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He had no idea at the time that Michael actually had plans for them. On their car ride to the hotel, Michael had explained himself.

He had kept a lot of secrets about his Chinese connection from them because he figured with how the world was going that eventually the Seven would inevitably be dragged to China anyway and their advantage was for their enemy not to see them as a big threat. He had not quite calculated Rick into the equation, or the Monkey King for that matter, but he wanted those spying on the Seven’s activities to underestimate their capacity by keeping important information compartmentalized in case one of them were ever to get captured. He believed no one person in the Seven should know everything, though he had involved Peter in some of his research and had hired Semour for the tech. He believed that if the demons (or the government) had a clear idea of their capabilities, they would attack with overkill before the Seven were able to know what they were handling and react—and he most certainly didn’t know it all. Michael wanted them to have time to investigate rather than just rush in. Chen’s insider point of view from the demon’s head was the only reason he had decided to go forward with the raid. But they had needed a buffer, he had explained.

Just like now. They needed a buffer to find out what exactly was going on in that factory before burning the place down.

Semour hacked their system and put in the loop just then. He didn’t know how long it would last, though as the system he was exploring was extremely good. He had a feeling the CIA had provided it—part of that nasty collaboration. His father might have even tested the tech.

His mind rested on that thought. His brain tingled with a shiver down to his fingertips. What if his father had? Semour immediately began to look for a backdoor. His father once told him that he occasionally put in back doors into military programs, just in case the government ever went tyrannical. He called it a failsafe against despotism. Thing was, at the time when Semour and his friends had been verified by the UN as a member of the Holy Seven years ago, his father had given him those back door codes—just in case. After working with the government, his father had learned from experience not to trust them.

So, Semour looked for them.

Chills went even deeper down his spine when he found one.

<< Oh no, >> Semour muttered, his voice echoing in everyone else’s ears.

“Don’t say ‘oh no’,” Rick protested, keeping his wolf eyes peeled for demons as he sniffed the air. “That is bad sound.”

<< Sorry. It is not bad for you. I just realized the CIA definitely provided their tech. >>

<< Duh. >> Tom whispered from his shadow.

<< Ok, I’m on the move, >> Andy said from his location. <<White bait takin’ a stroll… >>

White bait was what Michael called Andy and Tom. They just stood out in China with their red and white hair. A freckle-face would not be able to just sneak into any place full of demons in China, but they could pretend to be sneaking around with the effect to draw some demons out, reduce the numbers of their enemy in an enclosed space.

“Let them be seen,” Rick whispered to Semour.

<< That side of outdoor cameras are still off the loop, >> Semour reported. << No worries. I planned ahead. >>

As soon as the cameras picked up Andy, hardly getting Tom in the shadows, a handful of Chinese-looking men rushed out of the building dressed in cop uniforms.

<< So many cops… >> Daniel murmured. << Funny place to hide a police station. >>

 << Are you being facetious? >> James asked.

<< Yes, >> Daniel dryly replied after a bit of silence.

<< Sorry, sometimes I can’t tell. >>

Andy led the ‘cops’ away on a chase. Tom made sure those ‘cops’ did not have bullets in their guns.

However, Daniel had used that time to slip into the door that barely closed, entering with James and Eddie into the dark parts of the factory while Semour activated the loops to all outside cameras now. Semour delved immediately into the inside cameras, looping them in quick succession.

As Michael was going along the factory tour with Chen and Sun Xiansheng, watching the assembly of parts by the workers within, the other three were in the shadows where several demons-as-humans patrolled the halls and packed up their merchandise. They could tell they were demon and not human from the violent burn in their palms. So much malice exuded from them. And they noticed that they did not speak only Chinese. Some of them spoke a peculiar language none of them recognized.

“So… can we assume all dirty bombs are in here? Or have some already been shipped out?” Eddie whispered to the other two.

Daniel shook his head. “I wouldn’t doubt that some have already been shipped. And I doubt all of those microwaves they are boxing are dirty bombs. The others are like packing material to hide the dangerous one.”

“Do you think they are tracking them?” James hissed under his breath.

<< I’m on it, >> Semour said. << I’ll get the data. >>

<< Just don’t let them catch you at it, >> Rick’s voice came in.

“You just keep that wolf nose to the air,” Daniel whispered back.

<< And not get seen, >> Andy cut in. He sounded breathless, dodging those after him whose cursing Chinese voices carried distantly into their conversation like background music.

<< No problem. >>

 

What Michael saw above from the near office mezzanine was the regular work of a factory. He had seen plenty of them. What he felt, though, was the warm burn of demons prowling and the dry sting of magical beings in captivity. He had seen such things before with Tommy Whitefeather, and in the other world where he and his friends of the Seven had gained their experience as knights, but never to this horrific degree. The immortals enslaving other ‘lesser’ immortals was a peculiar, detestable phenomenon—like mortal slavery only to a demonic degree. His human eyes were masked from the true forms of these captive elvish slaves, but with the burn he could feel these particular beings had been repressed and shackled for decades.

Chen gazed silently about as if he could feel it as well. Magic in some cases became palpable.

But Sun Xiansheng gazed down with a nearly red-eye look. Not red in that he would cry, but like the center of his eyes had started to burn red and it took everything in him not to burst out and kill the owner where he stood.

The owner gazed on him in particular and flinched. He said to Michael, “So, did you hire your translators locally? Or did they come with an agency?”

<< We’re ready whenever you are, >> Daniel said into his communicator.

Lifting his chin at friendly angle, Michael smiled and said, “Oh, neither, really. Chen here is a friend of a friend. A former classmate of his, I believe.” He nodded to Chen who nodded back. “And as for Sun Xiansheng, he’s a local, not attached to any agency.”

“Sun?” the owner stiffened, his eyes quickly shooting to Sun Xiansheng. He seemed to go a little green.

Smiling, Sun Xiansheng revealed monkey teeth in his grin. “Sun Wukong.”

The owner lurched back from him, screaming. If he were not already possessed, he probably would have wet himself.

In that moment, Sun Xiansheng shook off his suit and pulled his staff out of his ear. His armor seemed to magically reappear, the suit itself dropping to the ground like a cast-off skin. The eyes of the workers stared up at him—some with horror, some with hope.

But with that yell from the owner, ‘workers’ of a more demonic sort swarmed in.

Michael quickly drew his sword. No one could see where he got it from, including Chen. It was just as miraculous as Sun Wukong’s staff—and as both of them wielded their weapon, they were just as deadly.

“We need to free the elves!” Michael called to Chen who flustered for a second while not yet choosing a shape for self-defense.

“Elves? What the—? Santa Claus does not own this place!” Chen then elongated into a snake to slip out of his clothes.

Huffing, Michael gestured with his sword to those sitting within the factory, not actually moving from their stations despite the battle in front of them.

Chen the snake slithered out the way from a demon attack, his shape rippling into a wild pheasant to fly off. When he landed among one set of workers, he could finally see they were chained down. These weren’t your ordinary medieval manacles either. They looked like solid bracelets, but they were made out of forged iron—which for most elvish folk was about as dangerous to them as silver was to Rick. It weakened them. But this iron had a weave of magic etched deep in their metal to restrain them. It was an ancient curse and it kept them from running.

Chen popped into human form for a brief second to shout back, “I don’t have anything to break their bonds!”

Nodding, Sun Wukong performed a flip as Chen whipped into a large dog and pounced on a demon who had charged at him, landing on the assembly belt. Sun Wukong smashed his staff down into the conveyor with power.

The building seemed to shake.

But the workers were unable to move. They stared up at the ceiling, breaths shallow, bodies trembling with the possible horror that it might collapse on them.

<< I got the info, >> Semour’s voice came in. << I’m ready for the EMP burst. Do you want to start the countdown? >>

<< Just wait a second, >> Rick said. << I smell someone stinky coming. >>

<< Stinky as in a bad demon, or stinky as in a hobo? >> Daniel laughed from wherever he was.

<< Shut up Swift. Familiar stinky. And not good. >>

No one had time to ask what ‘familiar stinky’ meant.  Everything seemed to come apart at once. Daniel, James, and Eddie had been discovered putting their hot handprints on everything combustible, leaving warm yet not quite burning spots, and they were now battling demons. Andy and Tom had chased the remainder of the ‘cops’ back to the factory, as those demons had turned back the moment the owner discovered Sun Wukong was there. And Semour was calling out, << Tuck away your tech! I gotta activate the EMP! >>

Daniel ripped his earpiece off and crammed it into the silvery pouch in his pocket. The others did a hasty execution of the same thing, though Eddie dropped his and Rick cursed that it was too early when he tore his out of his ear.

<< Five. Four. Three… >>

No one was listening by that time, all of them silently doing the count.

Then came the pulse.

Not that they could feel it, but the lights went out and all electronic noise stopped.

“Bu shi…” breathed someone.

Michael pulled a fire out from the burn in his hand, crisping up the bandage that had covered it. The remains fell to the floor. The yellow white blaze balled up from his palm with licking flames that nearly engulfed his fingers but did not burn him. Two more flames like this lit up below on the factory floor. And then, as if on a timer, all the cardboard boxes and flammables they had touched earlier burst into flames.

“No!” shrieked some of the demons in clear English. Others were shrieking in ancient languages and Chinese.

Tom burst into the room, flipping over and landing on top of the nearest demon who had shouted out in English. Tom screamed, “You lousy red caps!” and punched him in the face.

In the dark, the battle scattered. Some demons tried to put out the fire though more struggled to kill the arsonists. Each of the Seven grabbed their red crystals, making the fire blaze higher.

Sun Wukong was still

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