The Bat Cave

A Word: Unfortunately, unless I want to move way South or way North, I will never see the beauty that is The Bat Cave. Yes, I work haunts in October and have dreams about my ideal house. Let me share them with you via Timmy here.

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Tim walks up to the building. The front door is propped open and no one is in sight. He enters after a small debate with himself about how smart of an idea this whole thing is. The Bat Cave has been a rather successful haunted house that's been open for over a decade. It's well known and the man who runs it is a public figure known for doing many different things in the community. It's not some shell company hiding an evil plot to abduct healthy people and sell their organs on the black market.

"Hello?" Tim's voice echoes oddly in the flat black room he finds himself in. The air is filled with the smell of new paint and the wall opposite the door looks a little wet still. There's nothing around to steal but Tim still feels uncomfortable about the open door being left unmanned. The message he'd gotten from Bruce -all email and Facebook so far- had told him to be here at this time for a meeting. Tim's only three minutes early. Enough to not be late, but not so early that he'd be alone.

There's a shuffle from the door in the corner and Tim waits patiently as he hears the scuffing of feet that precede a tall, dark haired man. The man is already grinning as he swings around the door, but it grows brighter as he sees Tim. "Hi! Hey, are you," the man's face screws up faintly as he searches before relaxing again, "Tim! Tim Drake, right?"

"Yeah," Tim offer his hand and gets an enthusiastic handshake. The man is older than him, and wearing dirty a dusty t-shirt over worn jeans. "Um, you're not-"

"Nope, Bruce is going to be late. Something came up at work. I'm Dick Grayson," Dick says as he turns back to the door. Waving for Tim to follow him, and Tim doesn't question it anymore. He's never seen the man before, but his name had come up when Tim was researching the history of the house. "I help him run things around here between seasons, and when we're open I oversee the front."

The Ringleader. Tim's seen a few videos of Dick in full costume and makeup playing the waiting crowd with stories and tricks. Cheap scares and things to get them in the right mind set. He follows Dick down a series of hallways that are brightly lit. Enough for Tim to see the paint and details on them that'll look perfect in the dark. There's a lot of detail to be seen and Tim has to skip most of it to catch up to Dick.

It's a lot different from the houses he's worked in before. Mostly small things run by charities, and a few houses that were only excuses for the men running them to suck out as much money from investors as possible before closing up and running away. They were all cheaply done though. Drywall halls with flat black paint and actors in masks and clothes they paid for themselves. The Bat Cave promises to be different already just from this brief walk.

"You said you've worked a few place before. What roles did you play?" Dick asks as he kicks open a door and leads him into a fenced off back yard. People wander around. Moving boxes and half-finished props in a choreographed dance of chaos.

There's a high pitched whine of a saw cutting wood, and Tim raises his voice to be heard over it. "Mostly they hid me in a corner to jump out at people. I used to be a lot smaller," Tim shrugs at Dick's incredulous look that takes in the several inches of height difference between them. "I'd work hallway corners, and drop doors if they had them."

"How about getting killed?" Dick makes a line to the back corner where stacks of wood beams wait to get cut by a man covered in sawdust. Two women waiting to take the cut pieces and give him more in a smooth assembly that's obviously been practiced a lot. "No offense, but first year actors here usually don't get big speaking roles. Bruce usually doesn't let anyone even talk their first year here, but we need a victim for Steph the Spoiler to murder in out boiler room."

"I can scream," Tim says in time for one of the girls to look up with a blinding grin.

"Aw, he's so cute!" She coos as she abandons her duties. Coming up to run a hand through Tim's hair. Turning his face side to side in a way that makes Tim want to open his mouth so she can examine his teeth too. She turns her grin onto Dick, her blonde head nodding in approval. "You did good this time, getting me such a pretty victim. I'm Steph, by the way."

"Yeah," the man at the saw turns around and shakes a small storm of sawdust away. Tim finds himself staring at intriguing black lines that twist up some very solid looking arms before disappearing into a tank top. His grin is slanted and makes Tim want to step back a bit. "But is he a screamer or a moaner?"

Screamer, and Tim bites back to urge to ask the man if he wants to find out. It's never a good idea to lead off with sexual innuendo right off the bat. For Tim at least. "That's going to be between Steph and myself."

Dick cackles, and it's a first rate hair-raising cackle that Tim's a little envious of. "That's Jason, head of security. He's the guy you'll want to see coming when a drunk slips through the front doors. Cass," Dick nods towards the second girl who's been silent. A faint smile tugging her lips up. "Is one of out best chainsaw operators. She's a secret ninja so no one sees her coming until she revs up. Steph is who you'll be working with the most here," Steph grins, and there's a playful wickedness in her eyes that makes Tim think they'll get along just great. "She's out psychotic janitor who likes to make dolls out of pretty little things."

"You'll be perfect for my collection," Steph croons. Her voice dropping into a scratchy range that Tim knows probably took months to perfect. He'd once tried doing a Freddyesque voice without practice at a house and was nearly laughed out of it. "My pretty pretties, all lined up in a row."

She ends with a creepy laugh that Tim kind of wants to applaud. "Well, I'll do my best to stay pretty just for you."

"Charmer!" Steph laughs and smacks his shoulder before turning back to the wood pile. Cass stepping up with her as they wrestle another board out.

"Expecting anyone else today? Or is Pretty Doll #3 here it for today?" Jason asks Dick. Rubbing a dark line of dirt off of his forearms as he waits for the next board.

"Tim's it," Dick says, resting an arm lightly over Tim's closest shoulder. Leaning in a way that doesn't actually put any weight on him. "You going to get done with that stack anytime soon?"

"If someone stops fucking interrupting I will," Jason spits back with a glare too offended to be real. He turns back to the saw as Cass and Steph feed the board on. Tim can see dark marks on the board at regular intervals. Jason flips his middle finger over his shoulder before steadying the board. "Go do the ritual signing away of the soul on the new guy and let me get some actual work done will you, Dickhead?"

The saw screams to life as Dick pulls him away with a laugh. Tim waits until they're back inside to ask, "Number three?"

"Yeah," Dick takes a different winding path. Cutting through some barely seen holes and doors. "We had Connor, the original Pretty Doll, for a while before he moved with his family two years ago. Pretty Doll the second-" Dick grimaces as he opens a door to what proves to be a rather messy looking office. "Let's just say he really didn't fit with us and leave it at that," Dick fishes out a green folder from under a pile of flyers and hands it to Tim before fishing out a pen from a drawer. "And now we got you! Pretty Doll the Third. Hope you don't mind it, but that's probably going to be your name here for a good long while. Especially if you stick with us to the next season."

There's an impressive stack of paper inside the folder. Employment forms, waivers, agreements. It's easily twice as many forms he's ever had to sign for a house. It's an encouraging sign that really sinks in the fact that Tim's -finally- signing up for something different. Tim smiles at Dick. His fingers itch to sign away immediately, but he knows better. He's going to take the time to read these things. "I think I can live with that."

Dick's grin is wide and honest as he pulls a chair out for him to sit in. "That's what I was hoping to hear. Welcome to the Cave, Pretty Doll."

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