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.

"Excuse me?"

He let out a breathy chuckle as an answer.

"Well," she demanded. "What's yours?"

His eyes glinted slyly. "Digger Harkness."

She stifled a laugh. "Digger?"

"Yes. Problem?"

"No."

"Good." He drained the dregs of his glass. "Another one, love?" He dug around for his wallet underneath the massive jacket he was wearing before sliding more cash across the bar. She picked up the paper and shoved it into the till, before wordlessly filling up another glass with beer. Digger kept talking. "When's closing time?"

"Ten minutes," she said. " I would've told you, but you seem like the type to drink quickly, anyway."

"Are you doing anything after this?"

She was well aware where the stalker-ish questions were probably headed. "Yes," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh," he said. "What are you doing?"

Fuck, she thought. "Uh, nothing?"

"Fair enough," he laughed. "Are you always this cold to guys trying to pick you up?"

"No, I mean yes — well, you know it's unsafe these days in Gotham. Ever since all those bad guys began running loose, I try to get home as soon as possible."

He smiled. Something about his grin was off, but for some reason she was intrigued. "Do you think I'm one of those bad guys?"

She cleared her throat. "No."

He leaned over the bar. "You have no idea how wrong you are, love," he breathed.

And with that, he stood up and sauntered out of the bar.

Brooklyn didn't know she was holding her breath until the door clicked close and she let out a long sigh. Her breath hitched in her throat as she heard another voice emit from the shadows. "You can go home now, if you want," her boss said. Dillon was an old family friend and was kinder than the other bosses she'd had, she thought. He stepped out of the shadows. "Not many creeps come around the bar," he continued. "But these are strange times in Gotham."

She smiled weakly. "Where's Batman when you need him, eh?" She slung her bag onto her shoulder. "You're alright to close up?"

He nodded. "You get home safely."

"I will," she said, and started towards the door. "Goodnight."

"'Night, Brooklyn."

She slipped out into the dark night, and a cool breeze greeted her. She began to trudge down the sidewalk, her grip on her bag tight. She was ready if something came out of the shadows. Well, at least she thought she was.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and whipped around, swinging her arm around to meet whoever was there. Digger Harkness ducked down, his mouth agape. "Calm down, love. Just me."

She clamped her mouth shut. "What the fuck? Are you stalking me? I will call the police!"

His eyes shot open. "Police?" He laughed nervously. "No need for that."

She stood up straighter, still hostile. "Well?" she asked. "What do you want?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Do you want to come home with me?"

"No." Even as the words passed through her mouth, she still felt intrigued by the man.

"Are you scared of me?"

"Do you really think you're scary, Digger?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.

He began strolling leisurely down the sidewalk. "Dunno. Scary to some people, at least. But something about you tells me you're not scared easily."

"I've seen much scarier than you in this city, Digger. You're gonna have to try harder."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. "You should be scared of me, princess," he breathed.

And almost without forewarning he kissed her. It was a loveless, cold collision fuelled with hunger and lust, but something about it excited Brooklyn. He was all brashness and assertion, but Brooklyn never minded.

Even when she woke up in his bed the next morning, she never minded. Something felt right.

She never thought much of that night — never thought it was worth bringing to the forefront of her mind.

But that was before Task Force X was formed.