Archive of Our Own ^beta

Superhero costumes were wildly popular in Gotham that year, Steph noted. So far she'd counted 15 Batmans (Batmen?), 18 Supermans, 6 Robins (mostly accompanying older siblings dressed as Batman) and 11 Wonder Womans. When the door swung wide this time, however, Steph's mouth fell open.

"You...You're..."

"I'm the *Spoiler*," said the child, obviously exasperated. "Yes, I am a real hero, okay?"

"How...how do you know?" stammered Steph.

The girl's face was uncovered, but otherwise her costume looked pretty authentic. She'd even gotten the right shade of eggplant. "She saved me and my mom once, okay? There was this guy with a knife, and she *totally* kicked his butt. She was *awesome*," the girl beamed. "My mom had to make my costume because they'd never heard of her at the store, though," she added, her face falling.

"It's a *great* costume," said Steph, dropping several large handfuls of candy into the bag.

"Wow, thanks!" said the girl, her eyes wide.

No, thank *you*, thought Steph. "You're welcome. Happy Halloween!"

When Jason used to dream about being rich...about maybe saving some old guy's life and getting named his heir, or finding a lost Lotto ticket and winning a million bucks or something, he used to think about the stuff he'd *do* with the money. Like, there was this diner he would stop in at when he could, where they would let him help with the washing up on busy days in exchange for a meal. Even the waitress was a real sweetheart, calling him 'hun' and asking after his mom. He always wished he could leave her a thousand dollar tip. He could hide, maybe, and watch as she picked up the money, her eyes going wide...

Or Mark, who volunteers to help Doctor Leslie at the clinic, and talks about medical school in some vague and distant future, "When I can afford it." Maybe Mark would wake up one day to find he suddenly had a full scholarship to one of those fancy schools.

Silly things. *Crazy* things.

When he moves in with Bruce-fucking-Wayne, it's really kind of a disappointment to see the things the rich *actually* spend their money on...the clothing, the fish eggs, the stupid, carved up pieces of *rock*...Oh, there's charity, and donations, and gifts, and scholarships, but they're all very *institutionalized*, ordered. There's nothing random about it. Nothing *fun*.

But sometimes, once in awhile, Jason gets to do something a little bit fun.

"Trick-or-Treat!" calls the gaggle of kids at the door. Their eyes go wide as he hands them each a super-extra-giant-sized candy bar.

"Happy Halloween," he grins.

It was going to be a good night, he could tell already. His pockets were stuffed with eggs, and the houses were starting to turn out their lights

The suburbs were always easy targets. All the middle-class houses, with their carefully carved pumpkins...most of them crude and amateur, a few impressive and intricate.

They all looked the same after they'd been smashed in the street, though.

He grinned at his friends as they swaggered down the street together. The first pumpkin was a small one, crookedly carved, probably by an old woman or a child. His friend scooped it up and smashed it down, laughing as the orange guts sprayed across the asphalt.

The next one had to've been done by an adult; the triangle eyes were even and exactly the same size. The mouth was a cheerful gash. The smell of pumpkin and candle filled the air as it cracked open on the pavement.

Their luck was in. The next house had the most spectacular, most intricately carved pumpkin they'd ever seen. Whoever lived here must have spent *hours* making it. With a whoop, they grabbed it, tossing it back and forth until it fell--

--and a gust of wind seemed to catch it, setting it carefully back on its place on the porch. The breeze suddenly took shape, it was a man in red and blue, it was--

As they watched, he leaned down and re-lit the candle inside the pumpkin with his heat vision. Then Superman, Superman looked at the boys and raised an eyebrow.

"Next year," he suggested in a friendly way, "How about fewer tricks and more treats, boys?"

Where is Tim? wondered Kon. It was a great party and everyone was having a good time, but without Tim there to tease, things just weren't as...fun.

The door swung open and a dashing figure strode in, black mask covering his eyes, black cape hanging from his shoulders, a round, flat hat on his head and a sword at his hip.

"Who are you supposed to be?" asked Kon. Tim's lips curved into a sharp smile. "You do not recognize me, amigo? The black fox? El diablo negro?" His sword came out and sang through the air in a quick 'Z' shape. "You tell me that you do not recognize Zorro? I cannot let this insult pass!"

Kon grinned and shoved his wig out of his eyes. "Well, now..." he said, drawing his own sword. "There's no need t'be taking offense, mate."

Tim raised his sword, and the two of them play-fought for a few moments. Tim was much, much better, but every time their swords touched, Kon used his TTK to throw Tim off balance, so they were about even.

The knock at the door comes late, long after the cutoff time for trick or treating has passed. Selina frowns and goes to open it anyway. She stops frowning when she sees him standing there.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

She frowns. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Something Scarecrow said--"

"Scarecrow!" Her eyes search his face as she pulls him inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. His pupils are wide, his breathing a little too fast, and a light sheen of sweat coats his brow. She can see his pulse jumping in his neck.

"He hit you with fear gas, didn't he?"

He just nods. "I took the antidote. This is just the aftereffects."

She pulls off his cowl and strokes his brow. Why had he come to her?

"I just...had to know you were all right," he says as though he read her mind.

"Oh," she says, and smiles a little. "I'm all right. You're safe here, Bruce."

"I know," he says. "I...I know."

Bart loves Halloween. With his superspeed he can go to houses all over the state!

The only problem is, the candy's all gone by the next day anyway.

Diana adjusted her bowtie and smiled at herself in the mirror. She made a very charming man, if she did say so herself.

A growl from the doorway drew her attention. "Diana," said a masculine voice with a mixture of pleading and annoyance, "How do women *walk* in these things?"

"She gave me some candy," said Nightwing cheerfully. Robin gave him a *look*. "What?"

"We're not supposed to accept rewards," he said.

Nightwing rolled his eyes. "We did save her from those demon children," he said, "And she said it was the least she could do. Come on...she gave me some mini-Snickers, a mini-Hershey, a mini-Milky Way--"

"You're going to rot your teeth--"

"Oh, I know what *you* want, Tim. Smarties! Or would you prefer Nerds?"

"...How much candy did she *give* you?"

"Well, the demon children left behind their sacks, so..."

"Let me see that." Tim peeked into the sack and couldn't stop his face from lighting up. He reached for the candy...closed his fingers around the one he wanted...and only then did he realize what he'd chosen.

"What did you pick?" asked Nightwing as Tim palmed his prize and then quickly tucked it into his belt.

"Almond Joy," he lied. Nightwing would never let him hear the end of it if he knew Tim liked Sour Balls.

The Question was used to odd looks by now. (Sometimes she wished she still had a face, so she could stare back.) The guy had been staring at her almost her entire subway ride, making it impossible for her to concentrate on anything else.

Finally, a few stops before her own, he approached her.

"I gotta say, that's a killer Rorschach costume," he said.

"Wha-?"

"But you forgot the ink. The ink's kinda the point, you know?" Before she could form a coherent response he added, "This is my stop. Just thought I'd give you a heads up." He smiled and got off the subway, leaving her staring after him.

Several new passengers got on. One of them was a rather pretty young woman who looked at her with interest. The Question smiled back, then remembered that she didn't have a face anymore.

"You know, that's a great Rorschach costume!" said the woman. She paused and frowned a little. "You forgot the black spots, though."

The Question groaned and dropped her head into her hand. She was going to be SO glad when Halloween was over...

Clark bit his tongue. He wouldn't laugh. He *wouldn't*. He was better than that. He was the Man of Steel. He was--

--chuckling along with everyone else as Bruce Wayne strolled through the room in his costume. The feckless playboy kept getting tangled up in the long, red cape, smiling apologetically (and charmingly) when he spilled a whole tray of drinks down one woman's dress. His clumsiness couldn't hide, however, the way the sky blue fabric clung to every muscle. When he came even with Clark, he nodded at him and said, "Mr. Trent."

"Kent, actually. Tell me Mr. Wayne, whose idea was it that you dress like Superman for this particular Masquerade Charity Banquet?" Bruce glanced at him, his eyes full of equal parts exasperation and reluctant amusement.

"Not mine," he said dryly, and continued on his way.

He'd done it. He'd finally done it. His plan to Take Over the World by brainwashing children through the use of special Halloween candy had succeeded! The Brain cackled over his super computer, pulling levers and pushing buttons, making the world dance to his whims.

~~~

Professor Tetch smiled. The lab mouse's endorphins were quite high; the new mind-control collars appeared to be working perfectly. He looked at the other mouse, which was muttering, "Narf! Poing poing poing," to itself happily.

~~~

The Brain grinned and pulled another lever, watching the blankly smiling Professor on the big screen. The experiment appeared to be a complete success.