Golden Army - Tumblr Posts - Page 3
Brocessed
It was supposed to be a regular Friday night, just us nerds crowded around the table, rolling dice and fighting imaginary dragons. Our group had been together for years—me, Scott, Joey, Derek, and our Dungeon Master, Eric. We had snacks, character sheets, and an epic campaign planned for the night. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?
Except when that knock came at the door.
“Who could that be?” I muttered, looking at the clock. None of us had ordered pizza, and it was almost 11 p.m. We all exchanged looks, and Eric, the tallest of us and thus unofficial “leader” of the group, got up to answer it.
Before he could even turn the knob, the door exploded open, and six guys stormed in. They were huge—like, NFL linebacker huge. All wearing golden jerseys with a crest I didn’t recognize, but I swear I’d seen before. They had an intimidating presence, like warriors marching into battle.
“Who—who are you?” Eric stammered, backing up as the tallest of them—a guy built like a truck—stepped inside.
“We’re the Golden Army,” the guy growled. “And you’re all about to be brocessed”
“What the hell?” Derek muttered, his glasses slipping down his nose as he looked for somewhere to hide. Joey was frozen in place, clutching his character sheet like it was a life preserver. Scott had already backed up against the wall, hands raised in surrender. And me? I couldn’t move. My heart pounded as if I’d rolled a nat-1 on a saving throw.
“Get the gear,” the leader of the Golden Army barked. One of the guys—a muscular dude with short black hair—opened a duffel bag and tossed something onto the table. Golden jerseys.
“What... what are you doing?” Scott’s voice cracked as the jerseys landed in front of us. They shimmered in the light, catching my eye with an almost hypnotic glow.
“You’re gonna suit up,” another one of them said, smirking. “Or we’ll make you.”
I felt a strange urge as I reached for the jersey in front of me. My mind screamed no, but my body acted on autopilot. I slipped off my button down and pulled the golden jersey over my head. The moment it touched my skin, I felt a jolt—like electricity coursing through my veins.
The room began to spin. My body... it didn’t feel like mine anymore. The tight fabric hugged my chest, arms, and stomach, and I realized I was growing. My muscles were expanding, filling out the jersey as if I had spent years in the gym. My scrawny arms were now thick and solid, and my legs... they bulged with muscle. I could feel power surging through me.
“What the... what’s happening?” I gasped, looking down at my arms in disbelief. My voice sounded deeper, more authoritative.
“You’re part of the Golden Army now,” the leader smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “We’re training for the championship.”
“Championship? What... sport?” Eric asked, his voice thick with confusion.
The leader smirked. “Football.”
I blinked. Football? I hadn’t played since high school, and even then, I was a benchwarmer for the JV team. I never even made it onto the field. But now, standing in this new body, it felt... right. Like I could take on anyone. Like I was born to play.
“I... I don’t know anything about football,” Joey muttered, but even as he said it, I could tell his hands itched to throw a pass. My body was already anticipating the rush of the game. My mind was trying to resist, but it was like the jersey was seeping into my thoughts. Changing me.
“You will,” the leader said, tossing us a football. “Golden Army doesn’t lose. The brocess make sure of that.”
The transformation wasn’t just physical. It was mental, too. As my body transformed, so did my mind. At first, it was subtle—just a heightened awareness of my surroundings, a sharper focus. But then, new thoughts and feelings began to flood in. I started thinking about football in ways I never had before. Plays, tactics, strategies—things I barely understood a few minutes ago suddenly made perfect sense.
The old me was fading away, and in his place, a new Ryan was emerging. This new version of me *knew* how to play football. I could picture myself on the field, reading defenses, making quick decisions, anticipating the moves of the other team. It felt as natural as breathing, like I had been doing it my whole life. The Golden Army had imprinted these skills and knowledge into my brain, reshaping my very identity.
I glanced around the room, watching as the same thing happened to my friends. Scott’s face, once sharp and angular, was now broader, his jawline square and strong. His glasses had been discarded, replaced by eyes that gleamed with a newfound confidence. He flexed his arms, grinning, clearly enjoying his new muscular form. His mind had changed too—I could see it in the way he held the football, like he already knew he was the leader on the field, our quarterback.
Joey, who had always been shy and soft-spoken, was now looking at his reflection in the window, grinning at the sight of his bulked-up body. His usual slouch was gone, replaced by a straight-backed stance that radiated self-assurance. His fingers twitched as if he was itching to catch a pass or make a play. He looked over at us and smirked, as if he had always been a part of this, always belonged here.
Derek, the smallest of us, was perhaps the most drastic transformation. He had gone from being the least athletic among us to one of the most intimidating. His shoulders had broadened, his neck thickened, and his arms were massive now, bulging with muscle that strained against the golden jersey. His usual timid expression was gone, replaced by a fierce determination. I could tell that the mental shift had been even stronger for him. The Derek I knew was quiet, bookish—but now, there was fire in his eyes. He looked ready to bulldoze through anyone in his way.
Even Eric, our Dungeon Master, was no longer the same. The intellectual intensity he’d always carried was still there, but it was tempered with an aggressive edge. His muscles were as big as the rest of ours, and I could see the gears turning in his head, already calculating plays and strategies for our new team.
And me... well, I was fully immersed in this new identity now. The Golden Army had done more than just change my body; they had rewired my brain. My old memories—of late nights rolling dice, debating over character stats—felt distant, like a dream fading in the morning light. In their place were new memories, new desires. The thrill of competition, the rush of adrenaline on the field, the camaraderie of my team—it all felt real, immediate, and, more importantly, right.
I could feel the old Ryan—the one who would rather hide behind a character sheet than step onto a field—slipping away. In his place was a new version of me. Someone who thrived on strength, speed, and competition. Someone who wanted to win, not just in a game of fantasy but in real life. The football field wasn’t just a new battlefield; it was where I belonged.
“Ready to crush it, man?” Scott asked, tossing the football to me.
I caught it effortlessly, my reflexes sharp, my hands steady. The old Ryan would’ve fumbled it, too shocked by everything that had just happened. But the new me? I was ready. I grinned, feeling a surge of confidence I had never known before.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice deeper and more assured. “Let’s go win this thing.”
We weren’t just a bunch of nerds anymore. We were the Golden Army. And there were more nerds waiting to be brocessed.
Welcome bro 💛
Sup Bros!
Sup dudes. I'm Xander, new Left Fullback for the coolest fucking team in the world! GO GOLD BROS!
The Omega Kappa Sigmas were the lamest group on campus, filled with nerds, geeks and losers. They weren’t bad guys, but they weren’t living up to their own potential, and they definitely knew it. So some of my bros and I sent them some Gold Beer. A few hours and a huge name change later, the bros of Gamma Omega Lambda Delta were ready to fucking party! Go GOLD!
So who converted you? Are you particularly interested in soccer? what all thisaboutbeing a linebacker too
It was partly myself at first when I was first interested though because absolutely sure on doing it after talking to my twinbrah @scott-golden9. I am actually more interested in soccer now after joining than I was before all of this. As for also being a linebacker, most of us do other sports besides soccer with football being my main non soccer sport since I was a football jock before joining.
Yeah, bro. I know I said I’d come over and play Mario Kart with you, but Cap and the bros got to me first huhuhuh. As soon as the golden jersey was put on me, I became the perfect soccer stud you see before you now.
Are you seriously asking me if I still wanna play, bro? I ain’t got time for that nerd shit anymore! Practice starts in 20 minutes. We gotta head over to the field now. Let’s go bro.
Of course you’re coming with me! Cap said he’s been eyeing you for the team too, bro. Now come on bro. Put on the jersey or I’ll put it on you for you. What’s it gonna be?
Xander here brahs! Tryin out for the lacrosse team! Mah bros tell me Imma shoo in! What do you think guys? I think I look hawt. Shoutout to @dylangold20 for the pics! Fucking awesome bro!
I obey Cap, I obey da gold, gold is life, gold is love, i obey i obey. i obey captain, i listen to captain, the golden team is family. the golden team is love. i obey captain. i obey the team. i obey the GOLD! CAP IS DIVINE! Cap knows what is best. Follow Captains orders. Follow Captain to victory. follow Captain to GOLDEN GLORY.
@hypnogold
The Gold Team has ancient fucking roots bro, all the way back to alpha cavemen! We've always been around and we always will be! FUCK YEAH, GO GOLD!
made the golden team as Inside Forward 💪🔥
On behalf of the people of the island. I wish to welcome the Golden Army to their new home stadium!
The Golden Opportunity
A 200 follower special
The sun hung high in the sky, casting its warm, golden glow over the vast expanse of the rolling plains. The dry, rustling grass swayed gently in the breeze as William sat atop his stallion, surveying his ranch. He’d worked the land for years, pouring his blood, sweat, and tears into it, and it had become a part of him. The rhythms of ranch life were second nature to him now—waking before dawn, tending to the cattle, and spending long, solitary hours out in the open. It was a life he enjoyed, even if it was a bit lonely.
Despite his contentment, though, something had been gnawing at the back of William’s mind lately. Strange stories had begun circulating in nearby towns, passed along by ranch hands and traders at the market. Tales of a mysterious group known only as the Golden Army. They were said to travel from place to place, recruiting the best of the best—men who were not only strong and skilled but also held an untapped potential for greatness.
Most people dismissed these stories as mere myths, gossip meant to entertain and provoke curiosity. William, pragmatic as he was, tried not to give them much thought. After all, he had a ranch to run, and he’d always prided himself on staying focused on what was in front of him.
Still, the stories lingered in his mind, especially on those long, quiet nights when all he could hear was the distant howl of coyotes and the rustling of the wind through the trees. He would find himself with a cigar in hand, thinking about what it would be like to join a group like the Golden Army, to leave behind the life he had built in exchange for something unknown, perhaps even extraordinary.
One afternoon, as William rode his horse along the southern edge of his property, he spotted something unusual in the distance. A group of riders, their figures shimmering against the horizon, were making their way toward him. There was something striking about them, even from afar. They rode with purpose, their horses in perfect formation, each rider sitting tall and proud in the saddle.
As they drew nearer, William’s curiosity deepened. Their golden jerseys, vibrant and gleaming, caught the sunlight, reflecting it like molten metal. The leader of the group was a tall, imposing figure who seemed to radiate authority. His golden jersey was trimmed with white, and his horse—larger and more powerful than the others—was adorned with matching gold and white tack. The group approached William’s position at a steady pace, their horses’ hooves kicking up small clouds of dust as they came to a halt a few feet in front of him.
The leader dismounted gracefully, his sharp eyes locking onto William. “You must be William,” he said, his voice deep and confident. “We’ve been watching you for some time now.”
William, still sitting atop his horse, frowned. “Watching me? Who are you?”
The man smiled, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “I am Richard, Captain of the Golden Army. And this,” he gestured to the riders behind him, “is my team.”
William’s pulse quickened at the mention of the Golden Army. He had heard the stories, of course, but seeing them in person was different. There was an aura of power about them, something magnetic and undeniable. Still, he was cautious.
“I’m just a rancher,” William said, his tone guarded. “What do you want with me?”
Richard took a step closer, his boots crunching in the dry grass. “We don’t want you to be ‘just’ anything. We see your potential, William. You’ve got the skills we need, and I believe you’re destined for more than this.” He gestured to the vast expanse of land behind William. “We want you to join the Golden Army.”
William’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Join you? But I’ve never been part of anything like that. I’m no soldier, no competitor. I’m just a rancher.”
Richard shook his head, his gaze steady. “You underestimate yourself. You’ve spent years honing your abilities out here—working the land, riding, leading. These are the very qualities we look for in our recruits. You have the strength, the discipline, and the determination to ride with us.”
William opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Richard pulled something from his pocket. It was a medallion—a round disc made of pure gold, engraved with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer and shift as the light hit them. He held it up before William’s eyes, letting the light glisten off of it.
“Look at this, William,” Richard said softly. “Focus on it.”
William’s gaze was drawn to the medallion almost against his will. The way it glinted in the sunlight was mesmerizing, the swirling patterns pulling him in deeper. He blinked, trying to shake the feeling, but the longer he stared, the harder it became to look away.
“You’re tired of the same old routine,” Richard’s voice was low and hypnotic now, barely more than a whisper. “You’ve worked hard, but there’s a part of you that craves something more. Something greater.”
William’s thoughts were slowing, the world around him beginning to blur. The medallion swung gently back and forth, each movement sending a ripple through his mind. He tried to speak, to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. His body felt heavy, as though the very air around him had thickened, pressing down on him.
“Relax,” Richard continued, his voice soothing, almost kind. “You don’t need to fight it. You don’t need to think. Just listen to my voice, and let the medallion guide you.”
The golden disc seemed to pulse in time with William’s heartbeat, drawing him deeper into a trance. His eyelids grew heavy, and his grip on the reins loosened as his body swayed slightly in the saddle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that something was happening to him—something profound, something irreversible—but he was powerless to resist.
“You’re no longer William,” Richard’s voice was everywhere now, filling his mind completely. “That name no longer belongs to you. You are Clayton now, a rancher in service of the Golden Army. You are one of us.”
*Clayton.* The name echoed in his mind, at first foreign, but then... familiar. As Richard repeated it, the name seemed to take root, growing stronger with each repetition. The memories of his former life as William—the years he’d spent working the ranch, the countless hours he’d poured into building his life—began to fade, dissolving like mist in the morning sun. New memories took their place, memories of riding with the Golden Army, competing in equestrian events, and earning glory for his team.
"You are Clayton," Richard said one final time, his voice firm and commanding. "And you belong to us."
Clayton blinked slowly, his eyes glazed and unfocused as the trance began to lift. When he finally looked up, the world seemed different—brighter, sharper, more vivid. He felt a strange sense of calm and certainty, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The ranch, his old life, felt distant, like something from a dream he could no longer fully remember.
Richard smiled, satisfied. “Welcome to the Golden Army, Clayton. We’ve been waiting for you.”
---
From that day forward, Clayton’s life changed entirely. His ranch was left behind, forgotten like a chapter in a book he had closed. His world now revolved around the Golden Army, and under their guidance, he flourished. The Golden Army was more than just a group of riders—they were a brotherhood, bound together by their shared commitment to excellence in equestrian sports and a life of discipline and camaraderie.
Clayton quickly adapted to his new role. His horse, now fitted with golden tack, responded to his every command with perfect precision. The Golden Army’s training regimen was rigorous, but Clayton found that he relished the challenge. He spent his days practicing dressage, show jumping, and cross-country racing, honing his skills under the watchful eyes of Richard and Jackson, the co-captain. Each day, he grew stronger, faster, more attuned to his horse.
The Golden Army was known throughout the country for their dominance in equestrian competitions. They weren’t just riders—they were legends, revered by fans and feared by rivals. Clayton quickly became a key member of the team, his natural abilities and ranching experience giving him an edge over the competition.
But the true test of his loyalty and skill was the Grand Equestrian Challenge, the most prestigious event in the sport. The Golden Army had won the Challenge for years, but each victory was hard-earned, and the competition was fierce. This year’s event was particularly important, as they would be facing off against The Titans, a rival team known for their sheer physical prowess and aggressive tactics.
The days leading up to the Challenge were intense. The Golden Army’s training sessions became longer and more grueling, with every rider pushed to their limits. Clayton, though new to the team, was determined to prove himself. He worked tirelessly, his body aching from the long hours in the saddle, but the sense of purpose he felt was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He wasn’t just competing for himself—he was part of something larger, something greater.
On the morning of the Grand Equestrian Challenge, Clayton stood in the stables, adjusting the golden tack on his horse. The sound of the crowd outside the arena was already deafening, a steady roar of anticipation. His golden suit gleamed in the early sunlight, and the emblem of the Golden Army on his chest seemed to pulse with life, filling him with pride.
Richard and Jackson approached him, their faces calm but serious. “Today’s the day, Clayton,” Richard said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve trained hard for this, and you’re ready.”
Jackson nodded. “We ride as one. Trust in yourself and in your team.”
Clayton felt a surge of confidence as he mounted his horse, the weight of the moment settling over him. This was what he had been preparing for, what the Golden Army had shaped him into. He was ready.
The competition was fierce, but the Golden Army was a force to be reckoned with. Each event was more difficult than the last—dressage required perfect control and poise, while show jumping demanded precise timing and coordination. Clayton’s horse responded to his every movement with grace and power, and together they executed each maneuver flawlessly.
As the final event—the cross-country race—began, Clayton found himself neck-and-neck with The Titans’ best rider. The course was treacherous, with sharp turns and steep hills, but Clayton’s instincts, honed from years of working the ranch, kicked in. He guided his horse with expert precision, gaining ground with each stride.
The roar of the crowd reached a fever pitch as Clayton and his rival approached the finish line. In the last few moments, Clayton urged his horse forward with a burst of speed, crossing the line just ahead of The Titans’ rider.
The Golden Army had won.
As the crowd erupted in cheers, Clayton was surrounded by his teammates, their faces beaming with pride. Richard approached him, his expression one of deep satisfaction.
“You’ve done it, Clayton,” he said, his voice filled with respect. “You’ve proven yourself, and you’ve earned your place among us.”
Clayton smiled, the name now feeling as natural as breathing. He had found his true calling, his true purpose. No longer was he just a solitary rancher. He was Clayton, a rider of the Golden Army, and he knew that this was where he belonged.
Together, the Golden Army rode back into the sunset, victorious and united, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
Whatcha doin hiding in there, broski? Did you really think you could escape the gold? It’s time for you to get jocked just like I did. It feels amazing bro, losing all your smarts in exchange for the biggest muscles you’ve ever seen and complete obedience to Cap and Coach. Becoming the biggest gayest guy you’ve ever seen, getting every man your heart desires.
You even get a choice of what sport you want to start out with, bro. Football or soccer. Unless you have another sport in mind? Either way, you’ll be one of us soon, bro. Just another dumb jock recruiting nerds like you to the Golden Army.
A Man of Routine
Ashley Grady was a man of routine. He woke up at 7:30 every morning on the dot. He ate a quick breakfast, had a cup of coffee, and took a shower before leaving for work at 8 am.
Ashley arrived at work no later than 8:15. He worked as a programmer, something he didn’t really have a passion for but paid the bills well enough. He got food from the food truck in the parking lot, worked until 5 pm, and left to go home and have dinner. He did some chores and light reading before getting into bed at 9:30 to repeat the cycle the next day.
Ashley liked his routine. It helped ensure his day ran smoothly. He never expected a small change in it that came in the form of a package. Opening it up, he discovered a pair of golden AirPods with a message inside:
“Congrats on winning this special prize! We highly recommend trying these bad boys out as soon as you can. You’ll never want to take them off!”
- The Golden Army
Ashley had heard of the Golden Army. He knew they were a group of athletes who were always looking for new members, but why send him AirPods? He didn’t remember entering any contest or anything like that. Figuring he could always use them to listen to a podcast or audiobook, he put them on.
As soon as Ashley put them in his ears, the subliminals did their job. He felt calmer, more obedient. He finished the rest of his daily routine on autopilot, getting into bed with the subliminals still playing in his ears.
Ashton Grady was a man of routine. He woke up at 7:30 every morning on the dot. He ate a quick breakfast, had a cup of earl gray tea, and took a shower before leaving for practice at 8 am.
Ashton was the star golfer for the Golden Army. He loved every minute of it, hitting the ball intro he hole with ease. With nationals coming up, he knew he had to be at the top of his game and make the Golden Army proud! He got lunch with his teammates at a local food truck before getting back to practice until 5 pm. Once he got home, he did some chores and light reading before going to bed at 9:30 to repeat the cycle the next day.
As Ashton put the AirPods back in his ears at the start of a brand new day, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his routine. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
The Water Boy
Max wasn’t thrilled about his new living arrangement. That might be a bit of an understatement. After a string of bad luck and a breakup with his girlfriend that left him without a place to stay, his only option had been to move in with his old colleague Brody. The problem? Brody was an athlete—through and through—and Max had never gotten along with jocks super well. He didn’t understand their obsessive drive, their fixation on training, or their constant talk about “the game.” And it’s not like Max was homophobic, but Brody having trouble bringing any guy he wanted to his bedroom hit a sore spot.
Brody, of course, was part of the Golden Army, the top-tier soccer team everyone in the city knew about. Their shining gold jerseys, their camaraderie, their relentless work ethic—it was all lost on Max, who had no patience for any of it. Brody, though, was unfazed by Max’s disdain, always inviting him to hang out with the team or come to a game.
But Max wasn’t having it. He spent most of his time in his room, away from Brody and the other Golden Army guys who sometimes dropped by. He just wanted peace and quiet, but it was hard to find that in a household that lived and breathed soccer and all kinds of other sports.
One evening, Brody approached Max in the living room, holding a gleaming golden jersey in his hands. “We could use some help at the next match. Just as a water boy. No pressure, no running around, just help out with the bottles and towels.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that.”
“Come on, it’s not that bad. Plus, it’s just a way to hang out. You don’t have to love sports, but you’ll get to see the team up close. Maybe you’ll even like it.”
Max sighed. Brody was impossible to refuse when he got that encouraging, boyish grin. “Fine, but I’m not wearing one of those jerseys.”
Brody chuckled. “You might change your mind.”
The day of the big game arrived, and Max found himself on the sidelines, watching the Golden Army warm up. Their gold jerseys shimmered under the stadium lights, and the crowd roared with excitement. Max couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something—a pull he hadn’t expected. Even if he didn’t care about the sport, the energy was contagious.
As the match kicked off, Max went about his tasks, handing out water and towels, keeping to himself. But then, Brody jogged over, looking a bit winded. “Here, take this,” he said, tossing Max one of the spare golden jerseys. “You’re part of the team now, whether you like it or not.”
Max stared at the jersey, reluctant at first. But something compelled him to put it on. The moment he pulled the fabric over his head, something strange happened. It wasn’t just the smooth texture or the comfortable fit—it was as if the jersey changed him. His mind relaxed, the frustrations and irritations of living with athletes melting away. He felt a connection to the team, to Brody, and to the spirit of the Golden Army. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he started seeing them in a new light. Max found himself hoping to spend some more “quality time” with the team after the game. Especially with his good friend and roommate Brody.
Suddenly, being a water boy didn’t seem so bad. In fact, it felt like the perfect place for him. He smiled as he ran to refill the bottles, his steps light and easy. The crowd, the game, the team—it all mattered now. And when Brody scored the winning goal in the final moments, Max felt a surge of pride unlike anything he’d experienced before.
After the game, as the Golden Army celebrated their victory, Brody found Max near the bench. “How’s the water boy life treating you?”
Max grinned, still wearing the golden jersey. “Not bad, actually. I think I could get used to this.”
Brody laughed and pulled Max into a tight hug. “I knew you’d come around.”
The team celebrated into the night, and Max found himself surrounded by new friends—people he once thought he’d never relate to. But now, with Brody by his side and the Golden Army embracing him as one of their own, he felt like he belonged. For the first time in a long time, Max wasn’t just watching from the sidelines—he was part of something bigger, something golden.
Later that night, when the stadium was quiet and the celebrations had died down, Max and Brody stood together, looking out at the empty field. “Thanks for pushing me to do this,” Max said softly.
Brody smiled. “I always knew you had it in you. Now you’re one of us.”
Max chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
The two of them walked off the field, the bond between them stronger than ever. And Max knew exactly how to pay him back.
There are a lot of different forms my bros of the Gold Army take. We’ve got superbros, guido studs, gold beast and more. Whether we’re badass bikers, juicy jocks, studs in suits, cocky Chavs or hot himbos, the gold army stands strong! Join the team bros!
Always happy to help bro! Can’t wait to help recruit!
Yooo we have a new recruiter @brodygold welcome to the recruitment team bruv! Anyone who wanna join da team or be a waterboy or mascot etc hit either of us up
Another Recruiter
I had just finished another grueling practice with the Golden Army. Sweat was dripping down my face and my legs felt like jelly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of pride that welled up inside me. I had given everything I had on the field, just like every other day. That’s what it meant to wear the golden jersey—putting in the effort, showing up for the team. Being a part of something bigger than myself
As I was catching my breath, I saw Captain Richard walking toward me, his usual confident stride unmistakable. There was something about the way he carried himself that always demanded respect. He was a leader, through and through. I straightened up, quickly wiping my forehead with my arm.
"Brody," Richard called out as he approached, his voice steady. "You’ve been putting in a lot of work lately."
"Just doing my part, Cap," I replied, trying to downplay it, though my heart was racing. There was something in his tone—something I couldn’t quite place. It made me antsy in a good way.
Richard gave me a look that I’d come to recognize during my time on the team. He wasn’t one for empty praise. When he spoke, he meant it. "You’ve done more than your part. You've shown real commitment, not just on the pitch but off it too. You've got a good head on your shoulders, and that’s exactly the kind of person we need in leadership."
I blinked, trying to process his words. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
"We’re going to need someone to help Scott with recruiting. It’s no small task, and he could use a good hand," Richard continued. "You’ve earned the chance, Brody. I’m making you assistant recruiter."
I stared at him for a moment, stunned. Assistant recruiter? Working alongside Scott, the British lad who had been our recruiter for a while now? It wasn’t a role I had ever expected to land, but hearing it from Captain Richard… it felt right. Being one of the first recruits, I’d been with the Golden Army long enough to know what we stood for, what we were building. And Scott, well, he could be a bit of a character, but we worked well together.
"Wow, Cap. I—thank you. I won’t let you down," I said, my voice almost shaking.
Richard clapped me on the shoulder, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I know you won’t. You’ve already proven yourself. Now it’s time to bring that work ethic to the recruitment side. We need new blood, players who have what it takes to be part of this family."
As Richard walked away, I felt a sense of pride swell in my chest. But it was quickly followed by the reality of what this meant. I was now going to be working with Scott—Scott, with his sharp wit and easy-going British charm. He was the kind of guy who could talk to anyone, and he had a way of getting players to open up. I liked him, though we hadn’t worked all that closely before now.
Later that day, I found Scott leaning against the locker room door, arms crossed casually over his chest. He grinned when he saw me.
"Well, well, if it isn’t the new assistant recruiter!" His British accent rolled smoothly, and he gave me a mock salute. "Looks like you and I are going to be spending a lot more time together, bruv."
"Yeah, looks like it," I said with a laugh, still adjusting to the idea.
Scott pushed off the wall and walked over, slapping me on the back. "Don’t worry, Brody. We’ll make a good team. You’ve got the work ethic, I’ve got the charm. We’ll have this place crawling with new talent in no time."
He wasn’t wrong about the charm. Scott had a way of making even the toughest guys feel like they belonged, like they had a place in the Golden Army. And maybe that was part of the reason Richard had paired us up. Together, we could cover all the bases—hard work and heart, talent and drive.
"You up for it?" Scott asked, tilting his head, his playful grin still in place. "It’s not all glamorous, you know. Sometimes, it’s just long hours and trying to convince blokes that this is the best decision they’ll ever make."
"I’m up for it," I said without hesitation.
Scott raised an eyebrow. "That’s the spirit! Welcome to the recruitment squad, mate."
And just like that, my role in the Golden Army had changed. I wasn’t just another player anymore. I had a responsibility, a new way to contribute to the team I’d come to love. And I knew with Scott by my side, we were going to find some incredible talent to wear the golden jersey.
