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Witnessing killings, leaving dead bodies in abandoned buildings
Who: Matvei Andreev and Jean Grey
What: A whooooole lot of hostility. And also, someone gets a bad case of dead in a superpowered attack.
When: January 12, 1962
Where: Brownsville, New York
Rating/Warnings:PG
Status: Closed; Complete
There wasn't much left in Brownsville.
On a cold winter's day, the neighborhood shut down. Children peered out of windows dusty and cracked, too poor to afford coats for snow. Street after street revealed homes that had been burnt and broken, the result of constant arson that had turned the neighborhood into a war zone a decade before. A few cars lined the curbs but those, too, were burnt out as well, flecked with red spots of rust, the tires flattened against dirty pavement. The snow falling down from the sky started beautiful but it ended, Jean noticed, just as dirty and tired as Brownsville itself.
She tightened her grip on her purse a little more, walking through this part of the city. And yet, she couldn't stop herself from walking through. There was a part of her that hated sanctuary. For once in her life, Jean wanted to protect herself.
Her heels clattered on the wet sidewalks as she walked towards the stone monuments of Zion Park. It was surprisingly silent today, nothing but the sound of distant traffic and her own footsteps. It set her on edge and she found her eyes wandering more than they normally did, alert and wary of the place through which she was traveling.
There was nothing like this place in the Soviet Union. Not that Matvei knew of, anyway, and he'd seen a fair bit of the country. Maybe some of the old ghettoes in the Pale, maybe, but there was something shocking about the way that New York built. It wasn't exactly the size of the buildings, and it definitely wasn't the function of them, but the number of them, he thought, looking up at a building that seemed, from this angle, impossibly large. Alone would have been one thing.
( The prejudices of home died hard. )
What: A whooooole lot of hostility. And also, someone gets a bad case of dead in a superpowered attack.
When: January 12, 1962
Where: Brownsville, New York
Rating/Warnings:PG
Status: Closed; Complete
There wasn't much left in Brownsville.
On a cold winter's day, the neighborhood shut down. Children peered out of windows dusty and cracked, too poor to afford coats for snow. Street after street revealed homes that had been burnt and broken, the result of constant arson that had turned the neighborhood into a war zone a decade before. A few cars lined the curbs but those, too, were burnt out as well, flecked with red spots of rust, the tires flattened against dirty pavement. The snow falling down from the sky started beautiful but it ended, Jean noticed, just as dirty and tired as Brownsville itself.
She tightened her grip on her purse a little more, walking through this part of the city. And yet, she couldn't stop herself from walking through. There was a part of her that hated sanctuary. For once in her life, Jean wanted to protect herself.
Her heels clattered on the wet sidewalks as she walked towards the stone monuments of Zion Park. It was surprisingly silent today, nothing but the sound of distant traffic and her own footsteps. It set her on edge and she found her eyes wandering more than they normally did, alert and wary of the place through which she was traveling.
There was nothing like this place in the Soviet Union. Not that Matvei knew of, anyway, and he'd seen a fair bit of the country. Maybe some of the old ghettoes in the Pale, maybe, but there was something shocking about the way that New York built. It wasn't exactly the size of the buildings, and it definitely wasn't the function of them, but the number of them, he thought, looking up at a building that seemed, from this angle, impossibly large. Alone would have been one thing.
( The prejudices of home died hard. )