Inertia

The Prince's Royal Guard

Acrius held a deluge of different meals from across the realm. He couldn't take his pick so he just took a small portion of whatever interested him. Onlookers would look and wonder why the boy was sat there, staring at his array of foods. The problem he faced now was the crippling indecision on what to start with. All of it just seemed tantalizing, from the smell to the presentation. There was no real way he could pick one to start with. A sigh escaped his lips as he held one of the skewered meat- which he was informed was a kebab, up the night sky.

Godsdamn it, fine, Kebab shall be the first to fall, Acrius finally thought. His eyes landed on a rooftop as he took a bite, the boy could swear that he saw movement. A trick of the light? The effects of shite booze? It couldn't have been, he hasn't drank. Acrius slammed the kebab onto the plate as his eyes scanned the rooftops. Nothing, not a single tile out of place nor any odd shadows. He unconsciously tightened the loose weapon on his belt. Perhaps he was overreacting, but it's best he kept a wary eye, just in case. He motioned for a young boy, likely an orphan due to his garb, to come towards him and offered him his plate of food with a smile before he set off to ease his suspicions.

Acrius patrolled the trade square with a quick pace. Most of the citizens were drunk- he figured it through their ale-addled breaths or general demeanor. Anyone suspicious likely wouldn't participate in such revelry- atleast that was his thought process. His eyes swam through the crowds, looking for individuals who stood out. He spotted a man suspiciously squatting around a corner. "Hey, you, what are-" Acrius pulled at his shoulder as the man turned around and puked on the floor. He dodged out of the way at the last second, unluckily some of the vomit got onto his leather boots. "Ugh- never mind. Avoid stuffing your throat with so much ale you that vomit on the next person trying to converse with your pathetic self." He hissed before leaving the man to continue emptying out his innards.

It would take him tens of minutes as he questioned and even wrestled with some drunk denizens of the city. Some soldiers only cooperated when he flashed them his sigil. Other citizens tried to look manly to women they wanted to impress only to be left embarrassed by Acrius as he easily layed them flat and the women they were courting now took a liking towards the boy. Women were the most uncooperative as most tried to get him to stay with them and drink for a 'fun night'. Acrius made it a point to escape their clutches as soon as it was possible. As his search continued, thoughts of him overreacting began surfacing. However, his fears would proven to be true.

A large platter of food and wine was ready to be served to the Prince. Acrius caught a drunk man passing by the tray and cup, the drunk man dripped some clear liquid onto the chicken and wine before 'stumbling' away. It was too practiced, too 'real' to be an actual drunk. A servant came to serve the food before Acrius threw the platter of food onto the ground and emptied out the wine onto the floor. A few, tipsy- near drunk, onlookers and the servant looked at him like he was some abstract painting.

"Listen," Acrius grabbed the servant's arm and flashed his sigil to the servant as he kept his eyes on the 'drunk man', "The food's tainted. Inform Prince Leonidas that 'Acrius think there's danger and to NOT eat the food'. Got it?"

"Uh- Ehrm, Yes milord!" The servant sputtered before bowing profusely and making his way to the prince deliver Acrius' very crude message. Hopefully Prince Leonidas would understand.

Acrius began following the 'drunk man', trying his best to tail him while remaining inconspicuous. This wasn't his forte, he was no Zatana after all; clearly shown when he almost gave himself away a few times. With a mix of lack and lax concentration, he remained undetected. The man slipped into a dark street corner. There was no real way for him to follow whilst remaining hidden. As such he took the most Acrius' way to handle it and approached the man from behind, sword drawn. With one motion, the sword was next to the man's neck, above his right shoulder. The man held his hands up.

"Who do you think you are pointing a sword at me!?"

Acrius simply held his sigl in his left hand as the man looked back at him.

"Sobered up quickly, eh?" Acrius said in his usual manner, "Just some routine questions from one of the Royal Guards. What did you put into the food, speak quickly."

"I- It was nothing! I'm one of the serv- chefs! That way simply soy sauce, sir!"

"Soy sauce... then you wouldn't mind tasting it for me. As a man who loves food, you wouldn't mind, right?"

"Ah, no, I couldn't-"

Acrius swiped at his pouch and eyed the vial with clear liquids. The man unsheathed his hidden daggers while turning counter-clockwise to swipe at him. Acrius leaned back and dodged the dagger, also coated with a clear liquid. Acrius jumped backwards a fair distance and steadied his stance as he properly gripped his short sword.

"Who in the hells are you?" Acrius said, "You know what, forget it. I'll get it out of you one way or the other."

The Prince's Royal Guard

Acrius' ears perked up she mentioned the knights and her order. Cleric of the dead? Knights? The boy thought. He figured it must've been his fatigue getting to him but he was almost certain that those knights didn't make it after the tunnel's collapse. It must've been his fatigue getting to him, even though he still felt particularly spry. If nothing else he may just mention it the next time he sees Balthazar.

The orange-eyed boy tread back to his quarters to catch a bit of rest but was stopped by one of the chambermaids when she noticed his red and bleeding fingers. Acrius didn't even notice the small cut and, if he did, would've just cauterized his fingers if need-be. His eyes shifted to his fingers as blood slowly trickled on the pristine cobble floors. "Apologies, I didn't notice-" The chambermaid practically yanked him to a chair and started bandaging up his fingers, She must really dislike blood on the floor.

Acrius stared at his overly-bandaged hand. The maid was overreacting but he really couldn't say anything. On his way back he also bumped into Celeste, who had a sour look on her face before she saw Acrius, it seemed that she was getting reprimanded by one of the sergeants for not strictly following orders. She enveloped him into another hug before laughing at his overly bandaged hands. The two talked about the battlefront and what had happened in their fronts, the two didn't meet each other as she was stationed on the Western gate and was exclusively an archer. She was grinning widely as she described an arched shot that targeted one of the commanders. Acrius praised her skill and regaled her with his own adventures on the sewers.

"Ah that's why you smell like horse shite that's been dragged through an outhouse."

"Does your brother know of your vulgar tongue?"

_{"My tongue can be more than that."}

"Hmm, what?"

"Nothing."

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The Bergkoff celebration was in full swing. The town was practically dancing and moral rose due to the earlier victory. The party in the square planned by the Duke, Balthazar and Leonidas was clever, in all honesty. It helps the citizens (even the soldiers) keep their mind off the taxing siege. Celeste opted to stay in, as she was tired and didn't have Acrius' non-exhaustive stamina. Acrius donned a tunic and had a shorter sword hanging from his waist. It was similar to his garb he wore during his nightly excursion as Arthur.

Acrius himself was eyeing the different foods offered by the merchant, he had enough money and he was curious enough. The smell that filled the plaza was almost mouth-watering. Aside from fighting, he did have a liking towards food. This was because he never really ate properly during his childhood- he had to eat what he could to survive, so now that he had gold he could do what he wanted. It's not like he spent it on anything else.

Acrius walked up to different stalls and tried out different foods while keeping an eye out on Leonidas' table. He would join later, after the ale's depleted, because he knew that someone on that table would force him to drink again.

He'd rather not relive what happened when he did get drunk.

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Location: Cruise Ship}

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Maxwell could only type out an 'lol' (despite his face staying deadpan) at the friendly back and forth between Blake and Patricia. Definitely shared history, He thought mindlessly as he sent the useless message. A smile did tug at his lips that they were somewhat going to go with his plan.

Max was going to volunteer himself as the eavesdropper. As he gathered his courage he breathed an internal sigh of relief when Patricia stepped up to the plate, though he did shift his gaze away when it met with her death glare. It was his first 'real' mission after all, he hoped he would've gotten over the jitters sooner rather than later but that didn't seem to be the case. He did, however, decide that going over to the boiler room was a prudent idea. Mostly a 'just in case', since Blake and Patricia seemed to have the most important parts of the crudely formed plan.

The boy tried to, as calmly and coolly as he could muster, nonchalantly make his way to the boiler room. Every second glance or gaze thrown on him made him feel even more jittery but luckily, thanks to his face, he never let it boil to the surface. Finally he found himself infront of the boiler room and let himself in. As he stepped into the room he noticed Rumi and Brooke ready to blast whatever was coming through that door, "Woah it's me, ehm, Maxwell... don't shoot?" Max said, holding his hands up, he had read their files pre-mission and thought their powers were cool, but not so cool that he'd want to get hit with them head on, "... ahem, comfortable here?" He continued, an awkward attempt at a greeting, making sure they were alright and diffusing the awkwardness he felt.

The Prince's Royal Guard

The battle was dwindling to a halt. The monster's ranks were retreating in a disorganized and messy fashion- if you could call it that. It was more of an 'every man for themselves' ordeal; the goblins stomped and pushed each other aside with no reservations for their fellow goblin. Acrius scoffed at the rather pathetic sight; they didn't even bother defending themselves and were on a full on retreat. The swordsman's fingers were red and raw and he could feel it pulsate with each passing moment. Acrius hadn't stopped firing after the troll had been doused in fire; he had almost gone through three quivers since his arrival. With an exhale slumped his body against the battlements as he dropped his bow.

Acrius' eyes caught the Prince and Zatana at the walls. "Prince Leonidas!" He called out in an unsightly manner, still in his sitting position, "I figured you should meet Cleric Drana." He would stick around for the introductions before reporting to the War Room as he still did feel a sense of responsibility for Drana. That and Acrius felt like he should be around her with how Bergkoff military had treated his fellow 'royal guard', he wasn't certain how they would react to a complete stranger in their walls. He was glad that he actually informed Balthazar, knowing the old man, he would do something about it.

The orange-eyed boy also figured that Drana being introduced and acquainted with Leonidas was the best course of action or, atleast, not the worst course of action he could think up. Acrius silently cursed Balthazar for putting him up to this; he definitely wasn't the type suited for this sort of thing.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Always.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Acrius' continuous barrage helped whittle down the hordes. The boy, as usual, targeted the goblins that were in critical positions or were easy pickings. His barrage would continue on for tens of minutes before he stopped to take in the battlefield and stop for a breath. The battle was theirs, the winds shifted in their favours and, as such, it was only a matter of time before the Bergkoff military won over the invading army. The Crowned Prince soon appeared on the Eastern Front, suggesting that the other Fronts were likely under control or won.

Leonidas' familiar voice rang throughout the walls with a singular command;

"Acrius hit him with a fire arrow!"

Orders were orders, after all. It was just another order from the crowned prince, though he couldn't hide his grin. His arrow suddenly ignited with an odd flame as Drana touched his shoulder and whispered a spell. The unsteady shaking of his bow-arm came to a halt as a green wisp encircled his tattered glove, it was another one of Drana's unusual spells. It helped his aiming greatly- odd yet welcome all the same. The orange-eyed boy nodded at Drana in thanks. "MANALD!" Acrius' own voice rang throughout the battlefield, "Careful not to get your fur singed."

With held breath the nock was released from the string and the arrow flew. It whistled sharply as it cut through the air and shallowly pierced the troll's skin; the oil ignited and the flame crackled and slithered throughout the troll's body as it engulfed it wholly. It wailed in pain and fruitlessly tried to pacify the flames.

With that, his task had been completed. Acrius continued firing into the hordes but glanced back at the Cleric, " 'ppreciate the help, Cleric Drana," He said, recognizing how weaker she appeared to be, "Though it may not be my place to say, you best take a rest. Can't have your order blame Bergkoff, right?"

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Location: Cruise Ship}

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Max watched the pseudo ceremony that was heralded with a chorus of clapping. The purple-eyed boy himself joined in with his own short, delayed claps. The Black Baron looked... older, more haggard than the pictures showed him off to be. The speech preamble seemed to be just like another get-together; one that was filled with criminals and such. It ended with the crowning of a new Black Baron, or 'Baroness'. That didn't seem like good news. The text from Blake and Patricia seemed to indicate that this was rather bad and they had shared history. Max frowned at the apparent wrench thrown in the plans- his first mission could end pretty badly, no one wants that. He was an idiot for being bored at saving cats from trees, that seemed more guaranteed.

Another blonde man wearing oddly familiar colours began his own speech- from what Max could gather, the criminal organizations seemed splintered and mistrustful of one another. This little charade they had was but a simple, fleeting alliance. He flinched when said man broke the glass and slinked away to the bar. That guy feels like one of the organizational heads. He thought as he tried to avoid the gaze of the Brookside Bruisers goons who hovered close to the man as he walked away. Damn Bruisers, so conscientious for criminals.

With that- he turned his phone on and began texting in the group chat-

That Blonde man who just gave a speech after the Black Baron, do any of you know who he is?

Also as for plans it might do with some minor adjustments... just spitballing, maybe we lure Malady- or Black Baroness, whatever, to the boiler room by saying we have Blake and Patricia captured there? You guys seem like you have shared history... Plus it avoids fighting the two of them maybe, idk.

Max didn't actually know how much history they shared but it seemed like it was worth a shot.
or, you know, don't, any plan is fine to me as long as it works.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Acrius almost choked on his drink as he spotted the tell-tale look from Balthazar. Ugh... When Balthazar had that look and tone there was no arguing, Acrius learned that the hard way. Some other soldiers have asked how he can differentiate Balthazar's samey neutral expressions and he just shrugged. The orange-eyed boy lightly coughed into his dirtied sleeve. "Of course," He continued, "Technically Cleric Drana is still part of my responsibility, right?" He handed his cup to one of the maids before gesturing towards Drana.

"Well... Cleric Drana, shall we?"

---

Both arrived at the east wall. They were allowed up the battlements after Acrius flashed his sigil at the guards on the staircase. The air of the battlefield felt as if it would draw to a close soon. From a quick glance there was no real way for him to physically go down and help Manald and Faira- short of breaking a few bones. As such he simply 'borrowed' another set of bow and quiver and began drawing. He would try and support Manald and Faira by taking out goblins aiming for their blindspots or simply just thinning the horde.

"Got any ideas, Cleric Drana?" Acrius asked in between shots, gauging to see if she had any clever ideas to help support both of them on the ground, "I have no idea for the spells Clerics do."

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Location: Warehouse -> Cruise Ship}

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Max pulled at the lapels of his suit. It was dyed in all black aside from the purple tie and neatly-folded pocket square. He had a black fedora with a purple ribbon to fit his ensemble. Max tried to ignore the fact that he was wearing a suit that cost as much as a beat-up car. It fit him perfectly but he was missing his comfortable, baggy clothing. That and he had an inkling that this mission would probably end with a ruined suit. Tied to his belt was his ID- Alcide Sicily. Others have always said he looked vaguely Italian, so he figured he would roll with it. On his fingers with multiple rings with purple motifs, some too edgy to be worn in public. Finally he had his gun and a retractable baton stick on his leg.

Max listened intently to the Blake's reconfirmation of the plan. The boy made sure to drill it into his head and just follow the plan. Hell, he'd avoid conversing with the other gangsters in the party, he knew his tongue and it could very well just compromise his cover or hell, the mission. Luckily his resting face helped his façade and he fit right at home with the moody criminals. The guard simply grunted at him, as if already convinced he was a criminal. Max still flashed the pass towards him and sauntered in.

Walk as if you need to be somewhere and look busy, no one will bother you then, were the words Max repeated in his head whilst biting his tongue. It was an effort to not comment on some of these criminals' mannerisms or clothing style. Max eyes flickered through the sea of criminals conversing and even partying with each other. What a crazy assortment of scum.

Uh, oh. Max's eyes landed on a familiar figure, a figure he threatened during his short one-fight-stint as a vigilante before becoming an official HERO agent. It was one of the Brookside Bruiser goons with that was with Iron George. The goon seemed to be next to his superiors but Max didn't recognize them. He pulled his fedora downwards as his phone buzzed in his pants.

Max read through the Blake's and Patricia's messages before sending his own-

Got it. Don't let Malady touch you. Luckily Max had taken some of his off-time to reading about some of the notable villains and he knew what Malady looked like. Can't offer much in terms of ideas but... I got a question, how likely is it that the Brookside Brothers are in this get-together? If so it's possible I may be screwed, I recognize one of them. They'd probably recognize me too.

Autocorrect, it's Bruisers... I think.

《 H. E. R. O. 》

_{Location: Meeting Room -> Armoury}

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"Let's hope that she is, I'm bad at these sort of things." Max replied as he stretched his limbs. He followed Blake as they trod through the labyrinth-like hallways. It was no wonder how he was getting lost; the twist and turns and lock and key were numerous. It made sense, this was HERO after all. After a few more minutes they reached the armoury.

Max whistled, if state-of-the-art was a place, this would be it. "Exclusive scientists, that's pretty dope." He replied, following Blake and making sure not to touch anything in fear of breaking it. He wasn't sure if he could even work off the costs of any of the things inside the armoury. Max, out of curiosity, palmed his encryptor. Naturally it swung open revealing... a whole lot of nothing. He guessed that it made some sort of sense, he was still fairly 'new'.

Max eyed Blake burning the letters and decided to bust his balls a bit, "All the Blake fangirls around the world just felt their heart drop."

Max fumbled and almost dropped the thrown weapon. Did Blake just have no sense of delicacy, who knew how much this thing even costs. "Sheesh, Blake," He replied, straightening himself to look through the sights of the weapon, "Not sure if this thing even accounts for my power. You sure it won't just get sliced up from the inside 'absorbing' my power?" The wind softly whistled as he formed a small ball of air on his fingertip. He then threw a small piece of paper into the dome; the paper shred as it was ribboned up.

"Got any suggestions for what to bring?" Max asked, having already made up his mind to take a back-seat in one of his first biggest mission, "I've heard you've done a similar 'mission' before, I'm sure you got some tips or whatever."