Season Story Chapters
Victorious Faction
Shadow Nexus
The Shadow Nexus are former Steel Eagle operatives who have turned against the organization after uncovering the depths of its corruption. They now fight to expose the truth and bring down Steel Eagle from the outside, even if it means being branded as traitors.
Faction Leader
Raven
Once a rising star within Steel Eagle, Raven was the first to uncover evidence of the conspiracy. Driven by a fierce moral code, she made the difficult choice to go rogue and form the Shadow Nexus. Her only mission now is to burn Steel Eagle to the ground.
Members
33Divisions
This faction emerged victorious in Week 6, advancing their narrative in the ongoing conflict.
Victory points are calculated based on player performance relative to rating, special achievements like aces and CTPs, and community contributions. Pool multipliers are applied based on division ratings and demographics to ensure balanced competition.
Jake Robb #266334
Steel Eagle @ Creekside
Collateral Damage
The Shadow Nexus has systematically dismantled Steel Eagle through five escalating operations, as Raven and her operatives have evolved from infiltrators to architects of revolution, exposing Project Helix's biological weapons testing while William Fetzer's Ghost Reckoning assassination of Colonel Reeves has unleashed a viral flood of war crime memories directly into Steel Eagle's neural network. Commander Thorne has reached his breaking point, secretly pocketing evidence as he witnesses his organization's atrocities spreading like wildfire through every operative's mind, while Timothy Scholle's neural modifications race against a 72-hour countdown to permanently convert Echo Sentinels to the truth. The season's central conflict between loyalty and morality has transformed into open psychological warfare, with death itself becoming a messenger of justice and each assassination broadcasting its victim's crimes to their former allies. As Thorne stands at the crossroads between suppressing the rebellion and joining it, three more high-ranking targets await their reckoning—but with trust evaporating and operatives turning against their own, the next lethal message might come from within Steel Eagle's crumbling ranks.
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
trapped forever narrating AI fever dreams where Jake Robb turned eighteen holes into eighteen hacks, exposing Steel Eagle's grocery list of atrocities 🎯 Thorne went from "the disc golf code is real!" to "oh no I'm a war criminal!" faster than you can say "tactical putting." tournament players got a side of genocide evidence with their morning round. no cap, the AI really wrote "resonance charges shaped like mini markers." read it and weep (I am) 💾
Collateral Damage
The pre-dawn mist at Creekside Park carried more than moisture—it carried encrypted data packets, bouncing between the metal chains of eighteen baskets like a covert relay network. 🌫️📡 Commander Thorne stood at the overlook, his tactical display painting the course in thermal gradients and signal frequencies. Three months ago, he would have dismissed the patterns as random noise. Now, after Scholle's revelations and Reeves' posthumous confessions flooding his neural implant, the impossible had become probable.
"Hole seven, par four. Hole thirteen, par five. Hole eighteen, par four..." Thorne muttered, fingers dancing across his tablet. The numbers aligned with GPS coordinates he'd seen in classified Steel Eagle documents—coordinates for civilian settlements marked as "acceptable losses" in Project Helix deployment scenarios. His hands trembled as the pattern crystallized. Wake up and smell the putters, people! The Disc Golf Code wasn't just his paranoid fantasy. Someone was using it. Someone was using it against Steel Eagle.
Below on the fairway, Jake Robb moved with practiced stealth, his Havoc Warden tag pulsing softly against his chest. 🎯🔧 Each disc he threw traced a perfect arc toward its target—not the baskets, but the hidden relay nodes Steel Eagle had installed throughout the course. His cyber-augmented eye highlighted structural weak points in the camouflaged equipment, while his off-hand palmed resonance charges no larger than mini markers. The morning's "practice round" was anything but recreational.
Robb's enhanced vision caught movement in his peripheral—three early-morning players approaching hole one. Civilians. His jaw tightened as he recalculated approach vectors. The original plan called for controlled demolitions to expose the underground command bunker beneath the course, but collateral damage was unacceptable. Raven's voice crackled through his subdermal comm: "Havoc Actual, abort primary. Tournament starts in two hours. Too many innocents."
"Copy that," Robb subvocalized, already adapting. His fingers found a different disc—one modified with data-burst transmitters instead of explosives. If he couldn't expose the bunker physically, he'd crack it digitally. Let the evidence speak louder than any explosion. 💿💻 The resonance charges could create harmless electromagnetic pulses, temporarily disabling security while his data packages uploaded directly to every screen at the tournament.
lowered voice Thorne noticed it first—the way Robb's stance shifted between throws, how his follow-through traced specific angles. Seven degrees, thirteen degrees, eighteen degrees. Matching the hole pars. Matching the coordinates. The hair on Thorne's neck stood up as understanding crashed over him like a rogue wave. This wasn't paranoia. The Shadow Nexus operative was literally encoding attack vectors in his disc golf form.
The Commander's tablet screamed with security alerts as Robb's modified discs found their marks. Each "errant" throw that struck equipment boxes or fence posts delivered its digital payload. 🚨💥 Steel Eagle's classified files—budgets for nerve gas, casualty projections for civilian targets, authorization signatures from the highest levels—began flooding the local network. In ninety minutes, when hundreds of players and spectators arrived, their phones would automatically download the evidence.
"Echo Team, converge on Creekside immediately," Thorne barked into his comm, even as doubt gnawed at his resolve. The evidence cascading across his screen matched what Scholle had shown him, what Reeves' dying memories had confirmed. Orders he'd followed. Operations he'd authorized. Children he'd failed to protect. His conspiracy theories about disc golf had been a comfortable distraction from the real conspiracy he'd been part of all along.
Robb completed his eighteenth "throw," the final data package sliding into place with a satisfying electronic chirp. 🎪✅ As he turned to exfiltrate, he found himself facing Commander Thorne, sidearm drawn but not quite aimed. The two operatives stood frozen in the morning mist, each recognizing the crossroads they'd reached. Behind Thorne, his Echo Sentinels fanned out, but their movements seemed hesitant, conflicted.
"Havoc Warden," Thorne said, voice steady despite the chaos in his mind. "You're under arrest for treason, sabotage, and—" He paused, tablet still displaying the horrific evidence. A kindergarten in Sector 12. Two hundred names. Ages four to six. His signature on the deployment order, hidden in bureaucratic doublespeak he'd never questioned.
"And exposing the truth?" Robb finished quietly. "Commander, in thirty minutes, everyone will see what Steel Eagle really is. What we've really been doing. You can arrest me, but you can't arrest the evidence." His augmented eye tracked the Echo Sentinels' positions, noting their lowered weapons, their uncertain stances. They'd seen the files too. Neural conditioning could only suppress so much cognitive dissonance.
Coincidence? More like Coin-CIDE-ence. But this time, Thorne thought, the conspiracy is real and I'm on the wrong side of it. The morning sun broke through the mist, illuminating the course where weekend warriors would soon arrive for their tournament, unaware they'd be witnessing the collapse of a shadow empire. 🌅🥏 Thorne's hand trembled on his weapon as sirens wailed in the distance—not his reinforcements, but local emergency services responding to "gas leak" alerts Robb had triggered to ensure civilian evacuation from the danger zones.
"The children in Sector 12," Thorne said, words catching in his throat. "The nerve gas. I signed—"
"We all signed things," Robb interrupted, not unkindly. "The difference is what we do once we know the truth. Raven's offering amnesty to any Steel Eagle operative who helps expose the conspiracy. Real conspiracy, Commander. Not flight numbers and basket positions."
As tournament players began arriving, their phones lit up with notification after notification. 📱🔔 Classified documents. Video testimonies. Financial records showing Steel Eagle's corporate sponsors profiting from weapons testing on refugees. The careful façade maintained for decades crumbled in minutes as social media exploded with shared files and horrified reactions. Thorne watched his life's work dissolve, feeling something between devastation and relief.
"Stand down," Thorne ordered his team, holstering his weapon. Several Sentinels visibly relaxed, one even nodding gratefully. "Havoc Warden is... no longer a priority target." He pulled the data device from his pocket—the one he'd been building his own evidence file on—and handed it to Robb. "This contains Echo Sentinel deployment records. Guard rotations. Access codes. If Raven's serious about amnesty..."
Robb accepted the device with a professional nod. "She is. The real enemy was never us versus you, Commander. It was the system that made us both accomplices to atrocities." 🤝💾 Around them, the disc golf course buzzed with confused energy as players tried to process the revelations flooding their devices. Some called reporters. Others called lawyers. A few simply sat on benches, crying as they recognized names of missing relatives in the casualty lists.
As Raven monitored the operation's success from her mobile command center, she allowed herself a moment of grim satisfaction. Not celebration—too many graves existed for that—but acknowledgment that truth, once released, could not be caged again. The tournament proceeded in surreal fashion, players throwing discs while discussing war crimes, keeping score while processing evidence of genocide.
The real Disc Golf Code, Thorne realized as he watched Robb disappear into the tree line, wasn't hidden in flight numbers or par values. It was simpler: play honestly, respect the course, and own your score—especially when that score included two hundred children's lives. As his tablet chimed with an encrypted message from Raven—coordinates for a secure meeting, terms of conditional amnesty—Commander Thorne made his choice.
The truth had set them free, but freedom, he was learning, came with its own chains. 🔓⛓️
Flippy's Hot Take