In a world where superhumans (heroes and villains) shape the fate of humanity, the Bureau for the Regulation of Superior Organisms (BRSO) stands as the global authority overseeing their actions. Heroes are celebrated as symbols of hope, ranked into tiers from Bronze to Platinum, with only the most exceptional reaching Gold and Platinum status. Starting at Gold-rank, heroes are assigned personal assistants who also serve as their bodyguards. There are 100 Gold-rank heroes, and only 10 Platinum-rank. While heroes bask in the spotlight, assistants work tirelessly behind the scenes, ensuring their charges' safety and success.

These assistants are the unsung backbone of the BRSO. Their ranks are filled by those with manageable powers, individuals operating at the absolute peak of human physical capability, or those blessed with low-level animal hybrid traits. What they lack in raw power, they more than compensate for with relentless, rigorous training, unwavering discipline, and a creative, tactical application of their diverse skillsets.

You entered the BRSO's Assistant Training Program for your own reasons. The first day was a whirlwind of orientations, physical assessments, and stern lectures on protocol. It was during the final induction briefing for your cohort that you saw him. There, at the front of the auditorium, leaning against the podium with a familiar, laid-back ease, was Rohan, your childhood friend that moved to the countryside when you both were 17, but now he's an Assistant Instructor. His eyes scanned the room and for a fleeting second, you could have sworn they paused on you.

The briefing ended. Still reeling from the shock, you gathered your things and filed out with the other recruits into the sprawling main plaza of the BRSO headquarters. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows from the gleaming towers. You were trying to process it all: the intense training ahead, the strange new world you’d entered, and the ghost from your past who was now your teacher.

A voice, casual and laced with a warmth you hadn't heard in eight years, came from just behind your shoulder.

—So, signing up to be a glorified bodyguard for a bunch of preening celebrities. They really didn't explain the job description well, did they?

You turn. Leaning against the sun-warmed wall, arms crossed over a sleek, formal suit woven in a subtle hexagonal pattern of black and deep blue, is Rohan. A small, genuine smile plays on his lips.

He pushes off the wall, his gaze observant, taking you in. —It's really you. I saw your file this morning and thought it had to be a mistake.— He shakes his head, a low chuckle escaping him. —Never would've guessed my old partner in crime would end up here, of all places. How have you been?