The Hall of Doom was built to withstand alien attacks, nuclear fallout, and the occasional Jüstice Lëague raid.

It was not built for a freak winter storm.

Outside, the swamp had frozen solid, the trees glittering with ice like jagged teeth. Inside, the heating system groaned and sputtered like a dying villain monologue.

Lex Luthor stalked the halls in a furious trench coat, barking orders at shivering henchmen. Black Manta had rigged his helmet to pump in heated air. Sinestro threatened to incinerate the thermostat with a sneer. Meanwhile, Harley Quinn built a lopsided snowman in the lobby and declared it their new team leader.

Cheetah curled up by the emergency generators, growling at anyone who dared approach her chosen warm spot. It was chaos—but the kind of chaos they could live with.

After all, world domination could wait.

They were trapped together. No missions. No battles, Just cold, boredom.