As he is wont to do, Mark Flynn is hanging out next to some radioactive ooze or some such. One can presume, based on his predilection for heroism, Mark Flynn is up to absolutely no shenanigans whatsoever. Nope, none at all. And nary a question should be asked as to how the radioactive ooze got into the 24/7 hallway, for that would lead to a suspicious line of questioning that could cast shade on Mark Flynn's motives, and he's a good dude, yo. Just ask him!

Glossing over the sizable plot hole, Mark Flynn turns his back on the radioactive ooze. And if you know anything about radioactive oozes... err... oozii(?)... oozen(?)... umm... spills of radioactive ooze (yeah, that'll do), you would know to never turn your back on them.

In this instance, that old adage certainly rings true, as emerging from this ooze RIGHT NOW is...

Oh. Nothing.

But RIGHT NOW, two seconds later, is Hotdog!

ZOMG!

He looks... well mostly the same. Just a bit slippery is all. Mark Flynn, having turned his back, has no idea about the massive swine's present slippery nature, so when Hotdog hits him with a nearby shoe (which as far as one can tell, was thankfully safe from the ooze - we all know about shoes and ooze, as we do about turning our backs), and subsequently sits upon him in a pinning situation, or some such, Flynn makes a really moany remark along the lines of "Hey, why are you so slippery?" Or some such 

Anywho, Chaz Bobo emerges from the ooze to count the pin, and the less said about his motives or life story or reasons for hanging around radioactive ooze, the better.

Ever-so-gently, (both for climatological reasons and because you can't realistically kipup when sat on by a giant piggie like HotDog), Mark Flynn lifts a shoulder, just enough to break the count.

"GO ON, GIT!" Flynn smacks Hot Dog on the backside. The swine lurches forward just enough that Flynn can slip out from under him and climb back to his feet.

"Well... So, the pig managed to get out of radioactive waste..." Flynn reaches for his clipboard, making notes.

...

"The lab mice are still in there, though... Making THEY'LL get superpowers?"

He eyes the oozy barrel suspiciously.

...

......Glowing green...

Mouse bones.

"...Nope."

...

"No, they're dead."

Damnit, that's MY radioactive ooze, why are you throwing mice into it?

I don't go around taxing any of y'alls gigs! This is bush league.

Utterly bush league.