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[b]Streets of Bridgewater, 8:45am
June 19th, 2021[/b]

The cool air along the waterfront felt good as it washed her face. She stared at her reflection in the currents, seeing her form twist and morph as the waves lapped. Quinn felt this was apt. She was not some normalized figure. She contained multitudes. How does it feel to bend the whims of men? If she were an average person, that question might scare her. Show a cause for concern regarding her feelings towards her fellow humans.

Quinn was not like other people.

She was better. She was smarter. She could shape the world if she so chose, but there were rules. Laws. People like her were the bane of other people's existence. She knew it. She relished in it.

Fear was delicious. No one talked about that enough.

Sure she could use her powers for "evil", with a heavy emphasis on the quotation marks because what [I]is[/i] evil? Evil to one is different than to another and who was any one person to decide that for the whole of humanity? So she could use it for evil, but no one talked about her use of it for "good". The underlying worry was always that she could cause real, significant harm., but never that she could be a cause for some positive change.

That was fine. The world was not black and white. There were shades of gray. Large chunks of gray, if she were being honest. A person stealing to provide for their family, as an example. A woman killing her husband who abused her relentlessly. Crimes, sure, but within reason.

That was how she felt when she influenced others. Bringing about their true intentions or showing the consequences of their actions.

Quinn bent down and picked up a rock, flinging it towards her reflection, distorting the image albeit briefly. Once it was satiated, she put on her oversized sunglasses and turned, making her way towards PRT Headquarters.

It was showtime.

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[b]PRT Headquarters, 8:54am
June 19th, 2021[/b]

Quinn came into the room and locked on the others quickly. Quinn had quickly changed into her suit and mask upon arrival. She clocked all of the others and realized she had missed some conversation. That didn't matter.

She walked in and took a seat, waiting for whatever this was to get started.

She could already tell who would be the most annoying out of all of them and made a note to herself to adjust her tone and verbiage as needed when conversing with them, if she did so at all. They were meant to work together, she assumed. It probably would not look great if she didn't at least put in some effort. After all, she was considered dangerous (they all were, sure, but it was a different kind of dangerous).

Today was going to be a long day.