A Son From Lands Unknown (PJO x Male Reader)

Demon Bird Down Chariots

That was a few days ago. Now, (Y/N) was standing behind the counter of a shack built in record time with both of the Stoll Brothers and several vaults in the back. There was a roll of paper and a pen for each person, ready to write down people's bets. Hanging above them was a sign that read, 'In case of emergency, House Wins,' just so that (Y/N) could point at it when Stolls' plans paid off, so no one could complain when the trio rode off into the sunset without paying out a dime. They would have the prospective better sign a contract (one which none were wanting to read in full, all the better), hand over their bet, confirm the amount that the vendor had written and then be off on their merry way to watch the race. Thus far, they had pulled in a good thirty bets in drachma, but that wasn't where most of the revenue came in from.

Where it had come from was in the form of United States Dollars, transferable for drachma and vice versa at the Camp Store. They had pulled in around $5000 in just USD, so that wasn't even factoring in the amount that he was going to get for whatever drachma was left after the Stolls had been paid out. He had finally reached the end of the line and put the 'No More Bets' sign in the front. By his estimation, there was about ten minutes until the race started, so he got to work.

"Alright, you remember where we agreed to meet after everything's done?" (Y/N) asked.

"Yep. Connor and I move these vaults back to the cabin while you go back to the stadium," Travis repeated. "As soon as those birds start attacking racers, you call All Bets Are Off, put the sign out front, and duck back to the cabin. We break the door lock, hide the vaults until tonight, split the winnings, toss the vaults in the lake, claim someone stole them in the confusion, and ride off into the sunset."

"Perfect," (Y/N) said, peeking his head out of the shack to make sure the coast was clear. "You're clear, everyone's at the track. Be quick as you can. Longer you two are in the stadium, the better."

The Stoll brothers nodded and began hauling the vaults as quickly as they could, also as quietly as they could to avoid attention. (Y/N) ran into the stadium just in time for Tantalus to introduce the racers. (Y/N), having arrived late to the party and the gambling shack having not exactly been condoned, was left in one of the high seats, far away from the action. That would be a problem if he ever went legitimate, he'd need to arrive early to get seats at the finish line.

It was hot and humid out, fog blanketing the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees, fat gray-and-white pigeons, except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound. The Stolls' plan, if (Y/N) had to guess.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Hephaestus's cabin had used the remaining bronze bull, which was completely tame since its head was bashed in, to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes. There were rows of stone steps for the spectators. Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the campers who weren't participating. Mr. D didn't show, likely taking a nap.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate eclair across the table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled like they were all naughty children. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a sweet ride made of bronze and iron, even the horses. They were automatons like the Colchis bulls. It almost surely had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than a fully loaded Maserati.