AN: Well folks, with us now officially stepping over the line between The Son of Neptune and the forthcoming Mark of Athena, along with a few other things reviewers have pointed out to me, this story is now AU. Also, there is more Roman debauchery and a slightly suggestive scene in this chapter, as well as annoying bad guys. Read at your own risk. I own nothing, not even a townhouse in New Rome. But that would be freaking sweet.
Camp Life, Chapter Eight
Reunion/Suspicions of Sneakiness
Jesse wakes with a start, glancing around the large room and rubbing his eyes tiredly. The long, low ceilinged- room the Romans had given them in their massive, awesome city was lit softly by moonlight streaming in from the windows along the wall.
Amanda was snoring softly and steadily next to him, a wisp of blonde hair covering most of her face. All about the room Greeks slept on the few couches ( the girls) or on the floor (the guys and the girls who weren't that quick). Clarisse had told Travis and Connor to stand guard before claiming the biggest sofa for herself and Chris, but Jesse really didn't get why she had bothered; both of his brothers had fallen asleep five minutes later.
He lies back and stares at the ceiling. Almost every Greek demigod is here except the one he wanted to see most - not, he thinks, lips twitching, that he really blames Percy for spending the night in his villa with Annabeth. He would've done exactly the same thing if it had been him. And sure, Percy had hugged him in his goofy-looking bedsheet when they had gotten off the Argo II, laughing and tousling his hair. But that had only been for a moment.
Steven, Coach Hedge, and Clarisse had led the way off the ship, despite Annabeth's protests. The daughter of the War God wore a gleaming, brand-new set of blood-red armor, bearing the standard of Ares on a lance in one hand and Maimer in the other; the son of Aeolus carried an Olympia double-barreled shotgun strapped to his back, a bandolier of throwing knives on his chest, a 'dagger' (Jesse didn't care what he said, that thing was a short sword) strapped to his left bicep, a longsword with a wolfshead design on the pommel, and a round shield with spikes on the business end strapped to his arm. Jesse had asked him, while the Argo II was on final approach to Camp Jupiter, why he wasn't wearing armor, and Steven had cheerfully explained it was so he could carry more weapons. Jesse shook his head wryly. And the sad part was, Steven hadn't even been the most insane one in the landing party; the Romans had stared in utter disbelief at Gleeson Hedge threatening to boil their bones for soup while Steven and Butch struggled to keep him from charging the Twelfth Legion Fulminata singlehandedly (the crazed satyr had actually offered to only use one hand). Thankfully once Annabeth had leapt into Percy's arms, the Romans had seemed to relax, especially when the rest of the Greeks disembarking from the flying warship were not covered head to toe in killing implements or bloodthirsty goat-men. When Jason Grace had appeared at the head of the Greek column, the Legion had roared Ave! Ave!, and the son of Jupiter had drawn his sword in one smooth motion and saluted.
Then the Praetor, their leader or whatever, a smoking hot girl with a stern expression, had led them down the big road, the Via Praetoris, into the most beautiful city Jesse'd ever seen. He really wasn't much for cities; he'd spent most of his fourteen years in a small town in the South (Sterling, GA, population one thousand), the rest at Camp; and the one time Percy, Annabeth and Rachel had taken him and Amanda to New York, he had, frankly, been terrified. But the Roman city, with its cobblestones and giant bathhouses and fountains and frescoes and freaking ghosts (Seriously, that was weird) was kind of awesome. He wonders why they don't have a Greek city back at Camp Half-Blood.
Jesse yawns and rolls over. They had all gone to bed early, but he is still pretty tired. Amanda shifts a little and murmurs something about barbeque in her sleep, and Jesse grins a little to himself, slips his ipod earphones in and lets the smooth sounds of B.B. King lull him to sleep.
A few dreams, a few nightmares later, someone gently shakes him awake.
"Hmm," Jesse murmurs sleepily, "What . . . ?"
Percy's grinning face swims into view above him. The son of Poseidon puts a finger to his lips, then points towards the open door and slips away.
Bewildered, Jesse grabs his shoes, noting the barest hints of sunlight creeping through the windows, and hurries quietly out after the Praetor.
"What's going on?" he asks once he's outside. Percy, leaning casually on a nearby lamppost, dressed in a New York Giants tank top and a pair of running shorts that read 'Goode High School' (is that some kind of joke?), shrugs and says, "I wanted to show you something. And you looked a bit, I don't know, restless yesterday. I know it feels weird being here, but- well, there's a place I know around the corner that might help you with that."
Jesse falls into step with his friend and stares at the city around, him, still unable to quite reconcile with himself how amazing the place is. Percy notices his gaze and chuckles. "Yeah, I did pretty much the same thing the first time too."
"It kind of makes me want to . . ." he stops, unsure what to say.
"Makes you want to live here?" Percy finishes, smiling. "I know what you mean."
Jesse grins. "Speaking of which, where's Annabeth?"
Percy rolls his eyes. "Very funny. She's asleep. You know her- she's not an early riser."
Jesse starts to make a busy night quip, but a memory of a cold early morning sunrise a bit like this one, a vision of tangled blonde hair and anguished grey eyes, rises to his mind.
"Not while you were gone," he says softly, and Percy winces and nods silently.
"Sorry," says Jesse after a moment. "I didn't mean-"
"It's okay," Percy grips him on the shoulder, "She told me what you did. Thanks for looking after her."
Jesse shrugs, embarrassed. Percy turns the corner and says, "In here."
The outside of the building looks just like the elegant townhouses on the rest of the street, but the inside makes the son of Hermes stop short. There is only one gigantic room in the house, filled with bench presses, treadmills, a boxing ring, and a whole host of other workout machines. 'Sweet Emotion' by Aerosmith is blasting on speakers fixed to the ceiling. It may be like six o'clock in the morning, but the place is nearly half full, with both currently serving demigods and older residents of the city. Thalia waves at them from a small group of Hunters hitting speed bags in a corner, Percy's friend Frank is benching an inhuman amount with a calm look on his face, and Steven Rust is in the boxing ring, going head -to- head with the other Praetor, Reyna. As Jesse watches, Reyna lays the Greek Armorer out with a wicked uppercut, then waves to the cheering Romans surrounding the ring as Steven struggles to his feet.
"This place is awesome," Jesse says excitedly.
Percy laughs "Right? Come on, I want you to meet my buddies, Frank and Hazel . . ."
As he follows Percy through the rows of machines, a loud booing issues from around the ring, and he looks over his shoulder to see Steven helping Reyna back to her feet, a smirk on his face despite the blood dribbling down his chin.
Jesse shakes his head ruefully and continues after the son of Poseidon.
Butch adjusts the board over the wiring that controls the rudder of the Argo II and slides it back into place.
It's a pretty well-known fact at Camp Half-Blood that Butch really isn't much of a talker. Everyone kind of knows that if he just nods or grunts when you say something, it isn't because he doesn't like you or is trying to be rude; it's just how he is. It's probably, he figures, because he grew up in a crowded household in Chicago with brothers and sisters and sometimes cousins and neighborhood kids crawling all over the house and loud, loud, loud, all the time, and so he just kind of communicates as efficiently as he can.
What really sucks is when he has to explain this to new people, so they stop giving him weird or annoyed looks when he barely acknowledges their words.
Thank the gods Rachel Elizabeth Dare intervenes when Bobby of the Fifth Cohort, son of Vulcan, asks him if he wants Bobby to leave.
Sitting up from where she's been sunning herself on the deck of the Argo II and chatting with Lacy Macafee, Rachel adjusts her Florence + The Machine t-shirt, which she has ripped the sleeves off of, pushes her aviator sunglasses to the top of her head, and says, "Don't sweat it, kid; he's not mad, he just doesn't like talking that much."
Butch throws an apologetic look at Bobby and a grateful one at Rachel.
'Oh, sorry, bro, I didn't mean to get all up in your face like that . . ." Bobby begins, but Butch shakes his head.
"It's not that I don't like people talking to me," he says in his deep voice. "I just don't have that much to say, I guess."
Bobby nods, relieved then holds out his hand. "I'm Bobby. Fifth Cohort."
Standing, and pulling off his gloves, Butch takes it. "I'm Butch. Son of Iris."
Bobby blinks, then says, adopting a faux Colombian accent, "Butch? What does that mean?"
Butch grins and plays along, fully aware of how Rachel and Lacy are staring at them. "I'm an American, honey; our names don't mean shit."
Bobby cracks up and pounds fists with him.
"Are you two high?" asks Rachel in disbelief.
Bobby looks horrified. "Dude, you mean you haven't seen Pulp Fiction? He even looks like Bruce Willis!"
Rachel exchanges looks with Lacy and they both shake their heads in exasperation.
Butch turns back to the wiring panels as he hears Bobby tell Rachel he likes her shirt. Part of him wishes that Leo could get someone else to do his dirty work, but another part knows he'd be dead bored without working on the ship.
As his fingers follow the ridged panels hiding the wiring to the deck, he notices something odd.
Clarisse, Reyna, Percy, Annabeth, Will, Chris Rodriguez, Coach Hedge, and that little shit Octavian are sitting in the Praetor's office when Jason, Piper and Leo enter. As they take their seats, Reyna nods to them and begins speaking.
"Mount Olympus, in Greece, is over six thousand miles away. This ship, the Argo II, can carry us there, it seems."
She doesn't seem particularly certain about that statement, and Octavian looks openly skeptical. The Legacy of Apollo opens his mouth to say something, but Leo beats him to it.
"The Argo II will get us there, I can promise you that. We'll just need a couple of fuel stops along the way."
Once again Octavian seems about to interrupt, but a loud commotion from outside the Principia cuts him off. The demigods get to their feet, frowning. Jason walks to the door and opens it.
Outside, in the main room of the Principia, the door guards, centurions of the Second Cohort, are arguing with an upset Jesse Fairway and an angry Rachel Dare. The Romans block the entrance to the Principia with their spears, and one reaches out a gauntlet-covered hand to shove Jesse, shorter than him by a foot, away. Rachel snarls in fury but reaches to stop Jesse from drawing Cutter.
From behind them, more figures appear. Butch Malinowski stalks toward the door, his hand on his sword. A guard attempts to stop him, but Butch knocks him backward with a hard push.
"Get out of my way." the son of Iris grates furiously.
More Legionaires from within the Principia rush to help their comrades, but Percy moves to Jason's side and nods grimly at him.
Jason takes a deep breath and bellows, "You men stop where you are right now!"
Percy joins him.
"Butch, stand down! Rust-stop! Rust! Rust you put away that godsdamn axe right fucking now! Everyone! Freeze!"
Silence reigns. Everyone stands where they are, Jason and Percy in the doorway of the office, Reyna and Annabeth peeking out from behind them. Clarisse, unable to see, loudly demands to know what's going on. In the entranceway, Steven Rust is holding a hapless centurion by the throat with one hand, and surreptitiously trying (and failing) to hide a battleaxe behind his back with the other.
Butch sheathes his blade and breaks the silence, anger lacing his tone.
"The Argo II's steering apparatus has malfunctioned."
There is a pause as everyone digests this.
"Hah!" exclaims Octavian, sneering "We should have known! How, exactly, do you expect us to trust-"
"It malfunctioned," Butch continues, ignoring him, "because someone has sabotaged it."
"What are we looking for again?" Frank asks, tossing some pillows aside.
"It's a screw, about this big-" Bobby holds his hands about eight inches apart- "and four inches thick, or so."
They are standing in the Third Cohort barracks. The residents of this particular room are standing at attention in the hallway. So far, Frank and Bobby have found no sign of the stolen piece.
"And that screw is this important?" asks Frank dubiously. This is the fourth barracks they have checked so far.
"Well, yeah. They're using it to drive the steering mechanism, which goes from the pilot's station to the rudders on the engines. It's unique, in other words, especially since it's been cast from pure, undiluted celestial bronze to withstand the pressure of all that weight on either end. Valdez told me it took them months to forge. So, in other words, we have to find it. There's no making another one. And it's definitely been stolen, because it couldn't just fall out from a bumpy landing or something."
Frank sighs. "Alright, well it's not in here. Centurion!" he addresses the officer standing out with the legionnaires, "you can bring your people back inside, we're done here."
As they depart from Third Cohort's last building, they meet up with Jason and Hazel, Percy and Reyna, all standing in a circle with grim expressions on their faces.
"Nothing," says Frank disgustedly.
"The Greeks searched their own, they don't have it either," Reyna adds.
Percy grinds his teeth. "I think we have Octavian to blame for this. Did anyone else see the way his eyes lit up when Butch and Rust came plowing into the Principia?"
"You may be right," says Reyna slowly, "but we can't just go accusing him- Octavian has a lot of power in the Senate . . ."
She breaks off as Steven Rust, Rachel, and Lacy all come barreling around the corner, a pair of Romans pacing them cautiously.
"Percy!" Rachel calls, skidding to a halt in front of the group. "We had . . . the tour . . . Lacy remembered- brilliant idea . . ." she leans a hand against the wall, trying to regain her breath.
Percy examines Lacy curiously. He can't recall much about her, though she's been at Camp for a while. "What is it?"
"Um," Lacy hesitates, looking to Rachel for approval. The Oracle smiles encouragingly.
"Um- the statue."
Everyone exchanges bewildered looks.
"Statue?" Bobby asks, scratching his head.
"Your border guard. The one that hates me," Steven says, giving the Roman guards who were following him a hard stare. Percy notices with a sinking feeling how, despite the way Rust and Reyna were laughing and boxing together this morning, any trust the Armorer had for the Romans had evaporated since the discovery. And it wasn't just him, either, the two camps were more distrustful of each other then when the Argo II had first arrived.
"Terminus?" asks Reyna, puzzled. "How could he help?"
"He said he checks everything," says Lacy breathlessly "So if-"
"So if the thief moved the part through the pomerian line-" Hazel finishes, eyes wide, "Terminus can tell us who it is!"
Percy nods grimly. "Let's go talk to him."
"Ah, Praetor Reyna! And you brought Mr. Jackson and Mr. Grace!" Terminus greets them cheerfully. "What can I do for you on this fine spring afternoon?" The god's assistant, Julia, is picking daisies in the grass nearby, but upon seeing Percy, Frank, and Hazel, her three favorite people in the Legion, she scampers over to the statue and stands at attention, her metal bowl held in front of her, grinning toothlessly.
"Off to the city, I suppose? Make sure your guests have their ID's- oh, it's you," he says, glaring at Steven. "Julia, where are you- ah, there you are! Excellent. It's him again, dear; could you get the box, please?"
Julia frowns at seeing Steven, who glares right back. The little girl sets her bowl down carefully, then reaches behind Terminus's statue and tugs with all her strength. Frank takes pity on her and helps her drag a large metal chest with a multitude of locks on its lid out onto the grass. Julia meticulously opens all five locks, lifts the lid, and points imperiously at the empty interior, glaring at Steven, who sighs.
"No, listen, Terminus, we came here to talk to you," Percy says, frowning at Steven, as if to say, stop glaring at her like that! She's six!
The statue raises his eyebrows. "To me? How unusual! Is there another giant you need killing?"
Behind him Percy hears Rust mutter, Giant? What giant? He already killed one?, and he remembers that the Camp Armorer has spent pretty much every moment in Camp Jupiter walking around New Rome with Drew Tanaka (And when the hell had that happened?).
"Uh, no. Actually, we need to talk to you about, uh, a contraband item that we're looking for."
"Contraband! How dare you! I have not allowed a single weapon, narcotic or explosive device past this line in my life!"
"No, no, nothing like that- it's a big screw."
Terminus blinks. "Excuse me?"
Ignoring the sniggering behind him, Percy clarifies. "It's the part of an engine."
"Actually, it connects the steering column to-" Bobby interrupts.
"It's the part of an engine."
Terminus frowns. "Perhaps if you describe it, I can help you, Praetor."
Bobby steps forward. "It's a piece of refined celestial bronze about this long and-"
"And this wide?" Terminus asks.
Everyone stares.
"Um . . . how wide?" Rachel asks weakly. Frank covers his mouth to hide his laughter.
Terminus turns a dark shade of grey. "Jiminy Cricket! Julia!"
The tiny girl holds her hands five inches apart.
"You've seen it!" Reyna exclaims hopefully.
"Yes indeed!" says Terminus cheerfully. "Centurion Octavion of the First Cohort had it on his person when he entered the city this morning."
A grim silence hangs in the air.
Then Percy, his expression carefully neutral, reaches into his pocket and carefully places Riptide into Julia's metal bowl. The young girl smiles beautifully at him. Steven curses and begins pulling weapons off his body and piling them into the box.
"What do you mean, they left the ship?" Annabeth snaps angrily. "The last thing we need is Rust the One Man Army marching into the city filled with people who think we're trying to trick them or something! People with Scorpion Ballistae now pointed right at us!"
Butch scowls. This is not news to him. He likes Annabeth fine, but he really wishes she would curb her need to lecture everyone for a few minutes. He is not a particularly violent person, not like the satyr eating dixie cups like they were potato chips next to him, but he really wants to hit someone right now.
"We should launch a rescue party!" Hedge says around a mouthful of thin cardboard. He hefts his club and waves it around. "I volunteer!"
"Shut up," Annabeth whirls on him. "You are not to leave this ship!"
"You aren't the boss off me!"
"Grover!"
"Please shut up, Gleeson."
"Traitor!"
"No, seriously, man. You're ruining my chi."
"I'll ruin your face! And my name's Coach, not Gleeson."
"Shut the hell up, both of you! Or I will shut you up!" Drew snarls, drawing her index finger across her throat. Thalia nods in agreement, glaring murderously.
"I'm gonna try and get an Iris message to Percy," Butch says, standing up. Everyone looks at him. The nice part when you never talk, he thinks wearily, is that when you do talk, people listen.
"Good idea," Annabeth says, relieved. "Ask him if he needs help."
Octavian enters the tall building at a run. It's undignified, as a Centurion of the First Cohort, and as the Augury of the Twelfth Legion, to run willy nilly through places, but- but, he thinks, giggling, he won't be a centurion much longer. Stopping at the statue of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, he bows low and places the object on the altar, then selects a large stuffed bear from the waiting pile, draws the knife he keeps in his sleeve, and slices the bear open in a smooth, practiced motion. The statues eyes seem to flash darkly, and earth shakes ominously beneath the temple.
Octavian grins crazily and grabs the ship's innards from the altar. Mother has blessed the journey, he thinks happily. And maybe, just maybe, before he leaves, he'll get the chance to watch as the Romans and Greeks tear each other limb from delicious limb.
Percy and his group are two blocks into New Rome when Julia reappears, running after them and shouting his name. When she reaches them she stumbles and Hazel reaches out to catch her gently.
"He just went past Mr. Terminus," she gasps for air, "on the south side. The Circus gate. Wouldn't stop for inspection. Mr. Terminus says, 'help'!"
"He's going for Temple Hill," Reyna says, her face ashen. "I'm going to the Senate to tell the people what's happened. You guys, go after him!" She sprints down the street without another word.
"Oh yeah, go after him, great advice," grumbles Steven Rust. "We were just gonna stand here-"
"Come on!" Percy yells, and they charge up the street towards the Circus Maximus.
They reach the gatehouse and find an armored squad waiting for them.
The Centurion in command shouts for them to halt, raising his hand, palm facing them.
"I'm the Praetor! Get out of my way!" Percy shouts, but the Centurion just smiles coldly.
"Sorry," he replies with a sneer, "But I only take orders from Praetor Octavian."
"Traitors," Jason says furiously. The Centurion shrugs.
"You have no weapons. What are you going to do about it?"
Percy blinks. He glances at Steven, who rolls his eyes. Hazel's mouth twitches upward and she elbows Frank, who shrugs and grins. Jason sighs and rolls up his sleeves.
"Could you guys get on with it?" Rachel snaps, irritated.
The former legionnaires stare at them like psycho ward residents.
A bolt of lightning, a massive fist of solid air, a mini hurricane, and a large bald eagle all seem to strike the squad at once. In less then a second, all twenty or so enemies are taking dirt naps.
Percy inspects his fingernails idly.
"That was easy," Bobby says, staring at the ground in awe.
They climb up to the roof of the guardhouse in time to see a small chariot race from Temple Hill off toward Mt. Diablo.
"I wish I hadn't left my Barret .50 caliber back at Camp," Steven says, eyeing the fleeing vehicle. "This would be a piece of cake."
"Terminus wouldn't have let you bring it in here," Lacy reminds him timidly.
"Oh yeah . . . this place sucks."
"No worries, guys. I've got this," Frank says confidently. He kisses Hazel on the cheek, leaps up onto the parapet, transforms into another eagle and takes off after Octavian.
"Damn. That's impressive," Jason says, shaking his head and whistling. Hazel grins and gives her old friend a playful elbow.
"So he can get the screw thing back from Octavian, I get that," Steven shields his eyes from the sun, "But what about the freaking asshole himself? We just gonna let him ride off into the sunset?"
"Nope," says Percy, grinning widely. "I have people on that."
He points, and everyone looks to see a war party disembarking from the Argo II and heading to cut off Octavian's escape route, the distinct figure of Gleeson Hedge leading the charge.
"That's my girl," says Steven fondly, watching as the demigoddess with flowing black hair behind Coach Hedge lifts a gleaming lance in the sky.
"And that's mine," says Percy, pointing at the demigoddess next to Drew with the golden curls who slips on a baseball cap and abruptly vanishes from sight.
As they watch the chase, the Greeks, with the help of Frank the bald eagle, overrun the chariot and bring it down. The demigods swarm the chariot, then pull Octavian kicking and screaming from the wreckage.
Percy finally relaxes.
"So he was working for Gaea this whole time?"
"Looks like it. He isn't saying much." The daughter of Bellona pushes a few papers around the table and shrugs wearily. "I just thought he was trying to discredit you in a power play, not that he was a traitor . . ."
"Yeah," Percy agrees quietly.
Reyna sighs. "Go on, get out of here. You've been running around all day; you need to spend some time with your girlfriend or she'll probably beat you up."
"You should come to," Percy says as he stands and stretches, yawning tiredly.
Reyna raises an eyebrow. "That's very kind of you, but a menage a trois isn't really my thing-"
"I mean you should get out of here too," says Percy, rolling his eyes (even though the thought of Annabeth and Reyna making out is totally awesome).
"I will," she says, staring pensively out the window into the courtyard. "I hear First Cohort is having a party to celebrate good riddance and all that- apparently they didn't like him much either. I think I'll show up to that. How about you?"
Percy can only stare at her in horror.
"Not again . . ."
"This place is really crazy!" Jesse shouts to Butch, who nods and takes a sip of his punch. Music is blasting throughout the room, a reggaetone song with sexy Spanish lyrics. Demigods are dancing feverishly on every available surface; Steven and Drew are performing a completely scandalous salsa on a table nearby. As Butch refills his glass, a good looking, slightly effeminate Roman guy glances at his Iris tattoo, and then totally checks him out, smiling invitingly. Butch sighs and takes another drink.
"I'm think I'm gonna go find Amanda," Jesse says, and wanders off.
Butch refills his glass.
The checking-him-out guy loudly greets a friend, a gorgeous brunette, and not-so-discreetly points Butch out to her.
Butch refills his glass.
A minute later the two friends approach him, and the girl lays her hand on his wrist, stands on her tiptoes and whispers into his ear, her lips dancing along his earlobe.
"My friend and I are getting bored getting bored," she murmurs and the guy smiles again. His eyes, Butch notices absentmindedly, are very, very blue. Sky blue.
"You want to take us somewhere more . . . private?" she asks, her hand traveling up his arm and squeezing his biceps. The boy puts his hand on Butch's shoulder, fingertips tracing lightly over his skin.
Butch looks down at his cup, then puts it aside, figuring he's already just about drunk enough for this.
"Sure," he says, "Sounds like fun."
AN: Gasp! Craziness abounds. Anyways, this chapter would have been up sooner, but I got distracted halfway through watching Donald Glover's standup. Seriously, if you want to laugh your ass off for an hour, or you like Community (his show- you know, Troy and Abed?) or Childish Gambino (His rap name), look it up on youtube, it's great. Just not while your parents are around.
Next Time: Steven Rust leads a war party to destroy a Giant force near his hometown, while the Greek-Roman hybrid group wreaks havoc on the poor, unsuspecting citizens of coastal Greece.