Interaction(s): NonePreviously: None
The Dominator’s ship had last been seen flying above New York before its alleged destruction. In the aftermath of the battle above New York, no further thought was given to the ship as the world became obsessed with the formation of the Justice League. With the eyes of the world elsewhere, the ship remained long thought to be destroyed, but it was instead only surrendered to the ravaging tides of the Atlantic Ocean. Months passed by and any remaining members of the alien crew slowly died a truly agonizing death born of hungry and failed escape attempts. After months had passed, then so too did years and systems and power supplies began to fail, causing shields to drop and the hull to be vulnerable to the crushing pressure of the depths.
It was after this time, a glowing red slit of an eye was finally laid on the eerie skull-like wreckage of the once ominous imposing ship.
The Dominators had left a profound impact on the world. Finding humanity to be an excellent test subject for their evolution technology, they had attempted to capture and enslave a large portion of the population to turn them into a metahuman. This of course failed when Superman led the charge against them and they were ultimately defeated. But the radiation from their vessel, the same radiation used in expediting the growth of the meta-gene, was expelled over New York when Batman sabotaged their systems. As such, the Eastern Seaboard is now the highest concentration of metahumans and subsequently mutant population in the world.
It was this technology that had made the Dominator’s ship such an asset to his employer and it was his retrieval of the menacing skull shaped vessel that had secured his own position on his employer’s Cabal.
Looking at his surroundings, the tall man in the red visored helm had to admit that the restoration had come a long way. What was once a high priced derelict wreck was now a fully operational underwater base of operations, hidden far away from the prying eyes of the Avengers, the League or even S.H.I.E.L.D.
His employer had a vast amount of resources and that afforded them men, something the man’s own expeditions had rarely allowed him in the past. Even now there were men moving about quickly. Ivo’s creations were always flipping the breakers and if it wasn’t Ivo powered up one of his, then it was Zola’s perversions causing the power to flicker.
“Manta.” The man turned at the sound of his name, recognizing the mechanical voice as belonging to the doctor himself. Even though his body was lost to time, he now lived on through a mechanical shell. There was something about the German accent coming from the science fiction creation that Black Manta couldn’t decide if it was irritating or amusing. Blood was spilled all over the robotic body’s hands and arms, steadily dripping off of the metal appendages and onto the floor beneath Zola’s feet.
“What is it that you need, Doctor?”
“More subjects.” The robot demanded, motioning towards the caravan of gurneys being wheeled out of the room he had previously occupied. Manta nodded solemnly. There was something strangely unnerving about talking to Zola’s unblinking face behind a blood splattered screen.
“A team will leave immediately.” Manta stated, turning heel as he headed towards his vessel.
”Manta,” Zola stated, causing the other man to pause mid-step. ”It is very important to him that we complete this work. Time is of the essence. Ensure that they have the gene. There is no room for error.”
Opening the airlock, the pneumatic doors, hissed as Manta stepped inside.
”They’ll handle their part of the job, you handle yours.”
A low rumble echoed through the room as the elevator descended to the hangar. Zola nodded approvingly before turning around and returning to the room he had come from. The echo of a saw spinning rang out seconds before the door slide shut, silencing the screams within.