BAH. I'm working on Living Remains, I swear, but I was pressured into posting this.
Rated PG-13 for gore and over-description.
Kind of AU-ish, where Nathan Stone is real and not Ryan Zucco, but not dating Fin. At all. :D

The linoleum tiles were splattered with a crimson liquid, and Dick could've sworn it was taunting him. Some of it was just random splashes of coppery scented color against the pale walls, most of it was in patterns and words. Widened grins of a crazed madman were prominent, Bruce noted dutifully, but some were crude letters scribbled with a finger. Among these were "help," "pain," and "Tati," the last one jabbing at Bruce's mind. M'gann was already tearing up, fearing the worst for her little sister.
As they progressed further into the labyrinth they'd lost her in, the scenes began changing rapidly from bad to worse. The next room had tarp on the floor and concrete walls that had been white-washed, then coated with thick amounts of blood and ash. There was some gold droplets near the doorway, and Conner noticed with a certain queasy feeling that these, too, smelled of copper.
Next room over and not even Artemis could hold the bitter taste of vomit that began to swell up in her throat. The scent here was overwhelming, a mixture of rotten carcasses, spoiled milk, and other things that made the archer blanch. Danna was trying to hold her breath, but that had never been a strong suit of her, and she almost nearly fainted. But that did make her any more relieved to reach the next room.
Kaldur gaped in horror, Zatanna stifling a scream by biting her lips, Wally having a silent, personal inner mental breakdown. The room was full of sharp weapons and empty syringes, a few hollow aerosol cans lying to the side. Each weapon was pure gold ore, as were the syringe needles, and the remains of the gas in the cans, Bruce found, had tiny flecks of something reflective. The wall was practically painted in orange-gold, the stench coming off in waves, nauseating Dick. There were a few locks of hair, unusually long, and jet black, stranded among the place, and part of a domino mask sat on the table in the middle of the room. The table itself was long enough for a body to rest on with some extra foot and head room, and there were some leather straps with belt buckles. The leather was covering mechanical cuffs, that, when Wally pressed a button, snapped shut.
Bruce walked towards the final door, reaching out to the handle, but hesitating all the same. He wasn't sure he was ready to face whatever his female ward was going through. But he wasn't Bruce now. He was Batman, and Batman needed to be there for his proteges through and through. So he tightly gripped the metal and slammed the door open with a gust of wind.
So far, Nathan hadn't reacted to anything. Yes, he'd seen the blood, he'd smelt the blood, the torn mask was dancing in his mind along with the hairs. But it hadn't registered to him. He'd put it aside and pretended it hadn't been real. The girl he knew and loved had to have gotten through this, she was a Bat. Raised by the most stubborn heroes and heroines in the world. Batman as a father, Black Canary as a godmother, the League as her aunts and uncles. This girl could do just about anything. She was one of two beta's to Kaldur being alpha of this team. She had survived. And he wasn't proved incorrect when Batman opened the door.
There she was, curled up in the corner, her black hair hanging limply around her like a curtain. And if her hair was the curtain, her blood was the rug-- it was just a large puddle, barely any ripples, but there anyways. She looked up with a blank expression, but a grin spread on her face. Her lips were stained red, a bubble of crimson popping at the edge and beginning to drip down her chin. “My god,” Nathan uttered, his eyes widening in shock as he stared at her. She reached up to him, her blue eyes flickering with their own madness. A soft cackle escaped from her lips, showing teeth that had been filed to a sharp point, making her smile that much more insane. Bruce silently cursed Joker, kneeling to the girl, whilst Nathan looked at the camera up in the corner that had swiveled to watch them. He seemed to stare through the lense, watching the real enemy. “Damn you, Brennan,” he murmured angrily, turning to the newly crazed girl.
She smiled up them all, opening her mouth to let a few words trickle out. She’d been trained for weeks to say this one phrase, you could tell, the way she clearly enunciated certain words. She kept the insane smile, staring straight into Nathan’s eyes.
“The game begins,” Fin stated, and with that she passed out.

Erm.. comment?