Summary: Eva and Jason take a trip to Halloween Horror Nights 25, where she runs into an old friend.
Featuring @yamimarr's OC again wahoo!!
A/N: Do I know that Parts 1 and 2 of An Owl in the Theater should theoretically be taking place in late 2008/early 2009? Yes. And do I also know this part should be taking place much later in 2015? Also yes. However, I made continuity soup for dinner last night and it was delicious
Made some more references to the Director in this one, so I feel the need to explain since I know my mutuals will be reading this: Paulo Ravinski/the Director is a snuff filmmaker from Eastern Europe focused on capturing authentic fear in his art. It is, and I cannot stress this enough, completely canon in-universe that Universal hired him AND DIDN’T DO A BACKGROUND CHECK TO FIND OUT HE WAS FORCED OUT OF HIS HOME COUNTRY FOR MURDERING PEOPLE. It’s possibly my favorite part of the lore because of how genuinely absurd it is. How are the in-story Universal parks still in business????????
“C’mon, we’re gonna be late for the Opening Scaremony!”
Eva tugged Jason through the crowd at the entrance to Universal Studios, glancing back as they scanned into the theme park to make sure his ticket worked. Despite the face mask obscuring his nose and mouth, the team members let him in without issue, allowing them to mingle with other parkgoers at the gate. “HALLOWEEN HORROR NIGHTS” blazed overhead in blood-red letters that shone despite the setting sun, and Eva could feel excitement coiling in her gut.
“It’s an anniversary year,” she said with a lean in Jason’s direction. “Heard they’re bringing back some old characters.”
He shook his head. “So long as they don’t reference that director guy again. Still don’t know how they managed to sweep that under the rug.”
“I should’ve read up on the history,” she sighed. “Do you think they ever did anything with the theater info?”
“Don’t know, but they would’ve been stupid not to.”
“Yeah, I guess—ooh, it’s starting!”
A loudspeaker crackled to life on Eva’s right, and a harsh, jovial voice boomed from it.
“Servants of the Darkness… Denizens of Doom… and all of Jack’s maniacs… prepare to get JACKED UP!”
Actors poured onto the street from what seemed like all corners. Chainsaw wielders, gothic ghosts, and everything in between, each moving with malevolent presence. They silently approached the gate, refusing to move past the dark bars separating guest from ghoul. Their leader appeared last. A clown with bright orange hair and a red ringmaster’s jacket, he held out his arms as the crowd began to cheer.
Eva felt Jason tense beside her and winced. “Oof, sorry, Jay…”
“Tacky,” he said through clenched teeth.
“If it makes you feel any better, the Joker would probably hate that guy. You know how he feels about copycats.”
“I guess.”
The clown (Jack, she supposed) continued to speak, though more claps and yells buried his words. He concluded with a final, definitive-sounding statement, then faded into the scores of actors as the gates began to swing open. Both sides waited without breathing. Then, finally, when black bars screeched to a halt, an actor revved his chainsaw.
Pandemonium ensued. The event-goers rushed forward, the rest rushed to meet them, and shrieks of delighted terror began echoing into the twilight. Eva found it exhilarating. Not the normal kind of exhilaration, like when she got into a nasty scrap with Gotham’s criminals, but a safe kind, where she felt she could enjoy herself without worrying about getting shot or something.
Glancing down the street now dotted with steampunk princesses, she took a step forward. “I wanna go check out the scarezones. Get some good spooks in while the haunted house lines are still long.”
“Hey, V,” Jason said slowly, his breath still heavy, “I don’t think I can handle the free-roaming actors right now. You go enjoy yourself, I’ll hop in line for Freddy vs. Jason.”
“Alright,” she said. “Text me when you’re out, ‘kay? And say hi to your other twin for me!”
He rolled his eyes. “Jason Voorhees is not my twin.”
“Aw, c’mon, you’re both tragic zombie killers named Jason, that’s gotta count for something.”
“Hmph.”
“Silence is agreement,” she said smugly before setting off. “See ya!”
Wandering through the demented fairy tale area, Eva found herself in a replica of New York. Hadn’t she seen something about this being asylum-themed? It certainly looked that way, with blood-splattered maniacs in scrubs chasing guests with chainsaws. She felt the rumble of those machines in her bones and tugged the baggy sleeves covering her gear a bit tighter around her arms. The gasoline scent reminded her of home.
The zone itself was fine. In some ways, it reminded her of Gotham, a not-inaccurate portrayal of the frequent Arkham breakouts. But she didn’t want realism from the event, even pseudo-realism, so her steps took her away from the actors, through the small back alleys, and past the large statue of Optimus Prime crowning Transformers: The Ride.
Her path led to a pair of dark gates enclosing what must have been the Hollywood section. They marked a barrier between the normal road and the scare zone, actors of wildly different theming stalking through the quickly fading light. Eva vaguely recalled reading about this one. ICONS: HHN, a compilation of the best hits in the event's history.
Stages dotted the street, each unique and emphasized with a large banner behind. The first, resembling a Gothic operating room, featured a long-haired man in a black suit and top hat. She strode past, not recognizing the character as he performed some kind of gruesome show for guests.
The next caused Eva to wince. A dirty, tiled set (with electric contraptions and a bathtub) starred a man holding an old film camera. Kinda poor taste, considering the little she knew about the event’s history. His unsettlingly pale gaze followed her as she passed.
A woman with a green evening gown and sharp teeth tried to scare her. She merely smiled; the lady stalked off, disappointed. Turning, Eva found an old woman on the next stage staring down at her. Their gazes met, and she held up a friendly hand. The woman answered with a sinister grin, then went back to reading the book in her lap.
The final stage caused her to stop in her tracks, familiarity forcing itself upon her. Scarlet movie theater seats lay onstage, a cubicle with windows to the left. Vintage-inspired walls encircled the set, and the banner behind it illustrated a figure Eva recalled clearly.
The Usher himself emerged from behind a curtain a moment later, and she had to rub her eyes. If that was an actor, it was certainly a spot-on one. A guy in casual clothes followed, acting rude towards him before settling into the center seat. So this began his little show; Eva knew where this was going. However, before she could get settled into the situation, another newcomer threw her off. A woman with a red stage costume and a rope entered in the same way the other two had.
Christine. The ghost she’d gotten to know during that night in Carey and even nearly considered a friend. It had to be, there couldn’t be another explanation—even if the theme park had paid unduly close attention to her photos, Eva couldn’t think of a way for them to replicate her down to the last detail. The faint stains at the hem of her gown, the way the beads shimmered in the light… even her physical features matched perfectly. Somehow, Universal Studios had hired the real Christine Buffone and probably the real Julian Browning as well.
Leaning over the rude man, Christine aggressively restrained his wrists without looking up. A gag soon followed. When she finished, the Usher stepped to the edge of the stage.
“Gather around, everyone, for my next feature presentation…”
He gave a short speech, and Eva’s mind wandered. Would either of them recognize her without the Nightowl mask and cloak? Would it be a liability if they did?
After the Usher jerked the gagged man to his feet and dragged him into the cubicle, Christine took a seat. The dull thuds of flashlight connecting with skull made Eva grateful she chose to talk things out with him during her original trip. Christine sent a haughty grin towards the gathered guests as though proud of her companion.
But when her gaze met Eva’s, she nearly fell out of her chair.
The two stared at one another. Christine’s mouth fell open in pure, flabbergasted shock, while Eva merely waved halfheartedly. Suppose that answered her question.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Christine shook her head. Pointing to a spot in the distance, she mouthed a silent word.
“After.”
Julian hit the man for a final time, setting off a squib of blood that spurted across the window. He, comedically enough, began to wipe the substance up with a squeegee, while Christine disappeared behind the curtain once again.
Eva began heading in the direction she pointed. There really wasn’t much, just a few building facades and the entrance to Terminator 2 3-D. Poking her head into the deserted queue, Eva jumped when a voice spoke behind her.
“Miss Owl!”
“Dang, you ghosts are sneaky,” Eva said, turning to greet her kind-of friend. She had thrown on a large, fluffy coat that obscured the costume below, perhaps in an attempt to remain inconspicuous. The coat, however, would only have looked inconspicuous a century ago, if it had ever.
“You’re really here,” said Christine, sounding mystified. “I thought I would not ever see you again.”
Eva grinned. “Same. How’d you get to Orlando from Carey?”
“It’s… hm. It’s a longer story than I have time to tell. But suffice to say, Julian and I have made a home outside the theater.”
“So that was the real Julian.” Eva’s stomach lurched as she thought of the implications. “Wait, wait, hold on, that wasn’t an actual—he didn’t really kill that guy, did he?”
She’d have to report that to… someone. Whichever heroes protected Florida. Would that just be a generic Justice League complaint?
Christine shook her head and sighed. “Tragically, no. The theme park insists Julian and I perform with actors while in the public eye.”
“Ok, cool, great.” Eva didn’t miss the specification of “in the public eye,” but she put away her internal damage report for now.
“Truthfully, though, I think Jack and Chance break that rule sometimes. The screams of their victims are incredibly realistic,” she continued conspiratorially.
Eva mentally reopened the damage report.
“Jack’s that clown guy, right?” Eva asked. Her eyes widened. “Wait, so you and Julian aren’t the only real—“
“Of course not, darling, that wouldn’t make any sense.”
“Uh– sure,” she said. “Anyway… you liking the modern day alright?”
“It’s quite different,” Christine said. She pulled her coat closer around her shoulders and glanced back into the street as though keeping her eyes open for someone.
“In a good way?” asked Eva. She knew the answer would probably be no, given that movies were more popular than ever. And there had been, like, a lot more wars since 1930. Then again, she hadn’t lived in a bubble, she probably knew about those.
Christine let out a thoughtful noise, pressing a finger to her chin. “You know, no one’s ever asked me that. Yes, I suppose, yes, in a good way. It’s nice to be able to drink again, at least.”
“I didn’t realize moving changed your physical properties.”
“It wasn’t just a move, it—oh dear, I’m not supposed to talk about him right now.”
Eva raised a curious eyebrow. “Him?”
“Julian and I are under new management,” Christine explained, leaning in. “Or we were anyway, I think Jack’s supposed to be staging a rebellion right now. Doesn’t make a difference to me, I don’t particularly care for either of them. But Adaru arranged the whole thing to begin with.”
“And Adaru is…” she said, feeling a bit lost.
Christine grinned. “Fear itself. But enough about me! How did your performance go?”
Her borderline ominous answer was put out of Eva’s head by the follow-up question.
“Uh—“ she answered, “it’s still being written.”
“That is quite the long production period,” Christine said, sniffing in disappointment.
Eva shrugged. “It’s avant-garde. I don’t mind playing the role for as long as I can.”
“In that case, what about your Rat?” she asked with sparkling eyes. “Has the confession scene come about yet?”
“I’m still working on that,” said Eva, her face warming.
“I could help you if you want. I’m an expert in style, one makeover from me, and he’ll be swooning!” Christine said eagerly. She grabbed Eva’s hands, her grip noticeably less cold than it had been previously.
Eva found herself laughing, not out of mockery but from something that almost felt like affection. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’d have to come to you, though, I doubt you’d like Gotham.”
“Gotham? Isn’t that—ack, shh shh!”
Christine pushed her into a particularly shadowy corner of the queue, and before Eva could ask, she turned to greet an approaching figure.
“Chance!” she called.
“Christy!”
A pigtailed woman in clown paint and a red tutu slammed Christine into a hug, letting out a delighted squeal as she did so. She looked familiar; it only took a second to realize her similarities to a certain ex-henchwoman Eva had befriended after her breakup.
“What are you doing out?” Christine asked, sounding happy yet cautious. “Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for the Carnival?”
“Pfft, nah, I make the maniacs do all that boring crap. I just gotta show up and let the guts fly!” Chance laughed.
“I have to say I’m jealous of all that space you two get. Perhaps one day Julian and I shall get such special treatment.”
“Aw, maybe you can host the breakout in a couple of years! Speaking of Julian, whatcha doin’ back here? He said ya wandered off, I had to look all over.”
“I’m not that far from our stage,” Christine huffed.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” said Chance. Staring right at Eva, she took a curious step towards her, then gasped loudly. “Hey, it’s one of those guest suckers!”
“Hi,” she said awkwardly.
“Gonna kill her, Christy?”
Christine cleared her throat. “Yes…?”
Eva winced internally. She wasn’t exactly an expert at lying, generally speaking, but even she knew how fake that sounded. Squinting, Chance stared hard at Eva and put her hands on her hips.
She popped up a second after. “Well, don’t let me keep ya! Have fun getting strangled!”
The clown skipped off, leaving Eva a bit bewildered. But grateful she wouldn’t have to fight someone while in civilian clothes.
“My apologies,” Christine sighed. “I normally appreciate her enthusiasm, but not against a friend! You must be so unsettled…”
“Actually, I have a friend just like her,” Eva assured. “Maybe you’d like Gotham after all if you can handle your own Harley Quinn.”
“Perhaps. I shall have to visit during my next trip outside the Lantern,” she said warmly.
Eva’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out to find a text from Jason.
Little Red Riding Hood: Finished the house
Eva: Did you like it?
Little Red Riding Hood: It was
Little Red Riding Hood: How do you say it
Little Red Riding Hood: Lit
Eva: \(★ω★)/
Little Red Riding Hood: Where are you now?
Eva: Scarezone. Found an old friend
Little Red Riding Hood: Anyone I know?
Eva: Not directly
Little Red Riding Hood: Oh.
Little Red Riding Hood: Does she have any recs for the night?
Looking up, Eva said, “My brother’s looking for me. Do you have any ideas on what we should do next? Since you’re more familiar with everything.”
“Let's see…” Christine said. “You should definitely try to see ‘The Carnage Returns'. Jack and Chance do an excellent job with it.”
“Sorry, but he really doesn’t like clowns,” Eva grimaced.
“Understood. The Bill and Ted show should be more his speed then.”
“Gotcha.”
Eva: She says you’d like Bill and Ted
Little Red Riding Hood: K. Meet you by the stage?
Eva: 👍
“Wait,” she said, looking back at her friend, “that was originally a movie. Don’t you hate those?”
Christine’s face went pink. Huh. Eva didn’t know that was possible for a ghost (not to mention the thick stage makeup).
“You see,” she said with a sheepish chuckle, “a new friend of mine—dear Paulo, you should have seen him when you came over—he’s a filmmaker. It’s… softened me on the whole concept. My tastes are still very strict, though!”
“Paulo,” Eva repeated, mentally filing away that name for the, at this point, inevitable report she’d have to file.
“I should get going,” murmured Christine. “The next show is going to start soon. But it was nice to see you, Miss Owl.”
“You can call me Eva,” she said with a smile. It’s not like she hadn’t seen her unmasked face already, what could a name do at this point?
Tilting her head, the ghost looked a bit like an owl herself. “Eva. That’s lovely.”
She began to step out of the queue, only stopping when she heard Christine’s voice once again.
“Wait, one more thing.”
Eva turned. “Yeah?”
“Are you…” Christine said softly, “Are you happy, Eva?”
“That’s kinda out of left field,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“My apologies.”
“I guess I am. Are you?”
The ghost ducked her head, her voice slightly breathless. “Oh, yes. Yes, happy as I’ve ever been. I merely thought… if you were unhappy, I don’t think Adaru would mind recruiting another resident for the Lantern.”
While she had no idea what that meant, Eva knew Christine’s words were sincere. It was sweet. A little sinister but sweet all the same.
“Tell you what,” Eva said playfully. “If I decide to quit the whole Nightowl thing, I’ll consider it.”
Christine brightened. “Deal.”
She held her hand out, and Eva took it. They shook on it, a promise to meet again even if they didn’t see each other for the rest of the night.
“Bye, Christine. See you around, okay?”
She smiled softly. “Let me know if you come back. You’ll never go alone again.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
As some of you know, Mike Aiello just announced that Saturday, September 6th will be his last day as Creative Director of HHN Orlando. I want to do something to give back to him for all the joy he’s brought us as a community, by making him a giant thank you from all of us.
How it works:
1. I’ve started a discord server for the project, please message me for the link. I promise I don’t bite.
2. Make your fanwork for Mike, whether it be a piece of art, a small video, even just a letter saying what HHN means to you.
3. Drop it in the discord server, and I will handle the rest.
Lets show Mike Aiello how much this fandom cares, HHN wouldn’t be the same without him and I want to give him back at least a fraction of the joy he’s given us.
