“What happened to our spell-cloaking?” I said.
“Ah! It’s possible I broke its effectiveness when I summoned my weapon through the boundaries,” Guan Yu declared, without a hint of shame for his actions. “The Green Dragon Crescent Blade is mighty indeed.”
If I pushed on my eyes any harder they were going to pop out the back of my head. “So . . . we were visible this entire time.”
“I also could have broken the concealment,” Nezha added in a helpful voice. “I did travel from the waiting room of Hell directly to Earth.”
Erlang Shen threw his head back and howled with laughter. He nearly toppled over before Nezha caught him by the chains and righted him.
The guard was close enough to hear the squawking of his radio. “Central, we have a possible four-eighty-two,” he whispered into his shoulder. As he looked up, his expression changed from suspicion into a neutral smile.
“Hi folks,” he said. “Do you care to explain—”
“Family visit,” I said.
“Student film,” Quentin said at the exact same time.
The guard glanced back and forth between us. I put up a finger to say let me handle this. Quentin crossed his arms in a huff. He liked being the one to make up stories.
“A student film, about a family visit,” I said. “That’s why some of us are dressed weird.”
“And who is us, exactly?” the guard said.
“Granddad,” I s
aid, grabbing the Great White Planet and shoving him forward. The old god looked supremely offended at my rough treatment, but it wasn’t like he could dock me personal points on the mandate.
“My uncle from the country,” I said, pointing at Guan Yu, whose reflexive beard-stroking added a fitting air. I waved at Nezha holding up Erlang Shen. “My cousins. Also from the country.”
Erlang Shen snickered at my lack of improv skills, but Nezha gave me an earnest thumbs-up of encouragement.
“And, uh, my siblings,” I said for Quentin and Guanyin combined. Anyone who was dressed in modern clothing was not from the country and Guanyin almost always blended in flawlessly. “They’re helping with a movie I’m making about . . . the dichotomy between traditional Asian values and modern sensibilities. Hence the fashion divide.”
The guard nodded in understanding. “Well, thank you for that explanation,” he said. “You’re all detained until the police get here.” He pulled out a pencil and notepad.
“I said it was a student film! You can’t outlaw a student film!”
The guard pointed at Guan Yu with the eraser end. “He’s carrying a weapon. We have strict rules for props and cosplay around campus. Not to mention there’s a giant hole in the lawn.”
“That hole,” I sputtered, “is CGI.”
“Don’t even think about running, unless you want this upgraded to felony vandalism. I need each of your names. You can start with ‘Granddad’ if you want.”
A giant paw came down on my shoulder. “I can see you’re in distress, Shouhushen,” Guan Yu said. “Allow me to assist!”
The guard was startled by the sudden motion of Guan Yu’s great bulk. “Sir, step back now,” he said. The guard dropped his writing implements and reached behind his waist for possibly pepper spray, a Taser, or, god forbid, a gun.
“Forget!” Guan Yu bellowed. A tiny arc of lightning sprouted from his free hand and crawled over the stunned guard’s skull, knocking his cap off and leaving a trail of soot over his bald head. The poor man’s eyes rolled toward the sky, and he collapsed on the grass.
“There,” Guan Yu said proudly. “He won’t remember the last month or so.”
“A month?” I shrieked. Guanyin’s work on Ax had been surgical down to the second.
“Well, hopefully that long,” Guan Yu said. “I admit I’m a little rusty.”
A boy and a girl sitting on a bench across the courtyard had sprung to their feet and were yelling in approval of what they’d seen. They might not have understood exactly what had happened, but they appreciated figures of authority getting dunked on. Their followers had to see this.
I gestured toward our audience. “You—you Earth noobs understand why this situation is bad, right?”