87A/N
Disclaimer: I don't own Rick Riordan. He is his own man. Unfortunately.
Harvey had a secret. He could do quite a bit more than most people.
Not in the 'I'm really good at math' kind of way, but more in the 'I can control plants' kind of way. For most of his life, Harvey had been able to control vines, in particular. It wasn't exactly luck that his little alcove in the Underground was filled with fruit. Fruit that just so happens to grow on vines. It wasn't sleight of hand that kept his flask full of liquor. It wasn't purely New York indifference that kept his general anonymity. It probably wasn't the old lady that trained his family of cats to care for an infant.
He was special, that much was obvious.
How special, though? He was hoping the goat-man might have a few more answers.
However first, the Universe seemed to be driving him into a corner. He never had a pet dog, and his only interaction with one was the old, blind English Greyhound that hung around for handouts in Central Park. The flea-ridden mutt bit him on his seventh birthday.
Harvey grew up with cats, for fuck's sake, and it seemed he would never have a positive interaction with dogs if the goddamn Hellhounds surrounding him was any indication.
Vines burst from the ground around the goat-man and twelve year-old, creating a circular, tangled weave shield of foliage as the demon-dogs charged.
"Fuck!" The goat-man cried. "Why'd you trap us in here?!"
Harvey ignored his comrade-in-ambush, instead focusing on the ground in front of him. Slowly; ever so slowly, a cluster of grapes started to form and grow in front of him.
"Bro, these things are carnivores. They don't eat fruit."
"They'll be eating doom when I'm done with them."
The goat-man looked down at him. "You don't have any friends, do you?"
"Fuck you, I totally have friends."
"What are they, cartoon characters?"
"I have cats."
"That explains it."
"What, and dogs are better? Need I remind you that there are quite a lot of those trying to kill us right now." Harvey pointed out, waving to the Hellhounds that were trying to tear through his ever-growing wall of vines. That particular genus was one of his favorites; the Wisteria Sinensis, a flowering, tree-like vine that was thick, sturdy, and fast growing.
"They're Hellhounds, they don't count. They're literally from Tartarus."
"The hell's a Tartarus?"
"The unholy spawn of the beginning of the universe. An entity that symbolizes all unearthly suffering and hatred, which continuously births the horrors that inspire children to behave at night, grown men to weep in fear, and the dead to rise - just to flee the ground they came from and its closeness to their eternal torment."
Harvey stared at the goat-man before reaching down to pluck the cluster of grapes off the ground as gently as possible, then said, "I'm way too sober for this shit," and flung a grape through a hole in the weave.
The berry - yes, grapes are technically berries - flew true, smacking one of the hounds in its eye, and erupting in a sizable explosion that didn't befit the delivery method.
Harvey was a dumpster baby in the Big Apple, meaning that his education was only one step higher than dumpster babies from Florida, and even then, Floridian dumpster babies were probably more well versed Bath Salts, where Harvey prided himself on his alcohol knowledge. He worked with enough Underground bars and speakeasies to understand the brewing process to multiple different beverages.
He knew how yeast ate the sugar within grape juice, producing ethanol and CO2, creating wine. He knew how to monitor the fermentation process to create a well rounded flavor profile. He knew which variety of grape would produce the most yeast on their skin, and which would cast the most unique flavor tones. He knew the precise effects that specific subspecies of yeast could cause in a brew, and the exact molecular measurements needed to reproduce those effects.
With his abilities, though, he knew how to manipulate all of that in such a way that could ferment a single grape within seconds of being grown, housing yeast that produce many times more CO2 than ethanol, and having a skin that was strong enough to contain it until sufficient force was applied.
Basically, Harvey turned a grape into a bomb.
"That doesn't make sense." The goat-man stated dumbly after a moment. "How did you weaponize grapes?"
"Fuck you, that's how."
"Hey, not my fault you don't have any friends. Maybe if you stopped blowing up fruit, people would like you."
Next to his little grape vine, he produced another, however this time a strawberry grew in his hands as he held it.
Harvey held up the strawberry for the goat-man to see, then tossed it over the wall of vines. They both watched through the holes in the wall as three of the attacking hounds were shredded via strawberry seed frag grenade.
The twelve year-old let the unspoken threat hang in the air as he stared the other in the eyes.
"There's holes in that wall, you know. We aren't safe from the seeds, twerp."
"I can make watermelons too. You want me to shove one up your ass, goat-man?"
The goat-man blinked and pursed his lips. "No need to get all testy about it. I'm sure you can make friends with somebody at camp."
"Alright, screw this." Immediately, cantaloupes started forming on the upper outer wall of their vine sanctuary, all the while said vine walls started to thicken and weave closer together until they couldn't see through it.
"What are you-" the goat-man's next words never reached Harvey's ears as a massive explosion rippled through the air, tearing at their shelter and rumbling the Earth around them.
Harvey slowly started loosening the remains of his vine wall, having the thick wooden structure recede back into the ground - a ground that, outside of the wall's protection, was now little more than a large crater surrounding a circular, ten foot diameter, plain of grass where Harvey and the goat-man had been standing.
"Such a waste of perfectly good grass."
"I should have let you get eaten in the sewer."
As the pair crested the hill towards whatever this camp was, they were met with the sight of a full phalanx, thirty or so teenagers strong. Grecian shields locked in formation with spears poking out of the cracks.
The two groups stared at each other for a moment before Harvey pulled out his flask and took a swig.
One of the teenagers stepped forward, out of the shield wall. "Tobias? What were all those explosions? Are we under attack?"
The goat-man waved. "Hey Luke! No, no, we dealt with it. And look! I brought a kid with me who's in desperate need of human friendship!"
Luke blinked. "Human friendship?" He asked, sheathing his sword as the child soldiers behind him groaned in disappointment and began to disperse back the way they came, seeming to forget completely about the explosions and how they were caused at all.
"I have cats. Goat-man here seems to think that means I'm lonely or something." He drank again from his flask.
The older teen snorted and waved for Harvey to start following him. "Well, we're always happy for new campers. Tobias, why don't you go check in with the Council. I'll take this one to the big house and talk to Chiron."
"Roger roger!" the goat-man saluted dramatically and began galloping off into the woods.
"Yeah." Harvey began slowly, watching the goat-man leave him behind without a second thought. "So this is a camp for child soldiers that fight monsters, or some crap, right?"
Luke's step faltered, but he caught himself and kept moving as if nothing happened. "I mean, sure, I guess you could look at it like that. Most are in it for the glory, or survival though."
"Glory?" The twelve year-old asked as they broke the treeline into camp, then promptly halted in his tracks to see a vastly different terrain from what he was expecting. Long Island wasn't exactly flat, but it didn't have full-on mountains either. At least, he didn't think that until now.
He stood atop what could only be called a cliff, looking down at a small volcano with rock climbing foot and handholds bolted into it. Further out, a bit closer to the water, there was a long line of buildings, surrounding a central courtyard, and a colosseum. All of which he could spot campers partaking in some dangerous activity or other. Including the volcano rockwall.
Off to his left, though, up on the cliff he was still standing on was a relatively normal ranch style house with a wraparound porch. This was the house that Luke was leading him to.
Wasn't this supposed to be a strawberry farm?
"Cool view, huh?"
Harvey looked over to see Luke with a smug smile tugging at his lips, watching him as he took in the sight of camp for the first time.
He took a slow sip from his flask. "I'm pretty sure we were only like, forty feet above sea level when we met. How are we so high up right now?"
The older teen shrugged. "The gods like to mess with reality. Don't let it get to you."
"Huh."
"So how did Tobias find you?"
"Goat-man?"
Luke chuckled. "The satyr, yeah. To be honest, none of us really expected to see him again. There was a running bet on how he would die."
Harvey blinked. "That's a bit morbid." He pulled out a hundred dollar bill from his coat and gave it to the older teen. "Hundred on getting eaten."
Luke sputtered into full blown laughter before taking the bill. "I'll add it to the pot. I take it there's a story there?"
The twelve year-old shrugged. "He was captured by a witch in the Manhattan sewers and was going to get eaten. Found him, cut him loose, and we left."
"Wait, you found him?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Well, that means he sucks at his job, which isn't really a surprise. Though, what were you doing in the sewers?"
"Looking for the witch."
Luke stopped walking and peered at the younger. "Why?"
He shrugged. Again. Wow, his shoulders were getting a workout. "She's a witch, I have powers. Figured she might know what was up with that."
"So you decided to free the crazy satyr instead of talking to the witch? Didn't anyone teach you stranger-danger, kid?"
"I was raised by stray cats, and in my defense, I was drunk." He paused. "Still drunk." He amended, raising his flask to his lips.
Luke stared at him for a solid ten seconds before he broke eye contact and walked back towards the Big House. "I'm going to forget we had this conversation. My limited sanity can't really take it."
"Understandable." He replied amenably, and continued the trek at his side.
Under two minutes later, Harvey was following Luke through the front door, only to see a fat guy in a purple toga playing a half horse, half man in a board game of some kind. Due to the obscenities coming from the fat guy's mouth, Harvey assumed he was losing to the horse-man.
"Chiron, Tobias brought in a new camper." Luke called out, after waiting for the string of curse words to cease, of course.
The horse man turned towards the pre-teen and young adult, the residue of a smug smile quickly morphing into a legitimately happy one. "Tobias is alive then? Good, I was worried about that one." He got up and approached the duo at the door, facing Harvey. "Hello there. I'm Chiron. What might your name be?"
"Sir Pollux Raphael Guiche the Third."
The fat guy snorted, spraying a little Diet Coke out his nose when trying to take a sip.
"An alias, then?" Chiron asked, tilting his head slightly. "You can trust us here, child. You're safe while in the borders of this camp."
"Neat." He said, popping the 't,' and sipped on his flask, which the horse-man's eyes zeroed in on.
The horse-man's eyes flicked towards Dionysus, then back to the flask. "I'm afraid alcohol is prohibited on the premises."
"Don't worry, I wasn't gonna share."
"Travis and Connor might convince you otherwise." Luke spoke up with a grin.
"Can they pay for it? My shit's quality."
"There will be no distribution of alcohol in camp." The horse-man said with finality.
Harvey ignored that. "Who are you, Woodrow Wilson?"
The fat man raised a hand, grin splitting his face as he watched the byplay happening in front of him. "Actually, it was Congress that passed Prohibition. Good ol' Woody tried to veto that horrible decision."
"I thought you blamed your father for that?" The horse-man asked, only to get an uncaring shrug in response. "Regardless, no. I simply stand by the fact that children should not be drinking."
"Good for you. Stand up for what you believe in." Harvey nodded, raised his flask in cheers and took a swig.
The horse-man frowned down at him with a look that screamed 'disappointed father.'
"Just drop it, Chiron. You won't be able to stop him anyway." The fat man interjected again.
"And why's that?"
The fat man just grinned wider, and waved his hand towards Harvey, making a shining, bronze medallion appear over his head. "Because he's one of mine."
Luke dropped to a knee. "Hail… uh Sir Plucky Quiche the Third? Son of Dionysus."
"Yes, yes. Thank you Lucy. You can go back to whatever it was you were doing."
"Uh, right." The older teen turned to Harvey. "They'll get you squared away. Don't worry, this place is great!" He finished with a smile and jogged out of the building.
The twelve year-old looked between the horse-man, and the fat guy who apparently thought he owned Harvey, then downed what was left in his flask.
"You know how to play Pinochle, kid?"
"I'm afraid I'm not that cultured."
"Well, pull up a seat. You're going to help your old man win his money back."
A/N
And that's another.
Discord link is in the first chapter. Go join it, you fools.