Gray bubbles reeking of sulfur surged up in sheets from the depths of the sludge, breaking the moonlight into countless trembling fragments.
Muddy water dripped from the seams in the metal surface. Dark green moss and aquatic plants clung to the iron-gray shell. Sludge slid in sheets down the sloping outer walls, exposing armor plates beneath, weathered by time but still intact.
There were no lights, no engine noise. Even the sound of the hydraulic machinery was swallowed by an invisible layer of soundproofing.
The entire base rose silently from beneath the water like an ancient corpse that had slept too long. Its doors slowly opened, and several figures of varying heights filed inside.
"Welcome to the Hall of Doom. I am Vandal Savage. It's a pleasure to see you here."
"For ten million dollars, I'm happy to accept any invitation."
Among the visitors, a woman in a violet, high-cut bodysuit answered languidly. She looked up at a towering golden statue in the hall, then at their host opposite her, and gave a soft laugh.
"You're pretty full of yourself."
"Because I have every right to be," Savage replied. "I've watched empires rise and crumble, walls torn down and rebuilt, fire sweep across the land, and weeds spring back from the ashes. I've seen all of it. But you..."
He gave an unappealing smile. "You're different from me. You aren't observers of history. You're participants, like pieces on a chessboard, pushed around by someone else's hand."
"Heh. I've heard union speeches, too."
A broad-shouldered, thickset figure among the visitors cut in. His massive frame resembled an industrial boiler, covered in coarse black and lead-gray metal plates, their surfaces studded with rivets, weld seams, and rough cutting marks.
"What I'd like to know is, what if we'd taken the money