Gotham's Dead End Bar

"Hey, Barkeep," Kite-Man got my attention. "Why do you have a surfboard here? And why's it all silver and stuff?"

He was a strange villain but ultimately a good guy. Bit of a joke though. As far as crimes go, he only committed petty burglaries and minorly inconvenienced the Bat Family. Hell, he even started as a minor Bat ally before the Joker found out and poisoned his son with a kite of all things. That may have driven him a touch mad and obsessed with kites but I couldn't say I blamed him for that.

I answered nonchalantly as I poured another drink, not even looking up at the item in question, "It belonged to the Silver Surfer, Herald of Galactus. Galactus was a literal planet-eating threat and the Silver Surfer was the one who informed the planets of their impending doom. You know, all 'resistance is futile' and 'surrender now'.

"I won the board from the guys who finally defeated the Silver Surfer in a strip poker game. Word of advice, don't play strip poker if the only woman among your number is able to turn invisible. Takes all the fun out of it. All I saw was a trio of flaming, rocky, and stretchy cocks."

The immediate area around me went quiet with my casual explanation. I didn't know if it was in shock, disbelief, or something else but I paid it no mind. Instead, I just handed the drink I'd been pouring off to its intended customer and moved along to another task.

"Uh… when you say 'flaming, rocky, and stretchy'-…" Someone eventually asked.

"I mean so literally. One guy could set his whole body on fire and fly. The second had a body made of rock and the strength to match. The third was kinda like Plastic Man, but he was called Mr. Fantastic. His wife gave him that name. With a man who could stretch his tongue however he wanted, I'll give you three guesses as to why she named him that."

That got a snort of laughter from one of the few women listening in, "Damn lucky woman."

"I may not have his abilities but I've picked up a trick or two over my long lives," I flirted, wiggling my eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.

The woman — a minor villain named Nocturna with skin as pale as Didi's — blushed scarlet. Didi came over to slap me lightly on the back of the head, "Stop flirting if you don't intend to back it up!"

"Yes, dear," I drawled flatly.

"Just for that, her next one is free," Didi shot back, flashing the minor villain a warm smile. "Sorry about my boss, darling. His mouth tends to write checks that he never cashes."

I shrugged, "I could but I'm on the clock right now. And after we get off, Didi has my time firmly booked."

Didi's blush matched Nocturna's. Two exceptionally pale and beautiful goth women turned bright red in embarrassment. It was a sight worthy of the memory banks.

I looked around my bar, taking in the rest of the scene. Catwoman had been good to her word. Only a week later, almost all of Gotham's shady underground was gathering in my bar. My henchmen regulars were still here but now they were joined by bonafide villains. Well, the villains who weren't completely deranged sociopaths, at least.

Yeah, I may have broken my neutrality when it came to the likes of Victor Zsasz and the Joker. Those guys were unredeemable and worse still, they wouldn't respect Dead End's neutrality by themselves. While I could shut them down easily if they tried, I just didn't want that hassle, no matter how morbidly fascinating a civil conversation with the Joker might be.

Also, if I was being honest with myself, I didn't want the competition he would offer when Harley Quinn finally showed up… Judging by the looks Didi gave me when I declared the Dead End off-limits for the Joker, she knew about my less-than-up-front reasoning there.

Eh, I'm sure it was just for show. Like most of Gotham, Didi had a good reason to hate the Joker. Though her grudge was based on something a bit higher level. As Death, the Joker had evaded her grasp a few too many times. He had a knack for quite literally 'Cheating Death' and Didi did not like to be cheated.

Given that, my connection to Didi, and the fact that we now lived in Gotham, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would have to deal with the Joker. But for the time being, I was content to let him rest on the Dead End's ban list.

The ban list was remarkably short for Gotham. Just Victor Zsasz and the Joker. And the methodical and purely malicious serial killers got a tentative blanket ban that could be renegotiated if they showed up and convinced me otherwise. The likes of Killer Croc and Solomon Grundy fell under that second consideration.

Outside of Gotham… the list got a bit complicated. Mostly from the extradimensional threats. Under no circumstances did I want to deal the the Bat Who Laughs.

Abhorrent forces of nature like the Perpetua, Black Flash, and the Great Old Ones of the setting should probably be banned as well just for the collateral damage they would cause by simply showing up. But beings like the rest of the Endless, Lucifer Morningstar, Mr. Manhattan, Mxyzptlk, or Batmite? They were welcome to come and have a drink at the Dead End if it ever tickled their fancy.

Most of those beings had no way of knowing me and my bar existed right now. I'd deal with them as they came up. For now, my focus was entirely on Gotham and the colorful cast of characters that made up Batman's Rogues Gallery.

Of that selection, most of the villains were here now or had been here in the past week. I'd served Catwoman, Two-Face, Bane, the Mad Hatter, and more. Clayface was impressed I had alcohol that could even affect his unique physiology and even the Penguin had decided that the Dead End was as good a place to hang out as his Iceberg Lounge.

No heroes or vigilantes just yet, not counting whatever Catwoman fashioned herself to be at that moment. But she should have made it clear that my door was open to them as well. I figured I'd get a visit from the Bat Family soon enough.

The ones I was really waiting for were Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. I… may have had a crush. Or two, in this case. While much of my prior knowledge was coming back to me since I'd been in this universe, they were two characters that stuck around in my mind even before that.

Along with Catwoman, Joker, and Batman himself, the two of them were iconic enough to remember even after nearly six dozen lives. And they made for just about the cutest bisexual/lesbian couple in the multiverse. I may have had a soft spot for them.

If not for Didi and the bar keeping me busy, I might have run off to find them on my own. At the very least to help Ivy rebel and overthrow society (it was a good cause and helping to found a nature-based new world order wasn't something I'd done before) and to make sure Harley's twisted infatuation with the Joker died an ugly DEATH.

I was fine with waiting for them to come to me though. Didi was more than enough woman to keep me occupied, even if I wasn't quite sure what our relationship could be classified as. Friends? Definitely. Lovers? Soon perhaps. Something unfathomable between an Endless being and a serial reincarnator? That's where words began to fail me.

The Riddler got my attention with a curious question, pulling me from my musing, "Excuse me, Mr. Barkeep, but what exactly is this trophy? I've been trying to figure it out but for the life of me, I don't have a single clue."

He was pointing at a perfectly smooth sphere stuck to a plaque above the bar. It seemed to defy gravity, just hanging there without support. The small nameplate beneath it read 'Simmy'.

It was one of more than a dozen trophies like it. I'd taken to decorating the bar with conquests of my past lives, like the Silver Surfboard from earlier. Feats and items so impressive and powerful that they had burned themselves into my soul's True Name, lingering even after death and reincarnation. If they were all evoked at once, the name 'Sean Caine' would shake reality.

I hummed and then deadpanned, "My ex-wife."

Riddler paused, "Excuse me…?"

"You're excused," I played the cheesy joke straight and said nothing more.

"C'mon now, lad," Penguin cut in. "You can't just drop a tidbit like that and leave it to rot. Tell us the story, won't ya?"

Absently cleaning a bar glass, I sighed, "I suppose it's an interesting one at least. Let me set the stage.

"There once was a world that was plagued by unspeakable Entities…" The capital letter in 'Entities' was audible and drew the attention of everyone at the bar to me.

"These were unknowable, Alien beings with only one motivation: their Cycle. They would infect and infest worlds, use the populations to gather data, and then harvest the whole thing to gather enough power to get to the next. Then the Cycle would repeat infinitely.

"These Entities landed on Earth. Or at least, a planet that was close enough to Earth for the difference to be irrelevant. One of the Entities was damaged before they landed. It was practically braindead. Except these Entities didn't think in the way we know thought. So the Cycle continued anyway.

"Once settled, they split themselves into Shards. The Shards found hosts in the population, granting powers that would give the Entities interesting data. The Shards encouraged conflict because it offered the most interesting data for the Entities to harvest. And so the world was sent on a slow downward spiral into doom and destruction.

"But the conflict wasn't enough for the half-broken Entities. So they activated a specific set of Shards to encourage even more. And thus, the Conflict Engines known as Endbringers were born.

"Now, let me clarify something. These Entities were truly beyond Human comprehension. Just the Shards of them alone were enough to take up entire planets. The Entities themselves were almost akin to Eldritch Beings, for those who are familiar. Got all that? Good."

I could feel the horror mounting in my audience as I spoke. My story sucked them in and held their focus entirely. When I spoke of the Entities and the Cycle, the villains paled considerably. When I spoke of the Endbringers, they suddenly found their drinks very necessary. When I compared the Entities to Eldritch Beings, one henchman outright fainted.

And in the background shadows of the bar, I sensed a sneaky little birdie listening in. It seemed as though one of the heroes of Gotham had arrived just in time for me to scare the socks off him and Batman. He was already recording everything I said and I could hear the earpiece hidden in his ear going unintelligibly wild.

The Bat Family would soon have yet another existential threat to prepare for, though thankfully, this preparation would be unnecessary. DC had plenty of cosmic threats already. It definitely didn't need Entities on top of it all.

I paused, "Well, maybe it'd be more apt to compare them to worms… Interdimensional Space Worms. You know how a certain family of worms is functionally immortal? How they'll keep growing forever and if you cut off a piece of one — like say, a Shard? —, It will become its own worm entirely?"

"No! Who the fuck just knows shit like that?!" Two-Face reacted with reeling shock to cover his mounting horror.

"Uh, I knew," Riddler raised an awkward hand. "It's actually rather fascinating. A species of flatworms called planarians is what our Barkeep is referring to. They're immortal because of their seemingly infinite regenerative capabilities."

"Like lobsters then?" Penguin contributed.

Riddler got into full lecture mode, "Actually, that's a common myth. Lobsters aren't immortal, they just appear that way because they don't grow or age the same way as mammals do. And they have the incredible ability to repair their own DNA!"

"'Course Nygma would know this kind of shit. It's freaky, is what it is," Two-Face grunted.

"I beg your pardon?" Riddler puffed up in light offense. "The study of planarians and lobsters has shown much promise in perhaps one-day unlocking immortality for the common man! It's far from freaky!"

Penguin played mediator, "I believe what our two-tone friend is trying to get at is that a mile-long, immortal worm is a right terrifying mental picture, much less the things our friendly Barkeep is referring to. Two-Face is gruff but I'm positive he meant no offense. And we seem to have gotten off track. I've much more interest in the story about Interdimensional Space Worms than this petty squabble. Please, continue, Mr. Barkeep."

I smirked in amusement, "Where was I? Right, Endbringers. The Endbringers sent the world's slow downward spiral into overdrive. Every three months, they would attack population centers, killing thousands to millions of people. The world panicked and despaired but there was nothing they could do. Even the world's strongest heroes couldn't scratch the Endbringers."

"D-Dear God…" Nocturna mumbled in existential dread.

I couldn't help but smirk, playing the part of the sadistic storyteller, "And the worst part? The Endbringers were sandbagging. Even going against the entire world, they were using a fraction of their true strength. The first controlled all energy in its domain. It could have brought Superman to his knees in moments. The second was about half as fast as the Flash and controlled liquids like Ivy controls plants. All… Liquids…"

"Every living being has some form of liquid in them…" Riddler realized, shocked by the implications.

I scoffed, "Try thinking a little bigger than that. I'm talking near total control over a state of matter. It sunk Japan. While still sandbagging."

Nobody managed to find words after that revelation.

"Then there was the third one, most terrifying of the Endbringers," I continued. "She was nearly omniscient and twisted fate and people to her whims with ease. She could have played Batman like a fiddle. So, of course, I somehow ended up marrying her-…"

"You fucking what?!?!" Several shouts of disbelief and shock echoed through the bar.

I laughed, "Ahahahahaha~! Yeah, my ex-wife was an Endbringer. In my defense, she was quite literally angelic-… Hold on, it might be easier to just show you."

Using the Death of Perceived Reality (Conceptual power over Death was a bullshit ability), I projected an illusion from my soul's memories. The Simurgh appeared floating over the bar. Everyone listening and watching went silent as she began to sing an eerily beautiful song. One that was (thankfully) devoid of the powers she wielded in life.

A spherical curtain of ever-revolving Eldritch wings graced this reality with its presence. An equal-parts statuesque and voluptuous woman floated in its center. In one reality, in a life past-lived, it would have been a terrifying sight. Here, it was merely hauntingly beautiful.

I knew her by many names. The Simurgh. Hopekiller. Angel of Death. Ziz. Simmy. The sight of her brought a fond smile to my face. We might have been hated — absolutely reviled and feared by the world around us. But we were happy.

"She's gorgeous," Nocturna muttered in awe.

One of the henchmen listening nodded sagely, "Yeah, okay, having a giant angel woman as a wife does sound pretty nice."

"I can't quite get over that she was a world-ending threat. A literal 'Endbringer'? That bothering anybody else?" Two-Face said.

"To be fair to Simmy, the Endbringers weren't inherently evil creatures. They were Shards, akin to artificial intelligence with a set of directives to follow. And those directives could be changed. After we got together, I managed to bring her around to Humanity's side of the equation. Even my new brothers-in-law came around eventually."

"How'd you even get together with a literal Angel of Death?" Penguin asked, chewing absently on the end of a cigar.

I pretended to buff and inspect my nails, "She only wanted me for my body."

My statement was greeted by stunned silence. Everyone listening — most of the bar, at this point — just stared at me. I kept my expression schooled and completely serious. I was being honest after all. Just in a slightly misleading way.

"'Want you for your body'…?" Riddler considered. "The Cycle! Her Shard must have wanted to collect data from you and decided that marriage was the best way forward!"

I tapped my nose, "Got it in one, Riddler. Something about me was unique enough for an Endbringer to change its methods and later its directives."

"But what data could be that valuable…?" Riddler wondered to himself.

"I think I'll leave that a secret for now," I hid a smirk. "If I say it out loud, Simmy will finally realize and then she'll use it to come visit. I'm keeping that secret as a surprise for our 500th year anniversary."

That statement set the whole bar on edge, "She's still alive?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure," I answered distractedly. "She's just in… Well, I suppose you could call it hibernation. Still, the trophy there? That's a duplicate of her core. She could surely manage to rebuild herself from it if I told her my best-kept secret. Hell, I'll bet the sneaky woman is listening in right now."

Two-Face sheepishly looked at Simmy's core, "Uh, sorry about the slander, Miss Endbringer. I didn't mean no harm by it. Promise."

"Do you not want to be with her again?" Riddler asked. "Didn't you say she was on Humanity's side by the end of it all?"

"Sure, sure," I nodded agreeably before smirking. "But I don't think Batman would like me summoning an Angel of Death in his city."

Riddler winced, "Yeah, he might not look kindly upon that."

"Not gonna make a ball and chain joke?" Penguin asked with a grin.

"Are you kidding? I love women, my wives especially. I never got the appeal of those jokes. If you love your wife, why act like you hate spending time with her? And if you truly hate your wife, why are you married to her in the first place?"

"Truly, Humans are a mysterious species," Didi said with a smile, planting a fond peck on my cheek.

Turning back to Penguin with a raised eyebrow, "See? Why would I turn this away? Whether it comes from my goth girl or my Angel of Death, I'm blessed by the women in my life."

Didi blushed and her smile could have blinded the world, "At least some Humans are straightforward and easy to understand."

Penguin nodded, "You're a wiser man than I, Mr. Barkeep. Even as a boss villain, I can't seem to get away from a certain percentage of nagging."

"Hello, Kabuki Twins. Yeah, your boss is just over here. He was just talking about you," I joked, pretending to call out to guests who weren't there.

He suddenly ducked, looking over his shoulder before turning back and hissing, "Don't play like that! The girls are lovely but they've got claws of steel! If they heard me make a ball and chain joke, they'd put little Cobblepot on ice!"

"Have you considered maybe…" My lips twitched. "Not making stupid jokes at all?"

"Asking the Penguin to watch his tongue is like asking him to fly," Riddler showed off his dry, cutting wit, getting a round of laughs from the bar.

I felt our little birdie vigilante guest move in the shadows of the bar. It reminded me he was even there, still listening in. I wonder why he hadn't come out and introduced himself. Maybe he was just waiting for an opening. This was a bar full of villains and henchmen after all. But that wouldn't do at all. I wanted the heroes to hang out here just as much as I wanted the villains.

I chuckled, "Speaking of birds… Hey, Robin! You can't loiter here! Buy something or scram!"

The villains tensed before remembering the Dead End's neutrality. Robin wasn't so forgiving. With his cover blown, he sprung from the shadows. A red and black blur rushed at me. I caught the Boy Wonder by the scruff of his cape, holding him aloft effortlessly in front of me.

I raised a questioning eyebrow at him, "Now, what's all that about? I know Catwoman told you and your dad that this place was neutral territory. That goes for the heroes just as much as it does for the villains."

"Dad…?" A few henchmen asked themselves in confusion.

"I am 120 pounds of spite, fury, and pure freaking death," Robin's glare at me was legendary, both flat and furious at the same time. "Let me down, Villain. Or I shall be forced to unsheathe my blade."

Ah, adorable and terrifying. So Damian Wayne was currently Robin. That should have narrowed down the timeline for me but it really didn't. I didn't remember quite that much about DC.

As deadly and vicious as he was cute and little, the born-and-raised assassin was a work in progress as Robin. Mostly because I was sure Bruce Wayne was still trying to instill his 'No Killing' rule upon him after Damian was raised in the League of Assassins. He was probably the most deadly skilled Robin to date and it showed by the way the villains at my bar shied away from him. Yet I held him up by the scruff of his cape like an impotent little murder puppy.

"I'm not a villain," I corrected. "I'm a barkeep running a perfectly legal establishment. And one of the only rules we have here is no fighting. Keep the hero/villain business to the streets, please."

Robin's calm composure returned almost instantly, "Ah… very well, Barkeep. Please let me down so I may vacate the premises. I do not believe Mother and Father would approve of me drinking so I'm afraid I cannot purchase anything."

His flat politeness was almost as eerie as his ruthless threat. I hummed, not letting him go just yet, "I have non-alcoholic options. In fact, let me get you a glass of water. You must be thirsty after patrolling all night."

"That will not be necessary. My canteen is still half full," Robin answered.

I shrugged, "All right, just one more thing then."

Quicker than even the Boy Wonder could react, I reached out and plucked his hidden earpiece from his ear. As I held it up to my ear but didn't insert it, I could hear a feminine voice from the other side, "Just stay calm, Damian, don't lash out. Selina said he was firmly neutral. He should let you go without any trouble. And then book it back to the Batcave. I'm sure Bruce will want to know what you've heard tonight. And he'll definitely get mad if you mortally wound the innocent bartender!"

"Hello, Oracle," I stifled a laugh, my greeting sending the other side of the communicator into stunned silence.

There was a kill switch in the device that should have activated once it left Robin's ear. But considering my powers, anything with 'kill' in the name was child's play to disable.

"Don't worry. Little Robin is fine. Unharmed except for his ego, I presume. And I just wanted to talk to you to clarify some things. Yes, my bar is neutral. That goes for all parties. The Devil himself could walk into the Dead End and I'd just ask him what he was drinking. While you and your family are naturally welcome here as well, I do hope that you will keep the violence and cape grudges out of my bar. It's a simple request but I will enforce it quite vigorously."

"How-… Understood, Mr. Caine," Oracle replied. I wasn't even surprised the Bat Family knew my name. "Would you be willing to give Robin his equipment back?"

I nodded even though she likely couldn't see me. Though, with the Bats, that was never a guarantee. I could easily see Robin having a microscopic camera in his mask that Oracle was streaming from.

"Of course. And one more thing. A gift, if you will. Or perhaps just righting a wrong. Or maybe I just really hate the Joker. Either way, enjoy using your legs again. And feel free to stop by the Dead End when you have the chance. Your first drink will be on the house. No 'half-off' special or anything so insensitive here."

As I said that, I reached through space, tracing the Death of the Signal in the earpiece. After switching through many, many obscuring methods, I ended up on the other end. Oracle — Barbara Gorden — took 'man in the chair' to a whole other level. She was wheelchair-bound after being shot in the spine by the Joker.

For someone with my powers and Death's Hand, it was a simple problem to fix — simply the Death of a Crippling Injury, the Death of an Unhealthy Body. Reality rejected Barbara's long-healed wound as if it never happened in the first place.

I didn't stick around any longer than I had to. No, I left Barbara Gorden whole, hail, and healthier than she'd ever been. Maybe a little too healthy, now that I think about it. Oh well, it wasn't like a super Batgirl was likely to be a bad thing.

Handing Robin back his earpiece, I set him down, dusted him off patronizingly, patted his head, and sent him on his way. The dead glare he gave me was still adorable and frightening. I waved him off without worry or care. He'd have more important things to worry about shortly when Oracle discovered what I'd done for her.

Turning back to my patrons, I saw them staring at me as if I were the second coming of Jesus and a man with a death wish all at once, "What? What'd I do?"

"Please don't patronize our patrons, Dear," Didi sighed.

"Even the Joker wouldn't dare give the Boy Wonder head pats…" A stunned henchman mumbled.

I shrugged, "Vigilantes can have a little head pats. As a treat."