Chapter Text
Abner squinted through the haze of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne as he brought up the rear of the ragtag group entering the club. “Does every mission we go on have to have us going to a bar?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.
Harley patted his cheek as she sipped on a cocktail through a curly straw, making Abner wonder how she had managed to get herself a drink so quickly. "You'll get used to it, you sweet lil' buzzkill." She pushed the cocktail into his hands. “Let loose a little, have some fun!”
A different hand snatched the drink away as quickly as it had been handed to him. “We’re not here for ‘fun’ Quinn,” Robert scolded, placing the glass on a nearby table. The assassin and reluctant team leader looked over at his companions, flinching only a little when Sebastian poked his furry head out of Cleo’s coat pocket. “That goes for all of you.”
Sebastian squeaked his understanding. Cleo gave the rat a little scratch on the chin, then smiled fondly at Abner. He tried to smile back, hoping it looked less like a wince than it felt. Being back together in a team for a dangerous mission made him nervous, even without Waller’s finger hovering over a detonator. But Cleo had gotten a tip about a cache of high caliber weapons being brought into Star City, and had rallied the old squad to carry out a little heist. If warm, kind Cleo hadn’t personally asked for his help, Abner would be lying low in whatever motel room he could afford. But she had, and so Abner had traveled to the Star City docks to be reunited with most of his old team. Cleo and Nanaue had eased some of his nervousness with a hug and wave, respectively. Robert’s greeting, a no-nonsense curt nod, was less warm, but Abner was comforted by the man’s confidence. He was good at following orders, perhaps to a fault, but he trusted the man that had gotten them out of Corto Maltese alive.
And then Harley had shown up with two strangers that instantly put Abner on edge: a loud-mouthed Australian thief and a Japanese warrior with a soul-stealing sword. In Abner’s opinion, Katana seemed like a poor fit for their motley crew. She had been silent while Harley introduced her, but as her gaze fell on Robert, Cleo, and himself, Abner couldn’t help but notice the disdain that shone from her eyes even behind her white mask. “She’s not a huge fan of folks with a rap sheet,” Harley had explained, “but she’s like family to Boomer and me. Once you kill a pair of demonic siblings together, it forms a bond that no amount of first degree murder charges can break.” She had flung an arm around Katana, squeezing her around the shoulders.
The other woman didn’t look happy to be touched, but had not sliced the offending arm off with her sword. “If it means getting those weapons off the streets and out of the hands of criminals, I’ll work with you,” Katana had said (Robert did want the weapons in the hands of criminals, at least one particular criminal, but once Katana was out of earshot, Harley had whispered to the rest of the group, “What she don’t know won’t hurt her.”).
Digger Harkness was the opposite of Katana in almost every way, but that made him no more appealing to Abner. The first thing that Harkness, alias "Captain Boomerang", had said to him was: “So you’re the Polka-Dot Man, eh? Figure I oughta thank you. People started giving me a lot less crap about my gimmick once you showed up on the rogues scene.” Abner had averted his eyes, not looking forward to being back on a team with another supervillain that only saw him as a joke. There was some small comfort in that he wasn’t the only one that had a problem with the Australian. Harley vouched for his skills as a thief, but Boomerang behaved nothing like a professional. While the group hid behind metal crates and watched as Nanaue followed the ship carrying the goods into the harbor, Boomerang was either unwilling or incapable of keeping quiet. He had poked people in the sides with his boomerangs to get their attention, stage whispering biting commentary on Nanaue’s swimming form and arguments in favor of just using some explosive boomerangs to sink the ship right then and there. Robert and Cleo shushed him in vain while Abner tried to ignore him, a task that grew more difficult as his jabs grew more and more insistent. Boomerang only stopped when Katana drew her blade and held it against his neck, not lowering it until Nanaue returned with his report that the weapons were being brought into the bar. Abner glanced at Boomerang now and noted that, out of all of them, he looked the most at home in this seedy den of delinquents with his rugged clothes, poorly groomed facial hair, and roving eyes that were drawn alternatively to the bar’s supply of drinks and the bodies of women that walked by.
Robert performed a quick survey of the bar, then turned back to his team. “Right, let’s get to work. Harley and Cleo, sniff around and find out where they’re stashing the weapons in here. Katana and I will be on lookout. Harkness, try not to get yourself kicked out until we need you to unlock the cache. Nanaue's guarding the getaway car." Finally, he turned to Abner. "Polkie, if shit goes down, get ready to clear an escape route.."
Boomerang pulled his gaze away from the bar, perking up at Robert’s nickname for Abner. “Yeah, Polkie,” he said in a tone that reminded Abner of every Belle Reve inmate that took time out of their day to mock him. “Glad we’ve got you here to be the confetti cannon for our big exit.”
Abner glanced away, avoiding the man’s toothy grin as humiliation washed over him. He looked up again when he heard a yelp and saw Harley yanking Boomerang by the ear. "Boomer, be nice," she warned.
Boomerang rubbed his ear once Harley let him go. "I am being nice,” he whined, before turning back to Abner with a wicked smirk. “Aren’t I, mate?”
Abner was saved from having to respond by Harley dragging Boomerang by the arm deeper into the bar. Robert, Cleo, and Katana were quick to follow, blending in with the other customers drinking and scheming. Abner was left alone, not sure what his next move should be. Since his job was to wait for something to go wrong, there wasn’t much for him to do right then. There was a dance floor but it was mostly empty, and Abner figured dancing alone would draw too much attention. Standing around aimlessly wasn’t an option either; nothing stood out in a place like this more than someone trying not to be suspicious. For lack of anything better to do, Abner sat at a corner booth and pretended to be interested in that night’s drink specials listed on the small menu at the table.
“Some second-rate pub this is, eh?” Abner flinched when a familiar figure suddenly plopped down beside him. Captain Boomerang quickly made himself at home in the booth, spreading his arms along the back of the seat. “Beer watered down to hell and music so shit I could use it for torture.”
Abner tried to subtly scoot away. “Yeah,” he muttered. He stared at the little drink menu, hoping the other man would become bored and go find someone else to bother.
His hopes were dashed when Boomerang snatched the menu out of his hands, threw it over his shoulder, and barked something that might have been a drink order to a passing waitress. “‘Course you’re used to the joints in Gotham, aren’t you?” he continued, turning back to Abner as the waitress shot him a dirty look. “They probably don’t even card kids there, too busy lookin’ out for Joker or Scarecrow or whoever. Could have used a place like that back in Korumburra growin’ up. Bet you and your mates snuck into your first bar before you turned fifteen.”
Abner almost laughed out loud at the image of his teenage self doing anything remotely rebellious. “I didn’t grow up in Gotham.” He winced, cursing himself for taking the bait and continuing the conversation when all he wanted was to be left alone. But now he had Boomerang’s full attention. Abner signed, then continued: “I moved there after I… left home. I’m from Central City.”
Boomerang’s eyes lit up. “No shit? I didn’t know you were a Central City boy! How have I never seen you around, firing polka dots and being a thorn in Flash’s side?” When Abner just shrugged one shoulder, he scooted closer in the booth. “So, you got any local tips for this country boy expat? Central’s been my base of operations since I moved to the states, but I bet you can tell me all the holes-in-the-walls and hideaways I don’t know about.”
Abner shrugged again. “I don’t think so. I really don’t know the city that well.”
Boomerang frowned. “You were born there and you don’t know the city well?”
Abner wasn’t in the mood to explain the circumstances of the first twenty-odd years of his life to someone he’d just met that night. He was already baffled at how far into this conversation he’d been led by this man already. It didn't matter now, anyway. Abner knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the conversation much longer. Several bar patrons passed by in his peripheral vision, and he could see them starting to sport chin-length brown hair and all too familiar black glasses. He dug a fingernail into a notch in the table where someone had carved a rude word, damaging the table even further. “I didn’t get out much, before,” he said finally.
Abner stared at the ground as he waited for the hallucinations to fade. He focused on the bass line of the music and the feel of the chipped wooden table under his palms until the black, sensible women’s shoes of the other customers turned back into workman’s boots and strappy heels. As his breathing returned to normal, Abner looked up when he heard two soft “thunks”. The waitress had returned and had placed on the table a pint of beer and a glass of clear liquor that Boomerang had apparently ordered for him. To Abner’s surprise, Boomerang was still sitting at the table. He’d assumed, since the other man hadn’t spoken for several minutes, that the Australian had gone to spend time with someone in the bar who wasn't having a psychotic episode. But Boomerang hadn’t left, and was looking at him with a curious expression. Abner waited for him to keep prying, or mock him about his lack of social life. “Well,” Boomerang said instead, breaking the silence between them, “I’m glad that’s changing.”
The corner of Abner’s mouth twitched like a skittish deer, starting to form a smile in spite of himself. He thought about how terrifying the last few months had been, sleeping where he could afford and looking around his shoulder as if an ARGUS agent or a STAR Labs guard were ready to lock him up again. He thought about visits with Cleo, keeping warm with her under a living blanket of rodents. He thought of standing in grocery stores, spending hours deciding on what to buy just because he had the option to choose. He thought about the phone number Harley had scribbled on the back of his hand for a pro-bono psychiatrist (“She’s an old friend. Got disillusioned with Arkham after I cracked. Tell her I sent you.”) The outside world, and the people in it, were so much bigger, frightening, and wonderful than he had ever imagined. Abner met Boomerang’s gaze and finally grinned. “Me too,” he said.
Boomerang grabbed the beer glass and raised it in a toast. “Good on ya.” He smiled at him again, this time with kinder eyes. Abner picked up the other glass and raised it back, drinking with him.
The conversation switched to more casual topics as their glasses emptied. Boomerang told him about the Battle of Midway City, and Abner shared his own stories about Corto Maltese. A warm feeling of pride spread through Abner’s chest when Boomerang laughed hard at the story of how he and the others had accidentally killed a camp full of freedom fighters. Boomerang was still laughing as a shadowy figure approached their table, making Abner jump when she seemed to materialize beside them. Wiping a tear from his eye, Boomerang kept giggling even as Katana stared daggers at him. “Come to join us for a drink, sweetheart?" he asked.
Katana did not look amused. The look that she shot Boomerang was so full of disdain that Abner, who was not even its target, shrunk back into the booth. “You’re supposed to be staying out of trouble,” she said in her quietly dangerous voice.
Boomerang didn't seem phased. “No worries, doll." He threw an arm around Abner's shoulders. "I’ve got Polkie here making sure I'm a good boy.” Not for the first time, Abner wondered why the interdimensional virus couldn't have given him he ability to sink through the floor and vanish. Katana gave the pair one final scowl before walking away. Boomerang chuckled when he saw the look on Abner’s face. “Aww, don’t let her scare ya, mate. Once you get past the death glares and her weird loyalty to her dead husband, you’ll fall for her same as I did.”
“You two used to date?” Abner couldn't imagine that pairing.
Boomerang shook his head, sighing wistfully. “Nah. But not for lack of trying. That’s all in the past, though. She’s missed her chance. Poor thing, she’ll be crushed once she realizes it.”
Abner thought about Katana's icy stares and how quickly her grasp went for her sword. “She doesn’t seem particularly nice.”
Boomerang shrugged. “What can I say?” His expression shifted into a lascivious smirk. He spoke softly, as if telling Abner a secret. “I like ‘em dark, tragic, and a little bit crazy.”
“Oh.” Abner didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just smiled weakly and nodded before going back to his drink. In his (very) limited experience in social situations, he'd learned that that was a good way to shut down a conversation.
It didn’t work. Boomerang scooted even closer to him in the booth, crowding him in. “How about you, Polkie? What’s your type?”
Abner blinked. Was this what people called locker room talk? It was a strange question, made more difficult to process when all he could smell was the beer on Digger's breath and all he could see were his roguish eyes and the glimmer off his gold tooth. "I... I don't know."
His stuttered reply seemed to amuse Boomerang, whose grin widened. He closed what little distance there was left between them. “Well then,” he murmured, quietly so that only Abner could hear, "why don't I help you find out?"
"Oi, Harkness," a voice called. Abner and Boomerang both broke eye contact as they turned to see Robert approaching their table. "Cache is in the basement," he said. "Time for you to pull your weight and get cracking."
Boomerang pulled back, and Abner let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His heartrate, which he suddenly realized had been racing, began to slow. Boomerang glared at Robert. "I'm a bit busy here, mate."
Robert frowned back. "We’re not paying you to do this." He turned to frown at Abner who blinked, lost. "Now get moving before I drag you out of this booth by your beard.”
"Alright, alright, keep your shirt on." Boomerang stood up and slid out of the booth. Before he followed DuBois to the weapons, he turned back to the table and leaned down. “Let’s do this again sometime, eh?” he said softly into Abner's ear. Abner jumped a little at the tickle of the other man's breath. Boomerang cackled, then winked at him before finally leaving. Abner blinked, then checked the contents of his glass. He'd only had about half of his drink, but he still felt slightly dizzy and confused. When he thought back to Boomerang's crude smile and intense gaze, his palms began to sweat. No one had ever gotten that physically close to him before. The guards and other inmates that did try to get in his face were restricted by the large power dampener around his neck. The ghost of Boomerang's whisper on his cheek gave him gooseflesh. Still, Abner couldn't help but feel a proud of himself for not rolling over in submission in the face of a more domineering man. If Boomerang had been trying to intimidate him, at least Abner could say that he held his own, at least for the most part.
A cold and accusing voice forced him out of his thoughts. “What did he want with you?”
Abner flinched, turning to see Katana standing by the table again. "He came to get Harkness. They found the weapon stash."
"Not Dubois."
Abner's heartbeat increased again when he realized whom she meant. “We were just talking," he said. Katana kept staring, clearly not satisfied with his answer. He tried again. “He asked me about Central City, we had drinks, and he tried to talk to me about women, that’s all.”
Abner couldn't tell for certain, but Katana’s expression seemed to soften a little behind her mask. She opened her mouth, as if she was going to say something, but then her eyes snapped towards the main bar as her hand reached for her blade. Abner followed her gaze and gulped; two men were not so subtly glancing at them and muttering into earpieces. "Let's find the others." He got up from the booth, rolling up the right sleeve of his hoodie just enough to prepare to activate his gauntlet hidden underneath. They were on a mission, he remembered. He could overthink Boomerang's strange power plays later when it was over.
(Even if he hadn't left so quickly in his eagerness to warn his teammates, Abner wouldn't have understood Katana as she looked at him and muttered, “哀れな奴.")