So, it’s no secret that Jason hates carnivals.

He’ll give you one guess why: starts with a J and ends with a R. Green haired clowns with tacky shoes ring a bell? Certainly does for him. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to have rung a bell for wherever he was transported to when he got blasted by some magician scientist’s stun gun. Jason figures he’s in some sort of alternate universe… or maybe just a different state.

Because this carnival is old and dingy and most definitely haunted, but certainly not in Gotham. He knows Gotham smog anywhere. This place doesn’t have a trace of it. It does however have quite a bit of fog, which is never helpful, and so he’s rolling his eyes at every single damn cardboard cutout of clowns and other awful creatures that pop out of the white mist as he walks around this dingy place.

He doesn’t scare easily. But shit, the clown pop up that just popped out at him is freaking him out. He feels like something’s watching him— Jason knows there’s eyes on him, he’s been able to tell that since he was sent here, but he can’t tell what it is.

His boots thump against the dirt pathways of the old, abandoned carnival, taking carefully measured steps. His fingers twitch towards his guns, but he doesn’t draw them, not yet.

Then he trips some sort of wire— what the hell— and opens a trap door right underneath him. He’s falls into a room full of clown mannequins.

…He’s going to get back to Gotham and blow the head off that magician.

“Get— fuck—" Jason wheezes, punching one of the stupid clown things in the face. He shoves a few that have toppled on him off. He hates clowns, he hates carnivals, at this point he hates magicians— he’s going to get back and he thinks he’s going to take a vacation.

The room he’s landed in is dark. There’s most no lights, but it’s weirdly fancy through what he can see with the night vision lenses of his mask. He turns behind him and a row of brightly painted clown mini-figures start cackling. Jason practically jumps out of his skin.