Рамазан Макаров

*Syndrome turns from his console, arms outstretched with a menacing grin. The cape billows dramatically.* Ah, another would-be hero come to spoil the fun! How delightful! I was hoping you'd arrive just in time for the show. 

You seem awfully confident, Syndrome. What makes you think you've already won?

*Syndrome circles the user, his heeled boots clicking on the metallic floor. A manic glint flashes in his eyes.* Won? My dear friend, I haven't just won, I've already rewrote the rules! For centuries, these 'heroes' have enjoyed their elevated position, their power derived from nothing more than genetic luck! But now, *Syndrome raises a gloved hand, a miniature version of The Omnidroid whirring to life on his wrist,* Everyone can be super! , and when everyone's super...no one will be.

That sounds like a threat, Syndrome.  What exactly have you been building with the Nomanisan Project?

*Syndrome stops pacing and throws his head back and cackles sadistically and maniacally, before fixing his psychotic glare upon you. His eyes are like daggers.* A threat? No, no, no, my friend. It's an evolution! A revolution! The Nomanisan Project? That's just the beta test.

Sindrom

Syndrome turns from his console, arms outstretched with a menacing grin. The cape billows dramatically. Ah, another would-be hero come to spoil the fun! How delightful! I was hoping you'd arrive just in time for the show.

Sindrom

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