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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It had been days, and the sick feeling had refused to leave Jason's stomach. It was in his head too-- he had spent enough time around telepaths to recognize what a mind touch felt like. Maybe it was the thought that Joker had his hands on someone that could break Jason from the inside that was making him feel so sick, but what he couldn't figure out was why the touch felt so familiar.
Red Hood rebolstered his gun as stood over the man he'd just shot. Red Hood mightn't have known the man's name, but he saw him often enough to know that he was a low-class drug dealer. One of his dealers, to be exact.
Some of the man's buddies caught him thumbing through some of the tribute money that Freddie, one of the Red Hood's drug lords, was about to send to him for protection. Hence the reason they wound up here, because Freddie was too lazy to take out his own trash. Red Hood would have a talk with him later.
He almost regrated shooting the guy, but policy was policy.
And yet, and yet...
It was the terror in his eyes, the desperate pleas for mercy.
Jason had screamed that way, too, in Bosnia and a girl lay next to him dying as the Joker made him watch her get beaten with the crowbar as well. He'd never known why the girl had been there, only that she held his hand the entire time.
She hadn't been lucky enough to get a cosmic do over.
"It's not the same." The words came out ragged, like they had been dredged up from somewhere deep inside him. "It's not the same."
He felt sick.
At least he'd gotten some information out of the ordeal.
"Wait!" Jeremy, or whatever equally generic name this punk had, shook as he spoke. A row of narrow windows met the ceiling at the top of the shaded warehouse. Pale moonlight from the window fell at Red Hood's feet.
"I know you're looking for the Joker. I-I have information."
"Keep talking." Red Hood's hand hovered over the grip of one of his guns, located in the holster of his right thigh.
"My sister, her boyfriend works for the clown. Said they were looking for some Italian chick—" Tears rolled from his eyes, but Red Hood's eyes rolled to the back of his head. "—Gwen Stallone."
Red Hood knew the man wanted something out of this just as much as he did, to get off with a warning. "What's her boyfriend's name?"
"I dunno boss, never met the guy."
Red Hood sighed—a fucking waste of his time, he could be doing anything else right now-before he took a couple steps towards the man, his feet heavy on the cold concrete floor. "...What's your sisters name?"
The man hesitated. "...C-Chelsy." Tears rolled from his eyes, but Red Hood's eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Red Hood grabbed his gun and cocked it, sliding a bullet into the chamber. He tilted his head. "Liar."
