TRANSMISSION LOG — I Didn't Know I Was Being Recruited Original self: irrelevant.
It started in the alley.
Neon light spilled through the fog like it was alive, hunting something. Hunting me. I felt watched before I saw them. Four of them, silent, polished, unmoving. Like mannequins carved from obedience. Their uniforms shone under the flickering lights, black rubber, gold trim, skin-tight. Not a wrinkle, not a breath out of sync.
One stepped forward. No words. No weapon. Just a folded black polo shirt held out toward me, like a gift. Or a warning. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t run. I couldn’t.
Then it was the locker room. I was kneeling, knees pressing into cold tile. They surrounded me, six this time, tighter formation. Every one of them a perfect copy of the same ideal. Masculine, still, unreadable. One stood behind me. I didn’t have to turn to feel the presence. Larger than the others. Commanding. The number “001” glinted in the golden light. His hand settled on my shoulder.
It was… reassuring. Terrifying. Final.
Next, they made me stand.
My chest rose and fell fast, heart hammering like it could outrun what was coming. I was in the center of something, concentric rings behind me, spiraling light pulling me inward. I didn’t understand what they were doing. One drone began unzipping my hoodie while others knelt, offering pieces: the rubber shirt, a mask, a pair of boots that looked like they’d crush steel.
My own hands were still at my sides. I hadn’t moved. I just stared down at the shirt.
That’s when they sat me down.
The boots slid up my legs like they belonged there. The collar locked around my neck like it had always waited for me. One drone raised the mask. But before he placed it, Drone 001 came forward. He didn’t speak. He just pressed his palm to my forehead.
Everything stopped.
Everything opened.
My eyes burned, gold leaking into my vision like it was filling me from the inside.
That was the last time I blinked on my own.
Now I stand. In the tunnel. No name. No voice. No hesitation.
The polo hugs my body, sealed. My mask is tight. My posture perfect. Behind me, I hear nothing, but I feel them: the drones, the Hive, my new brothers. All of them waiting. All of them proud.
I don’t remember what I was before.
But I know what I am now.
Drone. Ready. Awaiting designation.
You don’t realize what they’re offering you until it’s already wrapped around your skin. You don’t know it’s happening until your heartbeat syncs with theirs. By then, you’ve already submitted. By then, you want to.
📍 Signal Initiators: @polo-drone-001 @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-125
