AN: Welcome back, my friends. More of the usual. And Percy's back! And Thalia's here! Hip hip hooray! Please be warned, this chapter contains lurid scenes of teenage drinking, which should not be emulated irresponsibly. I own nothing, not even a flag for you to capture.
Camp Life, Chapter Seven
Get That Flag/Party Problems
"You know, we have this covered," Castor says to the newest Lord of The Wild. "It's not like Dad's going anywhere. It'll be fine."
"Oh, I know," says Grover, fussing with the hem of the forest green cloak marking him as a member of the Cloven Council. He stepped worriedly over a row of strawberry plants, examining them carefully. "It's just, well, we set sail in three days, and while I don't really mind heights- much better than being underground- I'm not sure if Leo's ship is really, ah, trustworthy. I mean, Juniper will ask Nico to resurrect me so she can kill me again if I die on that . . . contraption. Being here with the plants calms me a bit."
Castor grins, despite himself. Fancy cloak or no, it's still the same old Grover.
"Dude, Annabeth and Clarisse and Will and everybody are going, you can do it, too. And I'll still be here, so Juniper will be safe. I promise."
Grover smiles sheepishly. "I know, I'm worrying about nothing. And thanks- that means a lot."
Castor shrugs, embarrassed; running a hand through his hair, he turns to start heading back towards camp- and stops dead.
Sitting amid the neat rows of strawberry plants, head cocked to the side, pink tongue hanging out the side of its mouth, a pure-white wolfhound regards him silently.
Castor stares at it for a moment, completely unsure what to do. The thing looks vaguely familiar for some reason and he can't quite remember-
"Hello, Grover. And Casper, right?"
Oh. That's right. The wolf belongs to the Hunters. They have dozens of them, he recalls.
"Hey, Thalia," he says, without turning around or moving.
Behind him he can hear Thalia hugging Grover and admiring his cloak,, and a slight rustling that tells him she's not alone. The wolfhound facing him gets to its feet, shakes its coat to get rid of any soil sticking in its hair, then pads around to Castor's left and out of his field of vision.
Then he feels a small hand on his shoulder, and Thalia, laughing, says, "You can turn around now, goofball."
Castor relaxes and spins around. Thalia grins up at him. "You look the same as ever," he deadpans, and she laughs and punches him in the arm (that's going to bruise, he just knows it). "I guess that's what I get for the Casper line, huh," she says, and he snorts. "Please. If I made fun of you for every time you've pulled that one on me, we'd be standing in this strawberry patch for the rest of our- well, my- life." She sighs and gives him an affectionate pat on the forearm.
Glancing over her head, he adds, "Looks like you brought a few friends."
'Few' is a bit of an understatement; there are at least thirty Hunters standing at the edge of the woods, watching their leader talk to a male demigod and a satyr. Wolfhounds sit on their haunches; about one for every other girl. A few of those without canine familiars have hawks or falcons perched on their shoulders or forearms.
Thalia glances over her shoulder and beckons her subordinates forward, and the girls begin advancing reluctantly on to the strawberry field.
"So," says Castor nervously, "Are you here for the getting Percy back thing?"
"Sort of," she says, "I mean, yeah, I'm obviously worried about him, but I think Lady Artemis is more concerned about the Greeks and these-" her nose scrunches up- "Romans."
Castor nods wearily. They've had months and months to contemplate this meeting between two cultures that have, historically, cut bloody swathes through each other's domains. And odds are that's what's going to happen here too.
"Yeah," he says, "Well, you wanna head to camp? You look exhausted."
Thalia sighs. "Gee, thanks, Cas, that's exactly what a girl wants to hear."
Castor blinks. Is she still allowed to say stuff like that? Wait, what should he say? Is she mad at-
Thalia rolls her eyes at him. "Come on, Casper the Friendly Grape-Boy, lets go see Chiron."
Castor sighs and follows as she starts chatting with Grover. Even the totally off-limits, forever-fifteen-year-old girls confuse him.
Percy wants to go to bed. Really bad. Even without the Curse of Achilles, he needs a solid eight hours of sleep a night to be able to function the rest of the day.
And judging from the scene in front of him, he's not going to be seeing his bed for a long time.
Demigods of the Fifth Cohort are sprawled over futons, chatting in dark corners (or doing other things in dark corners, that guy over there must have been tying his girlfriend's shoes for like five minutes), or dancing in the large open space in the center of the room, all of them drinking punch from silver goblets. As Percy watches the chaos, Dakota, staggering heavily, climbs atop a table and shouts, "Duuudes! PARTY!".
Loud hip-hop beats filter into the room from hidden speakers in the ceiling, and Dakota, producing a microphone from out of nowhere, begins rapping along. The demigods on the dance floor go wild, and Percy realizes that more new arrivals are still pouring into the room. At this rate, he thinks, the place will be in ruins by midnight.
"Does this happen every time you guys win a fight?" he shouts over the music to Hazel, sitting next to him on the sofa.
"I have no idea!" she shouts back. "The Fifth has never won a fight before!"
The music swirling overhead changes, someone in the room turns the lights down, and onstage (or on the drinks table, if you want to be specific) Dakota begins singing again, his eyes gleaming crazily: "Blame it on the Goose, got you feelin' loose, blame it on the 'tron, got you in the zone, blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol-"
As if on cue, Hazel takes a sip of the drink Frank, wading easily out of the crowd, just handed her, and her nose scrunches up in disgust.
"Ugh," she says, "I think someone spiked the punch."
A seriously trashed- looking Roman swings into the dancers from a chandelier and crowd surfs past the Praetor and his friends. Percy rests his head in his hands. He has a sinking feeling he's going to be getting a lot of cold looks from Reyna in the morning, and a lot of sniggering from freaking Octavian too. It's a toss-up which will be worse.
When Castor and Thalia walk into the sitting room of the Big House, they expect lots of hugs, tearful reunions, et cetera.
What they find is a miniature riot; in the middle of the room Steven Rust, sporting a livid bruise on the side of his face, and a large satyr in a tracksuit are being forcibly restrained to prevent them from killing each other. Chiron is yelling something from his wheelchair, arms waving frantically, but no one is paying attention; Annabeth, Drew Tanaka, Jake Mason and his little sister Nyssa all have a hold of the Camp Armorer, but it's clearly taking all their strength to keep Steven's hands from the satyr's throat. On the other side, Jason Grace, Piper McLean and Brian, another Satyr, are trying to wrestle the branch-like club from Tracksuit Satyr's hands. A dozen demigods are watching the conflict, some looking worried, others cheering.
Thalia turns to Castor and says, "Cover your ears," sounding irritated.
He immediately complies.
A loud thunderclap knocks the combatants and those holding them back to the ground, while the on-lookers cry out and cover their ears.
In the moment after, stunned silence reigns.
Then Annabeth's head sticks out from the pile of entangled bodies on the floor. "Thalia!"
The silence is broken.
Demigods swarm the daughter of Zeus; her brother Jason scoops her up in a massive hug, followed by Annabeth and Piper; Jake Mason and Will Solace high-five her, Clarisse sneers, Steven and Tracksuit Satyr both bow deeply, then glare at each other; Castor can see them muttering insults and threats out of the corners of their mouths.
Thalia finishes greeting her friends, and Chiron, then turns to Steven and Tracksuit Satyr.
"Now," she says imperiously, "can either of you explain to me what it is you were trying to accomplish a few minutes ago?"
The two begin speaking over each other, but Thalia points to the Satyr and says, "You first, Hedge."
"I was out patrolling the forest," Hedge says gruffly, "And I smelled this traitorous palooka lurking- so I ambushed him, rendered him unconscious, and brought him back for torture."
"Aw, Coach," Piper groans, and Jason rolls his eyes.
Castor blinks. He's never met this satyr before, but he must seriously be some kind of beast; Steven Rust may harbor some unresolved homicidal issues and a creepy fondness for large, pain-inflicting weapons, but no one can deny that he's probably the best fighter at Camp, after Percy and Clarisse, and maybe Annabeth. That this Hedge guy knocked him out in a single blow says a lot about the satyr's capabilities.
"My Lady," says Steven furiously, and Castor suddenly remembers that Steven, as a son of Aeolus, is just as much in service to Zeus as his father is. Apparently this extends to Zeus's daughter too.
"My Lady, this idiotic satyr assaulted for no reason at all! I was just- just-" Castor notices Rust's cheeks redden slightly. Hedge smirks, and Drew Tanaka, standing behind Steven, blushes faintly. Castor has gotten pretty good at reading signs like these, ever since Rachel Dare sat him down for a long talk about certain clues he apparently misses sometimes. He grins, because he's pretty sure he isn't missing them this time.
"I was just minding my own business, patrolling the forest for monsters, and- and- you should let me kill him, my Lady!"
Thalia sighs. "Both of you are idiots. Take it outside."
The satyr and the Armorer are out the door in no seconds flat. The bulk of the remaining demigods shrug to each other and follow to watch the action.
"I see your time as Leader of the Hunters has brought out a bit of your father in you, my dear," says Chiron, smiling wryly. Jason grins and throws a proud arm around his sister.
"Thanks, I think," says Thalia, grinning. Her smile sours and she asks, "Who was that guy? The son of Aeolus? I feel like I've seen him somewhere before."
Chiron clears his throat. "Mr. Rust only came to us about a week after the fall of Kronos. Before that, he was serving his father in some position- as a squire, or some similar job. He led a platoon of wind spirits on the Jersey Shore during the Battle of New York, though I doubt your paths crossed . . ."
Thalia shakes her head. "No, I remember now, it was in the Throne Room after the battle; Percy had already left, but Nico and I were still sitting with our dads, and he was honored. I don't remember exactly how, though . . ." she shrugs.
"Anyway. My Hunters need rest, but tomorrow," she grins wickedly, "tomorrow- how do you guys feel about a little friendly game of-"
"Capture the flag!" Will whoops, and everyone cheers.
"That cannot be healthy!" Percy says, watching as an older demigod downs shot after shot of some dark liquid. His drinking opponent, Gwen, pauses to sneer at him before taking another shot.
Hazel shakes her head. "Shouldn't you be doing something?" She shouts over the music (Dakota and Bobby are performing a passable rendition of Alice Cooper's School's Out).
"I mean, you are the Praetor! The other cohorts are going to laugh at us so much- Percy! Percy!"
Percy blinks, tearing his gaze away from the sight of a pair of unfamiliar but gorgeous Roman girls kissing slowly on the dance floor near them.
"Oh," he says sheepishly, "Right. Um- how should I do that?"
"Guys," says Frank, frowning, "I'm pretty sure the other cohorts are in here with us. They aren't going to be laughing at anyone tomorrow."
"But still," Hazel looks worried, "we should at least make sure Reyna doesn't find out we didn't do any thing to stop-"
"Make sure I don't find out what?" asks Reyna brightly, appearing next to their couch literally out of nowhere. Her cheeks are flushed and she appears to sway slightly, even when she sits down. Her goblet is half-empty.
"Oh dear Gods," Hazel says in horrified fascination.
Jesse and Amanda stroll into the clearing where Jason, Steven, and Clarisse are planning the Camp Half-Blood side of the game. Surprisingly, Drew, rarely interested in Capture the Flag, is standing with them, looking just as determined as the usually much more war-like Steven and Clarisse. Jason, Jesse figures, is just up there because of sibling rivalry.
"Hey, guys, wanna relieve some tension? Stretch your muscles? Beat up some pretentious little girl scouts?" Drew calls out, smirking. She's playing idly with the katana sword dangling from her belt, tracing circles on the hilt.
Jesse and Amanda exchange amused looks. Gardner Peck had told them about the scuffle in the Big House yesterday; apparently, he reported, the two had pretty much outed themselves to anyone who was really paying attention. And judging from the insults Gleeson Hedge and Steven had been quietly trading, he added, whatever it was Rust and Drew had been doing, before he went and got himself taken out by the ultra-violent Protector, had not been rated PG. Or PG-13, for that matter. It's no wonder, Jesse thinks ruefully, that the daughter of Aphrodite is so agitated.
"Yeah, sure," Amanda agrees cheerfully. "Anything goes, as usual, right?"
Steven looks despondent. "No. Chiron says I can't use a grenade launcher. I'm so pissed. Actually, he said he was tired of me bringing 'enough weapons to arm a Roman legion", his words, not mine, whenever I left my cabin." He shakes his head. "I think he's just jealous because I have better stuff than him. So I'm not allowed to use any weapons at all."
"Any weapons at all? How are you going to fight?" Amanda asks.
Steven sighs. "Like this."
He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of a large tree stump on the edge of the clearing. With a loud whumpff, a fist of air smashes the stump to splinters.
Jesse and Amanda goggle at the remains of the tree; even Clarisse looks impressed.
"Well . . . alright then." says Amanda, slightly shaken.
"Dude, if you could've done that this whole time, why haven't you?" asks Jason.
"Seriously," agrees Connor Stoll. "I'd be all like, oh, whassup, Mr. Hellhound, looking for a quick snack? Well, chew on this! HI-YAH! Air fist!" He leaps up and makes a dramatic karate-chop motion.
Everyone stares at him.
"Weapons," says Steven, "are more fun."
He looks around. "I think we have everybody now. So- Laurel-" he points to a tall, beautiful Hispanic-looking girl with startlingly blue eyes and a long white scar on her left temple, "-you're the fastest, so you are in charge of the flag-grabbing force. Clarisse, you and I and Amanda are gonna lead the main sort of distraction force; just beat up anything that moves, ok? We'll take as many of them out as we can. Drew, Jesse, you've got D. Keep them away from ours. Try and make some trip wires and traps and stuff; I'd give you some of mine, but Chiron said I have to stop making Greek Fire, like, a week ago. And I'm saving my last couple of claymore mines for these Romans or Giants or whatever. So make do with what you have. Let's get that flag!"
"I can't stay here," Percy moans. "I think I'm going insa- get your hand out of my toga!" he snaps, slapping at Reyna's hand. She laughs and then punches him off the couch. Propping her feat up on his prone body, she guzzles down some more laced punch and watches, with vague interest, a group of female legionnaires (and a few male) doing body shots off the six-pack abs of a particularly well built centurion from First Cohort.
"We are so doomed," Hazel mutters, trying to revive Percy by poking him on the forehead, to no avail. Across the room, Dakota is lying passed out in his underwear on the table he started on, but Gwen has joined Bobby in a spirited performance of Tongue Tied by Grouplove. A demigod is hanging from a chandelier refilling people's glasses, and near the entrance to the room Don the Faun is receiving more denarii then he probably has all year, shamelessly pressing the drunken heroes.
"Frank," she says distractedly, "Could you get Percy- hey! Get your hands off me, you creep!"
Turning to deliver a full-forced blow to her assaulter, she stops dead when she realizes who she's about to wallop.
"Ah- Praetor," she says, wondering how long it will take Reyna to sober up enough to sew her into the weasel sack and toss her in the river, "do you think you could, um, move your hand from my, ah, chest?"
Reyna removes her hand, then rests her head on Hazel's shoulder, takes another swig of alcohol, and idly asks the daughter of Pluto what getting to third base means, besides the baseball part. Hazel mulls over how to get out of this situation without getting put in the stocks tomorrow morning.
"You know what?" she says, "I give up. Do you think I could have some of that?"
Steven creates another wall of air between him and the arrow-firing Huntresses. The barrier stops all but one of the arrows, which slams into a tree inches from Amanda's head.
"Next time," she says sounding annoyed, "could you-"
"I know, I know," he says. "I've got it covered."
Amanda shrugs and spots another Hunter stumbling through the bushes. Raising her baseball bat and screaming curses in Ancient Greek, she runs off.
Off to his left he hears screams, and sees Clarisse charging after a couple of terrified Hunters. The bad news is, he thinks to himself, those Hunters captured every single member of Clarisse's squad. He grins. The good news is, they didn't get Clarisse, which means they're completely fucked.
He feels something moving swiftly through the air, closing in on him, and he turns and catches Thalia's wrist before she can stab him with her dagger.
"Nice try, my Lady," Steven says, smirking.
Thalia smiles sweetly at him, then kicks him in the nads. Even with his armor cushioning the blow, he goes down hard.
Thalia turns and walks right into the point of Jason's gladius.
"Gotcha, big sister," he says, grinning. Thalia groans. Jason looks past her at the ground. "You know, Rust, you didn't have to let her kick you there, it would have worked fine without that . . . But way to take one for the team."
Steven gives him the middle finger and tries to get to his feet, but collapses again.
"That was a nice one, kid," says Clarisse, offering her fist to Amanda, who pounds it.
They join Drew, Piper, Laurel, Miranda and Katie Gardiner and Lacy Macafee at the pavilion, all in the midst of removing their armor.
"Way to go, ladies," Drew crows, high- fiving Katie and Amanda and throwing a triumphant glance at Piper, who grins back.
"That'll show them," says Clarisse, sounding satisfied. She hands her spear to Chris Rodriguez, who is still in full armor, pulls off his helm and kisses him hard.
"That was more fun than usual," says Laurel, smirking, holding a silvery flag. "I wonder why?" Everyone laughs.
Steven limps up with Jason, Jesse and the Stolls in tow; and Drew surprises everyone by reaching out and taking the Armorer's hand, leading him over to a bench away from the group, and kissing him softly on the lips.
"Ah, those huntresses," says Will Solace, grinning, walking up from the Big House. "What do they make us do?"
He and Castor offer sodas and lemonade to the fighters, who gratefully accept the refreshments. Jesse pulls off his breastplate, sets his bronze shield down lovingly, tracing his hand over the direwolf embossed on the bronze, then stretches out on a bench, laying his head in Amanda's lap.
There's a comfortable silence as everyone takes in the moment. Then Travis intertwines his fingers with Katie's and says, "Well, we got that flag. After like twenty years. You guys wanna burn it?"
Everyone cheers.
Thalia stands on the deck of the Argo II, examining the Nintendo Wii controller/soundboard contraption Leo is going to use to steer the ship with a dubious air.
"Are you sure this is going to work?"
Annabeth shrugs. "I have no idea. Leo is the expert. Buildings are one thing, but this is way out of my league."
Thalia frowns. "You don't sound very confident."
Annabeth opens her mouth to reply, but before she can Thalia interrupts.
"I don't mind admitting it," the Hunter says, "this whole setup bothers me. It's too risky. Unnecessary. And what if-"
"Thalia," says Annabeth wearily, "I want him back too."
Thalia sighs. "I know. Sorry. It's just- I owe him, from the Battle. You know?"
Annabeth just smiles sadly.
The daughter of Zeus throws an arm around her oldest friend's shoulders.
"Come on, let's go get some chow. I'm starving."
Percy stumbles into the Senate house the next morning and falls into his seat beside Reyna, who appears to be asleep in her chair. The senate is nearly empty, and the half dozen Romans who are present look awful. Percy wonders if he somehow pissed off Dionysus more than usual.
Halfway through the session, Percy falls asleep, despite fighting to stay awake. No one notices. No one else is conscious either.
At Camp Half- Blood, Dionysus chuckles wickedly. He's forgotten how much fun mortals can be to mess with. He wonders if it would be funny to do the same here; it would certainly liven the place up, but he figures that would probably violate his probation. So, he decides, he'll just do it again when those silly little demigods fly that foolish little ship to Camp Jupiter.
Tipping back his bottle of Diet Cherry Coke, Dionysus cackles and deals another hand of solitaire.
Ohmygods. It is time for bed. Goodnight.
Next Time: Reunited, the demigods plan their trip to Mount Olympus, while Butch suspects that someone is tampering with the Argo II.