Dawn
For Joe Stevens, waking up was not what he expected.
In fact, he was quite sure he had been erased from existence recently.
So, when he opened his eyes and found himself in a comfortable bed in a studio apartment, he was understandably confused.
Getting out of bed, he reached into the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans, a tight black tee shirt, and his headband, and went to the bathroom to get dressed.
As he washed his face, he took a look at himself.
His eyes were still the same gold he knew.
His hair was a little less pitch black, and he saw that the two or three grays he had during the war had turned to a white streak that made his spiked-up hair resemble the bride of Frankenstein.
"I'm… older?" he muttered as he rubbed his face.
It wasn't like he was a geezer all of a sudden, but he had a bit of facial hair showing up, though it seemed recently shaved, and if the fancy shaving kit on the back of the sink was any hint, he would be needing to regularly.
"What the hell is going on?" he asked as he got dressed and walked out to his apartment.
Heading to the windows he saw a busy street only a single story below him and he noticed the cars and people were familiar.
"Is this… New York City?" he asked himself.
Suddenly, he jumped in surprise as his pocket vibrated, and he checked it to find a very modern cell phone.
He answered it quickly.
"Hello?" he asked.
"It's good to hear from you Mr. Stevens." Came a voice he had only heard once before.
"Order!?" He gaped at the phone.
When his 'creator' Chaos was defeated, Order was freed from the prison he had locked her in, and she repaired the multiverse.
Part of that meant removing him, as he was a deliberate aberration that had allowed Chaos to spread without him ever knowing.
"Yes Mr. Stevens, now please listen. My time with you is short. I successfully diverged you from the aberration you were created to do so took a bit of time and some creative thinking on my part, but you are no longer a danger to the multiverse. However, you will remain forgotten."
Joe was heartbroken to hear that, but he wasn't a fool to deny a second chance.
"The apartment you live in is yours. Your real name is Joseph 'Ripper' Stevens, you are a graduate of business school, and you have all the education to match your personal experiences. You own the bar below you, known as 'The Bar with No Name', or just 'the bar'. You live in a version of the world with no supernatural anything, but your bar is only technically in that world. It's front door, and back door can accept anyone from anywhere who needs what you offer. That is up to you."
Joe wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she kept speaking faster and faster to hurry as much info as possible to him.
"They may come and go, as may normal people, but you will only be in this world. You are important Joe. This bar will serve as the Multiversal Nexus point. You are human now, but you are not weak. Defend the nexus as you must, but don't let your responsibility overtake you. This is a reward, not a punishment. Good luck Joe Stevens and enjoy your new life."
With that, the call was cut off, and Joe was left to ponder the information he received.
To be honest it felt like way too much information to process.
But he latched on to the important bits.
His name was truly Joe Stevens now.
He was happy about that.
He owned a special bar.
That was most likely why he was physically older now. Can't be a 19-year-old with a bar.
The bar was the fulcrum of the multiverse.
Big deal.
Literally.
Absolutely zero sarcasm there.
He was its guardian / owner / bartender.
Ok, he could do that, he spent his 'childhood' living in a rockstar's world. He could mix a drink.
He walked to the door that he instinctively knew lead downstairs.
The stairs went up to another floor, and he realized that was where he kept some spare rooms for folks who needed to sleep off the liquor.
He went down to the first floor and opened the door to the bar.
It was a big room, with a long bar to his left. The bar went to just shy of the door, leaving a small area between the bar end, and the front wall, where a high-tech jukebox sat. The stools were tall, and comfortable looking. The bulk of the bar was tables and booths, all looking a bit rustic. Near where he was, there was a big dance floor that was lower than the rest, and it had a pair of double doors on the far side. (He remembered that he had some large couches and seats for nights where dancing was less welcome stored in that room.) and he saw the door to the kitchen behind the counter.
All in all, it was a simple, rustic bar that could be used for just about any purpose.
Then he noticed the wall behind the bar.
There were the expected shelves of liquor and other drinks you would expect in a bar, but there was a large empty area right in the middle of it, where there may have been a bar mirror once.
But hanging on that wall was something he was sure he was never going to see again.
His weapon.
His scythe.
The scythe that his girlfriend turned into after that incident at the DWMA.
It was either the original one, which he was sure was destroyed, (but hey, this place was made by Order, who says she didn't just put it back together?) or a perfect replica.
He reached out and grabbed it, and he felt the warmth as the weapon synchronized with him.
Transforming it to its guitar form, he leaned against the bar and played a simple melody to reacquaint himself with the instrument.
After some gentle music he put it back, still feeling it in him, and looked at the space it was on.
Aside from his scythe, there was only one other thing on the wall, the shattered remains of his Phantom mask, the superhero disguise he wore as part of Team Phantom.
Other than that, the wall was bare. And he felt it was going to need filling if it was to look so much as halfway decent.
After checking the kitchen and making sure he had supplies for a busy night, he turned on the neon and got the jukebox running.
As 'Dead and Lovely' by Tom Waits gently filled the bar he heard the door open and he turned to it to greet his first customer.
The man who walked in was a middle-aged man with an eyepatch. He looked around and gave an appraising look before trudging over to the bar and sitting right in the middle.
"I'll have what you think I need." He said as he took out a card from his pocket and started fiddling with it.
Joe didn't know how to respond, but his instincts took him over to the shelf where he grabbed a few things.
Some anise, a bay leaf, some cayenne, a bit of gin, some Apple cider Vinegar, some grapefruit juice, and some Selzer.
As he started preparing the drink with some instinct he didn't really understand, he asked the man, "what do YOU think you need? You came to a bar for a reason after all."
The man watched him in interest and amusement.
"Well, call it professional courtesy. I'm a bartender myself over in Cleveland. Get some real interesting customers, and one mentioned I should stop by here tonight." He said as Joe handed his drink over to him.
The stranger took a sip and got a wistful expression on his face.
"that's all I needed to know. You're new, aren't you? At this." The stranger asked after a few sips.
Joe widened his eyes in surprise a bit. "Yeah. You could tell? Was the drink bad?"
The stranger laughed outright. "No! not at all. It was just what I needed." He emphasized.
Joe was confused for a moment, but the stranger stood up and paid for his drink. Before handing him the card he was playing with earlier.
"Name's Xander Harris, Owner of Nights bar in Cleveland. If you ever need advice, give me a call. Us 'special' bartenders aught to stick together." He says, and he leaves the bar.
Joe looks at the card and seed a stylized cursive 'Nights' on a dark blue background. On the back is a phone number and these words.
"Every wall needs to start somewhere. Let this be the piece that starts yours."
Joe pinned the card on the wall and wrote down the recipe he had just made up.
He couldn't say why, but he named it "Buffy Punch".
This was a side project I had done a few chapters for back in the day, but never published, as I had intended it to obviously take place after the phantom saga ended.
Now that I've laid that tale to rest, I feel the time is here.
For those unfamiliar with what this story will be, I beg of you to read the story that Xander comes from, 'Tales from the Barman' on Twisting the .
That being said, this will be a series I visit infrequently. But if you have an idea for Joe to have a customer who needs something. Feel free to get in touch and even make that chapter for yourself. You will be credited, and since this story is VERY deliberately loose in continuity, there's little you need to worry about on that side of things.
And above all, I suggest with all my heart you do take the time to read 'Tales from the Barman' as it is an excellent experience.