15 House of Horrors (Nightwing x Red Hood x Red Robin x Robin)

Prompt: It's Halloween, and the boys have decided to test their fear tolerance...

"This is extraordinarily childish, Grayson," Damian says with his arms crossed over his chest and an irked expression on his face.

"Come on, Demon. It'll be fun!" he replies with a sly smile. "You're not scared are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" he scoffs.

Tim examines the building restlessly. Ahead of them is the famed House of Horrors ride at the Newton Fairgrounds. Every Halloween, the directors from the movie studios on the mainland bring set pieces from famous horror films into the building. It's rumored to be truly terrifying, and those who are brave enough to enter are said to have difficulty sleeping for weeks afterward. Dick decided to give it a shot, and no way was he going in without dragging his brothers along!

"This looks like the lamest thing ever," Jason mumbles, crushing his burnt-out cigarette beneath his boot.

"Wuss!" Dick teases.

"Easy for you to say, Circus Boy! I'm sure some of your best friends were psycho clowns."

"Do I detect a hidden phobia, Todd?" Damian laughs.

"Hey, you try being held hostage in an insane asylum and tortured by a deranged clown! They don't exactly make you feel warm and fuzzy inside."

Damian's smile vanishes and he shuffles away.

"It's alright, Jay. I'm not really into this stuff either," Tim says reassuringly. "But if I can do it, so can you."

"Tell you what," Dick offers, "I'll sacrifice myself and go in first. That way it'll be easier for you whiners."

"Nonsense, I'll go in with you! I'm not afraid of anything," Damian returns confidently. Tim nervously follows Damian and Jason brings up the rear. He flinches a little as the door slams shut behind them. They find themselves in a dimly lit hallway. It's obvious that a Victorian Era set was used to create the house. The walls are covered with crimson paisley wallpaper and the gaslight fixture looks very nineteenth century. The antique chair in the hallway smells musty, and the pink patterned fabric is worn on the cushion.

"I didn't know we were going to Grandma's house," Dick laughs.

"This is pathetic," Damian states. "I'm going ahead." He passes Dick by only a few steps when a picture on the wall swings open and a figure dressed in black snatches at his arm.

"WHAT THE?!"Damian screams, jumping onto Dick's back.

Dick starts laughing. "What's the matter, little girl? Afraid of the Boogie Man?"

"Oh, shut up!" he replies.

Tim looks down the hallway and spots a door. "Is that the way out?"

They quickly head for the door, but to Jason's utter dismay, they step into a circus-themed addition.

"Hey, I'm home!" Dick says happily.

"Oh god, get me the hell out of here," Jason groans, grabbing Tim's shoulders. "I wanna go back."

"There is no going back!" Dick replies in his best mad-scientist voice. They continue to the darkened big top when Dick sees something familiar settled in the middle of the room. It's a large wooden wheel with leather straps attached to it.

"Hey, I know what this is," Dick declares. "It's from the knife thrower's act." He pulls on the leather straps to demonstrate. "The knife thrower straps his lovely assistant to the wheel, gives it a spin, and starts throwing knives next to her face."

"Yeah, that's not a job I'd want," Jason mutters.

Out of the darkness, they hear the sound of whistling air and, a split second later, a butcher's knife impales the wheel just an inch from Dick's head. Then the sound of maniacal laughter echoes through the emptiness behind them. Dick may have felt at home earlier, but now he's just as terrified as everyone else.

"Is that part of the attraction?" Damian whimpers.

"I hope so," Dick answers slowly.

"F***king wonderful! I'm trapped in a tent with you idiots and a killer clown with knives," Jason moans. "Just what I needed. I hate you, Dick."

"I hate myself right about now," he says, glancing at the blade embedded in the wheel.

Tim takes a deep breath. "Okay, we're crime fighters. We face bad guys all the time. There's nothing we can't handle together."

Dick nods in agreement. "Right. Let's not forget who we are." He glances around the room and spots an open tent flap. "That must be the way out."

They duck under the tent flap and enter what appears to be a city-themed room. Streets signs and replicas of buildings stand on either side of a painted road. The room is pitch-black, save for the neon signs gleaming in the windows.

"I suppose the worst is over with," Damian says as he climbs off Dick's shoulders.

Tim walks over to the other side of the room. "I don't think so, Damian." He stretches his hand out and feels the wall.

"What's the matter?" Dick asks.

"We're trapped in here. The exit door is locked."

Jason heads over to the restaurant building and pulls on the door. "Hey guys, check this out! It opens!"

The boys walk into a retro-themed diner with checkered tile floors and red booth seats. They immediately search for another door.

"There's nothing here!" Damian shouts in frustration. "This is all your fault, Grayson! I told you this was a childish idea!"

"Relax," Tim instructs. "The people that made this are obviously in here somewhere waiting to play a trick on us. They wouldn't trap people in here without an exit. It's a safety hazard. "

Jason leans over the bar. "He's right. They have to provide exits in case of a fire. We're obviously just too dumb to find it."

*BOOM! RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT*

"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" Dick yells. "GET UNDER THE TABLES!"

Jason grabs Tim and Damian, pulling them down to the floor. The sound of raining gunfire echoes through the dinner. The boys close their eyes and huddle together, protecting their heads.

All too quickly, the gunfire ceases and the room is silent again.

"What the hell?" Jason questions lifting his head.

"It sounded like bullets," Tim replies, peeking out through the window.

Dick examines the wall behind the bar. "I think it was fake. There aren't any bullet holes in the wall and none of the glass is broken. It was probably just a sound effect."

Jason peeks his head out through the door and looks around the mock-city. "Guys, the door opened! We can get the hell out of here!"

"I am not simply wandering out in the open to reach the door! Who knows what other plots they have in store." Damian insists.

"Running for it is our only option," Jason replies. "I guess I'll sacrifice myself this time. Everyone follow me."

They exit the dinner, look around once more, then make a dash for the door.

*BOOM! SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT*

"GO! GO! GO!" Jason demands, ushering his brothers forward. Hard wet lumps pelt their limbs and soak their clothes.

"I'VE BEEN SHOT!" Damian screams, falling to the floor.

Tim covers his head "SO HAVE I! I'M BLEEDING EVERYWHERE!"

Dick picks Damian up and slings him over his back. "C'MON, WE GOTTA GO!"

They race through the door, stumble down the stairs, and onto the wet grass. They lay there panting and shaking, trying desperately to catch their breath.

Tim is the first to pick his head up. "We're back outside! Is everyone okay? Check your wounds!"

Dick raises himself up and wipes his fingers over the wet spot on his shirt. Foul-smelling red liquid colors his fingers. "It's okay! It's paint! They were paintballs!"

Jason sinks back onto the ground and moans. Tim smiles and rubs the paint off his face. Damian curses and throws his ruined jacket on the ground. "I cannot believe I was terrorized by a paintball!"

Dick breathes in heavily, savoring the smell of corndogs and cotton candy. He's never been happier to be alive.

"Swear that we won't tell Bruce about this?" Tim laughs.

"I don't think we'll have to tell Bruce," Jason says while examining his stained leather jacket. "But we're going have a hell of a time explaining this to Alfred when he does the laundrey."