franco-gold94

[franco-gold94]

What a Wonderful Day

“Waaah” Franco waked up early, greeting the new day with a big yawn. Another great, Golden day, he thought. So let’s make the best from it.

He glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand. His eyes widened.

“Oh no! I missed the last alarm! I’m late!” The clock read 5:40.

Franco quickly leapt out from the bed, and looked through his wardrobe for a casual wear for the day. His wardrobe didn’t have too much variety, it suited his style. He chose golden shorts (#94 on the left leg) and the matching golden jersey, which proudly displayed his name and number on the back.

“Great choice.” Franco mumbled to himself, as he dressed in gold.

„A quick meal before anything” he said, as he grabbed some veggies and a protein bar from the refrigerator.

He met Nils on the field of the Golden Stadium. The dawn painted the sky crimson – the Sun has not yet risen. Best time for a jogging.

Franco arrived before Nils, but it was okay. So he could do a warm-up round.

Soon, Nils arrived too.

“You made it, waterboy!” Franco greeted him. “You’re early” Nils said flatly, but Franco winked in response.

They jogged a few laps together. The sky lit slowly above them, gold seeping into cloud, as they ran the circles.

“Nothing more refreshing as a morning jog, right?” Franco asked cheerfully as they finished.

“You are completely right, Franco.” said Nils, bumping fists with him. “Don’t forget the evening!” he reminded Franco when they split.

After that, Franco visited the gym of the Stadium. He loved to work out so early: no crowd, all machines available. As he pushed through his exercises he could feel himself burning with gold, bright and powerful. Ah, that feeling is worth anything.

After a good workout, his muscles swelled with strength, and he felt ready for whatever the day would bring. He checked his daily schedule. “Recruiting day” – informed his calendar.

“Great! Let’s beat it!” Franco said satisfied, and he left the Golden Quarters.

So before noon, he was on the streets, looking for potential new recruits, who wished to be perfected under the golden gleam. He was fairly successful, but he simply wasn’t as charismatic as Brooks, Cap Brody, or Herc. Not to mention 001, who dedicated everything to the cause. Still, Franco managed to attract a few promising candidates.

By 11 o’clock he made his way back to the Golden Quarters. He finished some paperwork, then grabbed his lunch.

He was just scrolling drill footage on the big screen in the Strategy Room, when Nils entered.

“Hey Nils! I’m reviewing and studying the last matches we had with the Redbacks. Analysing our movements, trying to improve our strategies for the future. Wanna help? You ready to write a masterpiece?” Franco asked with enthusiasm.

“You mean, clean up your chaos” Nils replied with a smirk on his face. Franco tossed a protein bar at him, but Nils caught it in mid air. Extraordinary reflexes – Franco thought.

They planned the next strategy together. They did it with precision, accuracy and attention. Together, they carved order for momentum.

“You ever miss playing?” Franco once asked. He felt sorry for such a talented man. But Nils simply replied: “No. I never stopped serving”

The evening came sooner as they expected. They needed to get ready for the party.

Nils and Franco had decided to organise the event, and the Caps had given their approval. So they quickly brought up the old BBQ grill stand from the basement, and started to prepare everything for a wonderful evening.

Franco handled the fire, the meat, while Nils took care for the drinks, the sandwiches, and the other supplies.

Everyone was there. The Drones from the Hive. From 001 to 767, each of them were present. 070 and 073 were chatting from Hive things. 767 and Herc were discussing a topic heatedly. 055 and Trey shared stories of their experiences. Truly everybody was there.

Gold Bros were laughing loud, enjoying the fresh air under the darkening sky. Drones were enjoying the party with controlled expressions.

“Nils bro, you and I did this great! What a wonderful day!” Franco congratulated Nils loudly, slapping him on the back in a friendly way.

“True.” he replied, and smiled.

“You know… you make this whole machine run, bro.”

“Not alone.”

“Still. The Team needs you.” Franco paused. “And I need you too. You are a great bro.”

The night hummed with gold.

----

Join the party! Perfect under the golden gleam! Join the Golden Army! Contact our recruiters: @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001, @polo-drone-125

----

Special thanks @nils-gold-34 for doing a joint story with me. Check out his point of view of the day!

[franco-gold94]

Golden Rhythm – A Day in Flow

The dorm was quiet when Nils opened his eyes. No alarm. No command. Just instinct. His body knew the rhythm by now: wake before the gold, move before the noise, serve before being seen.

He slid out of bed, toes meeting cool tile. The light overhead was still soft—amber, dim. His kit was folded at the edge of his bunk: shimmering compression shorts, a sleeveless gold shirt, hydration band coiled neatly beside his towel. Everything in order. Everything in place.

Franco was already waiting on the field.

Golden jersey gleaming in the morning sun, brown hair damp from a warm-up jog, he grinned as Nils approached.

“You made it, waterboy.” “You’re early,” Nils said flatly.

They started without another word—jogging the outer pitch, breath syncing. The sky lit slowly above them, gold seeping into cloud. Franco’s strides were explosive, wide. Nils ran tighter, coiled, precise. They circled twice, then three times. Sprint sets. Stretch drills. Core circuits to finish. Their sweat hit the turf in rhythm. A match with no scoreboard—just motion, just effort.

At 07:00 sharp, they bumped fists and split.

Franco peeled off toward the weight room. Nils returned to his real zone of play—the undercurrent that kept the team alive.

He rolled the laundry cart into the locker room like a silent sentry.

The scent hit first—sweat, turf, adrenaline steeped into golden fabric. Every shirt held a memory. Every sock, a trace of yesterday’s glory. Nils handled them like relics, sorting by squad, by use, by position. Starters first. Then subs. Then bench.

The machines were already humming. He prepped each load by hand: detergent measured, golden-tinted. Steam hissed as the first drum sealed. There was something sacred in the rhythm. No cheering. No lights. Just precision. Just discipline.

Franco’s cleats sat in the corner—mud-streaked, worn raw from last night’s finish.

“Third time this week,” Nils murmured. Still, he bent down, cloth in hand.

He scrubbed them clean. The shine mattered.

At noon, he found Franco in the strategy room.

The midfielder sprawled across two chairs, scrolling drill footage on the big screen.

“You ready to write a masterpiece?” Franco asked. “You mean clean up your chaos,” Nils replied.

Franco tossed him a protein bar. Nils caught it without looking.

Together, they built the next training cycle. Franco spoke in bursts—movement patterns, wing play, pressure breaks. Nils translated chaos into control: hydration intervals, timing windows, energy spikes, fallback markers. Every suggestion tested in the sim. Together, they carved order from momentum.

Two hours passed like water.

“You ever miss playing?” Franco asked suddenly, between drills. Nils didn’t blink. “No. I never stopped serving.”

Franco didn’t push.

By evening, the locker room pulsed with music and laughter. The field was still hot from the day’s drills, but the fire pit by the gym burned brighter.

Golden flames licked the sky. The grill sizzled under Franco’s hands. Shirtless, still buzzing with energy, he flipped burgers with absurd flair. Nils stood nearby, quietly restocking the cooler—drinks arranged by electrolyte density, protein levels, carbonation tolerance.

It was loud. Messy. Alive.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” Franco called. “I manage inventory,” Nils replied. “That’s not what I meant.”

Nils passed him a wrap—golden foil, seared chicken, perfect balance. Franco took a bite, then smirked.

“Y’know… you make this whole machine run, bro.” “Not alone.” “Still. Team needs you.” Franco paused. His voice dropped. “I need you.”

Nils didn’t answer. He turned, eyes scanning the field—chalk lines still crisp. Laundry hung on racks, drying under the stars. Drones in formation began cool-down laps. Bros laughing around the fire, cleats off, feet in the grass.

He took a breath. The night hummed with gold.

Another day complete. Another step in the rhythm.

He didn’t need to shine. He just needed to keep it flowing.

Gold runs deeper than the pitch. You feel it in your hands, in your breath, in your work. The Army needs flow. Be part of it cotact our recruiters: @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 @polo-drone-125

To read Francos POV make sure to follow him @franco-gold94

[franco-gold94]

Nighttime Contemplation

Franco and Meno sat under the open, dark sky, watching the bonfire burn brightly into the night. They stared into the flames, words unspoken between them.

It was a beautiful, warm summer night, and the stars twinkled across the vast sky. The glowing ashes rose high with the smoke, drifting into the endless expanse above.

“Meno bro” Franco finally spoke, breaking the silence. “I’m really happy, that you are here. We’re having a really nice night, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, Franco.” Meno answered.

Another silence fell between them, comfortable and easy. Then Franco spoke again.

“Meno bro. You know, I’m truly lucky to be a part of the Golden Army. Do you agree?”

“Couldn’t said it better myself” agreed Meno. Franco nodded thoughtfully, his gaze returning to the fire.

Silence.

“What do you think, why is the Golden Army so special?” asked Franco again.

Meno thought after that.

“Well, this is a tough question. We both know, the Golden Army is truly unique. But the question is, why…”

They looked up at the sky in thought.

“I think, the Golden Army is a creative community which likes to be shown, but behind the golden gleam and the polished rubber is a team of great members and countless dedicated bro who want to do something for the good and greatness of the team.” Meno said.

“For me,” Franco started in a quiet, dreamy voice „the Golden Army whispers from secrets of the past, untold lore and stories from forbidden knowledge.”

“Forbidden knowledge?”

“Yes. It is forbidden for outsiders.” Franco lay back on the grass, starring into the endless sky and its flickering stars.

“You know, Meno bro, when I joined the Golden Army, I didn’t know anything about the wonders I would experience. Like a closed door, locked tight. But the team made me who I am today.” Franco fell silent.

“What is the Golden Army for you?” Meno asked.

“The Golden Army is for me home.” Franco said without hesitation. “The place, where I belong.”

“I think, many of our bros would agree with you, Franco. What do you think, what is the secret? What is the essence, that makes us us? The forbidden truth in our success?” Meno asked.

Franco sat up slightly, his expression soft. “I could only give you empty words, Meno bro.” Franco answered. “Except these aren't. Because these are the truth. The Golden Army is built on loyalty, brotherhood and mutual support. The bricks are the members, and the cement is togetherness and camaraderie. Together we form the magnificent structure of the Golden Army.” Franco said this as a revelation. His words left no room for doubt.

“I feel you bro.” Meno said, nodding slowly.

And they gazed up into the endless sky. Silently, in agreement, storing the forbidden knowledge deep in their minds.

----

A truly unique group. Why not knock on the closed door? Contact our recruiters: @brodygold, @goldenherc9, @polo-drone-001, @polo-drone-125

----

Special thanks to @meno-gold-37 for joining this story.

[franco-gold94]

Just on way back from the party, still thinking how the team may not need me anymore and that i should just go and forge my own path. Things dont look as golden as they once was when i first joined the team in early september of 2024 in the golden beginnings of the team, some members and bros have moved on and left while some remain with new bros joining every so often. Some bros I sense have drifted apart from me, maybe it coz of me and how i changed maybe and they dont like it as it the way i am in the last few months. Honestly would love to reconnect and get that brohood feeling back but i doubt most wont truly want that connection back with me. I love the team and always will no matter what.

Will see if i stay or go anyway, got a while yet before the final decision.

Have a good day and keep being real to yourself.

Captain Hercules (#9 Striker)

[franco-gold94]

Next time, we burn cleaner. Great job, Team!

Forged in Fire: Gold vs Orange

Part I — Sparks Before the Blaze

🌙 Prologue — Campfire Echoes

The fire was dying, but the glow clung to the Gold like a second skin. The spring training camp had stretched them—body, mind, and something deeper. Even now, with sweat drying on their skin and muscles humming from drills, they didn’t scatter.

They sat together beneath the low sky—Xavier (@polo-drone-039) and Isaac (@isaac-gold-45) tossing a volleyball between them in silence, Franco (@franco-gold94) sprawled against a training post, eyes half-lidded but alert. Brock (@brockgold) leaned into the flame, rolling his shoulders like a beast coiled beneath skin, while Tamerlan (@polo-drone-073) stood still, unreadable in his drone-calculated posture.

Brody (@brodygold) hadn’t spoken for a while. He sat with one leg tucked under, elbow on his knee, eyes tracing the edges of the dark.

Maximus (@polo-drone-070) came from the shadows last, wiping his arms with a towel, moving with the stiffness of overuse. He didn’t speak either. Didn’t need to.

The silence cracked only when a voice called from the path near the gym.

“Still playing philosopher, Brody?”

It was RaShawn—orange bandana tied across his forehead, grin bright even in low light. He didn’t enter the circle. Just stood with one hand hooked into his bag strap, watching.

Brody looked up slowly, and something unspoken passed between them. Not rivalry. Not yet.

“Still got that sideways toss?” Brody asked, voice low.

RaShawn laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Then he was gone, and the night crept back in.

🔥 Act I — First Sparks

The gym was alive before the whistle. Not loud—but charged. The Ocelots stretched in sequence, bright orange kits slicing across the blue floor. On their bench, Owen flipped through his clipboard while Jamil painted an orange stripe under each eye, screaming hype lines before the match even began.

Gold walked in quieter. Tighter. Controlled.

Brock’s chest gleamed with the sheen of perfect prep, every line of him humming like a war drum. Isaac stood beside Xavier, both calm—though Isaac’s eyes darted like radar, tracking patterns. Maximus kept to the back, adjusting his sleeves. Franco and Tamerlan bumped a ball between them without speaking.

Brody clapped twice—sharp, focused. “Set one: let’s make them remember who we are.”

And they did. For a while.

Gold opened like lightning—but it was Brock who lit the fuse. He stormed forward on the very first play, chest up, eyes gleaming with predatory focus. The spike cracked across the court like thunder, slamming so hard into the floor that even the Ocelot bench fell silent. RaShawn’s eyes narrowed. Jamil swore. Brock didn’t smile—he just turned, flexed once, and called, “Next!”

The next rally, same result. A short dig from Maximus found Brody, who tossed wide. Brock didn’t wait—he took flight before the ball even peaked. A roar followed the slam—not from the crowd, but from Brock himself. “Let’s go!” he barked, and for a moment it felt like he alone carried the whole net forward.

From the Orange side, Owen whispered without looking up from his clipboard, “Who the hell is that guy?”

Xavier’s follow-up was cleaner, more surgical, threading through two defenders before they reacted. Franco ducked a return and sent it flicking up to Isaac, who mirrored Xavier’s motion and landed his first real hit.

Across the net, the Ocelots scrambled. Darnell launched skyward with pure instinct, but even his height couldn’t stop the first Gold wave. Malik shouted encouragement, but Hiro said nothing—just adjusted his stance, analyzing.

Felix dove for save after save—libero chaos in motion—but even his rolls couldn’t stem the initial storm.

RaShawn was smiling. Not smug—just... ready.

“Nice warm-up, Brody,” he called after one clean point. “Now let’s play for real.”

The set ended 25–20. Gold ahead. But not untouched.

🟠 Act II — The Shift Begins

RaShawn adjusted mid-set—not just tactics, but tempo. His sets came looser, more chaotic, defying symmetry. He used the silence between Xavier’s rotations, the space between Maximus’ movements. He read Brody not as an opponent—but as an echo of something familiar. He began to anticipate.

Felix became a blur. Rotating in for Caleb, sliding under spike after spike, grinning between gasps. “C’mon, Gold! Give us something harder!” he shouted, laughing as he saved another impossible shot.

On the sideline, Owen began a rhythm chant, and Jamil pounded the bench like a drum. The Ocelots’ energy started to ripple—unstoppable, infectious.

But Xavier was already recalculating. He scanned Hiro’s stance, noted the angle of RaShawn’s last set, and muttered, “They’re favoring cross-court compression—short trajectory, tighter block gaps.” Isaac nodded, eyes wide, already repositioning.

Two points later, Xavier intercepted a spike not with reflex, but with certainty. He wasn’t just reacting—he was predicting. On the next rotation, he called the line before the serve even crossed the net: “Left shift. Hiro’s coming low.” The block was perfect. The Ocelots hesitated.

Brody glanced back, briefly—respect, not command.

Xavier didn’t celebrate. He just repositioned. Focused. Hunting.

Franco and Tamerlan pulled off a hybrid synchronized dive save—Golden harmony in motion. Franco dove flat, the ball kissing his wrist and arcing just high enough for Tam to volley it back with precision. It was beautiful. But brief.

The Ocelots roared back—Darnell took three points in quick succession, back-spiking like a force of nature, twisting midair in a motion that left even Brock blinking. The Orange bench matched every point with riotous sound. Jamil’s voice cracked. Owen was already scribbling new signals.

Maximus made two saves—but the third slipped under him. His dive was clean, but the angle was just too sharp. The ball touched floor, and he winced—not from pain, but from the margin of error. Too close. Too slow.

On the bench, Trevor (@polo-drone-125) shouted encouragement. Devon (@devon-gold-67) stood and mimicked a stretch he’d taught them. It helped. For a moment.

But the Orange was already ignited.

RaShawn sent a final feint set—Brody bit. Darnell slammed through untouched.

25–21. Ocelots take the second.

Across the gym, RaShawn didn’t cheer. He just looked across the net, eyes locked on Brody.

“This one’s real, bro,” he said. “You feel it?”

Brody nodded, slowly. “Yeah.”

Part II — Between Ash and Flame

⚠️ Act III — The Cracks

The third set began with less roar and more rhythm. Not the kind that uplifted, but the kind that gnawed—predictable, tight, just a little too mechanical. The Golden Army moved like a machine. A glorious, practiced machine—but one now humming just slightly out of tune.

Maximus felt it first. A lag in response, a pulse behind the ball. His dive at the first rally connected, but not cleanly. The ball popped up crooked. Brock adjusted fast, smashing it through anyway, but something stuck in the air—like timing gone soft.

RaShawn noticed. He didn’t change pace. He just leaned into the moment. While Gold pressed harder, sharper, he shifted his tempo—slightly erratic, slightly playful. He let chaos breathe into his sets. Darnell started leaping sooner, Hiro took sharper lines. It wasn’t about being better—it was about being freer.

Brody’s eyes followed it all, but his instructions started to lag behind the flow. He clung to wide set formations and defensive spacing—strategies that had dominated their last matches. But now, RaShawn bent the tempo each time, and Brody’s playbook chased echoes. He called for adjustments—quieter sets, wider range—but his voice now had to rise to be heard over the Ocelot bench. Owen was screaming plays like a man possessed, Jamil clapping a chant that made the hardwood echo. Felix dove after balls with gleeful violence, shouting across the court, “Gimme another one! I’m just warming up!”

On Gold’s side, things still worked—but not in harmony. Xavier was perfect, yes, his spikes cut air like blades. But even he began glancing toward Hiro more often, seeing a reflection of something cold and controlled on the other side of the net. Hiro never spoke, but his eyes tracked Xavier’s every move. Their exchange wasn’t words—it was physics, read and rewritten in milliseconds.

Isaac, however, changed.

He stopped waiting.

Midway through the set, Brody hesitated on a play. Xavier stepped right. But Isaac moved left—unplanned, unprompted—and blocked a sharp corner strike meant for the back line. It landed with a satisfying thud. For a second, no one moved.

Xavier gave him a look. Not surprised. Not critical. Just… acknowledging.

“Nice,” he muttered. It was enough. Isaac smiled, eyes wide, shoulders relaxing into something new.

Elsewhere, Franco and Tamerlan maintained their inner sync. Their rotations were flawless, mirrored to the millisecond. Tam’s read of the court was pure drone logic—positioning, anticipation. Franco’s was flow—instinctual, intuitive. But as the noise rose, even that duo began to fray. Tamerlan adjusted mid-play to block Hiro, and Franco, a beat too late, bumped into him. The ball hit the floor between them. No blame passed. Just breath.

Brock remained a constant. He tore through plays with unmatched speed, a wall of intent and force. But as the set wore on, the strategy leaned harder on him—again and again. His name was called almost every other rally. Not from weakness, but from habit. And even a well-oiled machine can overheat when left running at maximum. He crushed another spike off a back toss, then immediately rotated again to front, hands up before anyone else.

On the bench, Trevor was nearly hoarse, screaming praise and commands. Devon had his arms crossed, eyes locked on Maximus, calculating. But the Gold bench, though supportive, didn’t carry the same weight. Not like the Orange side. Not like that living storm of shouts and belief.

And then—RaShawn made his move.

The rally was long. Twenty-one all. The ball passed seven times. Tension filled the gaps. Brody shifted the formation, saw an opening, and anticipated Hiro. His hand signaled—Xavier twitched forward.

But RaShawn wasn’t going to Hiro.

He twisted, barely tipping the ball with two fingers behind his back, a feint set that flew to Tommy. No one had expected it. Not even Tommy. But he reacted just in time, jumped, and tapped it down just past Isaac’s fingers.

Brody’s jaw tightened. His hands flexed at his sides. He knew the pattern. He should’ve seen it. But he hadn’t. Not this time.

Maximus stepped—and hesitated. That half-second. Not indecision. Just delay. The kind that comes from lungs that sting and thighs that drag a little more than before. He stretched—but the ball was already down.

25–23. Set to Orange. Cheers thundered.

Maximus stared at the floor, then turned and walked back without a word.

RaShawn didn’t shout. He just looked across the net, calm, chest rising. He nodded once.

Brody met his gaze. And nodded back.

🔥 Act IV — The Awakening

The fourth set began in silence.

No rally cries. No tactical speeches. Just breath. Then Isaac spoke—quiet, steady, like he had been waiting for the exact right moment.

“We’re not out. Unless we act like it.”

It broke the spell.

They moved into formation like they’d never left it. First serve. Brock didn’t go full force—just enough. A smart, targeted strike that opened a gap in the Ocelot coverage. Franco followed with a tight spike, then Tamerlan dropped a perfect wall-block on Malik’s return. It wasn’t explosive. It was surgical.

Maximus, regathered, positioned himself earlier. Two dives—flawless. One third-dive recovery that sent the ball skimming along the floor toward Franco, who caught it mid-slide and passed to Xavier. Spike. Point. Crowd noise shifted.

On the bench, Trevor jumped in time with the rally. Devon exhaled for the first time all set.

Brody widened his plays. Less predictability. He trusted the others now—fully. His tosses came late, fast, sharp. Xavier took two, Isaac took one. Franco even passed one backward for Tamerlan to finish, a wild play that had even RaShawn laughing.

It wasn’t about domination now. It was about rising.

Gold took the set 25–22.

And in that moment, it felt like they had taken more than just a set. They had taken back themselves.

Part III — Final Pulse, Golden Flame

⚔️ Act V — The Final Pulse

The gym stilled—but it was not silence. The fifth set began in a tension that pulsed like static in the walls. Every movement had weight, every breath seemed shared. RaShawn stood loose, shoulders relaxed, but his eyes burned with something old and fierce. Brody watched him through the net, one hand flexing at his side. There was no huddle. Just the quiet affirmation passed through glances and nods—this was the final trial.

Gold started fast. Not desperate—focused. Brock surged forward like he’d never stopped. He didn’t wait for the rhythm—he made it. Xavier landed a clean spike from Brody’s first wide-angle toss. Then Brock stormed through the front line, slamming a ball that bounced off Felix’s outstretched hands. 4–3. But the Ocelots didn’t flinch. Darnell soared to meet the next rally midair, twisting mid-spin to land a shot off Isaac’s shoulder. 4–4.

They exchanged points in rapid sequence. 7–7. 9–9. Each rally felt like a microcosm of the entire match—fire and form, instinct and strategy. Xavier didn’t miss a beat. His reads came before the serve, his position always half a step ahead. “Left again,” he murmured, and Isaac shifted just in time. Every time Hiro shifted, Xavier was already there. He wasn’t just playing—he was correcting the future.

Maximus dove again and again, reading better now, adjusting to the pace. His muscles ached, but his pride held firmer than before. He wasn’t playing to recover. He was playing to remember what it meant to guard his line. One save earned a shout from Brock. Another, a nod from Tamerlan. But the third, his knee buckled just slightly on the push-up. He rose slower. His breath stayed heavy.

Across the court, Felix danced like a flame, impossible to track. Caleb rotated out, and RaShawn leaned into unpredictability. His sets came sharper now, almost too sharp—until Hiro, quiet and watchful, made them poetry. Every time Xavier scored, Hiro answered. It wasn’t rivalry anymore—it was communion.

Brody felt his lungs burning. Not from exertion. From pressure. His mind raced with angles, options, and still—RaShawn stayed one breath ahead. It was infuriating. It was familiar.

He remembered them playing in cracked school gyms. Just kids. Just passion. RaShawn had always gone left when no one thought he would. Had always trusted the team over the plan.

Score tied: 14–14.

Xavier served, low and fast. The Ocelots caught it. Returned it. Brock received. He dived, twisted mid-air, then passed with pinpoint control—more than strength. Precision honed by discipline. The entire team turned with him. Brody set—a feint right. Xavier leapt.

But RaShawn had moved before the ball left Brody’s fingers.

He didn’t even look.

His backset curved in a perfect arc behind him, not to Darnell—but to Hiro, racing in from the back. The spike came clean. Sharp. Not overpowering. Just placed so perfectly it might as well have been fate.

Maximus launched. It wasn’t instinct—it was duty. His body screamed but obeyed. He reached—shoulders extended, chest scraping floor.

Fingertips grazed air. The ball touched down like a whisper.

16–14. Match.

It took a second for the room to catch up. Then the roar hit. Ocelots surged across the court. Darnell lifted Hiro in a wild hug. Felix leapt onto Owen’s back. Jamil cried and laughed and screamed into his towel.

🧡 Epilogue — The Fire That Remains

Maximus stayed on the floor just a moment longer. Not from shame—just to breathe it in. The weight of impact. The echo of the cheer. The bitter beauty of a loss that still burned like victory. When he stood, Brock was already there, one strong hand out. Not yanking. Just there—steady, grounding. Maximus took it, and something clicked back into place.

RaShawn crossed the net. He didn’t speak at first—just wrapped Brody in a fast, shoulder-clap hug.

“You still got it, bro,” he murmured, grinning. “Next time… I want the unexpected.”

Brody smiled, the fatigue falling from him like ash. “I owe you that much.”

In the locker room, Gold sat in a hush that wasn’t defeat. It was stillness. Processing. Not one of them had given less than everything. Isaac stared at the ceiling, quiet and unshaken. Tam adjusted his towel with robotic precision. Franco, ever calm, tapped out a slow rhythm on his thigh.

Xavier said nothing. But he looked at Hiro’s name on the match sheet for a long time.

Maximus was the first to speak.

“Never again,” he said softly. Not angry. Just certain.

Brody passed the match ball to Xavier. “This was the forge. Now we rise.”

Franco added, voice low, “Next time, we burn cleaner.”

Outside, RaShawn’s voice echoed in celebration. It didn’t sting. It reminded.

Because Gold hadn’t been broken. They had been tempered.

And the next time fire called, they would answer brighter than ever before.

_____________

To Join the Gold, contact our recruiters : @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001 @polo-drone-125

[franco-gold94]

The Forgotten Gym

It was Friday evening.

The sun was already going down, casting golden rays that bathed the Golden Stadium in a warm, beautiful light.

The bros had just finished their soccer practice, and were heading to the locker rooms, where they could change into clean outfits and grab a drink of water.

Franco Gold was one of the last to leave the field. He was more exhausted than usual, having had to run a lot during this practice.

As he was walking after the others, something caught his eye. It was a door. He had already passed by this door countless times, but he never really paid attention to it. He always assumed, it led to a storage space for tools or cleaning supplies or something like that.

But today was different. He didn’t know why, but he stopped before the door.

He starred at it, hesitating.

Then he went closer, and opened it.

Behind the door, a long staircase led down to the stadium’s basement. The lights flickered as Franco, for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, walked down the hallway.

Along the hallway, he found old, dusty storage rooms, full of scrap and junk. “Whatever, at least I know this area now too” Franco muttered to himself.

But from the last door, a warm coloured light emanated, which was completely different from the cold, industrial lighting in the rest of the basement.

“What’s this?” Franco wondered. He entered the room.

“What?! A gym? Here??” Franco was truly shocked when he saw the unused bench presses, weights, and other various gym equipment.

But ‘unused’ didn’t quite capture the scene. Franco was certain, that no one would ever come down here to make some bench presses or dumbbell flys. But despite this, the gym had a warm, welcoming lighting, comfy atmosphere, and no dust whatsoever.

“Strange” Franco thought. “But it is good to know about this hidden spot here in the Stadium.” He made a mental note of it.

Then, another thought crossed his mind. “Why not to try out now?”

It was a silly, frivolous thought, given he had just finished a training session, but it was oddly inviting.

“Mmmm, okay, a few presses won’t hurt” Franco gave in.

He lay down onto the bench, and grabbed the barbell. Immediately, a strange warm feeling run down in his arms.

“Huh” Franco murmured as he began his reps. Up. Down. Up. Down.

It felt much easier than he remembered. It was like he was meant for this. Maybe the weights were too light, he thought.

Franco added a few extra plates to the barbell, then tried again.

But no, that wasn’t the problem. The weights still felt light.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

“So easy. So evident.” thought Franco.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

The warmth began to fill his chest, his lungs, his heart. Franco took a deep breath, then continued the exercises.

Up. Down. Up. Down. That's right. You were born for this. Up. Down.

Franco felt his arms, his chest swelling with strength. The warmth consumed his whole body, and somehow, the room around him seemed to shift. The warm lighting gleamed on the golden coloured equipment.

Up. Down.

The room was filled with Gold. The air hummed with power. Franco's muscles worked rapidly as his mind surrendered to the wonder.

Up. Down.

Yes! Yes! This is the true, ultimate destiny. Be consumed by Gold. Be whole within the Gold.

Up. Down.

Follow the Gold. Obey the Gold. Gold is purpose. Gold is love.

Franco’s eyes were wide open, but his brain no longer processed the images around him. His mind already belonged to the Gold.

“I obey the Gold. I belong to Gold.” he whispered, still pushing through his reps.

SNAP

The wonder ended abruptly. Franco’s mind was forcefully dragged down from the golden dream into his body. He almost dropped the weights on himself.

The golden glow was gone. The warm feeling faded. His arms ached from the bench presses.

He quickly put the weights back in place.

“Wha… what happened?” he mumbled, rubbing his biceps. He just remembered the sensation of that warm, golden feeling, and the infinite gold surrounding him.

Confused but strangely relieved and satisfied, Franco left the gym. His mind knew that something wonderful and right had happened down there in the forgotten gym, even if he couldn’t quite explain it.

----

Join the Gold! Let it take over! Contact our recruiters: @brodygold, @goldenherc9, @polo-drone-001, @polo-drone-125

[franco-gold94]

Welcome to the Army, Bro!

Hey there bros! Just wanted to thank Captain @brodygold for accepting me into the golden army! Happy to call myself their newest defender and count myself their 85th!

If any other bros wanna find themselves wearing that illustrious golden jersey (you know you do), leaving whatever boring stuff they were doing before in favor of pleasure through unity, you know who to hit up, heh - Our captain as mentioned before and our head recruiter @polo-drone-001

💛

Join us bros!

[franco-gold94]

Wow, incredible work here, Cap!

The Perfect Wedding

“What do you mean he’s not coming, Barry!?”

“That’s what his text says, hon. Here, look.”

This was supposed to be the best day of our lives. Everything was leading up to today. First meeting Rachel at college, where we both studied mechanical engineering. Proposing on the two year anniversary of our first date, in the same restaurant, at the same table. Spending the next year meticulously planning every detail of the wedding: the perfect venue, the perfect catering, the perfect tux and wedding dress. I spent hours writing my vows, which were currently burning a hole in the pocket of my tuxedo pants. Everything had to be perfect.

So why in the world do I get a text from the wedding officiant, the pastor of our local church, 15 minutes before the ceremony starts saying he won’t be able to make it?

Rachel threw her hands up in frustration. “Ugh. Did he at least give a reason?”

I looked back at the text. “Nope. He just said ‘Sorry I won’t be able to make it bro.’” That confused me a little bit. Pastor Kenneth was a rather uptight old man. I didn’t think bro was even in his vocabulary.

I got pulled out of my thoughts with a strong tap on my shoulder.

Standing behind me was a man about our age, mid twenties I’d have to guess. He had deep dark brown hair with a golden streak in the front, combed neatly. His hazel eyes perfectly complemented his suit, and his gold tie was shiny and captivating, if a little casual for an elegant wedding like this.

“Are you two Barry and Rachel?”

“That’s us. Who are you?”

“Ken told me he was supposed to officiate your wedding today and feels bad that he won’t be able to, so I came in his place.”

I let out a sigh of relief, not even realizing he never introduced himself like I asked. The wedding proceeding as planned was great to hear. “That’s great. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. I just want you two to be happy today. I know weddings are stressful, but I want you to try to relax, okay?

Surprisingly, I actually did feel more relaxed when he said that. I could tell Rachel was the same. She had an almost blank look on her face behind her smile. I didn’t think about that too much though, relaxing was more important.

The man continues. “That’s it. Just relax for me. Everything will be perfect in the end.” He looked down at his gold watch. “It looks like we should go. Everyone is waiting for the big event to begin.”

—————————————————————————

I won’t lie, I felt incredibly nervous standing at the alter, my best man at my side, waiting for what felt like an eternity for it to start. But the man’s words resonated with me. Just relax, everything will be perfect. I can do this.

It wasn’t long before my bride to be was walking slowly down the aisle, guided by her father. Mr. Johnston had an air of authority around him even now. Stiff, formal, looking down on the common folk. I pushed that thought aside to continue admiring the love of my life walking towards me, ready to begin our new life together.

The new officiant began his speech.

“We have gathered here today for a truly momentous occasion. To celebrate the union and bond of two lovers and make it official. To share memories and make plenty of new ones for the future.”

“Marriage isn’t just about love. It’s a transformation. Bringing people together to become something bigger than the individual. Trusting one another. In essence, a team.”

Pretty standard as far as speeches go so far. This man seems to know his stuff at least. I can feel myself getting calmer and calmer already, and Rachel seems to be feeling the same way.

“Just like on a team, those in a marriage can grow. If they put in the time and effort, they can stand at the top together. They can score every goal.”

That makes sense. Reminds me of how I met Raychel, actually. I knew as soon as I saw her on the intramural soccer team our first year of college that she was the one. We went to the gym together as often as we could and really grew, both physically and as a couple. Made finding a tux for the wedding difficult, but it was worth it.

“But with enough hard work and dedication, they can succeed at anything. Even if they’re not the brightest bulbs in the box, the heart is what matters most. Who needs brains?”

Exactly! Who needs brains, anyway? Just because Raymel and I barely got out of school don’t mean we can’t do good! I remember meeting her at the gym where we work. I love a girl who can keep up at the gym with me! It’s just too bad we don’t have time for sports besides a weekly pickup game.

“And I can tell these two have heart and passion. I’ve seen these two dominate on the field, in practice, and in the locker rooms and showers of course. They’ll tackle any challenge thrown at them, jump over every hurdle, work together as a cohesive unit. Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

“And as it is Pride Month, we must also be thankful this marriage is allowed to happen. Celebrate the happy marriage of two muscled bros, for all those who can’t. Shine like GOLD.”

Cheers to that! I’ll dominate anyone on the field and in bed. Bro, chick, it don’t matter to me. But being with my hot stud Raymond is enough for me. My golden bro for life, he is. I don’t know enough words to describe it, bro. His golden kit shows off every feature, just like mine. We just had to wear them for the wedding!

“But I’ve been talking for long enough. I know you’re all spacing out, thinking about the gym, the gains, the bros, and the gold. Now if you two wish, you may give your wedding vows.”

I knew I had dun somethin’ for this, but when I pulled out the paper from my pocket, it was, like, weird. There were all these squiggly lines and loops instead of words. I can’t read that shit! I just tossed it and said what I needed to.

“Raymond, bro… Before I met you, I didn’t even know what I was missing. You were like my missing protein shake, my gym partner for life. Every time I see you, my heart does like, a full chest day.”

“I promise to always spot you—physically, emotionally, and like, spiritually or whatever. I’ll flex with you through good reps and bad sets. Whether we’re crushing goals or just chillin’ in the locker room of life, I’m your man.”

“From now on, it’s just you and me, bro… two pumped-up jocks with one big golden goal—forever.”

I could hear several whoops and hollers from the crowd, all our golden bros cheering us on. My best man Ross clapped me on the shoulder hard. Raymond looked almost embarrassed, his cheeks redder than they were last night as we went to town on each other. He started talking not long after though.

“Barry, dude… ever since you walked into my life, it’s been total gains. You make my heart beat faster than any cardio ever could, and I actually hate cardio, so that means a lot.”

“I vow to never skip leg day with you. I vow to oil your back when it gets too hard to reach. I vow to be your number-one fan in the stands and your strongest rival on the field—’cause iron sharpens iron, bro.”

“Together, we’re unstoppable. I don’t need a playbook, ‘cause I already know the only move I wanna run… is the one that ends with us, side by side, forever jocks, forever in love.”

Cap smiled as Ray finished. I’m so pumped he could… “o-fish-ate” for us or whatever. I know he told us this big word for this, but my dum brain forgot it already. I’ll have to ask him later at the party.

“With the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husbands. You two may kiss and pump chests.”

And we sure did, bro, to the excitement of the bros. Seeing them all standing in the room, their golden jerseys proudly on as always, showing how much they have our backs. I knew we had something awesome here. There’s be plenty of time to celebrate later, and even more back at the hotel room of course, but I just had one more thing I wanted first.

Another kiss from my new husband.

I knew this was gonna be fuckin’ perfect.

[franco-gold94]

Proud

Franco stood on the balcony gazing down at the massive flow of people marching down the streets. It was a pride parade.

Though Franco himself never really cared that much about this event, he was open minded, and respected the thought behind the gathering. So, he stood now on the balcony and cheered the peoples, who were carrying colourful flags and banners with them. It was truly something uniquely diverse.

As he observed the march, Franco thought about the significance of the event.

These people were celebrating something, that they were proud of. They celebrated their rights, their beliefs, their belonging. Their march sent a clear message: be proud of who you are.

Franco appreciated the enthusiasm behind this attitude.

He could relate to this idea.

A few months ago, he was also a really ordinary guy, who was lost, who had no one. He was almost as lost as a man who could not be himself. He needed to be saved.

And help was on the way.

The Golden Army saved him. Not only saved him, but gave him purpose. Faith. And the sense of belonging to something greater, something more wonderful.

So he was here now, grateful and proud, that he belongs to the team. His golden jersey stretched proudly over his chest, tightly hugging his muscular torso. His golden shorts sparkled in the bright sunlight.

His golden kit proudly proclaimed his core identity.

He was #94. He belonged to the Golden Army.

He stood there, smiled brightly, waved at the people at the parade, and his heart was light. What a perfect day!

---

Happy Pride to everyone celebrating it!

---

It's a truly wonderful feeling to belong somewhere. Experience it for yourself and join our great team! Contact our recruiters: @brodygold, @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001

[franco-gold94]

The Golden Adventure - Part 4: The Great Twister

“I choose this hand mirror!” pointed Riley at a silver framed mirror on the shelf. He picked it up and inspected it. “Oh, crap, the glass is all blurry. I can’t use this if I can’t see anything.” he exclaimed in frustration.

“Not so fast, my friend!” Dima replied. “What do you want to see in it?”

Riley shrugged. “Myself? I don’t know, man. What am I supposed to see outside my reflection?”

“Hehe” Dima chuckled. “You are right. But no. You can see anything in this mirror. What do you want see?”

Riley frowned, then said: “Well, it would be nice to know, if everything is right at home…”

And like a magic word, the mirror’s glass suddenly cleared, so Riley could see, that at home, his fellow Golden Bros are training together for the upcoming volleyball match. Everything appeared to be fine. But Riley was more thorough than he seemed. “Is this image real?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yeah.” Dima reassured him. “But beware. The more you look it, the more self-centered you become!”

“Good to know.” Riley muttered, ignoring the warning, and gazed into the mirror. “I like it.”

“PDU-073 want that staff.” pointed 073 at a big staff in the corner. “What does this do?”

“Uhh, well, I don’t exactly know this one.” Dima scratched his head. “I didn’t have time to figure it out yet. It shoots sometimes magical energy from the top. From that decorative metal like part.”

“Magic?” 073 stated.

“Yes. Just like here everything. Every object here has time related magical properties. Yes, that pocket watch too.” Dima turned to Franco, who picked up a pocket watch emanating with a bluish light.

Franco looked questioningly at Dima.

“That watch shows the time left before something important happens.” Dima explained.

“Important?” Franco asked.

“Yes. Something important. Not necessarily bad or good, but important.”

“I take it.” Franco said confidently. “Too bad my kit doesn’t have a pocket! Well, no problem, I will carry it in my hands.”

“I choose this.” Nils said. “This wooden box full of powder. I found a paper next to the box, which said: ‘Energy transmitting powder’. Sounds powerful.”

“It is.” Dima confirmed. “Whoever touches the powder, his energy transmits to the wielder of the box. Very powerful. But be careful; the powder also sucks the boxwielder’s energy to some extent!”

“Ooo, very cool! Thanks, Dima! I am sure, I will use this efficiently!” Nils said gratefully.

After a quarter an hour the Adventurers were ready to head north, to reach the path, Riley saw on the map.

“What do we owe you, Dima, for the favor?” Franco asked Dima, when they were about to leave.

“Haha, thanks, bro, but nothing. It was a real pleasure meeting you bros. I hope, we will meet in the future, haha! And take care until that!” Dima chuckled, and winked.

“So it be! God bless you!” bid Franco farewell.

---

As the Adventurers continued their journey deeper inside the Evertime Woods, more and more bizarre phenomena appeared. Not only did the trees vibrate in an unsettling manner, Franco could swear, that the trees were… changing.

The trees buzzed and vibrated, as if they weren’t entirely real. At one point, Nils touched the trunk of a tree, and… nothing happened.

At least, that’s what he thought at first, but then he noticed, that the other team members looked extremely worried at him.

“What?” Nils asked suspecting something bad.

“When you touched the trunk, you froze.” Franco said. “We tried for the past five minute separate you from the trunk, without success.”

“We honestly thought, that we loose our first member this early.” Riley added.

“No. It was nothing. I just, wanted to check, if the tree is real. And it is.” Nils said, though he also started to get worried.

“Looks like the trees not only bend time, but they also drag those, who touches them.” 073 made the analysis.

“Good to know. Nobody touch anything from now on, please.” Franco said.

They continued their way north.

Soon, they saw even stranger things. Riley spotted a fox, who was running through the woods, but the fox was a baby fox and a really old and emaciated fox at the same time. Past, present and future merged into one for this creature.

The feelings were off too. 073 sensed, that his left leg felt like it had walked for miles already, but his right one was just as fresh, if the drone had just finished recharging procedure.

“We need to get out from this damn forest really quickly.” Riley hissed to Franco through his clenched teeth.

“Yeah, you are absolutely right. This forest drains our energy and sanity much faster than I thought. No wonder, the Army management closed off this area.” He looked at his watch.

“But we don’t have to endure much longer. In about half an hour, we will be completely exhausted or meet the Great Twister. Probably.” Riley didn’t respond.

They continued their way into the unknown.

---

Twenty minutes later, they encountered a large cave entrance. The ground before the entrance was littered with bones and skulls. Some bones had dried, yellowish patches of skin still clinging to them.

“This must be the entrance of the cave, where the Great Twister lives.” Franco whispered to the team. They were hiding behind a nearby bush.

“The Great Twister is inside,” Riley observed, peering into the mirror. He saw the massive, grizzly-like creature sleeping on a pile of bones. “Looks like it’s sleeping.”

“Lucky.” Franco said. “But I rather would take a different path to north, if it is possible. Dima said, it is impossible to get past this creature.”

“Well, Dima was alone. But we are four. We technically have a greater chance of success.” Nils said.

“Moreover, no other path is indicated on the map.” 073 examined the map really carefully. “Just this one”

“What does the book say?” Franco had an idea.

They opened it and leafed through the Attracting Influence of Gold. The found nothing useful. The book still showed a bunch of unreadable writings, glistering with gold, but uselessly. But Riley suddenly stopped at one of the pages.

“This. This picture. This picture is about the Great Twister. I recognize it.” They looked at the picture.

The picture showed a large grizzly-like beast. Its fur was a mix of blue and light purple. The creature had an extra forelimb, and purple energy sparked around its fur and claws. Its eyes glowed with a purple light. The creature was depicted roaring, and the image clearly showed its small, rounded, golden teeth.

“Whoa, this one is ugly.” Nils remarked.

“I don’t care, the main thing is, that we don’t get eaten by this thingy. It is a pity that we can’t read the text next to it.” Franco said, glancing at his pocket watch.

“One minute. Bros, we had to decide. In one minute something important happens. I don’t want that important thing to be us getting eaten alive.” “So a quick plan,” he continued. “I try to sneak past the Great Twister. It will be dangerous, but the beast is sleeping, and I hope, it sleeps deep enough for us to get through him. Once I am safe, I will signal, and you can follow.”

“Why do we have to go separately?” Riley asked.

“It is clever.” 073 explained. “If the Twister wakes up, he only notices Franco, it’ll only notice Franco, and we won’t get into trouble.”

“And if Franco get trough, we can follow him much more safely.” Nils added.

“Fifteen seconds.” Franco said. “Bros, I have to go. Wish me luck.”

With that Franco left the bush.

He crept forward as quickly and silently as he could. He didn’t made any sound, he glided like a snake in grass. He was doing it really well. But then… Suddenly, the Great Twister appeared before him, materializing in the blink of an eye, out of nowhere. Franco and his teammates in the bush were petrified with shock: this monster radiated energy and moved as if it took no time to make any movement.

“Impossible.” Riley whispered. “It was sleeping a second ago. I saw it!”

The bear's huge paw hit Franco, who flew back from the blow.

“We need to help him!” Nils exclaimed in panic.

But it was too late. The Twister slammed his three front legs together, and the impact created a purple beam that hit Franco, and he… disappeared into nothingness, without a trace. The team gasped with horror.

“His powers are unparalleled.” 073 said.

---

Franco found himself levitating in nothingness. He felt nothing, no pain, no relief, just nothing. He could barely sense his own existence.

He could remember, something had happened to him. Something hit him. The Twister knocked him out, then the beast hit him with an unknown force.

He glanced at the pocket watch floating next to him. It didn’t glow. It didn’t show anything. Franco was outside of time.

Until…

They bring him back...

---

Wanna join such a cool adventure like ours? The Golden Army offers unlimited opportunities! Just reach out to our recruiters: @brodygold @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001

---

Special thanks to my bros for accompanying me in this awesome adventure! @polo-drone-073, @nils-gold-34, @rileygold60

---

You can find the previous parts here:

Prequel Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

[franco-gold94]

---

Let's look at this amazing specimen!

Look at him, and you can't deny it how admirable he is. He is strong, he is shining, and he is GOLD! What an awesome bro! He is a proud member of the Golden Army! Perfection!

Why don't you be like @phoenix-hayyan-pdu-071, and join the Golden Army too?

Contact our Captains: @brodygold or @goldenherc9. You may also contact @polo-drone-001

All for one, all in one

Phoenix

PDU-071

Hayyan

[franco-gold94]

GX-113 - Part 1

“How exciting news! The Golden Army has discovered the first habitable planet in human history!”

And that is why Franco and Meno, two proud Golden Bros, were just standing inside the “Golden Helmet” spaceship, ready to take the first steps on unconquered land.

“Oh man,“ Franco said his voice filled with awe. “I’ve never ever imagined, I would get such an honour. First steps on GX-113! When I volunteered for the expedition, I’ve never on Earth thought, that I would be one of the chosen ones.”

“Me neither!” said Meno, just as amazed.

Hiss

The airtight doors just hissed open, and the bros gazed out at the vast landscape before them.

Before them stretched a vast desert. Colourful rocks, bright horizon, long canyons, and a few plant-like creature hiding in the shadows. The suns shone, so it was daytime, but the stars could be seen and it wasn’t too warm either, like it was some kind of a night with a bit extra light. Franco even felt a cold gust of wind sweep past him. In the far distance towering rocks, cliffs and mountains could be seen: they were hovering above the surface, but it was probably an optical illusion.

“Let’s beat it!” Franco said, and made the first step into the unknown. Meno hesitated slightly, and then followed him, but he wasn’t so certain about the unknown planet. He was a bit more cautious with the things, but he planted the flag resembling the Golden Army into the soil.

As they moved across the vast plateau, they encountered strange creatures.

“Look Meno! That giraffe-like animal thingy just uses its long neck to… dig?” Franco exclaimed, spotting their first living being. "It looks peaceful, so let’s not disturb it for now." So they continued their way.

“Look Meno! That looks like a dinosaur! But it’s eating flowers. I mean, plant like things resembling something like flowers? I mean, I assume, they are flowers.” Franco said again, and pointed excitedly at a big spinosaurus-like beast munching on red flowers.

“Okay, Franco, I get it. It is exciting, but please… We are here only to examinate…” Meno said, trying to keep his focus, but Franco was already distracted by something else.

“Look at that, Meno bro! Grapes! Grapes the size of watermelons! How could they taste?” Franco said, practically vibrating with excitement. “Meno bro, I’m going to grab a few and take them back to study! It might also be handy for the Golden Army!” “Franco, wait! Slow down a little!” Meno called after him, starting to get really upset, but it was too late.

Franco leapt out from behind the rock they had been observing from and run toward the strange, oversized fruits across the red-flower-covered field.

As he run, the spinosauruses retreated, clearly frightened from him. They had never seen a human being before.

“Huh, these aren’t really a threat at all. Your carnivorous Earth relatives wouldn’t be so proud of you, you hens!” Franco muttered. “If you guys are so timid, how do you even survive here, unharmed, on this beautiful poppy field?” “Wait… POPPY FIELD?! Like in the…”

But it was too late. Franco suddenly felt an overpowering urge to sleep, a weight pressing down on him with every step he took. His movements slowed, and the heaviness grew stronger and stronger with each step he made. “Oh no, how could I have been so reckless…” he thought one last time as he collapsed on the middle of the poppy field. “Meno… it is up to you now…”

Meno stood behind the rock, watching with fear as Franco paid the price for his recklessness. The success of the entire expedition now lied solely in his hands.

And to make things even worse, Meno spotted a group of unfriendly-looking bird-like creatures hovering near the field, and they seemed to be watching the area with unsettling intensity.

How exciting it is, when the Golden Army discovers new, awesome things! Why don't you join us? Message our captains @brodygold or @goldenherc9 to apply!

Special thanks to @meno-gold-37 for the collaboration!

[franco-gold94]

Coin of Perfection - Part 2

Franco and PDU-073 (@polo-drone-073) had been paired. The coins sealed their connection. They trained hard and efficient.

Franco didn’t know much about volleyball, but the precise coordination of 073’s movements made Franco glide through the air with perfect calibration, as if he had done this in his whole life.

Each movement was synchronized, measured, and perfected.

“Like a choreography” thought Franco, and hit the ball flying from a great distance with calculated technique. Flawless. The ball flew high, crossing over the net and hitting the ground on the other side of the net.

073 stood next to him, witnessing the success.

“Function: optimal.” said the drone.

“Thank you, 073” Franco replied. “I think, I feel this game in my bones! I know it, and I like it. I really do like volleyball, I think.”

073 seemed satisfied.

“Now it is your turn!” Franco called, tossing a volleyball in the drone’s direction. “Show me how those rubber muscles crush the ball!” Franco chuckled.

073 caught the ball with lightning-fast reflexes.

“Affirmative.” it responded to Franco’s challenge.

The drone jumped with ease, danced through the court, and tossed the ball to the other side of the net. It was effortless.

“Difficulty optimal.” said 073. But something unusual happened.

The drone could feel, as Energy flows through it’s muscles. Golden Energy. It was as if the drone were standing in a furnace, with golden flames licking its body.

Heat. Energy. Power.

073 felt this a long time ago, but the feeling was familiar, a warm, welcomed sensation. The drone tried to hit the ball with its fist, and the ball soared high, hitting the ceiling before falling back down.

“Incredible” said 073, still feeling the Energy, flowing, as if it was standing in a vast, powerful river, riding the currents. Every movement the drone made were guided by the current, empowering every motion.

“Haha, I told you! It is indeed incredible!” laughed Franco. “Now let’s train! The Oranges need some challenge in their life, haha!”

And so, they continued their training.

They didn’t even notice, that the gold and black coins fused together; in a really interesting way: one side pitch black, perfect, while the other gleamed in bright gold, radiating energy.

----

Do you want to join? Contact our Captains: @brodygold and @goldenherc9

Special thanks to @polo-drone-073 for the collaboration! The first part: Coin of Perfection - Part 1

[franco-gold94]

Coin of Perfection

📍 Location: Golden Arena South, Volleyball Hall 📅 Date: Synced to Hive Cycle 073-19

The hall vibrated softly. Neon lights flickered above the polished floor. Golden banners swayed lazily from the grandstands. This was no game day—this was a ritual.

At a central altar, flat and gleaming, lay two piles of coins:

Golden coins, engraved with names, each one shimmering, warm, alive.

Black coins, cool, matte, numbered. Drone markings, each pulsing like a dormant core.

A golden-clad bro stepped forward. Franco (@franco-gold94), athletic, deeply tanned, his golden jersey stretching across sculpted shoulders. He inhaled deeply, eyes locked on the golden piece before him. Without hesitation, he grabbed it— the coin sparked briefly, then vanished in his palm.

At the same time, something stirred in the black pile.

A single black coin lifted on its own. It rotated, guided by unseen energy across the hall—straight into the waiting hand of a drone figure at the court's edge.

PDU-073.

Black. Smooth. Fully sealed in gleaming latex. No face. No expression. Just the number 073 in gold on its chest. The coin rested in its hand. The connection was made.

Franco blinked. The air around him shimmered. A circle of light pulsed on the floor, linking the two—athlete and drone. Unity was initialized.

“Franco.” The hall's voice was deep, collective, hypnotic. “You have been paired with 073. You will train together. You will benefit from its precision. You will synchronize your emotion with its logic.”

073 stepped forward. No words. No gestures. It raised its hand—black coin glowing. Franco felt a sudden jolt in his chest—not painful, but... aligning. His posture corrected itself. Shoulders back. Gaze sharp. Heart calm.

073 did not speak. But Franco heard it—inside his mind.

"Jump efficiency: 4% suboptimal. Shoulder rotation: delayed. Focus level: unstable."

Franco exhaled sharply, then chuckled. “Sounds like you know me better than my coach.”

073 approached, movements fluid, flawless. It handed Franco a black armband—glossy, elastic, marked 073 in gold. Franco strapped it on. Instantly, a rush of data flooded his head. Timing frequencies. Motion vectors. Focus lines.

He could feel it: 073 was in his rhythm. Not above. Not against. Beside him. Inside him.

Together they stepped onto the court. No coach called. No strategy explained.

Franco moved, 073 mirrored. 073 calibrated, Franco adapted. A man of flesh and gold. A being of rubber and order.

And between them stretched more than a net. Something deeper: connection. control. synchronization.

The coins had chosen.

Thanks to @franco-gold94 for the collaboration.

Do you want to join? Contact our recruiters: @brodygold or @goldenherc9

[franco-gold94]

ECHOES IN THE LOCKER ROOM Chapter Two: Splitting Shifts

When Franco was summoned by Polo-Drone-001, he didn’t knew, what is going on… So, quickly made his way to the Hive Entrance, to meet with 001.

Upon his arrival, 001 appeared somewhat surprised.

“Hi Drone Bro!” greeted Franco the drone.

“Greetings Golden Bro Franco.” said 001. “Follow.” he ordered, then gave him a black linen mask. Franco looked at the mask, then at 001, unsure.

Before he could ask, 001 clarified without a word:

“You are about to enter the Hive. Safety measures are required.”

Franco was not sure about the thing, but he put it on nevertheless. He followed 001, who had already disappeared into the dark entrance.

“Why am I here?” Franco asked as they descended deeper into the Hive.

“Interrogation.” came the short response. “A security breach was detected. Primary suspect: Franco Gold.”

Franco said nothing. He just wondered, frowning. He muttered something, then turned to 001: “Impossible.”

“Negative. All criminal records suggest your presence” the drone replied. “However, your current state suggests the records may be false.”

Franco’s confusion deepened.

“C’mon bro. I was just about to get a good swimming session back at the pool. I really hope, that this whole fuss is worth something. I’ve got better things to do!”

“Follow, inspect the scene.” said 001.

They entered the locker room. The scene was unchanged, but everything was marked as as though a real crime had taken place. The room was mostly empty. Lockers stood open, devoid of contents. Rows of shelves sat completely bare. Only one locker was marked with a large ‘2’: and inside the locker was a single golden sock. Probably left behind by the burglar himself. This suggested the suspect was indeed connected to the Golden Army. On the floor a golden thread was marked with the number 1. Franco recognized: it was a thread from a golden jersey.

PDU-001 led Franco to the showers. Some steam still lingered in the air, and on the fogged mirror, drawn by a hand, the letters FG were clearly visible. The number 3 was stuck next to the letters.

“What does Franco think?” asked 001.

“I’ve no idea, what is happening.” said Franco. “I assume, someone broke in, took the stuff, left, and wanted to pin this whole thing on me.”

001 remained silent, standing still, deep in thought. If it wasn’t Franco, then…

But then Franco suddenly slouched, as if it was something wrong… He began panting heavily, looking around as if he were seeing this place for the first time. Fear flashed across his eyes.

PDU-001 seemed concerned. “Franco, are you alright?”

“No…” Franco said haltingly. "I think… The place is familiar… I've seen it somewhere before..." 001 looked at him curiously. It seemed Franco might be the one who broke into the Hive after all. But it was not clear.

"So you're admitting it was you?"

Franco straightened up, disdain flashing in his eyes. "No way. I would never do something like that to the Golden Army or the Hive." His voice was firm, and 001 felt he was telling the truth. Franco wouldn't have been able to do that. But then... Something is missing.

“From where is this room familiar?” asked the drone.

“Well, to be honest, I dreamed about it a few days ago.” Franco said.

“Dreamed about what?” asked 001.

“I dreamed about entering the Hive, just like a drone would. I went to a locker room, changed into my uniform, and then… left.” Franco explained. “Weird… it was a strange dream. Me as a drone? Uh-huh, not today!”

“Interesting data” said 001. “What happened next? In the dream.”

“Well, in the dream I left the shower room though the back exit, and went on drone duties. I went along the circular bridge, then down the DA12 stairs, then… I don’t remember.”

“Let’s go” suggested 001. They followed the path Franco had described. As they went, Franco could smell the scent of the rubber, even through the mask. It was… It was arousing… He could feel his heartbeat quickening…

He refocused on his task, and quickly followed 001.

As they descended to the DA12 sector, Franco noticed something strange. On the stairs, black liquid dripped down slowly. Like… liquid rubber… Even the scent was becoming stronger. 001 also noticed it. “We are close…”

The lights flickered… They went deeper. Onto the walls faint trails of synthetic gold were smeared in crooked lines.

And as they turned a corner, they saw him.

A strange figure was kneeling on the floor. Scattered around him, items, all kind: golden kit pieces, and polo drone uniform accessories. The stolen stuff. The rubber gear seemed to be melted in some way, and the person was kneeling in a large, black rubber puddle.

The kneeling man wore an odd outfit. Originally, he had been wearing a golden kit… But… Now it looked like, he was also wearing the polo drone uniform. Over the golden jersey a rubber polo had formed, tight, glossy, and form fitting. It looked like, if the polo is trying to shallow and dissolve the jersey, to stick to the man’s skin even more closer, tighter. He was wearing the signature rubber pants of the polo drones: a tight and sturdy black rubber pants, revealing the muscular legs. It was paired with the golden soccer shoes. The transformation was not done yet...

The man was panting heavily. His hands, as though trying to grip the rubber polo, were crooked. He reached for it, but his fingers couldn’t find any grip on the glossy material. His whole body was shaking, and his face showed a mix of emotions. Pleasure? Fear? Anger? Desire? All of them? Franco couldn’t identify it. But when he tried to identify the person, he was shocked. The person was Franco himself.

“What?” he gasped.

PDU-001 appeared just as shocked.

“What is happening?!” Franco turned to the drone.

“Unclear.” said 001. “Identify yourself!” The drone turned to the kneeling person.

The man’s face flickered, but he remained silent. Only a small moan escaped from his throat, as the rubber started to tighten even more, and the material pressed against his skin.

“What should we do?” asked Franco from 001. A strange, uncomfortable feeling washed over him. He could feel, as arousal builds in his chest, in his golden shorts… He could almost feel, as the tight rubber polo presses against his skin too…

PDU-001 paused for a moment, then he declared:

“We need to convert him fully. Franco sees: He is already halfway converted, because he handled the rubber gear without competence. 001 does not know, what he is, or how his conversion will effect Franco, but to better understand it, assimilation into the Hive is neccessary.”

Franco nodded.

PDU-001 stepped to the kneeling person.

“Okay. No need to worry. This will go smoothly you won’t even notice it.” he whispered into the person’s ear. He smoothed the glistering rubber on the man’s chest. The man (and Franco too) shrugged in pleasure.

“Feel the pressure. Feel the belonging.” 001 whispered. He smoothed the rubber polo again, smoothing out every crease, adjusting the smooth material to the man’s muscular torso. The rubber absorbed the jersey, and completely dissolved it, like he never wore anything between his skin and the rubber. The man’s breath caught in pleasure as the cold material touched his skin, then warmed up and molded itself even more tightly to his body. Franco groaned. The liquid rubber crept up on the man’s leg, covering his feet. It hardened into tight, sturdy rubber boots, perfectly fitted on his ankles, secure, irremovable.

PDU-001 held out the last piece: a rubber mask.

“Transform and obey.” he ordered the man. The kneeling man took the mask without hesitation, and put it on. His mind exploded from the pure ecstasy, he felt. Every thought was erased, every emotion replaced with pure pleasure. He turned his gaze toward the high sky, but his eyes saw nothing.

PDU-001 was satisfied. Another joins the Hive… But something wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel the presence of the new member… Strange.

“L… look…” Franco whispered from behind the drone, his voice trembled from the forcefully suppressed emotions. 001 looked at the man, and saw, that he is like… Fading?

Yes, that was the case: The second Franco was becoming more and more transparent… Like he was nothing more, than a vision…

“Incorrect behaviour” stated 001. “001 wants to know why he broke into the Hive.” The drone pressed his fingers in the fading man’s shoulder. “Answer.” 001 could feel, as the man slips away more and more from this reality.

The man whispered: “Desire…” and he was gone.

At that moment, Franco collapsed behind 001.

----

“What… What happened?” asked Franco, when he awakened after half an hour from the previous events.

“Not sure. We need to analyse the cause with precision” 001 said. “But you should be more cautious next time, 001 suggests.”

“Yeah, you are probably right…” said Franco. “Anyway! How is the investigation going? I am innocent?”

“Probably” 001 said this very strange edge in his voice. “Thanks for the assistance. See you another time!” The drone said his farewell as he guided Franco toward the Hive’s exit.

----

Thank for @polo-drone-001 for make this collaboration a reality! Join our ranks. Reach out to our captains: @brodygold or @goldenherc9

[franco-gold94]

Uh-huh, what's happening? Find out in the second part!

ECHOES IN THE LOCKER ROOM Chapter One: Origin of the Breach

It began with a ping.

03:17—Hive time. PDU-001’s visor flashed with a silent alarm. No sound, no panic. Just data.

UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED LOCATION: EAST WING LOCKER ROOM TIME STAMP: 03:14:09 LOG FILE: CORRUPTED

The drone rose from its stasis station without hesitation. Movements efficient. Boots clicking softly against the matte black floor. The rubber of its uniform caught the faintest gleam from the corridor lights, gold accents glowing faintly in the dark.

It reached the locker room in twenty-two seconds.

The door was slightly ajar—impossible. All Hive doors defaulted to lockdown after 02:00. The override had not come from the control center. A breach without a signal.

Inside, the air was cold. Too cold. The Hive maintained internal temperatures at exactly 21.7°C. This was 19.1.

PDU-001 entered.

Rows of empty shelves. Hangars swaying gently. Gold kits—vanished. Black rubber pants—missing. Drone boots—stripped.

One locker remained open. Inside, a single golden sock curled in the corner like shed skin.

And on the floor—dragged across the polished black tile—a trail of fine gold thread, leading into the adjacent shower room.

The drone followed.

The lights flickered. Then stabilized. Then flickered again.

The showers were running.

Steam curled in ribbons through the air, forming coils and tendrils that felt… too alive. The scent of fresh rubber was heavy—pungent. The water pounded against the tiles, but no figure stood beneath it. Only shadows. Movement in the fog. Then—gone.

On the fogged mirror, smeared by a finger: FG.

Franco Gold. A bro. Loyal. But curious. Too curious.

PDU-001 turned away. No emotion. Just record. Just protocol. But behind the glass of the mirror, for half a second, the fog parted.

A figure stared back—half gold, half drone. Eyes not its own. Mouth curled into a mocking smirk.

Glitch. Gone.

LOG ENTRY: 03:34

Interrogated Unit 076. Memory fractured. Reports auditory hallucination. "Golden laughter" — non-logical data fragment. Observed tremors in glove response. Reprogramming pending.

Hive Control granted partial access to surveillance. Most feeds were corrupted. Looping visuals. But one fragment—scratched, flickering—played through.

A figure in the hall. Back to the camera. He wore a golden jersey—but over it, a black polo shirt. Too tight. Too polished. His hand dragged along the wall, fingertips smearing faint trails of synthetic gold. Then, as if sensing the observer, he turned.

The face was obscured. Glitching. Static distortion. But the voice—digitally fragmented—came through:

“Janus is watching… He never left…”

The feed cut.

PDU-001 stood in silence. Data flowing across its visor. Identity unknown. Motivation unknown. Threat level: elevated.

Its gloves flexed.

It activated internal transmission mode.

“To all units: breach confirmed. Suspect unidentified. Reinforcement restricted. Permission to pursue: granted.”

Then, for the first time in weeks, the drone spoke aloud.

Voice low. Mechanical. Calm.

“Something is trying to divide the Hive.”

Pause. A breath that was not breath.

“That is unacceptable.”

It stepped into the dark—following the golden thread that shimmered beneath the flickering lights, toward the place where purpose would be restored... or erased.

🛠️ Your uniform is missing for a reason. The gold kits. The black rubber. The pull you feel? Not theft—initiation.

He’s already inside. And soon, you will be too.

Obey the call. Serve the Hive. Become what you're meant to be. DM recruiters: @brodygold, @goldenherc9

A collaboration story with @franco-gold94 My bros mentioned @polo-drone-076, @hero21us

[franco-gold94]

Recruiting Station

It was Friday afternoon. Many people refer to Fridays as the doorstep of the weekend. The workday is winding down earlier on this day than on the others, and thoughts were already drifting toward the evening and the freedom of the weekend.

Cody and his friends had just finished high school and were heading toward their favourite bar. They had a simple plan: drink, have fun, and sleep at a friend’s house afterward. The routine was familiar, but tonight, something felt different.

As they walked toward the bar, they noticed something odd. More and more men seemed to be milling about in the crowd, all wearing the same golden coloured crop tops. At first, they didn’t think much of it, they didn’t even notice it. Maybe it was just a weird fashion choice, some men are suffering from the desire to stand out.

But then they get suspicious.

As they walked on, the sight of these men in golden tops started to feel a bit strange. Their faces were blank or slightly grinning, their expressions emotionless. The most unsettling part, though, was the tag emblazoned on their chests: “Golden Army”.

Cody’s friends, who were chit-chatting about various things, suddenly stopped their conversation, and started to murmur about the strange men. They seemed somewhat concerned.

But Cody wasn’t worried, he knew, that he didn’t had to fear from anyone. He was a true alpha male, who didn’t let anyone mess with him. He was the “pack leader” for a reason. He looked the men with curiosity, more intrigued than scared.

The group picked up their pace as they neared the bar. One of the men wearing the golden noticed Cody’s gaze. He turned towards him, a faint smile spreading across his face, and raised his hand, almost... inviting? One by one, the other men turned to face Cody and his friends.

In a sudden burst of panic, one of Cody’s friends shouted and ran toward the bar as fast as he could. The others followed, not wanting to be left behind, not looking back. Only Cody didn’t budge.

His attention was drawn to a small stand on the sidewalk. It looked like a boutique selling clothes. Behind the booth stood a man, wearing a golden soccer kit.

Cody curiously went closer. He knew, he didn’t had to be afraid of anything.

The man looked up, greeting him with a wide smile. “Hi!” he greeted warmly. “I see you’re interested in our premium outfits.”

Cody glanced at the clothing displayed: golden jerseys and shorts, all gleaming in the fading sunlight. The man introduced himself. “I’m Franco, and I’m currently selling goods for the Golden Army. Wanna try any of these? You know, these are all top quality, and…” But Cody wasn’t listening closely, he was just looking the clothes next to the stand. His eyes were fixed on the golden clothes, and his fingers lightly brushed the soft and smooth fabric. The jerseys gleamed beautifully in the sunlight, their richness almost hypnotic.

“I want one of these.” said Cody hoarsely.

Franco’s smile widened. “Great! Try it on! If you like it, you can have it for free!”

Cody nodded and picked out a jersey that seemed to fit perfectly. He smiled, satisfied with his choice, eager to try it on.

He quickly removed his plain, casual green shirt, and slowly pulled the jersey through his head. The fabric felt soft, almost like it was made to fit him perfectly. He could feel as the material brushed lightly his skin, and a shiver run along his spine. He slid his arms through the short sleeves, and he could feel arousal build, as his arms were placed in the right place. He lowered the bottom of the jersey onto his torso and stood, fully clad. The words "Golden Army" gleamed across his chest, bold and unmistakable.

He was wearing the Golden Army.

Franco led him to a nearby mirror, and Cody gazed at himself. He was beautiful. The golden jersey gleamed brightly in the sunlight, more radiant than any clothing he had ever worn.

He could feel the pressure of the soft and tight material of the golden fabric pressing against his skin. He couldn’t help but run his hands over it, smoothing the fabric across his muscular chest, and a shiver of pleasure washed over him. In the back of his mind a voice told him, that this is not natural, and that the golden material feels much tighter as when he put it on, but he didn’t pay attention. He was feeling aroused, hot, and he wanted to touch the golden jersey again.

He smoothed his hands over the fabric again, this time with more passion and eager. Now he noticed, that the material pressing against his skin seemed to tighten further, and that the shirt was now shorter, but this made him even more horny. His vision blurred as more and more waves of pleasure coursed through his body. He didn’t think straight anymore, and when the man (what man?) standing next to him gave him the golden shorts (the second piece), he didn’t hesitate: he strip his pants, and replaced it with the golden shorts (perfection). He (the Golden Army) needed that. He knew that.

He gripped the material of the jersey (crop top) the third time, and he lost himself itself in the pleasure and admiration (as it should be). A grin spread across his face as he fully embraced his transformation (into something better). Then his face went blank, and it was finished (perfection). A new recruit was born (he belonged). He was standing tall and proud in his skin tight (perfect) golden crop top and golden short. On his chest was proudly displayed the Golden Army (worthy to wearing its name) words. He was complete (complete).

Franco smiled, and let Cody go on his own way. He will serve the Golden Army’s cause well.

---

Do you want to get recruited, and spread the Golden might? Reach out to our captains, recruiters, and join! @brodygold @goldenherc9