Chapter Text
Barty was covered in blood, but that was not his main problem.
Dorcas had taken his knife and hid it somewhere because she thought she was hilarious, so now he needed to find it in the next five minutes before the haunted house opened, or he would just be a hot guy covered in blood, and there wasn’t much scary about that.
“Cas, where the fuck is my knife? How do you expect me to be a murderer if you keep–”
“Sirius has it” Reg rolled his eyes and pointed at his brother, who was perfecting his clown makeup.
“Oi, Black, give it– ow shit just because it's fake doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when you chuck at me asshole!” Barty shouted as he picked it up and rubbed at the side of his head. He ruffled Reg’s hair as he walked out, getting the powder he used to make his hair white on his hand, and rubbing it off on Dorcas’s shoulder who smacked him upside the head and made another grab for the knife before he slid past her out the door.
It was the tail end of June, so the place wouldn't be too busy tonight, which left more time to focus on each person, scare them into screaming their lungs out. Barty was proud to say that he was the most terrifying worker at the Hyacinth Hellscape, having scared not one, but two grown men into pissing their trousers, and getting a scream so high pitched it nearly broke his eardrums from an aloof gothy teenager. He had a routine, consisting of jumpscares, threatening dialogue, and trapping his victims against a door that only opened at the last possible second. He loved what he did, striking pure fear into people's hearts, and then getting to watch as they ran through the door, relief on their faces. And tonight would be no different.
He was sitting at his post when the first group came in, a bunch of nervous teenage girls, and he watched as they walked past him, and then down the hall. He followed them for a few steps before leaning down and murmuring in one of their ears.
“Well aren’t you a doll?” The girl screeched, like he knew she would, and he continued to advance on the group, making them walk back towards the door at the end of the hall. “Y’know, I’ve heard it isn’t quite safe ‘round these parts. Rather a strange place for your pretties to be hmm? Why don’t you come with me?” He held up his bloody knife and grinned wide “I know just the place for you. I’ll turn your hands into light fixtures and eat cereal from your skulls…but only if that’s something your up for.” He made to turn away, watched them relax slightly, and then he spun around and slashed his knife through the air. They ran, and he chased them, until they hit the door. They pushed and pulled and banged on the wood, until he was right up against them. “Now, who first?” And like magic, the door opened, and they tumbled through. He smirked, and returned to his hiding place.
For a few hours, things went just the same. Groups of four or five, easily scared, some tough men pretending to be brave and standing in front of the group, as if he could protect them from a knife wielding psycho. There was a while of nothing, no people coming through, and Barty leaned against the wall, fake blood drying on his skin, as he spun the knife through his fingers. He was just considering abandoning his post to go see Reg in the next room when the tell tale rattling of the door opening alerted him. He peered through the peephole in the wall and–
Holy motherfucking shit that guy is hot.
There were two of them, though he could care less about the girl. He had short blond dreadlocks, piercing blue eyes, and a bored expression. Barty was fucked.