forest green ● jason grace

six

Bobby gave them a ride to the border of the valley on Hannibal. From the hilltops, Daria could see everything below. The Little Tiber snaked across golden pastures where the unicorns were grazing. The temples and forums of New Rome gleamed in the sunlight. 

On the Field of Mars, engineers were hard at work, pulling down the remains of last night's fort and setting up barricades for a game of death ball. A normal day for Camp Jupiter.

They got off the elephant. Bobby wished them a safe journey. Hannibal wrapped the four questers with his trunk. Then the elephant taxi service headed back into the valley.

Daria sighed, this was as good as it was going to get. She turned to her fellow Romans and tried to think of something upbeat to say but a familiar voice beat her to it, "IDs, please."

A statue of Terminus appeared at the summit of the hill. The god's marble face frowned irritably. "Well? Come along!"

"You again?" Percy asked. "I thought you just guarded the city."

"Nope," Daria grinned at the god as if she and Jason hadn't caused most of the trouble in New Rome for the last 10 years. "He's omnisciently strict."

"Big words," Hazel said, and Daria remembered she was only 15 compared to Daria's 17. Great, now she felt old. 

"It means everywhere," Frank told her earnestly. "Everywhere all the time."

Terminus huffed. "Glad to see you, too, Mr. Rule Flouter. You really should've allowed two hours before your planned departure time, you know. But we'll have to make do. Now, come over here so I can pat you down."

"But you don't have — " Percy stopped himself. "Uh, sure." He stood next to the armless statue. Terminus conducted a rigorous mental pat-down.

"You seem to be clean," Terminus decided. "Do you have anything to declare?"

"Yes," Percy said. "I declare this is stupid." Daria snorted.

"Hmph! Probatio tablet: Percy Jackson, Fifth Cohort, son of Neptune. Fine, go. Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto. Fine. Any foreign currency or, ahem, precious metals to declare?"

"No," she muttered.

"Are you sure?" Terminus asked. "Because last time — "

"No!"

"Well, this is a grumpy bunch," said the god. "Quest travelers! Always in a rush. Next, oh Daria Jackson. Hmm, unclaimed like the last thirteen years I suppose. Could be more intimidating without the glasses, but well, it will have to do for now."

"You don't wear your contacts for one day," she grumbled. "And everyone loses their shit."

"Now, let's see — Frank Zhang. Ah! Centurion? Well done, Frank. And that haircut is regulation perfect. I approve! Off you go, then, Centurion Zhang. Do you need any directions today?"

"No. No, I guess not."

"Just down to the BART station," Terminus said anyway. "Change trains at Twelfth Street in Oakland. You want Fruitvale Station. From there, you can walk or take the bus to Alameda."

"You guys don't have a magical BART train or something?" Percy asked.

"Magic trains!" Terminus scoffed. "You'll be wanting your own security lane and a pass to the executive lounge next. Just travel safely, and watch out for Polybotes. Talk about scofflaws — bah! I wish I could throttle him with my bare hands."

"Wait — who?" Percy asked.

Terminus made a straining expression, like he was flexing his nonexistent biceps.  "Just be careful of him. I imagine he can smell a son of Neptune a mile away. Out you go, now. Good luck!"