Chapter Text
Percy was paying attention in class. He stared intently at the front of the room, his eyes fixed on his professor, Mr. Davenport.
“And what does that tell us, Mr. Jackson?” the professor asked.
Percy straightened himself on his chair, like just woken up of a trance, but did not answer.
Yes, he was paying attention in class, but not exactly to the class. Percy was trying to figure out for the who-knows-how-many-th time in his life if his teacher was a monster in disguise. Surely no normal human was that interested and enthusiastic about the mating habits of whales.
Mr. Davenport waited. Percy gaped at him, still startled. That was all he could manage as an answer. His professor sighed and murmured something about “these Greeks…” under his breath. The rest of the class snickered and looked smugly at Percy, whose face was the picture of embarrassment and misery.
He was trying, really trying. He had managed to finish high school as early as twenty-one years old, a true record (a record among Greek demigods, anyway) and got into college (well, a record if one doesn’t count Annabeth). Sure, it was New Rome University on Camp Jupiter, which accepted all demigods and legacies, but it still was quite an accomplishment for him. He thought he had his ADHD under control now after all those years. Clearly, he was wrong.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he let out in a quiet and sincere voice, but way too late for it to be acceptable, disrupting the class again.
More snickering. The professor merely sighed.
Percy ripped off the page of the notebook in front of him, full of squiggles and doodles, and started to take notes with a scary determination in his face.
By the fourth class that morning, Percy was exhausted of being responsible. He was also exhausted of running up and down the stairs of the building to go to his classes, and yeah, completely exhausted and sick of people staring at him and whispering among themselves.
It was bad enough being a Greek half-blood around New Rome, but he was Percy freakin’ Jackson and practically everyone there knew his face. He tried to conceal his identity by wearing a hoodie, and when that didn’t work, he tried to proudly display the SPQR tattoo on his forearm―his way of saying, “Hey! I’m one of you! You can stop being jerks!” That didn’t work either; even more so, they seemed to find it inflammatory.
He was all but losing his mind during his fifth class, with his professor droning on and on in a monotonous voice about pressure rates and oxygen percentages in the deep ocean. Percy was the son of Poseidon; he didn’t really need that. He was about to stick his pencil through his skull when he heard a voice calling his name over the dull noise of his surroundings.
“Wha…?” he said.
“Mr. Jackson” said his professor, Mr. Banks, louder this time.
“Yeah…?”
Mr. Banks sighed and pointed at the door of the classroom. A small, redheaded kid stood there, shuffling on his feet and playing with his purple t-shirt with one hand and rubbing his newly done tattoo with the other. It was a camper… no, sorry, a legionnaire. One didn’t want to go around calling the Romans campers; they would impale you and feed you to the elephant. Even the small Romans, those could be especially vicious, like cats.
“Go on, then” said Mr. Banks to the kid, his patience wearing thin. “Speak up, boy.”
“Um… Fran―I mean, the praetor has er… summoned Percy Jackson. He says it’s urgent.”
Percy looked at his professor, who ignored him and resumed reading. Taking that as permission, Percy stood up, took his backpack and exited the classroom, following the small kid. Although the kid kept throwing somewhat wary glances at Percy, he looked relieved beyond measure. Percy struggled to follow the kid, between him being up and down all day and the legionnaire walking as fast as his short legs permitted him.
“Whoa, slow down,” said Percy once he caught up with him, already short of breath. “It can’t be that urgent. Frank would’ve come flying instead of sending you. Like, literally flying.”
The kid complied, and Percy thanked him with a nod.
“What’s your name, anyway?” he wanted to know. “Brand new camp―legionnaire, then?”
“Yeah…” the kid said with a slight blush on his face. “I’m Todd… And you’re Percy Jackson.”
“I sure am” said Percy not sure of what else to say or if he even needed to say anything at all. So, naturally, he kept talking: “So, Todd, how’s things in the good old Camp? Maimed many enemy teams? Broken some bones on the War Games?”
“Not really…” Todd said, frowning a little. “I was still a probatio yesterday. This is literally my first day so they have been giving me errands to run all day and I’m not sure they would let me participate on the games what with my godly parent and…” he stopped and stared at the floor.
“Who’s your godly parent?”
“Crepitus,” answered Todd in almost a whisper.
“And that would be the god of…?”
“I think we should hurry.”
They crossed the forum at top walking speed, maneuvering around the residents of New Rome―vendors trying to sell them color-changing togas, fauns asking for spare change, and distracted citizens reading the Acta Diurna. Percy could see the lake in the distance to the south, where a boating competition was apparently taking place. Man, he used to kick butt in those. Used to.
As soon as they crossed the Pomerian Line, Percy could feel the weight of his trusty pen-sword Riptide on his pocket again. It had always being a reassuring feeling, but nowadays he had a complicated relationship with it. One that ranged from bitter reminder to crushing burden to, yeah, fond memories. He looked back and saw Terminus, the god of boundaries and OCD extraordinaire, who nodded at him; both as a warning and a salute. He really seemed to be in a complicated relationship with everything and everyone these days. It had even made him end some of them…
Todd walked silently alongside him now. Percy caught him throwing quick glances at him from time to time. Despite himself, Percy already liked the kid. He pretty much liked all new and young kids at both camps, unless they were children of Ares or Mars, really. It was kind of an “in principle” thing. The overall nervous energy of Todd only gave him extra points.
They reached the Praetorian Gate and, after Todd identified both of them and stated their business, walked into Camp Jupiter proper. The camp hadn’t changed much since the last time Percy had been there. The usual running up and down of legionnaires attending various duties, from polishing armor, carrying messages to going to practice. Even more people stared at him now, in comparison with the city. He wanted to assume that it was the contrast of his casual clothes, a flannel shirt and dark-blue jeans, with the sea of purple t-shirts around him that was attracting all that attention, but he knew better.
They were in front of the Principia. A girl was at a tiny desk in the entrance, writing with fury on a long parchment already falling on the floor.
“Um… hi, Angie” said Todd in a quiet voice.
She didn’t seem to have heard him; she continued to write with utmost concentration, her long blond hair falling on the parchment and getting ink all over it. None of the Romans got ADHD, did they? They were kind of the opposite, laser-focused or something.
“Angie?” tried Todd again, louder this time.
“Uh?” she said, and finally looked up at them.
“They told me to fetch Percy Jackson?” said Todd “Fra―the praetor is expecting him? I didn’t mess up, did I? Maybe they said Perry Johnson and I…”
How had this kid survived until now? Percy wondered.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” she said with her right thumb pointing at the big door. “Come right i―”
Angie was staring at him. A creepy, frozen mid-gesture, eyes wide-open stare―“Oh…”
Oh, no.
“My…”
Here it comes.
“Gods…”
Yep, there it is.
“Percy Jackson!?” Angie stood up knocking over her desk and all that was on it. Ink covered the floor. She continued to stare at him.
“Uh, yeah,” said Percy.
She was tall, maybe sixteen years old, and had light brown eyes. She reminded him of Annabeth, if Annabeth had that eye color, wore magnifying glasses and oversized sweaters. Percy looked at Todd, asking for help or an explanation, whichever came first. Todd merely shook his head, mumbling something under his breath.
“I’m Angie” she said and extended her hand. “Angie Hayes, daughter of Athena. Third cohort.”
Todd squirmed.
“Athena?” asked Percy.
“Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically, “it must be weird seeing a child of Athena in Camp Jupiter, I guess. My cabin mates are not fond of this place for some reason. I sort of transferred here to basically being a cliché: to learn all about it. Boy, did they give me a hard time about it back at Camp Half-Blood. ‘Angie, what in Hades are you going to do there? There’s nothing to learn there, Rome just copied everything from the Greeks. Just learn the Roman names of the gods and you’re set.’ But you are Percy Jackson! I’ve heard all about you! See? Where else could I have ever met you? You were always on some quest and then you left Camp. You’re smaller in person, though. But it doesn’t matter; I still can’t quite believe it. The Percy Jackson! Living legend! Hey, do you think I could borrow some of your blood?” she said all of this in one breath.
“W-what…?” Percy said, not sure how to react to the whole thing. Finally, his mind settled on something: “M-my blood, what for?”
She adjusted her glasses. Todd sighed.
“Can you believe that, in millennia, absolutely no one has ever done a serious scientific study on demigods and the supernatural? One could think that some Athena kid had stepped up and done something but no. So yeah, my dad runs a lab where he and his colleagues study genes and DNA and all that fun stuff, right now I’m just focusing on demigods and legacies. Maybe later I could go to Olympus and ask the gods for some ichor…”
“Yeeeah, I don’t think they’d like that…” Percy tried.
“You think?” she looked pensive. She then produced a syringe from one of her pockets. Percy took a step back. “Oh, it won’t hurt most likely. I’ve been practicing,” she assured him, and lifted one of her sweater’s sleeves to show them her arm. It was filled with little scars from needle pricks.
“Angie, can we just come in?” Todd looked more anxious than ever. “Frank’s waiting for him.”
“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Todd. You don’t have to go all bitter on me just because the others treat you like Augeus’ cattle’s dung,” she whined, waving around the syringe without a care in the world. “What you say, Percy? For science?”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll do it,” Percy said, with a forced smile, to Todd’s despair. It seemed to be the only way to get rid of her. Percy didn’t want her chasing him around Camp with a syringe.
“Brilliant!”
Todd looked miserable.
A few minutes later they were inside the Principia. Percy flexing the arm from where Angie had took some blood. It did hurt. They reached the praetor’s room.
“Finally,” said Todd with relief, ready to get out of there. “I’ll announce you.” And he entered the room. Seconds later, he came back.
“Ready, you can come in,” he said.
“OK,” said Percy. Todd was already walking away, “Hey, Todd!”
“Yeah?” the kid said with dread, not quite turning around.
“If anyone ever gives you a hard time you eh… call me, alright?”
“Sorry?” Todd said, approaching Percy.
“Yeah, here…” Percy looked for some paper in his backpack and used Riptide to write down his number. “It’s new and I’m not supposed to use it, but whatever. For a friend, right?”
Todd took the small piece of paper, bewildered.
“I…”
“So yeah, get a cell or use a payphone or whatever. See ya.”
“Uh… See ya…”
And Percy entered the room.
Frank Zhang, son of Mars, the living proof that Aphrodite wasn’t the only Olympian who was into extreme makeovers. Frank looked… well, frankly impressive sitting in his praetor chair. Percy was not scared of many fellow demigods, but having seen Frank in battle, seeing him transform himself into a giant dragon a couple of times? And now looking all buff warrior emperor of Rome? Percy did feel a little small and about to be crushed. He wondered if Reyna had given him “How to Look Like a Badass No-Nonsense Leader” lessons or if there was a manual every praetor got.
It all came down crashing down the very moment Frank jumped out of his chair, letting out an excited “Percy!” as a greeting and promptly tripping up on his toga.
Percy made the mistake of trying to catch him. Really, who in their right mind considers the action of getting in the way of a falling Frank Zhang?
“Ow…” said both demigods from the floor.
They disentangled themselves out of the mess of Frank’s big toga, and looked embarrassed but fine in general.
“So…” said Percy finally “you ‘summoned me’?”
“I did wh―? Oh, right, yeah.”
“What’s up, Frank?”
“You’re needed” said Frank. “Camp Half-Blood.”
“What for?”
“Dunno,” Frank shrugged, “Something kinda bad from their tone of voice, I think. Something to do with their oracle.”
“Rachel?” said Percy suddenly getting stiff and alert, cold sweating already starting to build up. “Is she alright? What happened?”
“I don’t know, I told you,” repeated Frank. “I think I have to be the one to approve you going out to Camp Half-Blood and all that. Elisa is the one who generally handles those things kind of automatically but since she’s out again...“
Percy made an impatient gesture, letting him know that he understood, even though he really didn’t. He never got the hang of the new labyrinthine bureaucracy of New Rome, and certainly now it was not the time to get into it.
“So? I’m… approved?” said Percy.
“Guess so” said Frank, scratching his neck and burrowing his forehead “Yeah, lemme go with you to The Bridge. I’m so bored here.”
They ran down the stairs of the Principia (Frank wisely left his massive toga behind, wearing simply jeans and a camp t-shirt), and walked on a brisk pace down Via Principalis to The Bridge, just past the Fields of Mars.
“So Elisa is out again, huh?” asked Percy halfway there. Elisa, daughter of Mercury, was Frank’s co-praetor, Percy hadn’t treated her much, but she always seemed to be in a rush to get out of the Camp the few times he had saw her.
“Yeah,” answered Frank. ”Praetor’s curse, says Reyna.”
Percy nodded. It did seem like a curse, being left alone with all the responsibility of praetorship for one reason or another. Godly inter-camp exchanges, urgent world-saving quests and Mercury’s random errands being the highlights so far.
“How’s Reyna?” asked Percy. They could see The Bridge looming in the distance already.
“She’s fine. She seems… happy, really.”
“Serious? I can’t imagine Reyna just… settling down and happy and with a son of Demeter no less,” said Percy, trying to picture Reyna attending a gigantic field of corn, with birds braiding her hair. That last part he could see quite clearly for some odd reason.
“Girl did need a rest, y’know?”
“Yeah…” conceded Percy. “Yeah, I guess. And uh… how’s Hazel?”
Frank’s immediate grin told Percy all he needed to know, but Frank elaborated.
“Seven months.”
“Oh, yeah? Wow…”
“Yeah… Wow.” Frank’s grin widened and looked completely mesmerized. It took the sight of The Bridge right in front of them to get him out of it.
“And um…” said Frank looking to continue the conversation while he signed the paper the legionnaire in duty held up to him. “How’s Ann―I mean… Sorry.”
“S’alright, big Z,” Percy assured him.
“So haven’t talked since…?”
“Nope.”
“I see,” said Frank with a deep-in-thought frown. “And are you alright? We’ve barely talked…”
“I’m fine. Just… getting used to this whole settling down thing,” Percy shrugged, “it does suit me, I think.”
“Huh,” was all of Frank’s reply.
After all the paperwork was ready, Percy advanced towards the actual Bridge. Frank was not next to him.
“Not coming?” asked Percy turning around.
Frank sighed and looked at the big cave entrance of the Bridge with a wistful air in his expression.
“Nah,” he said finally. “Gotta keep taking care of all my important praetor stuff. Y’know, all that sitting around is not gonna do itself.”
“Oh, okay” said Percy. “Good talking to you.”
“Yeah, same,” and Frank went back from where they had come from.
Percy turned around and kept walking towards the cave entrance. He could feel a cold breeze of old and sickly sweet air coming from it. His heart started to race.
One of the two roman guards besides the entrance stopped him and held up a marker.
“Camp Half-Blood, then?” he asked reading from a piece of paper. The other guard let out a small and mean giggle.
“Yeah,” Percy responded “What’s that for?”
“I’m gonna mark you so that you don’t get lost. We do control it but it can be… temperamental at times,” explained the guard who had laughed “Just follow your mark, it shows the right path.”
And, without warning, the guard with the marker drew something in Percy’s forehead.
“What in Hades….?! What mark?”
“You’ll see…” both guards said and they exploded in laughter.
Percy tried in vain to see what was on his forehead. The laughter only grew louder.
“Go on, then.”
Percy stopped his cross-eyed attempts to look at his forehead and sighed. He felt stupid and angry; better get out of there before he murdered those two with a geyser or something. Shaking a little, he stepped into the cave. Absolute darkness surrounded him immediately and all sound of laughter or anything else stopped, like he had been cut off of the world. His shaking had nothing to do with anger now.
So this was The Bridge, a modified version of The Labyrinth that connected faraway places. It had been Hazel’s idea. She and some talented members of the Hecate cabin had worked on it for months after The Giant War, a combination of old-fashioned magic and Hazel’s knack for tunnels had brought it back. Its purpose was clear: to magically connect useful places for demigods, like the two camps, without having to cross the United States from coast to coast or even the world, and without encountering monsters at every stop. A secret passage and shortcut. It was quick and efficient, and as scary as the old Labyrinth had been.
Percy saw a bright light ahead of him, illuminating a long stone corridor. He kind of wanted to turn around and go back to Camp Jupiter, but Rachel was in some kind of trouble and needed him; besides that, the way back to Camp was now a wall of solid stone behind him. So he advanced.
He pulled out Riptide and uncapped it. He didn’t really need the reflection of its sword to illuminate his way, the bright light ahead was more than enough; but right now his relationship with Riptide was one of comfort and safety. The Bridge was controlled by demigods, but as one of the guards had said, it was temperamental. And it was, as they had learned the bad way in the past, not entirely monster-free. Monsters could re-spawn everywhere, and the Bridge was no exception, maybe its ancient magic attracted them. Now there was a delicious and smelly son of Poseidon wandering the maze so anything could happen, and when “anything” had something to do with Percy, it was often a pretty bad “anything.”
His steps echoed all through the corridor and in the darkness beyond. The air filled with ancient magic filled his lungs with dread. The light ahead cast menacing and moving shadows on the irregular walls. He picked up his pace until he was almost running. His heart pounding, he was now in front of the source of the light and could make out its shape.
It was a penis.
A crude cartoonish drawing of a penis blazed with fire-y and almost divine light in front of him. Now all the giggling made sense, Percy thought. His hand was already going to his forehead. Before he could rub off the marker, the shiny mark vanished and instantly reappeared to his right, at the end of another corridor that Percy was sure wasn’t there before. Quirks of the Bridge, old habits.
He sighed and continued his way, now more confident. The darkness still wanted to swallow him despite the light, the shadows were as menacing as ever, whispers could be heard here and there, and the air was nauseatingly ancient, but none of that bothered him that much now. In a way, the cock in front of him was comforting.
Five minutes of fast-paced walk and sudden turns every once in a while was all it took for him to reach its destination: a solid brick wall with some graffiti on it, like taken out of any street behind a school in a bad neighborhood.
The wall read:
CAMP HALF-BLOOD
ABANDON ALL SUCK, YE WHO ENTER HERE.
Percy touched the wall and was momentarily blinded by the sudden outburst of light. Fresh air filled his lungs and familiar sounds returned to him. When his vision came back, he saw the forest extended in front of him, surrounding Zeus’ Fist. He smiled.
It all lasted just a few moments, however, because as soon as he took a step of out of the Bridge, everything around him bursted into flames.