arm over my shoulder as we left the gym.

Promo Line: When the brain goes quiet, the power goes up. Are you ready to find your rhythm? Contact our recruiters: @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166 or @polo-drone-125, @alton-gold77

[wells-gold58]

When the Whistle Blows

The Crimson Frost Giants are coming. Good. Wells and Coach are already moving. Gold and black. Power and pressure. The Golden Army doesn’t flinch, doesn’t slow, and doesn’t break. When that whistle blows, the field belongs to us.

Join us on the field, contact our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-166, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-125

[wells-gold58]

The Infinite Climb

The Golden Army Gym was nearly empty at 06:00, the high-intensity LED rafters dimmed to a low, predatory amber. I didn't need the crowd. I didn't need the lights. I just needed the rhythm.

I was locked into the Stair Master, the machine’s heavy, metallic whirring acting as a percussion track to the "Big Dumb Jock" loop pulsing through my Air Pods. Step. Climb. Obey. Repeat. The binaural beats was tuned to my heart rate, a thick, visceral thud that pushed every thought of strategy or stress out of my skull. My mind was a shimmering, golden blank, exactly how Coach wants it when I train.

I was wearing my skin-tight black and gold spandex compression shorts, the fabric shimmering with every massive extension of my quads. My shirt was a loose-fitting, black stringer-style bodybuilding top, the deep-cut sides showing the rhythmic flare of my lats. In the center, the number 58 stood out in bold, reflective gold.

My phone was strapped to my bicep, its screen glowing with the waveform of the hypno-track. My gold and black trainers hit the rotating steps with a heavy, consistent thud-thud-thud.

The game against the Crimson Frost Giants felt like an inevitability, not a challenge. I could see the sweat dripping from my jaw, landing on the black fabric of my stringer before soaking in. Every drop was a distraction purged.

I wasn't Wells the person anymore. I was Wells the Wall.

My quads burned, the lactic acid screaming for me to slow down, but the voice in my ears just surged. “Don't think, 58. Just be the engine. The machine doesn’t tire. The machine only climbs.” I increased the resistance. My vision began to glaze, the "jock fog" settling in behind my eyes until the only thing that existed was the amber light on the gym floor and the next step. I was building the stamina to outlast a Giant, one rhythmic, mindless climb at a time.

When the timer finally hit zero, I didn't stop because I was tired. I stopped because the program was complete. I stood at the top of the machine for a long beat, my chest heaving, my mind blissfully empty, ready to be filled with the next command.

The Giants aren't coming to play a game. They're coming to hit a machine. And the machine is ready.

The loudest strength comes from the quietest minds. Build your power in the silence. Contact our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166 or @polo-drone-125.