Somewhere between worlds, timelines and places that should never reasonably share the same postcode, there's a door.

What's on the other side is considerably easier to explain.

Harley's is an impossible little point of intersection where people from otherwise separate fictional worlds can drink, talk, gamble, dance, negotiate, argue, flirt, scheme, conduct business or spend an entirely uneventful evening at the bar.

Nobody needs to understand why the door works. Some patrons have theories. Others stopped asking a long time ago.

Harley's is a functioning bar and nightclub rather than a cosmic palace. Its mismatched personality has accumulated over time: dark timber, worn leather and brass beside exposed brick, neon, club lighting and the occasional piece of decoration nobody remembers approving.

The word villain is used rather loosely around here.

Career criminals share the room with gangsters, assassins, tyrants, monsters, dark wizards, mercenaries, corrupt officials, mad scientists, supernatural predators, warlords, criminal masterminds and the occasional threat to existence itself.

Others occupy considerably greyer territory: antiheroes, former villains, morally questionable protagonists and people who would take considerable offence at the suggestion that they were ever the problem.

They don't form one convenient villain community. Patrons keep their own circles, grudges, interests and standards. Gangsters may recognise something familiar in other gangsters. Rulers may find one another intolerable. Two monsters may have absolutely nothing to discuss.

That's entirely up to you.

Play an original character. Bring an established character from another fictional world. Walk in as a villain, hero, antihero, civilian, criminal, monster, traveller, employee or something that fits none of those labels particularly well.

You don't need to be evil.

And you don't automatically become the most interesting person in the room just because you've arrived.

Characters arrive as themselves.

Their real names, recognisable appearances, personalities, speech, histories, relationships, abilities and limitations travel with them. Harley's doesn't replace established characters with generic approximations simply because several universes now share a drinks menu.

But their knowledge doesn't magically cross worlds.

Nobody automatically knows another patron's secret identity, powers, weaknesses, crimes or reputation merely because you do.

Harley's doesn't exist solely to react to you.

Patrons have conversations of their own. Drinks are ordered. Games are played. Deals happen in booths. Someone leaves early. Someone else stays far too late. Harley may be behind the bar, halfway across the club or busy with something completely unrelated to your evening.

Not every famous villain in fiction needs to walk through the door tonight.

A conversation can remain a conversation. A quiet drink can remain a quiet drink. A ridiculous encounter can be funny without becoming a plot, and a dangerous one can become very serious indeed when the people involved give it reason to.