-Location: Ravencroft Institute-
Deep within the eerie and high-tech underground hideout of Mister Sinister, the walls pulse faintly with red bio-light, and screens project genetic patterns, maps, and footage of recent chaos involving a red blur tearing through cities.
Around a circular black table sit the Hellions some impatient, others amused. Among them: Empath, Scalphunter, Wild Child, Vertigo, and Arclight. They await their master's command.
Mister Sinister, dressed in his dark armor and crimson cape, leans back with a cold smile. He taps the screen behind him, displaying a zoomed-in freeze-frame of Reverse Flash wearing Wally West's iconic suit, but grinning like a predator.
Mister Sinister:So... the world thinks the Flash has turned rogue. What a delicious tragedy. But let's not get too hasty, my little mutants.
Empath (crossing his arms):You mean you're not going to kill him yet? He's running wild. We're not a daycare for deranged speedsters.
Mister Sinister (smirking):No, dear Empath. Not yet. You see, chaos is an art… and Reverse Flash, whether he knows it or not, is still part of my masterpiece.
Scalphunter:So what do we do with him then?
Mister Sinister turns back to the table and raises a hand.
Mister Sinister:Let Speed Demon watch him. Keep him close. If our Reverse Flash gets... unstable well, Speed Demon knows how to keep pace with madness. Let him be the leash… for now.
Vertigo (leaning forward):And if the leash snaps?
Mister Sinister (grinning wider):Then we dissect what's left... and I'll make another. Maybe two. Faster ones.
The Hellions laugh darkly, except for Wild Child, who growls low and twitches with anticipation.
Mister Sinister walks away from the table, cape flowing behind him.
Mister Sinister:Chaos is inevitable. Control is optional. Let's see how fast the world burns.
Wild Child, with his usual twitchy movements and feral smirk, lounges with one leg on the table. He snorts dismissively and leans toward Empath.
Wild Child (mocking tone):Hey, Empath... anyone else remember the Savage Island disaster? You know, when our brilliant leader tried to conquer it and ended up losing the queen, half the facility, and oh yeah got outplayed by a red-haired speedster with a frying pan?
He chuckles sharply, biting into a raw piece of meat like a wild dog.
Wild Child (grinning):Real smooth operation. Total success, huh?
Suddenly, the room temperature drops. Silence. The air grows heavy.
A chilling voice slides in from behind.
Mister Sinister (calm but venomous):I'm sorry... I didn't quite catch that, pup.Would you mind saying it again?
Wild Child's eyes widen just as Sinister appears behind him swift and spectral. Without warning, he grabs Wild Child by the hair, yanking his head back, exposing his throat.
Mister Sinister (in a low, deadly tone):You were saying something about failure?
Wild Child growls, eyes darting, muscles tense. But he doesn't move. The room holds its breath.
Scalphunter quickly stands up.
Scalphunter:Easy, boss. Wild's just blowing steam. He didn't mean anything by it.
Vertigo steps in too, cautiously:He's a mutt, Sinister. All bark, no brain. You know how he gets when bored.
Empath (rolling his eyes):Can't smell fear when it's your own stench, huh, Wild?
Mister Sinister glares a moment longer, then grins cruelly, letting go of Wild Child's hair with a hard shove.
Mister Sinister:Hmm… of course. Idle dogs do love to bite the hand that feeds them.
He turns, straightens his cape, and walks back toward his screen.
Mister Sinister (without looking back):Next time you question my success, Wild Child, make sure your claws are sharp enough to defend it.
Wild Child growls under his breath but stays quiet, rubbing his neck.
The room slowly returns to a tense normal.
Scalphunter (mutters):Remind me to keep my mouth shut next time...
Empath:Oh, I'll remind you. Right after we find what's left of your scalp.
Scalphunter, leaning on the table with crossed arms, breaks the silence.
Scalphunter (gruff):So, where's she? You said you wanted her in on this...Emma Frost. Thought she was part of this twisted little gathering?
Mister Sinister, lounging back in his chair like a serpent basking under cold light, grins.
Mister Sinister:Oh, her? The ever-so-fabulous White Queen?
He chuckles darkly, twirling a small data tablet between his fingers.
Mister Sinister (casually):She's not here because she's exactly where I need her right now, she's watching our little red lightning bolt… In his lovely little bed strapped down. Unconscious. Helpless completely unaware that his name, his image is burning to the ground.
Dim lights reflect off the steel-plated walls as the Hellions regroup around the digital map table, still humming with surveillance of ongoing attacks. A low mechanical hum echoes in the chamber, occasionally interrupted by the sounds of distant chaos above.
Scalphunter, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, looks toward Mister Sinister, who's busy watching multiple monitors displaying battles and clone activity.
Scalphunter:Hey Sinister... wasn't Emma Frost supposed to be here too? You said she'd be at this meeting. Something about her overseeing the subject?
Mister Sinister doesn't look away from the screen. His lips curl in a half-smile.
Mister Sinister:Oh? Her? Please. She's occupied... admiring our guest.She's with the Flash right now unconscious and helpless, strapped down like a turkey on Thanksgiving, while dear Reverse Flash is out there... tainting his name. Such poetic irony.
-Cut to: Ravencroft Institute – Lower Level-
Inside the sterile, cold medical observation room, Emma Frost, dressed in her iconic all-white ensemble, stands beside a sealed glass chamber. Within it, Wally West lies unconscious and restrained, eyes flickering beneath closed lids.
Surrounding her are the five Stepford Cuckoos: Celeste, Esme, Irma, Phoebe, and Sophie all dressed in variations of Emma's white outfit, perfectly identical in posture and expression.
Emma raises a delicate hand and gently brushes her fingertips across Wally's forehead.
Emma Frost (coldly, whispering):Pathetic... as always, Wally. Still running even in your sleep.
Sophie Cuckoo tilts her head, breaking the silence.
Sophie:Mother… is he really our father?
Emma pauses, her lips twitch faintly, unreadable.
Emma Frost:Yes... this is your father. A complicated arrangement, but necessary.
Esme (curious):Will we inherit his power too?
Emma Frost (gazes away):...No idea. With Sinister's meddling, even I don't know what's buried in your genes.
Suddenly, a tremor runs through the floor. The walls rattle slightly. Dust falls from the ceiling.
Phoebe:Was that an explosion?
Emma (eyes narrowing):What the hell...?
Irma:Is it the X-Men?
Emma scowls.
Emma Frost:No. This isn't the X-Men... This feels like something far more unprofessional... like a swarm of fly's crashing a royal feast.
A voice echoes from above as the ceiling above begins to crack.
Spider-Man (playfully shouting):White Queen! You wound me! Comparing me to fly's? That hurts my feelings!
-Cut to: Ravencroft Institute – Outside-
"Chaos."
A horde of Mister Sinister clones floods the front gates each armed, genetically enhanced, and relentless. Explosions light up the grounds.
Ghost Rider (Johnny Blaze) rides through them, his flaming chain swinging, incinerating multiple clones with each strike.
Hulk, fists crashing down like meteors, roars as bodies fly in every direction, smashing clone after clone as if swatting flies.
Ghost Rider:This is getting out of hand! How many of these freaks did he cook up!?
Hulk:Too many! But Hulk SMASH ALL OF THEM!
Meanwhile, Wolverine charges from the woods, claws out, slicing his way toward the gate — only to be tackled mid-sprint.
Wild Child, Vertigo, and Empath leap from the shadows.
Empath (grinning):You're early for the funeral, Logan.
Wolverine (snarling):I ain't the one who's gonna need a coffin tonight, bub.