The prompt for this came into my mind whilst I sobbed onto Daddy's jacket in the haunted house, cutting off all of his arm circulation. I don't do horror. I love gore, but not horror. I can watch zombie movies, but when a clown comes on it's bedtime for me. I told them all that and they still made me go through. One clown jumped out at me and I fell and kind of just laid there crying. They took the mask off and offered to take me outside, but dad called me a wimp and made me keep on. They looked heartbroken, all upset and stuff… Actually punched a clown outside who jumped out at me. Dad Gibbs-slapped me for it. Knocked the prompt right into place.
Disclaimer: This will be pretty out-of-character because I haven't really gotten much into the newer team, but I'm going to try my hardest; and I don't own any of them or their respective show.
The smoke unfurled in heavy clouds at the front of the black barbed prop gate, its hinges rusty and creaky for an added horror effect, the full moon shrouded by the above clouds just an added benefit. People in spirit gave off wolven cries with tilted heads and pursed lips, their howls echoing and gaining encouragement as others joined in with mad cackles of laughter. Strobe and ominous green light coursed from the rafters and open slits in the ceilings of the inside buildings, dirtied and roughed up to go along with the theme of the night, bringing the croup just a bit closer as they stepped inside.
Converse, Nikes, DCs and 'future shoes' touched down over the crackling leaves and asphalts, sometimes missing a step when the large jack-in-the-box to the back of them suddenly sprung open, those horrifying scarlet eyes piercing the dense fog. Sometimes a random masked guy would be the cause of the mess-up, his mask having his lips turned upward into a fanged grin, snickering as he detected the little jump, earning a glare from the oldest of them all as he led them through.
It wasn't Dick's idea to take the sidekicks out on the night before Halloween to make up for the big mission tomorrow, nor was it his idea to sit and tolerate their screams and obnoxious laughter, or even Bart and Beast Boy's constant annoying little pokes and presses they would put to his buttons. He was ready to spin around and slap some sense into everyone there—even Babs. She could've stopped them, but she decided talking to Cass was a lot more important. She was as much to blame as the fingers hitting him.
His hands darted out and anticipated Bart's hand, capturing his wrist and flinging it back, a scowl hard over his lips. The auburn-haired teen grinned ear-to-ear with a nervous laugh, darting back and hiding behind Tim with just his eyes peering up over the ebony's shoulder.
"Get off me," the newest Bat boy squirmed under his hand, shooting a sympathetic look to their leader.
"Man, you both already act like the Bat! Kinda makes me wonder if it really is just Grayson in that costume after the original dies," Bart blurted out, his arms folded over his chest.
His eyes widened as he noticed the horror in the Bat family's gazes, a pink tint settling over his cheeks.
"I did it again, didn't I? Spoilers," he rubbed his neck, darting from their accusing gazes and walking next to Jaime with the slightest bit of hope that the Hispanic would shield him.
"Don't hide behind me, Flash niño," the scarab bearing hero took a sidestep from him, "I kind of enjoy living without a batarang through my throat."
The conversation through the fog and the laughter stayed simple and friendly, casual and easy until it stopped dead silent as they all crowded around the sign advertising the scariest house in the whole park: Asylum Island. The wooden sign was split down the middle, a mad blood shed seeping into its cracks, chains torn through it, piled on the asphalt below.
"Alright, this is it. Split into pairs to go in together. You'll share a flashlight. And… whatever you do… please be on your best behavior," he glared specifically at Bart, earning an offended little cry.
It took a matter of seconds for the group to split off. Babs and Tim; Cassie and Karen; Jaime and Bart; Dick and Garfield. Tim left the redhead for just a second, popping up to tiptoe and setting a hand to his bat brother's shoulder to give himself a lift.
"Are you sure it's a good idea for space boy and beetle to be together? Bart's probably never been to a haunted house and Jaime might go all cannon if he gets scared," the ebony expressed his concern in the gentlest of whispers.
Dick just laughed, touching a hand sympathetically to the shaded teen, smirking a little too cockily.
"Now, now, Babs isn't that bad," he teased, ignoring the look he got, "I know, I'm a little afraid about that, but I'm staying out here with Gar so if I hear some screams and shots, I'll go all Dynamic Solo and save the day."
Gar gave a cry of protest, jaw dropping angrily. Tim was smiling though, a bit of laughter to his tone.
"What?! Why can't I go?" the jadette whined with innocently wide emerald eyes.
Dick poked him on the bridge of his nose between them, crossing them swiftly, before folding his arms over his chest.
"That's why. We can go through the Blood Shed though," he assured the distraught younger boy.
When the pout lightened, Dick turned his navy gaze to the rest of the sidekicks, beckoning with his hand for them to go on.
"I'll see you guys on the other side," he waved to them, a hand between Garfield's shoulder blades to direct him towards the other blood-strewn shack not too far in the other direction, the two swiftly becoming enveloped in the smoke.
Bart gave a wicked laugh as his thumb sped and made the flashlight's beam strobe in an erratic pattern that would make an epileptic nearly cry at even the thought. The repetitive sound of the button clicking soon made a vibrating sound from the immense speed that the energetic thumb gave it, eventually earning him a light whap to the shoulder.
"Ouch," he over-dramaticised, rubbing his arm with a pout before leaving the spotlight on and walking beside Jaime, flashing the golden stream over every dark inch of the tight metal alleyway they had to walk down.
They walked a long time, each footstep echoing a tad bit too loud, their eyes darting in a paranoid fashion.
"So… um… what's the point of a haunted house?" the ginger innocently asked, having no fear as he turned their first corner, giving a pathetic scream as he came face-to-face with a corpse dangling by his neck with nothing left but entrails beneath his ribs.
Jaime laughed at him, having discretely jumped about the same time, setting a hand to the pale teen's arm and fearfully peering behind him as they walked on.
"Danger detected. Switching to armor," the scarab blared loud in his head, drawing him back with a jump as his skin begin to dissolve into the darkness with the navy and black that began to coat it.
"What? No! No! There's no danger!" he protested, pulling at the armor helplessly until the scarab seemed to detect his death wish, turning back the skin before the future boy could notice it, once again marking an insane point to his name.
"Calm down, B," Bart grinned, shining the flashlight under his chin so the light gave above his eyes a dark rim, darkening them and adding emphasis to his horrifying expression. "Just a little scare."
Jaime sighed, taking the flashlight from the ginger's hands and shining it along their walkway as they continued on, noting just brief glimpses of the bloody messages on the wall.
"Turn back now? Go back? You're next?" Bart ready, laughing defiantly. "As if!"
When he stopped laughing, a whirring noise came to their realization, raising their eyebrows and cautiously turning them around. They didn't have time to think about how to react. It's hard to think when there's a man with a chainsaw running at you with a blood-splattered apron and hockey mask.
"Going to defensive mode," Jaime was helpless as the armor coated his skin hard, his fist unfurling into a brightly illuminated cannon, thankfully not having to use it as Bart reacted first.
He had the chainsaw in his hands in a matter of moving his hand, turning it and pressing the spike-less track against the man's neck, pinning him to the wall and viciously kicking his stomach.
"TOUCH HIM AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!" Bart threatened, murder looming his narrowed green eyes, drawing a terrified shout from the attacker.
Hearing the shout, a barrage of clowns, twisted-face nurses, split-face dolls and men in straitjackets came running to assist. Bart pulled back the chainsaw and wielded it like a mighty sword despite his trembling, shutting his eyes as tight as he could before zipping through the crowd on his side and knocking them down. The cannon, still activated on Jaime's wrist, illuminated and in fear, blasted at the crowd's feet and sent them running in a panic.
"Must exterminate the danger," the scarab forced him after them, making the Hispanic cry out in protest. "Bart!"
Seeing his friend was gone from sight, quickly blaming the other half of the crowd because of his inability to hear the scarab, he bolted in that direction, taking down a nurse with a rather hefty chest and little girl who couldn't even be half his age.
"Where is he?!" he growled, getting up and turning the chainsaw on them.
Their screams urged an alarm all throughout the corridor around him, making the ginger tear down the metal, having no way of seeing in the pitch blackness now that his partner was gone off with the light. It didn't stop him from running until he face-planted into a broad chest, giving a cry and a rev until a new flashlight turned on and he found himself looking up into Nightwing's face.
"We're leaving. Beast Boy has Beetle. You two are in a lot of trouble when we get back," he growled, unable to hide a fleeting laugh before he ran out leaving a batarang filled with knock-out gas for the surrounding crowd to forget what they saw.
Bart smirked as he set the chainsaw atop the shelf, folding his arms over his chest with pride.
"Souvenir," he proudly declared.
Sorry for the quick wrap up. Review?
-F.J. III