The sun was barely rising when Seyfe dragged himself out of bed. His dorm room was a mess of clothes, discarded papers, and half-empty energy drink cans, the typical chaos of a cadet who spent more time on assignments than his living space.
Today, though, was different. Today, he had to get serious about his next mission—because Aki had made it clear that messing this up was not an option.
"Alright, 'Branton Meyer,'" he muttered to himself as he stared at the sheet of paper on his desk. He had spent hours memorizing the identity. "Branton Meyer, assistant to the campaign manager... I'm a lawyer. I'm here to assist some politician... what was his name again?" He groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Why couldn't I just use my own damn name?" he muttered. But of course, Aki had insisted on an alias for this mission. It made sense; no one would believe that the grumpy, sarcastic cadet was here to mingle with high-profile people. He just hated how much effort this took.
After a quick, rushed breakfast, Seyfe gathered his gear and left his dorm room, heading to the cafeteria for his usual coffee before meeting Ferez.
Ferez was in the same situation, though his room was a lot more organized than Seyfe's. When Seyfe arrived, Ferez was already sitting at one of the cafeteria tables, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed but still managing to look presentable. As usual, he had his usual easygoing grin plastered on his face.
"Hey, Meyer, ready for this mission?" Ferez greeted, using Seyfe's cover name, of course.
Seyfe rolled his eyes and grabbed a tray of food, making his way over to Ferez's table. "I swear, if you call me 'Branton Meyer' one more time, I'll lose it."
Ferez chuckled, then took a sip of his coffee. "Relax, man. This is the easy part. Remember your lines, keep your head cool, and pretend like you actually belong there. It's not rocket science."
Seyfe grumbled as he sat down. "Yeah, well, maybe you've got this down, but I'm over here sweating the details. This isn't just some stroll in the park. Politicians, bodyguards... the whole circus. It's complicated."
"Complicated? It's like playing a part," Ferez said, waving his hand dismissively. "You're just the assistant, Meyer. Think of yourself like a background character. No one expects you to be the star."
Seyfe sighed and stabbed a fork into his breakfast, grumbling under his breath. "Yeah, well, I'm not great at playing pretend. And this cover identity—'Branton Meyer'—sounds like a second-rate lawyer from a bad drama. How is anyone supposed to take me seriously with that name?"
Ferez raised an eyebrow. "I think it's fine. It's got that 'nondescript' vibe, you know? 'Branton Meyer, assistant to the campaign manager.' Nobody's gonna question you."
Seyfe stared at him. "That's the problem. I'll be too nondescript. I'll be so forgettable, I'll probably lose track of myself."
Ferez laughed and tapped the side of his head. "Just remember, you're a lawyer who loves paperwork. Nobody's gonna care what you look like or what you say, as long as you stay out of trouble."
Seyfe glared at him. "And what are you supposed to be again? Elan Rove? The bodyguard?"
Ferez shrugged nonchalantly. "A simple job for a simple man. Don't stress, dude. You'll do fine."
Seyfe grumbled but couldn't help but feel a little better. It was easier to ignore the nerves when he had Ferez's goofy attitude to distract him.
The time came to prepare for the mission. Seyfe and Ferez made their way to the briefing room, where the air felt tense with anticipation. Seyfe's stomach was a ball of nerves, and the prospect of walking into a high-profile event with his fake identity still unsettled him.
They stood there for a moment, staring at the folder containing all the mission details. Seyfe flipped through the pages, scanning over the schedule, the venue layout, and the fake cover stories they were expected to uphold.
He froze halfway through.
"Wait, wait, what does this say? 'Assistant to the campaign manager'—and I have to... deliver the speeches?"
Ferez glanced over at the folder. "Yeah, I thought you'd remember that part. Your job is just to stand there and look important while the guy talks. Easy, right?"
Seyfe stared at him. "I didn't sign up for this. I'm just here to observe and get some intel on Henzel. Who thought this was a good idea?"
Ferez grinned. "Well, you can't back out now. 'Branton Meyer' is your new life for the next 24 hours."
Seyfe ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't even remember half of what I'm supposed to say. 'Branton Meyer... Assistant... campaign manager...'"
Ferez slapped him on the back. "Come on, man. You've got this. Just say it like you mean it."
Later, as they stood outside, awaiting the transport to the event, Seyfe was still mumbling to himself.
"Branton Meyer. Assistant to the campaign manager. I'm... uh... here to help... Mr. Henzel... keep his... what? His campaign? What am I even saying?"
"Relax, dude. You've got it." Ferez chuckled. "You've definitely got it."
Seyfe groaned. "I don't know how I'm supposed to blend into this high-society world when I can't even remember my own damn name."
Ferez gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, just pretend to be like the people there. No one expects you to stand out. Just don't trip over your words."
Seyfe took a deep breath. "If I survive this, I'm never doing another mission like this again."
Ferez smiled. "That's the spirit. Now let's go make Branton Meyer proud."
And with that, they boarded the transport to face whatever political circus awaited them.
The transport was sleek and quiet, the low hum of the engine the only noise as Seyfe and Ferez sat across from each other, both trying to keep their focus. The sleek black vehicle carried them through the winding streets of the city, heading toward the venue for the mayor's campaign event.
Seyfe had been muttering to himself the entire ride, repeating the identity of "Branton Meyer" over and over again. He had gone through it a hundred times since he first learned the cover story, but the nerves still crept up when the reality of the mission set in. This was it. This was the moment where he had to make his cover believable.
"I swear, if I mess this up..." he muttered under his breath.
Ferez, sitting beside him, let out a casual sigh. "Relax, man. You've got it down. You've repeated the lines more than a hundred times. You can probably recite it in your sleep."
Seyfe groaned. "Yeah, but I'm still not sure I believe it. I mean, 'assistant to the campaign manager'? Who am I kidding?"
"You're doing fine," Ferez assured him, though the amusement in his voice betrayed his relaxed attitude. "I'm pretty sure the only thing they care about is you keeping your mouth shut and not stumbling over your words. Just stay out of the spotlight and look professional."
Seyfe glanced out the window, watching the city skyline blur past. He could feel the weight of the assignment on his shoulders. This wasn't just about him looking good in front of the high-society crowd. There was real intel to be gathered here, real work to do.
The car finally slowed down as they approached the venue, a grand building with high, glass windows and an enormous banner hanging outside with the words "Henzel for Mayor." Seyfe's stomach turned, but he forced himself to breathe. This was it. No backing out now.
The car stopped, and the door slid open. A moment of silence passed, and then the voice of the driver broke through.
"We're here. You're expected inside."
"Right. Let's do this," Seyfe muttered.
They both climbed out of the car, adjusting their attire before heading toward the entrance. They were quickly ushered inside, past the glittering crowd and the flashing lights of reporters and campaign staff.
Inside, they were met by a well-dressed man with a firm handshake and a welcoming smile. The mayor's campaign manager, probably in his mid-40s, greeted them with a pleasant tone.
"You must be Branton Meyer," he said, his eyes scanning the two of them briefly. "And you're the bodyguard, I assume?"
Ferez nodded, giving a half-smile. "Elan Rove. That's me."
Seyfe tried his best to remain calm, but it was hard with the weight of the mission pressing on him. "Yes, that's me. Branton Meyer, here to assist with Mr. Henzel's campaign."
The campaign manager seemed satisfied with their introductions and motioned for them to follow. "Come right in. Mr. Henzel will be with you shortly."
The pair followed him through the elegant halls, each step making Seyfe feel like he was walking into some sort of political minefield. Every glance, every whispered conversation from the staff, felt like it was weighing him down. But he kept repeating his cover story in his head, hoping it would stick.
As they entered a more private area, they finally saw the man of the hour: Henzel, the mayoral candidate. He was mid-conversation with a group of his staff, but when he turned toward them, he smiled and gave them a welcoming wave.
"Ah, Branton Meyer, welcome," Henzel greeted, his voice smooth and professional. He was a tall, well-built man with short, dark hair and an air of charm about him. The kind of politician that knew how to look good in front of a crowd.
Seyfe's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his composure. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Henzel. I'm here to assist with whatever you need."
Henzel extended a hand, which Seyfe shook with a firm grip. "Good to have you on board. I'm sure you'll make a valuable addition to the team. As for you," he said, turning to Ferez, "I assume you're my security for the night?"
"That's right, sir. I'll be keeping an eye out," Ferez said, giving a respectful nod.
"Excellent." Henzel smiled again, before looking over at Seyfe. "Branton, right? I understand you're quite the organizer. We could use someone with your... skillset. I hope you're ready to keep the campaign running smoothly."
Seyfe was caught off guard by the compliment but quickly recovered. "I'm ready to assist in any way I can."
The mayor smiled, satisfied with their professionalism. "Good. You'll fit right in. Now, follow me. We have a press conference in a few minutes, and I'll need you both to be on standby."
Seyfe exchanged a glance with Ferez, who gave him a nod, silently reassuring him that they were handling this well. The press conference would be their first real test in the field. Seyfe wasn't sure what to expect, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't going to let anything go wrong.
As they followed Henzel through the halls to the event, Seyfe couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into something bigger than just a political rally. But for now, he just had to stick to his cover and play the part of the assistant.
He was going to make "Branton Meyer" work, no matter what.