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Once Becky was safely in the hands of True North and Kimber had done all she needed to do at her old homestead, Young Freedom's members young and old crowded aboard the regional jet flight from Thunder Bay to Detroit. Though Sharl could easily have emailed himself straight to the DPD mainframe and searched as he would, he made a point to stay on the plane with his colleagues. He was acutely aware of how alone he was out here, so far from the few people in Freedom City he did know, and the last thing he wanted to do was alienate the people who were supposed to be on his team. He was here to be part of the real world, to make connections and alliances that would give him the tools he needed to protect Tronik; hell, he was here to have adventures in this wide-open alien world! This wasn't the time to get into stupid arguments with his friends.

So while the others socialized, he took the opportunity to crack open his laptop to connect to the local satellite network (carefully using a tightly-focused IR signal that wouldn't interfere with the plane's own navigation) to research their target: Koshiro McMillan of Detroit, Michigan, and the city itself in the process. Detroit had once been a center of petroleum-based industry that had fallen on hard times, and looking at his laptop screen, it looked like things hadn't gotten any better. Freedom City was sparse enough, but a city like Freedom that had lost so many of its people was a strange thought to contemplate. There must be so much to explore! When his search came up with something, or rather, something that was nothing, Sharl said "Hmm...it says Koshiro McMillan's record has been sealed by the order of a judge. So I don't know. What kind of things would cause someone to be held in a juvenile detention facility?" he asked, pointing to the address on his computer that matched where they'd been told to go.

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"I...do not know," Indira admitted, looking at the screen as best she could without moving in a way humans really couldn't. How did humans put up with bones? "I am perhaps not as familiar with your legal system as I could be." She frowned, brow furrowing as she looked at the screen and its refusal to offer up answers. "'Juvenile' is...ah, yes. " she translated - for her own benefit, apparently - into Hindi. "I assume it is a place you send prisoners too young to go to a normal prison?"

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Kimber nodded in confirmation. "Yep, you got it." The phantasm had demonstrated an ability to make herself look like a normal, living person when they group had reached the airport, but it became clear that this was only an illusion when she accidentally stuck one of her hands through the metal detector's wall while gesturing enthusiastically. Luckily, it had only been for a moment, and anyone who noticed had been convinced that their eyes were simply playing tricks on them.

More inconvenient was the way sunlight revealed her translucent blue form, problematic in the well lit cabin of the plane. Instead, she'd slipped through the hull into the luggage compartment when the opportunity had presented itself and spent the trip amusing herself by imagining what was in each of the suitcases and parcels. As sunset arrived, she'd floated up into the cabin and taken her seat, hovering just over the cushion convincingly, obviously much happier to be with the rest of the students than on her own.

"They're supposed to be for reform, too," she elaborated. "Maybe he's changed his ways and turned over a new leaf! Or he could have been accused of a crime his didn't commit!" Kimber seemed excited by either prospect. "He wouldn't been going to Claremont if he was really a bad apple, right?"

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Corbin had been, well, "almost dozing" for a fair bit of the fight. But he slowly opened his eyes at the questioning now taking place. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before rumbling out a reply.

"Yeah. Idea is, someone goes there because they're young enough there's hope they'll turn around. Anyways, if this guy went in and is back out, he's not done anything major. Try not to introduce yourselves by saying "what got you into juvie, Koshiro?". If he wants to tell us, he will. If he doesn't, he doesn't. I'd wager he didn't do worse than a misdemeanor or some such. Kimber's right; him coming with us is a chance for him to start over. Let's help give him that."

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Detroit was an eerie city for Sharl, a strangely quiet version of Freedom City that lacked that city's crowded airwaves and wireless networks. Still, after Thunder Bay and the alien forest, the streets were practically bustling. He kept a tight grip on his laptop case as he left the plane at Detroit Metro, mindful of how much he needed his projector hereabouts. In darkness, lit only by flickering streetlights overhead, the city wasn't a pleasant place to look at: he could hear distant sirens and see panhandlers in an alley near the airport's gate, taking advantage of the wealthier people who flew into the city to try and make a little money. His stomach churned at the sight: how could even this impoverished society allow its members to live so poorly?

"We should give that man some money..." he murmured to no one in particular, looking down the sidewalk at the bearded man with the cardboard sign. Looking around, he added, "I don't see any vehicles large enough for all of us. Shall we split up and take two taxis?"

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Indira looked around, seemingly unfazed by the lighting conditions - though she kept doing the black-eyed thing when she thought no one was looking. "I am sorry that I have no money to give," she said in reply to the rhetorical statement, putting her hands into pockets that she'd made out of...well, out of herself. "At least, I have no money in American dollars; I may have some rupees, but I am not certain they would do the homeless much good. I am afraid they would also not be very useful in paying for a taxi...I am too used to riding the train, or running along rooftops."

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The normally soft-spoken telepath, not someone that could be accused of wordiness on a good day, was for all intents and purposes silent since she left the forest, Becky and True North behind. She didn't spend this flight trying to engage the others in conversation and effectively withdrew from the others, it was obvious even to those that hadn't known Eve for a while that she was keeping the world at a distance.

That resolve to keep the world at a distance cracked when Sharl pointed out the panhandler. The young Martel set her bags down near the other teens and strode down the sidewalk, fished a few bills out of her wallet and handed them to the bearded man with the cardboard sign.

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"Bless you!" exclaimed the panhandler, a big smile on his face. He was missing some teeth and smelled like he hadn't had a bath in quite some time, but he was obviously happy for what he'd gotten from the pretty girl. His black beard was streaked with white and yellow, the first from age (given his weather-beaten, wrinkled face) and the second from who knew what. He winked at her, his eyes yellow in the half-shadow of the alley. "Detroit welcomes you, pretty lady. Go back to your friends now, yassuh."

Out in the taxi stand, with a little sigh Sharl headed over to the ATM. "I don't actually have pockets...I'll get some money from Miss A, and that'll pay for the taxi ride for all of us." He could just have wired himself there, of course, but he was trying to fit in with his friends these days. "I'd suggest myself, Eve, and Indira in the first car, and Corbin and Kimber in the second? That way the trip is, uh, balanced and such..."

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"Is this about the *kzzzsh* thing?" Kimber asked Sharl, imitating the sound of static and shaking her hands back and forth expressively. "'Cause that only happens when I'm invisible, honest! You don't even have to worry about freezing to death if I forget I'm making it cold around me!" the ghost added in a chipper tone, skipping slightly with her steps even as she pretended to need to walk rather than float, sending chestnut hair bouncing across her shoulder blades. "Oh, uh, not that anyone else does, I mean. I'll concentrate really hard on it, promise!" She raised one hand while placing the other over her chest earnestly. "Probably a good idea to have, y'know, somebody solid in each car, though, I guess."

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"That, and if I take up too much room, it doesn't really squeeze you out."

Coming from a teenager the size of some NFL players, that was a serious consideration. Corbin gave Kimber a small smile.

"Besides. I don't get cold that easily these days. So yeah, Sharl's got a good setup for us. It's fine by me."

He glanced towards the panhandler, but paid him little heed; he carried no cash on a trip, and frankly wasn't a huge fan of handing money out that might end up used on less-critical items. He watched Eve, mostly concerned about how utterly silent she'd been. He was worried that she'd draw too far into herself.

'Heaven help whoever tries to mug her, though.'

Adjusting his bag a bit, he looks to the others.

"Hey Sharl, we have an address for this guy yet?"

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"The Wayne County Juvenile Detention Facility," said Sharl as he withdrew money from the machine. "At 1326 Saint Antoine Street in Detroit." They were already in that city, of course, but Sharl didn't really get the bizarre gaps between cities that were so much a fact of life on Earth. "And that's the idea," he added to Kimber, not wanting to admit how unsettled he still was by whatever the hell it was the chipper girl was. "Out of all of us, Corbin and Eve can pass for regular people the most easily. If there's an emergency in either car, that's the most efficient way to make sure they can keep the police from getting suspicious." He'd acclimatize himself with Kimber later, when they weren't worrying about this other kid.

Eventually, once Eve was back from being a Good Samaritan, they did indeed get their two taxicabs (both driven by friendly turbaned drivers who seemed interested in keeping pace with each other for more money) and got on the road for the drive to the Detention Facility. For all the bad things they'd heard about Detroit, compared to some of the places they'd all been, it wasn't that bad: even at night, Detroit near the airport was far better than the less pleasant parts of Mumbai or the Fens back in Freedom City, much less Earth-EZ01, and it was sufficiently novel for the out-of-towners that the obviously depressed city streets could certainly have been worse. "Thanks for what you did back there," Sharl commented to Eve as they went. "I don't understand this place," he admitted. "I don't understand how even the wealth in this society can be just...held in the hands of a few places when there are so many others who really need it. Mumbai was in a different nation-state, but this is right in America," he said as the cab-driver told off a man who'd tried to wash their windows at a red light. "It's good to know that the problem isn't the people."

Despite the blight that had afflicted much of the city, the detention center turned out to be far less depressing than it might have been: it was a new building that might have been an upscale urban high school, if not for the bars on the windows. (Come to think of it, even that wouldn't have been out of place.) Near the university and close by the interstate, it didn't look much like a juvenile jail at all. Once everyone had caught back up with each other and their taxi drivers paid off handsomely for the smooth ride, Sharl looked up at the well-lit building before snapping his fingers. Thinking of Miss A, he said, "Wait a minute...we're teenagers. This society is not going to hand someone in a prison over to juveniles. Can one of you be an adult?" he asked curiously of the others.

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"I am afraid I can only take the one human form," Indira regretted aloud, studying the detention center with great curiosity. "The shape is very easy, but color is much harder - or impossible, I suppose; it is not a natural ability. I cannot change my own scent, either."

She frowned down at herself, looking at her usual tank top and khakis. "I could probably make myself look older, with clothing, hairstyle, and makeup. But I do not know how well that would work."

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"Oh! Oh! I can do that!" Kimber enthused, hopping reflexively and raising her hand into the air. Quickly looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, the phantom shook her wrists and let out a breath she technically hadn't been holding in the first place. Her entire form rippled with faint blue light and moments later a version of Kimber somewhere in her mid-thirties stod before them, in the same leather jacket and jeans but taller and with laugh lines creasing her face. "Hmm..." Considering for a moment, she rippled again, now wearing a respectable business suit with conspicuous shoulder pads, while her chestnut hair was abruptly tied back in a bun. Evidently not yet satisfied, she changed once more, her features taking on a vaguely familiar appearance. It took a moment to realize that she'd combined elements of Indira's human form and from the Canadian heroine they'd briefly met, Verglas. "There we go!" she grinned broadly, obviously pleased for the opportunity to show off a little. "Awesome, right?"

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Corbin looked a bit uncomfortable at the deception. More than once, he glanced toward the detention center, hoping no one noticed them.

"Do we have to do it like this? I mean, surely we can just give them the situation and that should be enough, right? Though...crud. I'm not 18 yet. If the rest of you think this is the best way, I'll go along with it."

Shaking his head, he falls silent, and resolves to speak little on their way in, and stay toward the back of the group.

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"Yes," the short white-haired teen quietly agreed. "But it should be unnecessary; it is highly unlikely Headmaster Summers would put us in a situation where we would have to lie to or deceive the local authorities." Eve brushed a hand through her hair and cast a glance at the new students, "A case could be made if we were protecting someone or protecting the police from something, but we are not. We are simply here to pick up another student."

Eve smiled faintly at Kimber, "Still, keep the form for the moment. We will try it without deception, but it does not hurt to be prepared." The telepath paused then added, "Incidentally, practicing your abilities in full view outside a public building is, perhaps, not the wisest course of action."

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Despite all their precautions, the people at the detention center weren't interested in the YF kids either way. When Corbin and Eve (as the oldest kids) showed the paperwork with the instructions from Freedom City to pick up one Koshiro McMillan, the beefy guard behind the front desk barely glanced up. "Mmhmm. Claremont welcoming party. Been expecting you." She did raise her head enough to note there was an adult in the group, then left her partner behind the desk while she picked up a big jangly keyring and led the Claremont group through security. It was after hours and things were quiet, and "Lurleen" seemed more bored by her job than anything else.

"Wondered when someone was going to pick up McMillan," she commented. "We don't get a lot of supers in Detroit. I think he's the first we've had in here." They headed down a visitors corridor adorned with what were clearly homemade murals of hard-working kids cleaning up graffiti and picking up trash, all of them with the looks of smiling hard work that teenagers only had on propaganda murals. Before they hit the exit processing room, they had to go through a more heavy security: Though Sharl was able to talk his way out of going through the metal detectors thanks to his ID from Miss A, he did get stuck getting patted down, and with a slightly nervous smile he said, "This'll just be a minute, I guess? See you guys in there."

And with that, as Sharl headed over into the other room, the Claremont kids were escorted into a large room full of people, the exit processing room for Wayne County where they'd be meeting Koshiro McMillan.

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The exit processing room wasn't much to look at, a window where departing inmates could claim their possessions, manned by a bored-looking facility employee, a station for processing paperwork, and some benches for those waiting to claim their kids. There was a guard on the exit door, but other than the Claremont students, only one other bench in the room was occupied at this hour. Two Japanese women, one elderly and one closer to middle age, sat in the middle of their bench, flanked by a pair of young teenage girls who looked as alike as a pair of peas in a pod. None of them looked very happy to be there, and it seemed as though they had been waiting awhile. Next to the bench was an assortment of luggage, a couple of old beat-up suitcases, some cardboard boxes, and a camo-colored backpack stuffed full enough that the zippers strained.

As soon as the Claremont kids came in, all eyes in the room were on them. Perhaps no one here knew exactly who and what they were, but everyone was most certainly wondering.

____

Though his stomach was jumping with nerves, Koshiro kept his head up and his walk just shy of a swagger as he was taken from his room down to Processing for the last time. If he'd learned anything from his time inside, it was that you never let anybody see you sweat, especially not people who might be able to kick your ass. He didn't know anything about these people he was supposed to be meeting except that they were going to haul him off to some secure training facility in Freedom City. The headmaster had flown out a couple weeks ago to interview him, and he was definitely a hardass. Claremont was probably some kind of military academy where the cadets wore uniforms to bed and pissed in cadence, but it was still better than another day in juvie. Especially since once he had some training in how to use his powers, he figured he wouldn't have to hang around if he didn't want to.

Koshiro did a brief double-take upon walking into the room to see his family there. He'd been told that he'd have some of his stuff to take along with him, but he had figured someone was going to pick it up, not that Mom and Grandma and the girls would be there. It was way too late for them to be out traveling, how the hell were they supposed to get home? He could only spare them a quick look, though, before he had to focus on the group from Claremont. He was surprised to realize they were mostly kids, and kids in street clothes at that. He gave them a brief upnod of acknowledgement, but waited for someone else to start talking.

____

In the processing room, the teens only had to wait a couple of minutes before their newest recruit stalked in, flanked by a pair of guards. Koshiro McMillan was a fairly tall Japanese teenager, though nowhere near the size of, say, Corbin, with shaggy hair that looked to be just growing out of a crew-cut. Despite the unfortunate haircut and baggy green jumpsuit, he was quite good-looking, in a sort of rangy, sullen way. There was a definite family resemblance between him and the women on the bench, who were all watching the introductions with anticipation and nerves.

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Indira'd had relatively few problems going through the metal detectors - she'd been given some token training in keeping her body's conductivity down (well, relatively down, anyway, for a big lump of metal; she could at least push it further down toward 'meat' conductivity), and if she could get through airport security with little hassle, she could get through a budget-starved Detroit prison version. She was just glad they didn't have an x-ray machine.

When Koshiro entered the room she was standing with the rest of the Claremont bunch, taking in the prison exit room experience. When nobody else seemed to be saying anything she stepped forward, putting on her best smile. "Hello - you must be Koshiro. I am Indira Singh; it is good to meet you."

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Kimber ducked her head in between her outrageous shoulder pads at Eve's gentle rebuke, he mannerisms unchanged despite her adopted appearance. "Ah heh... sorry. Still used to living in an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods. Well, not living, I guess..." she corrected herself, quickly distracted from her chagrined embarrassment by the consideration of language as it applied to her undead existence.

Fortunately, nothing about her spectral presence set off the metal detector, which was good, since she wouldn't have fared well in the event of a pat-down. She seemed terribly interested in everything around her, from the spartan building to the waiting family, looking about with an innocent curiosity that didn't do much to sell her illusion. "Ah, yes! Mr. McMillan!" she greeted with what sounded suspiciously like a Thunder Bay native's poor impression of a stuffy, vaguely British accent, rolling her Rs and emphasizing hard syllables. "Very pleased to meet you. We are from the Claremont Academy, naturally!"

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"Good evening Ms. McMillan," the petite telepath said in her soft French-accepted soprano, nodding a greeting at Koshiro's mother and favoring his twin sisters (Suzu and Michelle were the names in the file, she recalled) with a brief smile. Eve quickly glanced over the luggage, making a note to call a proper car service when they were ready to depart; there was far too much luggage to fit into a pair of taxis.

"I am Eve and this is Corbin," she gestured at the massively built youth, "seniors at the Claremont Academy. I suspect you may have a lot of questions, about us and about the school and we will answer what we can."

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Corbin moved forward with a reassuring smile on his face to stand beside Eve. When she introduced him, he leaned forward and offered his hand to each of the women at the table.

"Hello, nice to meet you."

He stepped back to let Eve do the bulk of the "intro talk". It would do her good to think about something else. He moved to "keep an eye" on the newer additions to the team.

When Koshiro walked in, Corbin gave him a moment to get his bearings before walking forward with a smile on his face and his hand held out.

"Hi, nice to meet you. My name's Corbin."

It ought to be pretty clear to Koshiro this guy wasn't faking it; despite the fact they were in a juvenile detention center, he seemed to harbor no real ill will, and was exuding "big friendly farmer kid" vibes.

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The women stood up from their bench as Eve approached them, watching her and the rest of the group with polite wariness. After a moment, the younger girls followed suit, though one was apparently fixated on Corbin, either in admiration or simple awe. The younger girls were wearing new clothes, of the inexpensive back-to-school variety, while the women wore clothes that had obviously seen plenty of use, for all they were impeccably clean. "I am Kameyo, and this is my mother Natsumi," the younger woman said politely. "My daughters, Suzu and Michelle. Please, if you could tell us what's going to happen to Koshiro, we would appreciate it. He will be taken care of, won't he? Your school does not tolerate... fighting, like the sort on the news from Freedom City?"

On the other side of the room, Koshiro kept on eye on his family and the short girl, but most of his attention was focused on the huge guy right in front of him. The Indian chick was cute enough, and the teacher looked like a spaz, but this was where the threat was most likely to be, if there was one. He kept his hands at his sides, tilting his head up the minimum distance necessary to look Corbin in the face. "Koshiro," he said shortly. "People call me K.G. You're the group Summers sent?"

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Around that time, a somewhat irritable Sharl was ushered into the room in the company of two guards, the electronic teenager keeping a death grip on the laptop case over his shoulder. "...not any reason to turn it off," he was saying, not wanting to interrupt the team's first meeting with the new student. "The running processes are part of my work." Though he shot a glance at Koshiro, sizing him up and judging him as a potential classmate, he was more focused on making sure the guards didn't try and take his laptop again: suddenly having to project from whatever primitive systems were hereabouts would surely blow everyone's cover. "It's just a regular laptop. If it had a bomb in it, it would already have exploded."

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Corbin was a bit surprised at the refusal of a handshake, but he doesn't let it phase him. The hand falls to his side, and his friendly smile continues.

"Well K.G., that's right. Headmaster Summers sent us; I think he wanted us to help you get used to-"

And then Sharl barged in, and almost immediately called out how he would have detonated a bomb already if he had one. An expression of intense frustration, mixed with a bit of long-suffering, crossed Corbin's face as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"K.G., can you give me a moment? Thanks."

With that, Corbin strode over to Sharl and spoke to him in a harsh whisper.

"Look. You know you need that laptop, and I know. But they don't. They're following procedure; this is, in the end, something of a prison. Please try not to antagonize them. Especially with talk about bombs. Okay?"

'It's like...ugh. I don't even have a point of comparison beyond "frustrating".'

Corbin turned with a forced smile as he faced the staff.

"Sorry about that. My classmate can get a bit sensitive about his personal belongs sometimes. Please don't take it personally."

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Eve inwardly winced as Sharl displayed his uncanny (and nigh superheroic) ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong place, but she deliberately ignored it for now. "It is a pleasure, and rare opportunity, to meet the family of a new student," Eve said with a smile, her tone sincere.

Eve glanced at Koshiro for a moment before returning her attention to his mother. "He will be taken care of, Ms. McMillan; Claremont is more than just a school for people in your son's situation, but it is also a college prep school and has some of the finest minds on the teaching staff."

"As for... fighting," Eve frowned slightly; she wasn't sure how she could phrase this without running the risk of frightening his mother, but she decided to err on the side of honesty. "It is not encouraged. But you must understand that we are taught how to control and use our abilities in way that is morally and ethically right." The young Frenchwoman shrugged, "It's hard to learn to do the right thing and ignore people in need."

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