God Save The Queen → Captain Boomerang

gotham

Five years ago

BROOKLYN Delaney cut a lonely figure standing behind the long, mahogany bar in Gotham Bar. It was a Thursday night, which meant that the only people in attendance to the bar were either alcoholics or people looking to drown their sorrows in a whiskey or two. Or both.

But at that moment, there was no one there.

Business had been slow recently and she feared that the place would have to close down soon if things kept going so dire. She knew that either way, her boss would probably react bitterly. She knew that if it were her running the bar, she would probably be nothing short of a bitch due to the stress, but she still couldn't help getting annoyed.

She sighed, checking her phone. Half an hour until closing. She slipped it back into her pocket and went back to jadedly wiping down the bar. A small ruffle sounded outside, and Brooklyn jolted out of her reverie, before the door lugged open.

A tall shadow unceremoniously trudged through the door. The man had a sort of rugged handsome quality to him, with a short beard, and small scratches haphazardly carved through his face. But perhaps the most interesting feature was the gold tooth that gleamed when he peeled back his lips into a smile.

He plopped himself down onto a stool at the bar, with Brooklyn growing increasingly indifferent towards the man. "A beer please, love," he said, handing her crumpled notes. Brooklyn furrowed her eyebrows. He didn't have an American accent at all. She guessed he was a tourist. A lonely tourist at that.

"Coming right up," she said, her voice laced with the severe contempt of wanting to leave work and have a damn good nap.

She turned away, beginning to fill his glass. "It's so quiet tonight," the man said. "You Americans are bloody boring."

She looked up. "And where are you from?"

"You couldn't tell from the accent?" he asked with a dry chuckle. "Australia, love. You know, that big island where nobody does anything but ride kangaroos to work and drink beer."

"Of course," she said. She put the drink on the counter and the man immediately took a long swig from it.

He leaned over the bar. "Know any good tourist spots?"

She shrugged. "The Stacked Deck is a good club to get killed at, maybe. You know the Joker's a regular there, yeah?"

He chuckled again. "You Americans and your crazy serial killers. Gotta love 'em."

She raised her eyebrows. "And what about Australia, huh? I'm sure you've had your fair share."

"No," he said matter-of-factly. "Gun control."

"Ah."

"Yeah, that's why I use boomerangs to kill people."

She laughed. "Jesus, you're an ass."

"Yeah, so I've been told. Sorry about that, love."

"What're you in Gotham for, anyway? There's nothing to do here."

He shrugged. "Business, money. Why are you asking?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "With everything going on, you gotta be stupid to come to Gotham."

"Is that an insult, love?"

"Might be."

"What's your name?" he asked, grinning. His gold tooth gleamed.

Her mouth slightly upturned. "I'm Brooklyn."

"Might as well have a bloody bald eagle on your shoulder," he muttered.