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Inside the building they found a grim scene of carnage, the hot-burning fire having burned the contents of Summers' office nearly to ashes. Whatever secrets and treasures had once been held in this place were now so much black and red ash, the fire having left most things not even recognizable. The only exception were the bones, if that's what you could call them: an eerie pile of metal that was clearly in the general shape of a human skeleton. It had fallen about where they'd last seen Summers' body, though of course it was hard to judge that given all the carnage and transformation that had happened in this place in the last few minutes. It wasn't hard to guess what an outsider would make of this place, or their story if they'd told it: Young Freedom had murdered Summers and burned down his office to cover their tracks! But there was that metal skull as a counterargument, staring up with empty grey eye sockets.

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"Yeah, well, what can I say, I'm pretty much amazing." Darren floated on back up to the office, phone in hand, and nodded to no one as he watched the water curl and recede back out of the building. With a snap, the crystallization reverted, returning to the building back to normal, minus the partially collapsed upper story. He held his phone near his bicep and wriggled his fingers, summoning up a little diamond holster to keep it secure, then hovered over to the office to meet Morgan and Giang.

Darren pointed a transparent finger down at Summers' remains. "Well, that's definitely a robot. We can't, like, rule out android decoy, but if this isn't the real Summers, where is he?" He waved his hand at Morgan. "You're, like, a techno-wizard or something, right? Can you hack its brain?"

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Crow hopped over the wall, ashes kicking up underneath his boots as he landed. The mask's powerful veil-piercing runes scanned across the room; picking up what he expected. Nothing. Heat signatures here and there - embers still refusing to die out even under the water barrage, but that was no surprise. At Darren's question, he just gave him a silent look; and started moving.

Stump. Stump. Stump.

His heavy boots kicked up ash with each step then, walking across that ruined office. It was strange, in a way - he could still see it intact in his mind's eye. Just how many times he'd been in that office. Sitting in that twisted hunk of metal that was once a chair. Being either reamed out or commended. Or both. He could see Brian there - and Vicky there. Or was it John? Or maybe he could see Archer there, talking to Summers while he squirmed uncomfortably, waiting for the boom to be lowered.

Gods, it was just an hour ago. More than. More than an hour ago.

Crow hauled his thoughts back to earth again, and the face under the mask took a cold, flat cast. He kneeled down by the head, staring at it. Disassociating it from the Headmaster he knew. It was a lifeless hunk of metal. Nothing more. Nothing less. It was a lifeless hunk of metal that was once part of a larger lifeless hunk of metal. One which was industrially treated. Forged. Melted down. Cast. Consider - one of the first things a runemaker learned was the art of sympathy - that an object separated would theoretically retain links to the same object. Like attracted like, in other words.

So he reached down. Got a good grip with his gloves. And he pulled.

Bit back bile.

Looked at the thing in his hands. Sat down, cross-legged. Let out a rush of air. Reached into a pocket. Took out a piece of chalk. And sketched a tiny sigil on the metal - akin to one on his gloves. Once it was done, he closed his eyes under that mask - a knife appearing in his hands. The point dipped - lightly tapping the top of the metal before disappearing. There was a slight glow...and he listened.

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Giang made her way up the solid water stairs she had created along with Crow. Once at the top, she looked around the ruins off the office, focusing like the others on the metallic remains of what they had thought had been Headmaster Summers. She listened to Darren’s comments and then focused on Crow as Darren asked if he could do something. Noting that he appeared to be focused on something, she looked back down at the pile of metal.

"Another question is when did this robot replace the Headmaster." She stated quietly to Darren. "When I first met with him after Raven brought me here just under two weeks ago, he mentioned concerns he had about an infiltration by the Terminus. But without the detail he provided earlier this morning."

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"He said that to you two weeks ago?" Darren quirked his head a few degrees, then hummed low to himself. He looked down to see that Morgan was doing some kind of magic, probably, which close enough that he didn't want to disturb him. With a roll of his hand through the air, he continued to Giang. "He may not have had the intel on Sharl and Indira until recently. Hard to say when the swap was made, except that it was definitely before this morning. Still, it just..." he frowned and ground his toe into the ashen carpet, "it just doesn't seem big enough to be Terminus, right? Like, this was a pretty poor infiltration attempt, why didn't a few hundreds drones land on us or something? Why let the rest of the super kids get to the bunkers? This, like, isn't good sabotage or a good blitzkrieg, so what's the point?"

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Despite hearing the voices around him in quite clear detail, Crow's mind was a million miles away - metaphorically speaking. More about a mile away, or so. Casting his consciousness over the whole of Claremont, using the metallic skull as a conduit - following that Note that erupted when he struck it with the knife.

It was a cold Note. A harsh Note. An unreal Note - one that did not belong in this place, one that came from far, and was used for things that were not Good or Proper. It was something forged solely for pain, not for knowledge or for the benefits of others. Crow as the artificer applauded the craftsmanship, even as he held the strange chrome creation in his hands. Morgan Crowe again bit back bile or the urge to shove it into as deep a hole as he possibly could, and throw as much good clean earth overtop of it as was humanly possible.

Yet...

The Note found no Resonance. In this place of learning, he could not hear any cold, harsh songs calling to their ferrous brother. No fakes were in this place.

An unoccupied portion of Crow's mind examined that fact from many angles. Considering Darren's words, which pierced his concentration for a moment. A poor infiltration attempt. Let the super-kids get to the bunkers. Get to...enclosed spaces...let them evacuate. During an attack through infiltrators. And imitation...heroes? ...terror attacks.

Naofa mháthair Dé agus gach páiste a bheannaigh.

It was the work of a moment for Morgan to pull his mind back to that small 'room' they were standing in. And, with sweat starting to form under his mask, he hurled his thoughts out again - this time reaching farther, upper, lower, all around. For a moment, Morgan Crowe's mind, backed by cunning artifice, barely managed to touch the whole of South Freedom.

It wasn't pleasant.

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Giang looked over a Darren with a slight frown on her face. "Not large enough for the Terminus?" She asked. "Simply because there are no hordes of Omega drones as there were previously? The forces of the Terminus have attempted brute force before, and were beaten back by this city's heroes, as well as others from around the country. It would make sense not to repeat the same tactic, at least not without some attempt to weaken any defenders before launching the main assault."

"Currently, the Terminus, or whomever is behind this, has apparently managed to replace or control a number of heroes throughout the city, and have unleashed them to sow death and chaos. Other heroes are moving to oppose them, but in so doing will likely be weakened or perhaps even injured. This could just be the prelude to a larger invasion, or perhaps even just the beginning of a long term strategy to weaken those that would stand against the Terminus."

She paused a moment, but then continued. "But perhaps more importantly, do we really know this is the work of agents of the Terminus? We only have the word of this robotic replacement, and perhaps the actual Headmaster's suspicions, assuming he had not been replaced when I first met with him twelve days ago. Some other organization or individual could very well be responsible, trying to divert suspicion by implicating the Terminus."

The Asian teen then turned to regard Morgan once again, waiting to see if he might uncover anything that would assist them in deciding what course of action to follow next.

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Darren shifted his weight and put a hand against his hip. He gestured at nothing with his other hand. "Exactly, besides the words of Robo-Summers, we don't, like, have any real proof that the Terminus is involved. It just seems...off. I don't know." Darren tapped some of the ash spread over the floor with his foot. "The explosion seems kind of weird, too, like, I don't think Summers would plan something that might have killed the rest of Young Freedom, or us. I mean, like, isn't Sharl immune to fire or something? Everything today has just been weird, so I'm ready to not find more surprises very surprising."

With a little step, Darren slid up next to Morgan. "How's the magic thing going, Crow?"

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Darren wouldn't have to wait long for an answer. Not long at all.

With a smooth motion, the black-clad figure simply unfolded; legs propelling him upright in an instant. He held onto the chrome skull for a moment - expression unreadable, the tension in his hands obscured by the leather of his gloves. He lifted the chrome up for a moment. Considering. Like he wanted to crush it against what was left of one of the broken walls so hard it would be embedded nearly a foot inside. His other hand clenched into a fist, and both Darren and Giang could hear a lengthy litany of foreign words streaming from his mouth under his breath.

They'd been played, alright - the entire damn school had been played. Or at least to some degree - had to focus. Crow's next statement came out clipped and curt, like the teen was organizing his thoughts.

"Can't detect larger machines. Traces. Ash and chemical deposits. Not the metal. Materials on the metal. Similar resonance, close to perfect match. Underground. Underground shelters."

His shoulders rose and fall in a breath. Snap decision. He whirled on each of them, snarling. "Tsunami, I want cover all the way to the gym building - old Next-Gen headquarters and Archer are there. Adamas, I don't care how you do it, but tell Archer to get everyone the hell out of those bunkers now. Both of you, prep for combat. It's a trap - it's a giant trap!"

And then he was off and running, shoving the metal skull into one of the coat's voluminous pockets as he just sprinted. Given the way his runes were still smoking, there was likely a reason why he was hurling himself through the air this time.

You'll never make it. Shut up!

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"A trap? What kind of trap?" Darren looked around the room with a quick turn of his head. Ash and chemical deposits, underground, trap. "A bomb? Or, like, bombs, I guess." He muttered a few choice non-English curses while tapping his chin with one finger. Darren continued to mumble to himself even as he floated out of the office after Morgan. After talking to himself for a few momements, he tuned into the Claremont frequency. "Archer, this is Adamas. The main office just blew up and I have Crow here saying it looks like the bunkers have been, uh, compromised. Could you please give an evacuate order?"

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