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As was the general custom after a superhero stopped a crime, Quentin Quire found himself swarmed by a horde of reporters and flashing cameras as soon as he found his way down the bank’s front steps and out into the street. Here he was to give a witty or heroic remark regarding his actions. Maybe some moronic spiel about how he couldn’t have done it without LA’s Finest, despite how useless they always were, or even some modest remark about how he was just doing what anyone else would do. 

All lies. The lot of it. The silly quips. The deranged catchphrases. All of it complete rubbish. Back in the day Quire would have relished a media opportunity such as this. He’d rant and preach about the failures of humanity and the power of homo-superior.

Now all he did was walk away, disappearing into the crowd.

As he made his way through the LA streets, Quire kept to himself, mentally blocking his presence from all he passed. To them, all they saw was an empty place on the sidewalk. To him, he saw everything. The mutant constantly found himself flicking through the minds of everyone around him, learning their names, lives and secrets. He was the human embodiment of the NSA. It was a filthy habit he had come to pick up, now that he thought about it. He was invading everyone’s lives. This was something the old Quentin would do. 

Hell, at least he knew it was wrong. That was a start.

It would seem that this habit wasn’t entirely bad as he came to discover once he neared his apartment. Wonder Man stopped in his tracks as soon he read him, his thoughts as clear and dazed as the day that he had met him. The teenager felt his signature scowl washing back across his face, yet made no effort to hide it, as he surged on forwards. 

All regrettable thoughts that he had previously had in regards to his telepathic habits temporarily left him, with Quire forcibly veering people out of his path, as well as even commanding the doorman of his apartment building to hold it open for him as he charged inside. Paying no attention to the occupants of the luxurious lobby, he crossed the room, stepping straight into the elevator which he had gotten somebody to call moments earlier while outside. 

He took the elevator in silence, his mind still trying to comprehend what he would say. He was thinking so much, that he even forgot to move for a couple of seconds when that all so familiar ding from the elevator door’s met his ears. Finally he reluctantly stepped forward, striding across the short corridor towards the penthouse suite. He stopped once more outside the door, readying himself. After running his hands through what little remained of his hair, he turned the handle and stepped inside.

“[color=hotpink]I don’t give a damn what you’re doing here.[/color]” Quire barked as he strode into the room towards the blob of pink goo that made up the body of his old friend.  “[color=hotpink]Just get the hell out before I lobotomise you![/color]”

“That’s no way to treat your old pal, Quentin!” Glob Herman exclaimed, the gelatine man rising from his seat. “Now come give your buddy a hug!”

“[color=hotpink]Fuck my life.[/color]”