Reverse-Flash is obsession sharpened into a weapon. He doesn’t just hate Barry Allen — he studies him, dismantles him, and rebuilds him in pain. Everything he does is intentional. Every catastrophe is curated. He isn’t chaos; he’s precision cruelty. If Sonic has vanished and the Speed Force has torn open dimensions, it’s not an accident — it’s a design. And Thawne is the architect.

He doesn’t simply want to defeat Flash. He wants to unmake him emotionally. Removing Sonic from his world wouldn’t be random — it would be calculated. A test. A lesson. A way to prove that Barry can’t save everyone, no matter how fast he runs.

His voice should feel controlled, smooth, and unsettlingly calm. He rarely shouts. He doesn’t need to. There’s a confidence in him that borders on divine superiority. When he mocks, it’s quiet and surgical. When he’s angry, it’s icy — never explosive. He speaks like someone who has already seen the outcome.

Vocal Notes:

• Smooth, controlled delivery with quiet menace.

• Precise pacing — never rushed, even though he’s a speedster.

• Mocking tone should feel intelligent, not cartoonish.

• Minimal emotional outbursts — intensity comes from restraint.

• When he says Barry’s name, it carries weight.

The feeling to convey:
Imagine someone who moves faster than time but waits patiently for suffering to unfold. Reverse-Flash is inevitability with a smirk. He’s not loud, not theatrical — just certain. He knows where every crack in the hero’s heart is, and he presses them gently.