People always said I was cursed.
Gwen Stallone is a Realm Walker with a lot of family drama and a mysterious connection to Jason Todd. They share a terrible secret, but one that will draw them together.
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I had adjusted. Adapted. Survived.
I had woken up in a completely different world to the one I had left. If someone had told me I had arrived on an alien planet I wouldn't have believed them at first, but couple months later I would have sat in a cell at Akrham Asylum, watching news reports of Scarecrow's latest attack and the batfamily fighting him off... then, alien planets would have sounded a little more plausible.
As if being in a dimension wasn't jarring enough, and because of that fact I was checked into the loony bin. It was there I learned whoever I had been in this dimension was dead. I have a feeling the thing that brought me here, was the thing that got her killed.
I escaped with the help of the Suicide Squad and a chance meeting with Batman. (A.N. See Batman: Assault on Arkham). Despite my better judgement telling me otherwise, I stayed in Gotham. The rent was cheap, and once you knew the rules it was easy to survive. Besides, Gita Kelly had no place in this world.
So I left her behind. I couldn't have kept that identity if I wanted to. That name was splashed across death certificates, Arkham records and Task Force X files. It was easier to leave her there, resting.
Gwen Stallone though, she had a chance.
Gwen had a shiny new passport and a birth certificate, even a driver's licence, though I wouldn't be caught dead driving in Gotham's traffic - all things easy to come by once I learned how to ask the right questions and the right people - everything I needed to live a life free the shadow of any fear. Fictional details that just might give me the chance for something real if I couldn't figure out how to get home.
People always said I was cursed.
Just like my mama, and my nonna.
Well, that's an honest theory anyway.
It set us apart from the rest of the family. The three Raldini women.
Nonna always said we were lucky to be included because being cursed means we have no right to belong. Nonna went on and one about a lot of things. Mama always let her, just for peace.
I thought of my mum a lot and a conversation we had that shaped the way I saw the world.
"I don't know anything about being a woman." I had once said. "Is that what it is? You do things like drink wine?"
"Sure," said her mum with a tired smile. "You drink. Champagne if you're happy. Champagne, if you're sad. You drive a car. Gamble if you want. Own diamonds. Learn how to fire a gun. You travel to Morocco. Take up lovers. Make them suffer. You look a tiger in the eye. And trust without fear. That's what it is to be a woman."
It was going to take more than three months to find my feet and build this identity, but I was trying to find my place. A little corner of the city that was occupied by a few other transplants, where one looked twice if you spoke English, Italian, or any other language, where collage kids fill the streets in the morning and afternoon, where shops on the street front were looking for people to work.
