I don't own young justice.

Examining the interior, Calla noticed that all the furniture was broken, there were stains all over the carpet. It looked like a real abusive home. "That's because it is." Came a mysterious voice. "He thinks you are his daughter: Calla. When he hits you it will hurt. He will not go easy on you and we will not help you. You are to have no contact with your father or your friends. Kaldur and Tigress will enter the operation in three days. Good luck"

Then the voice was gone and Calla was shoved to the ground. The carpet smelled of alcohol and tobacco. The man pinning her laughed his rancid breath attacking her senses. "I know you're eager to lay on your back but I have somewhere to be." At his suggestive tone Calla's eyes widened. They hadn't told her this, she hadn't been warned. Suddenly the weight was gone and she was yanked to her feet. There are clothes on your bed go get dressed. We have somewhere to be." Calla practically ran from the room near tears. Her father had never struck her, not out of anger. Stumbling into the room the man pointed at. She looked to the ratty sheet on the floor and winced at the fairy costume on it. "C'mon I'm ready to go." Calla quickly dressed and ran yanking at the gossamer. The man grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her close cutting of airflow. "You had better not embarrass me tonight. Do you understand?" He said softly. Calla nodded quickly. "Do you understand?" He yelled. Calla shrank in on herself and quickly shrieked. "Yes, yes I understand." The man grabbed her pulling her swiftly out the door. He opened the trunk of his compact and looked at her expectantly. Calla looked between him and the trunk watching his face grow ever more menacing. After a moment he simply shoved Calla into the trunk and slammed it closed. Calla lay there cramped and squished in complete darkness and forget-me-nots began to fill the trunk." Calla blinked tears from her eyes as her head bounced off the trunk again. After a seemingly everlasting ride, the trunk was opened and Calla stepped out and gasped. She had known Bruce Wayne was rich but this was amazing. Calla stumbled as she was shoved forward. She followed her "father" up into the house and blinked at the inside. It was nothing she had ever seen before. It was far more grand than her own home. Death stroke saw no need to fill his halls with fragile items that were badly made to be so expensive. Calla stepped inside and stayed quiet as her "father" gripped her arm. "Get to work "Calla quickly gathered a tray and moved among the crowed. After being groped harassed and insulted for over two hours, Calla saw the Bat-signal light up the polluted sky. She needed to get there now. Calla moved back toward John Dagott a man who had been horrendous to her all night. She promptly tripped sending food flying into him. Food covered Armani suit and her "father" stormed over. "You little… How dare you." HE took his fist across her face and she yelped as she hit the cold marble floor. She rolled onto her front and attempted to crawl away. She screamed when a firm hand grabbed her ankle and harshly yanked her back. She writhed and struggled against the hand that held her captive. "What is going on here" boomed the host of the gala. Bruce Wayne stood tensely his hands in fists. "Let her go Mr. Pace." When her ankle was released Calla whimpered and shrank in on herself. Peering out the window, Calla scrambled to her feet and ran. The party guests stood in silence and watched her go.