dryskies_btb
patreon
Gotham's Dead-End Bar Ch.1
🕑 Added 2023-12-17 04:09:33 +0000 UTC[Tags: Fanfic, Snippet, DC, Gotham, Batman, Humor, Straight, Eventual Smut, OP MC, Neutral MC, Not Hero, Not Villain, Rogue’s Gallery, Death of the Endless (best girl), Definitely Harley and Ivy as well]
AN: Quick update on what I’m going to be doing going forward. I want to get the first chapter/first couple of chapters out for a few more stories. Then I’ll be picking three and sticking with them for a while. This isn’t the end for Company Devil. It’s the one story I have already locked in. But the other two slots are up in the air. Maybe the Warlock x Patron story, maybe this one, or maybe one of the other new ones. I’ll probably put it up for a poll when the time comes to finalize my decision. Anyway, enjoy this story!]
IIIII
I’ve lived many distinct lives. When I say that, I mean it quite literally. Life after life. All different and yet the same. Separate circumstances, same person. Over and over again. I was Sean Caine, a serial reincarnator.
Sometimes I reincarnated as a baby. Sometimes as a fully mature adult. Just about the only thing that stayed the same was my name. It was like it was burned into my soul. Maybe all that talk of ’True Names’ had some credence to it.
Death was almost mundane to me now. While I didn’t know where I’d end up, the new worlds I found myself in tended to be just as unique and varied as my new bodies. Some were magical. Some were mundane. Some still were familiar, tales and stories from another life.
In the grand scheme of things, I’m sure I wasn’t special. Reincarnation was a trope for a reason. Surely, others had found themselves in my situation. I wasn’t all-powerful or anything. And I’d stopped chasing temporary power after the sixth or so time I’d reincarnated with a fresh start.
Given my circumstances, I lived my life however I wished. I didn’t put much stock in the power games or wider events of the worlds I found myself in. Living for myself was enough for me. Sometimes that philosophy sucked me into events of importance. But most of the time, I was left alone by higher powers and fate and whatnot.
Case in point: my last life. And my last death, I suppose. It was a typical fantasy world. One that would have been common in just about any cliche isekai scenario. System, Demon King, Hero figure, Kings, Queens, and all of that.
I’d been born to an utterly normal family in the kingdom that bordered the Demon King’s lands. But instead of becoming an adventurer or seeking power through the system, I decided to become the King’s court jester.
That decision… didn’t end well. Oh, it was fine for a time. I lived a comfortable life and I was the only one legally allowed to insult the King. But I ended up taking one of my jokes a bit too far. Well, maybe a few of my jokes…
There was the time I slapped the King on the ass and apologized by saying I mistook him for the Queen. And the time I ‘adopted’ (read: kidnapped) a bunch of Demon babies to raise as my jesterly assistants, nearly starting an outright war with the Demons. And the time I stole the panties off a visiting Princess and planted them in the King’s pocket to fall out when he was greeting the Princess and her father, nearly starting another war. And the time I took the Prince on a bender of a bachelor party, causing him to miss his wedding and nearly starting yet another war. And the time I spiked the royal feast with aphrodisiacs, leading to an orgy that spilled out onto the streets of the capital and nearly started a revolution.
Eventually, I was deemed a threat to national security and the King was forced to call for my execution. It probably didn’t help my case that I slept with the Queen either. Or the Princess. Or the King’s Royal Mother. Yeah, carnally having three generations of the royal family probably didn’t help keep me alive.
Oh well, I accepted my fatal end nobly, knowing another life awaited me. After, of course, announcing to the large audience that gathered that the King was a cuckold. The consequences of my actions? Didn’t know, didn’t care. My head was already separated from my shoulders by the time the crowd started throwing produce at the King.
As always, I drifted between one life and the next. I didn’t know much about the multiverse. Just enough to know it was definitely a thing. Whatever animated my soul into reincarnation seemed to throw me about the vast expanse of existence at random. There was no telling where I’d end up.
So it wasn’t impossible when I ended up resting on a woman’s lap pillow. Just very unexpected. Every time prior to this — all 68 lives — I was thrown directly into my new body. But this time — the lucky 69 — I wasn’t quite alive just yet.
Still a soul, I rested on the unknown woman’s comfortable lap. She hummed sweetly and stroked my hair. The sound of waves crashing somewhere near my feet. Warm sand on my back. Soft thighs cradling my neck.
It was peaceful. Pleasant. Downright nice. I didn’t feel the need to open my eyes. Being thrown from body to body, life to life like this was surprisingly stressful on my soul. The chance to simply rest like this without inhabiting my next body was a much-needed respite.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, eons, time seemed to blur together. I’m not sure it was even a concept wherever we were. Eyes closed, I napped but did not dream. Eventually, the woman supporting me began to come and go but didn’t move all the same. It was as if I was waiting for something that could wait. A strange stage of existence on the edge of life and death where I was unexpected but welcome company.
Both a second and an eternity after I arrived, my eyes blinked open. In that time between time, I first laid eyes on the woman who had lent me her lap. Immediately, I began counting my blessings. I must have done something very good in one of my many previous lives.
She was gorgeous, both dark and kind with a small smile that pulled at her black-painted lips as she watched the waves break upon the shore endlessly. Skin so pale it should have been unhealthy. Hair so black it should have been the void between stars. A silver Ankh hung from a necklace around her neck. Another two hung from earrings in her ears.
I recognized her. Half-remembered stories from a half-remembered life. Must have been one of my first dozen or so. Even if I didn’t recognize her, she was familiar in a way that whispered deep within my soul.
“Has Death finally claimed me for good?” I asked.
Her smile twitched upward a bit more, “In a way. You floated in from the Sea Between and it looked like you could use a bit of a rest. I’ve had to keep drifting off again even here on solid land so you could actually benefit from that rest.”
“Figures. My soul doesn’t seem to like staying in one place for long.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you? It’s become something of a curiosity of mine.”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I just can’t seem to stay dead.”
“Would you like to?”
I shrugged as best I could in my position, “I could take it or leave it. I don’t particularly hate living but after 68 lives and a good few millennia, I don’t think I’d mind trying something new.”
Death hummed, “Hmm, then perhaps a little bit of both this time.”
She leaned down, cupping my face. A gentle kiss, breathing life and something more into my lungs. Something intangible swelled, like background music composed of Fate, Death, and Soul. Touched by death so many times, a part of my very being resonated with Death’s lips.
Next to my True Name, a mark was etched like a lovingly crafted tattoo. Power filled my soul, anything but temporary this time. Touched by Death, her Chosen Hand. A bond was forged.
Even when the kiss broke, Death didn’t pull back fully. She stayed scant inches from my face, staring into my eyes as I stared into hers. A twinkle there settled my soul. A serial reincarnator finally given Death’s permission. An anchor, a reason to stay for a long 69th.
“So, uh… where do we go from here?” I asked, settling into our connection between something incomprehensibly Endless and something just a bit unique.
Death pulled back, a smile still playing on her lips as she whispered sweetly, “Wherever you so choose. Though, I wouldn’t say no to a bit of assistance. We’ll be… in touch, so to speak. And Sean? Call me Didi.”
She let me go. I drifted off as my soul was wont to do, feeling a new body and life calling for me. But this time, a connection to Death lingered. Soul-deep but not overwhelming or intrusive. It was like a phone number with a new friend waiting on the other end.
With that, Life 69 was off to a pretty promising start. Here’s hoping I didn’t end up someplace dreary and miserable…
IIIII
Gotham was a dreary and miserable place. A city so worn down by crime that it inspired an entire family of superheroes. On top of that, it rained frequently and the city seemed stuck in a perpetual gray cloudy twilight. Then, of course, there was the cursed land and the fact that it was in New Jersey of all places.
All in all, not the sort of place I would have typically set up shop. Yet, here I was. At least I came to awareness in an adult body. That was a plus. While childhood and adolescence could be fun, infancy always sucked for a reincarnator.
Upon ‘waking’, I found myself in an apartment above a bar. From there, it took a few moments for my memories to settle back into place. I’d never figured out if I was possessing the body of an alternate version of myself or if I was always there and my reincarnating soul just joined back up with itself. It was the sort of thing I didn’t think too hard about. That way lay madness.
And either way, I was still Sean Caine. And in this universe, I found myself in possession of a bar in Gotham. Somewhat of a poor choice for location but I shrugged it off. I could still work with this.
I wasn’t about to go out and start playing hero. Or villain, for that matter. While the characters I remembered from the DC universe were interesting and I wouldn’t mind meeting (and ‘meeting’) a couple, I was fine with settling into a more normal lifestyle first. And if I got too bored with being a mere bartender, I could always hit up Didi.
Besides, my counterpart had already put in all the work to get the bar up and running. It would be a shame to let what was technically my own effort go to waste. So today, Gotham’s Dead-End Bar will be opening for business.
I flipped the open sign around at just past five. Almost immediately, I had my first customer. Casual as can be, the personification of Death walked through my doors. I blinked, still holding the open sign when she entered.
A slow smile spread across my face, “Fancy seeing you again so soon.”
Didi waved, “Time is a meaninglessly pompous bastard. Much too full of himself for my taste. I would know. He’s my father.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, walking her over to the bar. “Now, what can I get for you, Didi?”
“A glass of wine and some good conversation with my newest friend,” She answered, settling herself on one of the bar stools.
I nodded, “I think I can do that. I’m not expecting many customers after just opening. You have my full attention, Lady Death.”
Didi rolled her eyes, “Please, there’s no need for titles or formalities. We’re practically old friends. Your soul has certainly known my touch enough to qualify for that.”
“I think I’d remember you specifically touching my soul more than once. And as far as I can recall, our little kiss was the first time,” I replied skeptically.
Didi blushed slightly, “It was my first time as well…”
I didn’t miss a beat, “I’ll be sure to take responsibility.”
She cleared her throat, her blush (ironically) not dying down, “A-Ahem, we may not have met in person before that but Death is Death, no matter the universe. Your many trips through the Veil of life and death made sure your soul was quite familiar with my Concept.”
“Well, it was about time we finally met,” I said. “It’s an utter shame I missed out on your company 68 times before this.”
“It is nice to have someone other than my siblings to talk to,” Didi tittered.
Pouring and handing her a glass of wine, I raised a bar towel as if toasting, “Here’s hoping I’ll be better conversation than the Endless.”
“They’re all dreadfully out of touch. You won’t have much competition from any of them. Well, perhaps Delirium. She spends about as much time with mortal souls as I do. But she doesn’t make for very good conversation,” Didi considered.
“Ah, yes,” I nodded sagely. “The universe’s ultimate manic pixie dream girl. I’m sure few can hope to be as interesting as her.”
“Perhaps,” Didi allowed. “But lucidity is her anathema so I’m sure you can imagine why talking to her is a toss-up.”
I schooled a grimace, “I can see how that would make engaging conversation a challenge.”
“Enough about my siblings,” Didi decided. “Tell me about yourself, Sean Caine. What adventures have you had as a reincarnating soul adrift in the multiverse?”
I hummed, “Many and surprisingly few at the same time. After the first dozen or so times, I decided that trying to fix everything I came across didn’t make me happy. Since then, I’ve been living for myself.”
“Come now,” Didi chided gently. “Surely, there must be something of interest. Something you’re particularly proud of? Ashamed? I promise I won’t judge you.”
“Hmm…” I paused to consider my many lives. The first one that came to mind was one of Dungeons and Dragons. “How about the time I conquered a Dragon God through the power of song and seduction?”
Didi sat up, leaning forward eagerly, “Yes, that! Go on, regale me with stories even I’ve never heard before.”
“Well, that particular story starts with humble beginnings. As a child, I discovered my talent for music when a dare from a friend saw me serenading a symphony of sirens of all people. It also saw me losing my virginity in that life in a truly epic fashion. I then spent my teenage years playing in taverns and pubs, and sleeping my way through anything with a vaguely humanoid body shape-…”
And so, I regaled Death with a tale of a life past-lived. She hung off my every word. From sleeping with the wrong woman and having to go on the run to being all but conscripted into the world-saving adventurers’ party. Then of all our adventures together and the many bastard children I must have sired along the way. I was a bard in that life, after all.
At some point during my story, my bar saw some more customers. A group of men, all clad in matching two-tone suits that split down the middle with black and white. Henchmen, most likely. Of the Two-Face variety. But this was Gotham and I wasn’t about to turn anyone away, even if I could afford to.
They interrupted my story but they weren’t rude about it, “Oi, barkeep, a round of beers for the boys.”
I served them and they took their seats toward the end of the bar, letting me get back to my story and Didi. They talked amongst themselves relatively quietly. But as my story picked up, they found themselves listening in as well.
“-So I smacked Tiamat upside the head with my lute and challenged her to a drinking contest. She was so impressed by the sheer brass balls I showed that she shifted into a Human form and took me up on the challenge. She drank me under the table but afterward… well, let’s just say she was impressed by a different set of balls.”
Didi nodded as if she knew how the story ended from there, “And then you settled down and lived happily ever after with the Dragon God. It’s almost romantic in a way.”
“A bard? Take responsibility?” I snorted. “Goodness, no. Besides, she was beginning to get clingy, wanting to elevate me to divinity and all that. Then there was the whole business of her trying to get me to cum on a clutch of her eggs…
“So I faked my death and skipped out on her. I think she’s still trying to track me down. If a multi-headed Dragon shows up at the bar and asks about child support, those kids aren’t mine and I’m not here, capeesh?”
Didi broke out into a fit of giggles, “You’re horrible~! How could you do that to a poor Dragon Goddess?”
“Easy. Just pretend she crushed you in her sleep and sneak off when she’s busy freaking out,” I shrugged. “I was a different man. If I did that now, it’d be the Death of me.”
Didi turned a playful, pouting glare at me, “Yes, it would, Mister. And I actually have a way of tracking you down. Don’t forget that.”
The air in the bar seemed to chill as she said that last bit. A fraction of Endless weight bore down upon the area around Didi. For the mooks listening in, I’m sure it made them just about soil their pants. For someone who’d been touched by Death so many times, it was almost comforting.
I smirked, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Didi.”
At the end of the bar, the henchmen whispered to each other, “U-Uh, boss? Maybe we should make with the skedaddling?”
The henchman who ordered their drinks nodded, stuttering, “Y-Yeah, and tell the rest of the boys that this new place is off limits…”
“Make sure to pay your bills,” I drawled, surprising the mooks with my ability to hear them.
The lead henchman jumped in his seat, “Y-You got it, big man!”
He got up and hurried over to pay me. I rolled my eyes, glancing at Didi. She just giggled, barely acknowledging the man she’d scared half to Death. The henchmen immediately got up to leave as their boss paid, not taking their eyes off me as they did. Gotham bred good instincts and you didn’t survive long in this city by not knowing when to cut your losses and leave.
“You’re going to owe me for scaring off my business,” I muttered sarcastically.
Before the group of henchmen could vacate my bar, the door slammed open. A clown tumbled into the bar, clad in green and purple with white face paint. Several more followed the first, laughing hysterically at their companion.
“Ah, Johannanson, you’re such a clutz!”
“Fancy place we got here!”
“Get it, fellas?! Dead End! It’s poetic, isn’t it?! ‘Specially after we get done with it!”
Their intentions were made obvious with their entrance, already wielding and waving around old-school Tommy guns as they came in. The Two-Face henchmen swore to themselves, reaching for weapons of their own.
“Shit, the Clownz are here.”
“What should we do, boss?”
“Wells, we gots to scrap it out, don’t we?!”
“Man, I didn’t even get to finish my beer…”
The Clownz turned on the Two-Face henchmen, “Lookie, lookie here, boys, this place is a Two-Face joint!”
“Oh, no, Jacky! They’ll sue us broke!” Another of the Clownz gasped dramatically.
The rest of the gang burst into peals of insane laughter, “C’mon, boys, let’s show ‘em what we do to lawyers around here!”
My voice rang out through the bar, bored and unconcerned, “Anyone who fires their weapon in my bar will find themselves meeting the business end of my boot in their ass.”
The lead Clown turned on me, “Oh, a wise guy, eh? Work on your material buddy!”
Despite the animosity between them, the lead Two-Face henchman tried to warn the Clown, “Uh, buddy…? I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The Clown cackled, “Shows what you know, Stiff!”
He raised his gun and made a big show of holding down the trigger. All of the henchmen from both sides braced themselves. Nothing happened except for a telltale click. I stared at the Clown, unimpressed as I held onto the concept of the mechanical Death of his trigger. He blinked.
“Rattle ‘em, boys!” The Clown called out, throwing aside his ‘faulty’ gun to point at me.
Their hasty trigger pulls met similar fates. They just stared as I raised an eyebrow. The lead Clown picked up his weapon and tried again, scratching his head as he looked straight down the barrel. The only thing that happened was a puff of smoke that coated his white-painted face in black ash.
One of the Two-Face henchmen tried as well, pointing his pistol at the ground and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. His boss just about smacked him upside the head in panic.
“Now, that ain’t right,” The foolishly curious henchman mumbled to himself. “I just cleaned this piece.”
The lead Two-Face henchman frantically apologized for his underling, “Sorry about that, big man! We ain’t mean no harm or nothing!”
“This bar is neutral ground,” I deadpanned. “I don’t want any of your dressed-up gang violence in here. Spread the word.”
“You think you can get away with pulling that prank?!” The lead Clown raged. “Nah, this is Joker territory! We Clownz have a monopoly on humor here!”
“That so?” I asked, raising a simple eyebrow.
“Yeah! And you ain’t no comedian! I bet you don’t even have Clown Egg on file! You couldn’t even do stand-up!”
Humming, I reached out instinctively. With a twist, the Clown’s humor died a quiet Death. As it did, I said, “You don’t seem like much of one either. Go on, tell me your best joke.”
The Clown puffed himself up in pride, “This one got me my own squad of goons! What do you call-…”
He paused, panic creeping across his expression, “How’d it go again? Wait, what the fuck am I wearing? Oh, God, I’ve missed so many classes. I’ll have to drop out of Clown College!”
“I don’t get it,” I deadpanned with a small smirk twitching my lips.
“Get what? Why do I feel like the color beige?”
The other Clownz looked at their leader in utter shock and horror, “Beige, boss? You was feelin’ green polka dots earlier!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. How could a person feel like polka dots? Beige is a much more natural color.”
One of the Clownz freaked out, “Great Goofy Goobering Jester God! He broke the boss’ funny bone! Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! I’m outta here!”
The now-humorless Clown considered something, “Why does porridge sound so good right now?”
“Not porridge!” Another cried.
The former lead Clown nodded, “With a good book on horticulture through the ages.”
The remaining Clownz looked completely terrified of me. They backed up slowly until they left the bar and their now-lost leader behind.
“If you don’t act up, you’re free to drink here!” I called after them.
The last Clown scoffed, “Acting up is the last thing I want to do. I could do with a good drink though. Do you offer wine tasting? And can you put the Cricket match on the TV?”
The Two-Face henchmen watched the scene in frozen shock. One of them piped up and said, “Boss, you ever seen a Clown lose his humor?”
The boss slowly shook his head, “Nah, never. I think they’d rather die than have this happen to ‘em.”
“You boys are free to stay as well. Just be sure you don’t go causing trouble, remember that this is a neutral establishment, and pay off your tabs on time,” I offered.
They all looked at each other and shrugged, “Might be nice to have a place to unwind after work.”
Serving the now peaceful customers, I turned my attention back to Didi to find her watching me with amusement in her eyes, “That was fun. So, where were we?”
She chuckled, “You’d just finished telling me about the irresponsibility of your youth. And after sitting quietly through all of that, I think I’m entitled to another story. Maybe one with a bit less indiscreet sluttery than the first?”
I hummed, “Hmm, that’s a bit of a tough request when it comes to me… How about the time I started a Robin Hood-themed orphanage and incited a Human uprising against Alien overlords with it?”
Didi’s laughter sounded like wind chimes through an empty house, “Hahahah~ Yes, I think I’ll enjoy that one.”
“Well, as these things tend to start, I was very, very bored one day-…”
Comments
CkLance
"The king is a cuckold." - Best Jester's last words.
bcall092
MORE MORE MORE. This is brilliant loving the premise and the interaction with people.
jp9901
Can wait to see him interact with more of the Rogue Gallery
carl hoffmen
It's really interesting and I can't wait for more I love what you did with Didi
dryskies_btb
Account or server? Cause I have an account but I don't use or check it very much these days.
ExodiaTheForbiddenOne
Oh yeah it’s pretty much a given the mc can fight the verse and come out on top dudes been through 68 isekai’s he’s bound to be op as shit
Bishop7053
I need more didi
Roy Marax
Oh my Goddess, yes, yes, 1000 times YES!!!!! Seriously! I freaking LOVE this kind of setup! Where a bar / similar establishment is meant as neutral ground, and Heroes and Villains can just come and go with no violence as stories are traded, threats for later are made, and everyone just respects the Barkeep, whether because he could kick everyone's asses all at once, or just because the way he acts around everyone makes them WANT to respect him! This one's got my vote for being one to be consistantly updated! In all honesty, while the eventual smut is a plus, it's not really what has my attention. Man, I'm really looking forwards to when the "Big Bads" and the "Pro Heroes" show up to the establishment, because that's when things will really start to get interesting with all the various interactions! ...At the same time, I blame you for the fact that you've reminded me of a somewhat similar story I kinda started planning a while back that followed this trope as well... I already had enough on my plate, dangit... XD
ExodiaTheForbiddenOne
Already love it can’t wait for more death is the best girl of dc and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise btw do you have a discord or anything ?
