Gotham's Dead End Bar

My time in Gotham didn't pass quietly but it passed all the same. Uneventful was practically anathema for the city. It had to be something in the water. Or the quite literally cursed Indian burial ground the city was built atop. Or maybe Gotham was just 'LIKE THAT'. My money was on all three at once.

Very quickly, my bar — the Dead End — became the favorite drinking spot for just about every henchman in the city. Even some of the non-villain gangs got in on it. It turned out that having a place to call neutral ground where you could get drunk with the guys you were just shooting at was a popular idea. At the Dead End, people left their beef at the door or they quickly found out why this place was considered neutral.

Honestly, business was a bit too good. I ended up having to hire Didi on as a waitress to help me manage everything. She was a sweetheart and even the grizzled henchmen from Gotham couldn't help but take a liking to the kind goth girl who served them alcohol.

For a being outside of Time and Space, she mixed a mean cocktail. And somehow, she always seemed to be free to lend a hand. Omniscient shenanigans, I'm sure. The concepts of death and mortality sure hadn't taken a break with her working here.

With Lady Death working the tables and her Hand working the bar… well, there wasn't anyone who could reasonably start trouble at the Dead End. Anyone who tried got shut down and shut down hard. The Clown Without Humor was quickly becoming a horror story for Gotham's henchmen.

Funnily enough, he still stuck around. With his sense of humor quite literally dead at my hand, he had no choice but to quit the Clownz. Nowadays, he just turned up at the bar in civilian clothes and asked me to turn one of the TVs to Cricket or something equally drab and boring.

Nice guy, now that he wasn't plastered in clown makeup and cackling maniacally. Went by Joey. Having a name that started with 'J' in Gotham was a death sentence but he'd overcome the Joker's insidious recruiting methods with my 'fatal' assistance. Even the Joker didn't have use for a clown without humor.

Just starting out, there were a few people who didn't get the memo about the Dead End. Namely, a group of Bane henchmen who shot up the bar when they discovered a rival gang of Penguins drinking inside. That… didn't end how they expected.

"Eat shit, Bird Brains!" That was the only warning we got before the bar turned into a hailstorm of bullets.

My customers ducked for cover, adrenaline racing through their veins and overcoming any former inebriation. A small group of five masked men sprayed from the door to the bar until their magazines went dry. Panting fools, high off watered-down Venom, and bloodlust, they stood over their 'massacre' like they'd done something to be proud of.

I didn't even bother ducking behind the bar. I just stared at them, raising a bored eyebrow to show how unimpressed I was. Didi hadn't bothered ducking for cover either. Glancing at me, she stifled a giggle and tried to match my scathingly flat expression.

Only after the ringing in everyone's ears stopped did they realize that nothing had happened. Common crooks, mooks, and henchmen watched in disbelief as painless wounds pushed out the bullets that made them and healed over without a scar or trace. The bar's tables, knocked over in haste, righted themselves seemingly without aid. Not even a single glass or bottle had been damaged by the gunfire.

The Bane henchmen all paused, their minds visibly stuttering, "Uh…"

"Oh, look, everyone," I deadpanned sarcastically. "It seems these boys have just volunteered to pay for all the drinks tonight. How kind of them."

My customers recovered from the near-death experience remarkably well, quickly devolving into jeers and mocking insults, "Yeah, serves 'em right!"

"Can't even shoot straight!"

"Probably too high on their own supply!"

"At least Bane's Mexican ditch weed just gives me the munchies! Not make me want to shoot up a bar!"

"'Dese boys wanna be 'der villain so bad!"

"And they fuck even that up! Bane would just come in here and suplex every one of us into the ground!"

"Take off those damn masks! We ain't on the clock here!"

"C'mon in, boys," I said. "I'll start a tab for you if you want to drink as well but you're already paying for everything else tonight."

At the same time, I reached out and 'killed' their highs. The watered-down Venom drained from their systems, taking every ounce of aggression with it. They slumped as one, pocketing their weapons and shuffling up to the bar.

"Uh, I guess I'll get a Jack n' Coke?"

"Make it two. Damn, there goes our last score…"

"You wanna argue with the nice man with the immortal bar? Yeah, thought so. Shut up and enjoy your drink."

After that night, violence in the Dead End died a quiet death. One enforced by Lady Death herself and her Hand. Bar fights were still allowed but I had everyone take them out back. Usually, they'd settle their beef and come back inside to share a drink. Any attempts at murder or grievous harm just… didn't pan out.

My regulars learned quickly. If not, their bosses learned for them. Gothamites were surprisingly quick on the draw and their learned survival instincts made sure they knew when to keep their heads down. It was a necessary skill in a city like this.

The Dead End's neutrality became a self-reinforcing thing. The regulars and henchmen in the know reminded the newbies. No one wanted to be the first one to face real consequences for breaching neutrality. Especially not after hearing what happened to Joey, the Clown Without Humor.

Drinking at the Dead End was fine. Pissing off its immortal owner or waitress? You were just asking for trouble.

Gotham was a dangerous, illogical city and its population had long grown used to the strange and unreasonable. The bar was a place where they didn't have to worry about stripes or colors. At the Dead End, they didn't have to think about loyalties or villain-based grudges or the spooky shit that happened 'Only In Gotham'. And at least its owner wasn't putting on a cape and beating them up or trying to harvest their souls. Probably…

I heard one henchman explain it best to his junior, "Ya keep ya head down. Don't be getting all big. That's how ya become Scarecrow's latest scarecrow or Joker's latest joke. We do our job, hope we don't run into a Bat, and clock out. Then we comes here. Here, we find out we ain't so different. 'Cause here, we're all normal working joes.

"It ain't an honest livin' but Gotham ain't an honest city. It'll chew ya up and spit ya out. And that's if the Bats or the villains don't get ya first. So places like this? They're special. They're respected. 'Cause ya never know when a bit of neutrality is gonna save ya life."

Apparently, this place was special. Criminals talk. Word spread quickly. My regulars enjoyed my service, enjoyed the Dead End's atmosphere more, and enjoyed the neutrality I offered the most. It probably helped that I didn't mark up the price of my drinks to Hell and back as well. I'd lived too many times to care about wringing every ounce of profit out of my margins. It wasn't why I was doing this anyway.

I was seeing more and more business by the night. To the point that it should have been impossible to fit everyone into the bar. But we never seemed to be hurting for space. And the workload was never too much that I couldn't stop to talk, lend an ear, or tell a story.

Turning to the obvious culprit, I asked Didi about the discrepancies, "How come we never seem swamped or rushed?"

Didi tried and failed to whistle innocently. In fact, she failed to whistle altogether, merely blowing air through her pursed lips, "I don't know what you're talking about… I feel like I'm quite busy these days."

I stared at her knowingly, "Is that why you always seem to have time to goof off with me behind the bar?"

Didi tutted. It was patronizing in the most adorable way, "You must be vastly overestimating the amount of time I spend with you, Sean."

"I suppose I am," I chuckled. "I mean, how would you even accomplish something like that?"

Didi lit up and enthusiastically explained, "Oh, it's easy! You just have to imbue the building on a conceptual level with the Death of the Rush!"

"And the increased interior space of the bar?" I asked leadingly, hiding my smile.

"Death of Claustrophobia," Didi nodded, getting into her explanation. "You could do it too. It'd probably be a bit tricky at first but you'd get it eventually. I've just had all too much time to practice my conceptual applications. Here, feel here where the space sort of keels over and disappears into something again? That's where I-…!"

She clammed up suddenly as she realized she was giving the game away. I gave her an amused, knowing smirk, "So you're saying you're not responsible for this at all?"

Didi looked off to the side, her cheeks coloring cutely, "… No comment."

I let her off easy with that and we opened up the bar for the night. Turning away from the front door, I saw we'd gotten our first customer instantly. When I wasn't looking somehow. A vision in black leather sat at my bar, absently tapping a clawed finger on the wood as she waited for me.

I glanced at Didi. She just shrugged. Looking back at our stealthy guest, I saw the downright catty smirk on her face. I spent just long enough checking her out to satisfy her ego. Not that it was a hardship to check her out.

No, Selina Kyle was undoubtedly a beautiful, seductive woman. Clad in that skintight costume of hers that clung to each and every one of her curves, she was a treat for the eyes. The expression on those plump, pouty lips was just as titillating as her voluptuous body.

I knew she rightly put a lot of stock in her gorgeous looks. So I let my eyes roam. But I didn't let them roam to the point of crassness. Instead, I came back around behind the bar, picking up a bar towel and slinging it over my shoulder as she stared at me like a predator stalking prey.

"Normally, people use the front door," I said casually.

Catwoman purred, "Oh, darling, I'm anything but normal~"

I shrugged, "Fair enough. So what can I get you Catwoman? A spot of milk? I'd offer catnip as well but this isn't that kind of establishment."

The corners of her lips twitched with a smirk, "Cute. No, I just wanted to check out the place all the little birdies have been tweeting about lately. I doubt you have anything that will truly pique my interest."

"Hmm," I hummed, thinking for a moment.

Didi caught my eye. Her gaze darted to a spot beneath the bar, out of Catwoman's line of sight. Trusting her, I reached down into that spot. My fingers naturally curled around the neck of a bottle. Bringing it up into the open, I was just as surprised as Catwoman, though I played it off better.

The bottle glittered with gold and crystal. Ancient Greek script adorned the front. Gold for the engraved lettering, crystal for the bottle itself. And to top it all off, there was an honest-to-goodness ruby set into the bottle's cork. Catwoman's gaze found it and stuck there. If she had a tail, it would have been standing straight behind her and twitching from side to side.

"Never let it be said I disappoint my customers," I said, more than a bit smug at seeing her shown up like this.

Catwoman licked her lips — so red they matched the bottle's gem — with a sultry, teasing tongue, "My, my, don't disappoint indeed~ You sure know how to tease a girl though~"

"Who said anything about teasing?"

"You mean…?"

"I'll reserve this bottle for you and you alone. And when you finally manage to finish it, it's yours to do what you will with. In return, I want you to spread a little bit of information to the city's more civil Rogues and villains."

"What information?" Catwoman asked warily.

"The Dead End is open for their business. And drinks are half off for people of interest," I explained.

"When you say people of interest, what exactly do you mean?"

I shrugged, "Villains, Heroes, Sidekicks, Vigilantes, the Chief of Police — Hell, if you can get Bruce Wayne in here, do it. So long as they respect the bar's neutrality — and they WILL — they can enjoy a cheap and peaceful night of drinking."

She gave me a deadpan look that showed even beneath her mask, "You want me to tell Bats to come drink at a bar with me?"

"Yup," I popped the 'P' and said nothing more.

Her lips twitched again in amusement, "Aren't the Robins a bit too young to drink?"

"I have non-alcoholic options."

Catwoman chuckled a low and sultry purr, "Oh, I'm sure Boywonder and his siblings will simply love this. And Bats himself will hate it. Why are you doing this, Mr. Barkeep?"

"Gotham's an interesting place. I'm sure it can handle a bit of neutral interaction between all parties of interest," I explained simply. "And you're just about the best person to spread that word. I'm confident that telling you means half of the city will know by morning."

"You make it sound like I have loose lips, Mr. Barkeep~" Catwoman teased.

I leaned over the bar slightly, my arms spread wide and my sleeves rolled up over my forearms. With a playful, knowing smirk, I teased her right back, "I'd have to try them out for myself but they certainly don't look loose~"

Didi stomped on my foot. It didn't hurt but I grunted like it did. She huffed and turned away from us with a pout.

Catwoman grinned like a cat with a canary, "It seems your cocktail server isn't a fan of that idea. Don't worry, little kitten, I won't be stealing your boss out from under you. You however~? Mmm~ Maybe~"

"Don't go poaching my talent," I deadpanned, a touch of deadly steel enforcing my words. "Didi's mine. I'll… take offense… to anyone trying to steal her from me."

"Mmm~? The tomcat has claws~"

One of the vases I kept at the ends of the bar slid into my hand as I reflexively 'KILLED' the space in between. The flowers in the vase withered and died before Catwoman's eyes. Then they sprouted and blossomed back to normal again as if nothing had happened.

My expression barely twitched, "Something like that."

Catwoman laughed, "Oh, Ivy will just ~love~ you, Mr. Barkeep~!"

"Tell her she's welcome here. In fact, I may just have a business proposition for her. Something that takes advantage of her unique set of skills and expands on her little side hustle."

"Oh, what should I tell her of that… 'business proposition'? I thought you wished to stay neutral, Mr. Barkeep~ Are you being naughty~?"

"Nope, this will be entirely above board. As for the proposition itself, let me tell you a little fun fact. Did you know medicinal marijuana is legal in Gotham? She doesn't have to accept scammers and conmen using her name to sell their misrepresented 'product' when she can undercut them with real 'Ivy' in a completely legal and entirely unimpeachable way."

Catwoman looked at me in shock for a moment before she burst out in earnest laughter, "Ahahahaha~! Oh, that's too good~! Too many dealers in Gotham claim they've got 'Ivy's secret stash' when I know for a fact she doesn't share that with anyone but Harley. But even just normal weed grown by Ivy will blow the competition out of the water."

"And it might be nice for her to have a legal source of income to fund her true goals," I added.

"Rightfully so," Catwoman grinned. "Poor girl is completely out of her depth when it comes to capitalism. She's always trying to deal honestly as if big businessmen aren't the real villains of society."

"If she was business-minded, she could have every corporation in the world paying her to go green," I agreed. "It'd likely be more effective for saving the environment than her usual villainy."

Catwoman purred, "Alright, I'll tell her~ I'm always happy to help one of the girls. Anything else for me to do, Mr. Barkeep~?"

I hummed, "How about a drink? I'm sure you want to try your 'payment' for these services. I won't hold it above your head until your services are done or anything silly like that. As far as I'm concerned, it's yours and you're just stashing it here with me."

"Then who am I to say no~?" Catwoman leaned onto the bartop in anticipation.

I produced a tumbler from behind the bar. Sliding it in front of her, I uncorked the extravagant bottle I was setting aside for Catwoman alone. She was a woman of refined taste. Such a lavishly excessive bottle sparkled better than any mere gem in her eyes.

Upturning the bottle, I poured her a few fingers. Liquid ambrosia filled the tumbler glass. It glowed like pure amber with the light shining through it. Catwoman was all but salivating and I couldn't help but admire the special Death-conjured alcohol myself.

"O-Oh my~…" Catwoman muttered in awe. "W-What-… Ahem, what is it?"

I glanced at Didi, taking a shot in the dark, "A dead drink, lost to the ages. And possibly divine in origin."

Didi shook her head, "Not technically divine. It's the mortal world's best attempt at making Divine Ambrosia. The Ancient Greek on the front says 'A poor imitation of the drink that fills Dionysus' cups'. Paraphrased, of course. But the Greeks were well aware of their mortal limits so 'poor imitation' is accurate."

"My goodness… This place doesn't do anything by half, does it?" Catwoman marveled.

I simply nodded, "We try to have something for all of our customers, at the very least."

She joked, "If I wasn't so invested in getting a taste of a certain man, this kind of treatment would spoil my appetite~"

"Yes, yes," I rolled my eyes. "You and Batman make for a very cute couple. I promise I'm not trying to woo you away from him with fancy booze. Go ahead, take a sip."

Catwoman schooled her shock behind a tutting expression, "Ah, ah, so impatient~"

Still, she lifted the glass to her lips. Even just the scent seemed to be enough to make her eyes flutter. Visibly calming herself, Catwoman took a shallow quaff, wetting her lips with ambrosia.

I witnessed something spectacular there and then. An impossible miracle. A celebration of the Human experience. Despite what Didi said, magic must have been involved. Maybe not divine magic but magic all the same. Non-magical alcohol didn't spontaneously undress people and give them a religious experience.

Catwoman held her sip in her mouth for a moment. The ambrosia coated her tastebuds, melting into her tongue. She swallowed and it was as if I could feel a pleasant fire trailing down my throat, mirroring her experiences.

Holy light seemed to shine down on Catwoman. She didn't physically move but it was like her whole body was engulfed in an explosion of sensation. She moaned a low, lewd sound that came from her very core.

Her costume didn't disappear but I could swear the scene was projected into my mind as if it did. Catwoman's sinfully seductive body writhed in climax from taste alone. Full breasts heaved and I saw them as if they were bared to the world. Covered and uncovered at the same time, thick thighs rubbed together in pursuit of a pleasure that wasn't there.

'Where have I seen this before…?' I absently wondered. I had a vague recollection of impossible feats of cooking and a world that revolved around them. I think it was something I read instead of experienced personally. Soma-something? Ah, the specifics weren't all that important.

I glanced at Didi, "Was this really necessary?"

She pointedly didn't pout, making herself busy wiping non-existent spills off the bar, "She shouldn't have been so flirty with people she just met."

Amusement danced in my eyes, "It's kind of her persona. A non-seductive Catwoman is just a waste of perfectly good real estate."

Didi sniffed imperiously, "Then this is in character for her. I see nothing wrong. And no one else will either."

I looked around the bar. Some of our regulars had come in at some point. But seeing us busy with Catwoman of all people, they were content to wait for service. Of course, that also meant that Catwoman's current little 'experience' had an audience. An audience that would without a doubt greatly expand on the mystique and legend of me and the Dead End.

Panting slightly, Catwoman eventually came down from her ambrosia high. It was perhaps the first time the world had seen a shaken and flustered Catwoman.

"I… have to go change-… Uh, I mean…" Catwoman stuttered for an excuse. "Heist. Yes, heist. Nothing else, less or more. Just something completely normal and completely unrelated to how sticky this costume now is."

With a flash, she was up and disappeared through the back of the bar. I called after her, "I'll keep your bottle on ice for you!"

"Thank you, darling!" She called back distantly, already out of regular Human hearing range, I was sure.

One of our regulars came up to the bar, "I'll, uh, have what she had."

"Not on your life, Vincent," I deadpanned, tucking Catwoman's bottle away safe and sound. "No one wants to see that shit from you. Settle for a Manhattan like the rest of us."

His buddies laughed at him, "Yeah, Vinny, you ain't got the pair of stems that Catwoman does to pull that off. And you don't like half as good in heels!"

"The Dark Knight could probably pull off a mean pair of high heels with those thunder thighs of his," I absently commented as I mixed Vinny's drink.

The group of regulars paused as one and shuddered, "Stupid Sexy Batman…"