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Dusk in Hell's Kitchen. After working hours, at least just, for those who work a usual shift. For some people, it's just a break before they start a second shift at another job. For others, the day - or night - is really just about to begin. The morning paper had an article saying that the warehouse in this area, once the home base for Dracula and his goons, had been purchased. That there are plans to turn the space into a community center.
People in the neighborhood have avoided the place since everything ended. Bad memories. A few fears. But this afternoon, people are drifting toward the property, getting a better look at it. Some are imagining what a place like that is going to bring to the neighborhood, picturing what it's going to look like. Others are imagining the people it's going to bring to the neighborhood.
The second group isn't all that happy.
"Desegregated? What, like we don't need the help bad enough ourselves?" grumbles an out-of-work steelworker, arms crossed over his chest as he eyes the dilapidated building. "How'm I supposed to take my kids to a place like this if there's gonna be mutants in there?"
*
Duke meanders through Hell's Kitchen at a lazy pace. Sometimes, he makes house calls and he just spent the last twenty-four hours on one. There are people who can't afford to go to the hospital and people who are afraid to go to the hospital and, then, there's the occasional patient that a hospital wouldn't know what to do with. Delivering babies is always fun, even when the mama bites. Can't blame a person for getting a little cranky under the circumstances, especially a person with big teeth and claws.
Duke pauses on a street corner to light a cigarette, listening to the complaints. He takes care of "people like that", as one person mutters. The atmosphere is unpleasant. If Coz were here, he'd have his hackles up.
*
Having read about the community center, T'Challa is curious. The ideals espoused in the article are ones she would support. But what one says to the press, and what one actually does can be two different things. Rather than blindly put her wallet to work in support, the young Queen of Wakanda, instead looking just like the ESU grad student she is, has made her way down to Hell's Kitchen intending to check it out for herself. She doesn't appreciate the anti-mutant bias she's hearing. Haven't these people realized the price of prejudice? She makes her way across the street, towards the site itself, giving no mind to the naysayers and negativity poles.
*
Any community center in this area is a good idea…it would be a place for the kids to go and play safely and learn things that aren't taught in school, perhaps. Kurt was rather pleased at the news and he also decided to check out the space. Maybe he could convince someone to put a gym in there…a real one, not one for weight-lifting; high ceilings so there can maybe even be a trapeze there! He steps behind the vocal steelworker and merely offers a pleasant smile as he makes his presence known. "We do not eat children, you know. They are too chewy. Now, people like you…"
It might not have been the best thing to say, but he just couldn't resist…it was getting to be so ridiculous!
*
"Shit!" the steel-worker jumps when he turns to see Kurt behind him, stumbling back a few steps before his face turns an ugly shade of red. "You son of a-" One of the men behind him starts to cross himself, while another one pulls the steel-worker back a step.
"Didn't your momma ever teach you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?" an older black woman calls over from where she's standing with two generations of family. Her son, a bricklayer who's at least been busy with the recent rebuilding, steps to her side in case anyone gets any ideas.
"Please," a student in thick, horn-rimmed glasses and a polo shirt rolls his eyes. "What gift horse? Some rich lady wants to buy off her guilt and we're all supposed to be happy about it?"
*
Community center. Well, this is one community that needs a center, literally and figuratively, if Duke remembers anything about this kind of endeavor. Perhaps, if they're open to mutants, they can get a proper medical clinic in there. Less work for him, which is always good. He doesn't like leaving Coz alone too long at the yard.
"Bad for the heart," he notes mildly, when the blue fellow teases the grumpy one. "Shouldn't eat too much red meat anyway." He leans against a lamppost, watching. He wonders where he left Tex — or, rather, where Tex left himself. Parking tickets are one of Tex's least favourite things. Personal insult. Hopefully, Tex won't decide to show up right now, when everyone is on edge.
*
When strife and discord arise, T'Challa turns, looking back to the angry voices and those who send them forth. She walks over to the loudly-voiced gathering, and inquires of the young man with the horn-rimmed glasses, "And tell me: would you all rather have a broken-down, half-burned shell and eyesore, or would you rather have the facilities, opportunities, and potential employment of this investment? What does it matter to you whether it is a way for a rich woman to expiate her guilt?" Yeah. Accent front and center, there's no way she's from around here, no matter what she looks like.
*
Nightcrawler's hands are visible, what good that serves, and he does seem fairly relaxed as the steelworker jumps. He's prepared, however to move should there be anything hostile. There's a grin cast to the man standing by the lamppost, "Ja, that is the other. It is too rich." He nods to the older woman and then glances to the student, "So you would tell this rich lady 'no' even though it is for everyone? That it will be a place for the children to go so they are not on the street where it is dangerous? Where they can learn about art or music or get help with their homework or play games?" He clucks his tongue, his German accent still fairly strong. There's a tilt of his head as the woman approaches the man with the same sort of comment. Not everyone's against it.
*
"Hey, I'm not sayin' the damned v- vam-" The steelworker doesn't seem to be able to get the words out. Especially while he's trying not to look like a fool. Or a coward. "Vampires were better. Just sayin', negroes got the whole NAACP on their side. No way of telling what's a mutant and what's an alien these days. I want a place for my kids as much as anyone else does, I just wanna know they're gonna be safe."
The bricklayer starts to step closer, though he's stopped when his mother sets a hand to his beefy arm. "Honey, you look at the world like someone giving something to someone else means they're taking it from you, you're gonna be real unhappy. Jonas here," she nods to her son, "He's gonna put in an application to work on this. Yes you are," she warns when the bricklayer turns back to her in surprise. "You wouldn't know what you're doing if your uncle hadn't taught you. You're passing it on."
The student gapes when Tchalla steps forward, looking around at the others. "I- uh- I mean- Uh- You're…You're that queen."
*
"Vampires were not better, definitely." Duke says that with complete confidence, having killed enough of them himself, right here in this building. "The undead weren't pleasant either. Though they were crunchy." Coz had a lot of fun with those, ran around with a femur for weeks after.
"People aren't safe, if they don't want to be — guns, knives, drugs, arson. Plenty of that around here from people with no powers at all." He tilts his head slowly, looking at the man in question. "Not everyone is dangerous. Some of us help. Same as anyone else."
*
T'Challa inclines her head respectfully to the student, though she is a mite surprised; she doesn't usually get recognized that easily or readily unless she's wearing more queenly garb. She doesn't object, however. "I am."
To the steelworker, T'Challa considers his point and then responds. "So your concern, sir, is the safety of those who come here? Fair enough. But would not a properly supervised community center be safer than the streets and a burnt-out hovel? If you are truly worried about the danger of mutants coming here, would you not see the same dangers in dispossessed teens? Mutants are not born wanting to destroy, anymore than you are. They attack when threatened. If you instead allow them to be welcome, like every other citizen, they will respect your safety like any other citizen."
*
Nightcrawler considers the conversations going on for a moment before he looks back to Duke and nods. He then tilts his head at the steelworker, "I am a mutant und I am here. Ask me whatever you want to see if you think I may be safe for your children und for you." He also looks towards the Community Center, "I will probably apply to work here too if it is completed. Children need to learn how to accept us all."
T'Challa's words get a frown, "You talk as if there is danger all over the street here all of the time. That is not so. It is not moving from one safe place to another und everything in-between is a war zone." He then adds, "The children are not afraid of mutants." This he knows from experience.
*
The steelworker crosses his arms over his chest, giving Nightcrawler a suspicious look. "If you're dangerous, it ain't like you're gonna tell me about it, you know? And maybe you're okay. But what about ones like- You seen 'em on the news. Knocking over banks. Blowing shit up. How'm I supposed to know which is which? Safer just to keep 'em separate. Separate but equal, you know?"
The older woman gives her son's shoulder a pat, nodding approvingly around. "Me, I've seen this city change. My grandaddy was a slave. My boy, he keeps a roof over all our heads. World gets better, you know?"
The student still seems shocked that he's in the presence of someone who - in his eyes - can make a real political difference. All his study, all his reading, but when he's in the face of change, he's not quite sure what to do about it.
Which is when a little sea green scooter puts up to the curb, pulling over as the passenger pushes down the kickstand and pulls off her helmet to reveal one Danielle Rand. "Hey, folks," she says slowly, a wry smile curving. "Not open for business here yet."
*
"This kind of business waits for no one," Duke says dryly. He looks Danny over, files her somewhere he will probably forget about sooner than later.
"There has never been separate but equal. To get there, you must differentiate. Good people are good people. A dangerous mutant who is a good person will tell you. They will protect you from them — they don't want to hurt you. You are more likely to be able to hurt them." This much, Duke knows to be true. "A bad person will hide the truth from you on principle, whether they conceal a gun or a power."
*
To Kurt, T'Challa shakes her head. "No, young one. I speak as if there is potential for danger amongst everyone, everywhere. Which there is. And you are quite right: fear of the different is something we learn, more to our shame."
"Separate and inequal, you mean." T'Challa responds to the steelworker, agreeing with Duke. "What you are describing is what the Nazis tried years ago, dragging the undesirables off to concentration camps." It's a burning allegory, and she knows it, but she's making a point. "You judge others not by how they look, but by how they act. A young man hurts others, you call the police, and he is taken away for the safety of all. He is judged by a jury of his peers, and if found guilty he is taken further away, for longer, hopefully to be rehabilitated. But if he harms no one, he stays. He becomes a part of your community. And he tries to make his world better, for everyone, any way he can."
When Dannielle pulls up, T'Challa turns towards her, offering a ghost of a smile and a nod. "Good evening, Miss Rand."
*
"Und how do I know you are not the kind of person who will not pull a gun on me or beat me with a pipe? Or chase me away for looking different? Maybe it is safer if all of those who are -not- mutants are kept separate but 'equal'? Und tell me, how is it equal to be kept away from a place to learn? Or to play? Or to show others that you are not dangerous?" Kurt inclines his head again and grins, "Do you go about judging every white human and assuming they are safe and those who are not white or human are dangerous?" Catching more flies with honey…that's his intent. He spreads his arms as if to show that he has nothing hidden under his coat, shirt, and jeans aside from a small gold cross about his neck. "I have nothing to hide. If you have questions, ask."
T'Challa gets his attention, "Of course there is potential for everyone…" but his grin fades when she mentions the Nazis and the Concentration Camps. "None of us who were taken were harming anyone. It was only because we looked or prayed differently."
*
"That's me," Danny smiles faintly to Tchalla. "You can call me Danny, though." She eyes the gathered crowd, shaking a hand through her hair. "I, ah. I was just coming to check in on things," she points a thumb toward the building. "But if people have questions about the plans so far, I'm happy to answer them. Or…" She holds her hands out, looking around. "Discussion is good."
The steelworker shakes his head, stepping back toward his friends. "Miss," he nods to Danny. "This ain't no neighborhood for a lady. You oughta let the big boys take care of this."
The black woman laughs low, giving her son's shoulder a light push. "There you go, see? You go get the number for the application from that woman." He rolls his eyes, but does go over, and Danny shakes his hand, passing him a business card. No fear.
The bespectacled student seems to have found his fire when Danny shows up, though. "What, did you forget to bring the reporters? It's all just a sham, you know," he rages at the rest of the crowd. "People who've got the power and the money, they just pretend to care. When things are really bad, where are they? Where was Danielle Rand when this block was full of vampires?"
*
"I was here fighting them," Duke says almost lazily. "Right there." He points to the roof of the building, then down the street back into the neighborhood. "And down there. And wherever else it was necessary. Where were you? Out of the way, I hope, as you should have been. She could have made a scene about helping, if she'd wanted attention back then. Just like she could have brought reporters around just now. Wherever she was, does she owe you an explanation? She's here now. When it doesn't benefit her at all in the ways you think matter. You need help. If not you, then your neighbor. People here, they let me help. Why not her?"
*
T'Challa nods to Kurt. "You are right, of course. That is my point. Just as they came to my home, to my country, to take what was not theirs. And we fought them off." Yes. Wakanda repelled the Nazis that came to them. THey also repelled the Allies who came, though they were less murderous about that.
"I imagine, young man, that Miss Rand was where any of us were, if sane: bolted safely at home." T'Challa offers the young man, looming over him. Of course, T'Challa was out on the streets, fighting vampires and shadow demons. But she's not categorizing herself as entirely sane. Or at least not as entirely normal.
"But she is here, now. Buying a ruined property and making plans to renovate it into a community center for your community. What do you have against such opportunities for yourself, your family, your neighbors?" Because T'Challa of Wakanda sure doesn't get it.
*
Nightcrawler falls quiet as the discussion turns to the woman who rolled up on the scooter. After a moment, he quietly asks the student, "Are you upset because she is a woman? Or are you upset because she is trying to help the neighborhood and does not live here? Why does it matter that much?"
Since the subject seems to have turned away from mutants and 'separate but equal'.
*
Danny's smile quirks briefly at the student's question. The joys of a secret identity. Hard to point out you were helping in your own way. But she's not in it for the credit. "Well, scouting property, on the off chance that the world didn't end, for one," she answers easily. "But no, it's okay. And thanks, but I think I'll be all right," she assures the steelworker.
The student glares around him, crossing his arms over his chest. "These people play the whole world like some sort of big game," he insists. "Why matters. It matters in the long run. In the big picture. Because if it's just a vanity project that gets abandoned when she gets bored, what happens to all the people who relied on it? What happens when she leaves it to some lawyers who skim all the cash? Or one of the crime families moves into the area? The problems in the world are big!"
*
"So." Duke finishes his cigarette and gets out his case to light another. He looks over at the angry student. "What would change your mind?"
*
"And won't you give her a chance? What has she done to harm you, that you judge her before she has done you wrong?" T'Challa queries. Then she turns to Danielle. "Miss Rand, I wanted to speak with you about your community center project. I wanted to ask about the possibility of investing and supporting." And she doesn't live in Hell's Kitchen either, by a long shot. Will they get mad at her, too?
*
Nightcrawler falls silent now, watching the others.
*
"Hey, I get it." Danielle sticks her hands in the pockets of her trousers, looking back to the student with a small smile. "They told us we could change the world. They told us it was getting better. They told us there was hope. And then the President got shot. And our one, brief, shining moment of Camelot feels like it's gone, right? I get it. But it doesn't have to be. It's not when we get knocked down that we find out who we are. It's when we get back up."
Danny turns back to Tchalla with a small smile, nodding. "I'd be happy to have the help. Howard Stark's mentioned an interest. Let me give you my lawyer's info," she says, pulling out another business card. "He takes care of the finances and the details."
"Since when did you ever get knocked down?" the student bristles. "What do you know about the struggle of the people?" This poor kid's going to get picked up as a communist sympathizer one of these days. "I'll believe it's real when it's still around in five years. Or ten," he huffs to Duke. "When it doesn't get blown up by the Klan. It doesn't matter. One person just isn't enough." The heartbreak of disillusioned youth.
*
"I've been homeless. Barefoot. Penniless. Hungry." Duke shrugs a shoulder, then lights his cigarette. "I helped someone and he helped me back and now I have a place to call home. You want to make sure this lasts, be here to make it does. One person is always enough. The people? What makes up the people? One person. And another. And another. If none of them try, then nothing changes. For real."
*
T'Challa extends her hand, taking the card from Danny. "Then I will give your lawyer a call." She might even have her lawyer call Danny's lawyer. It could happen.
Not having been invested in Kennedy's Camelot - she's not American, after all - T'Challa cannot speak to that pain, though she has her own. She signed on to protect the people of the world from alien threats. And one of those threats murdered a man right in front of her, despite all she could do. It burns.
"One person must make a difference." T'Challa answers, pointing towards Duke. "One person speaks out. One person makes a choice." And she extends her hand to the student. "One person lends a hand. Will you take it, and take a chance at a better world? Or let fear and prejudice win?"
*
The student eyes the others, torn between hope and despair, not quite sure where life is supposed to take him next. "I…I don't know," he finally says, shaking his head. "But Miss Rand, don't let these people down. Because I think…I think the world's not getting better." He wanders off down the street, and some of the crowd starts to dissipate, moving on with their lives and their schedules.
"Well, it's never easy," Danny smiles ruefully to the others as he departs. "But nothing worthwhile ever is, right? It's gonna take some time, but I'm hoping we can make a difference here." Which…is not the first time Duke's heard those words from that voice, actually. It's just last time was from behind a mask.
*
"All action makes a difference," Duke says with a little laugh. "The question is: which difference?" He looks up at the building where he fought ghouls in the parking lot, vampires on the roof. He pushes away from the lamppost and ambles over toward Danny.
"They need a clinic here," he says to Danny. "One they know is safe for them and their children. Not for the ones who look normal. All of them. And they need people who will treat them whatever they look like." He pulls his sleeve up to reveal bite marks on his arm — from an animal, by the look of them, not a person. "Even if they bite."
*
"He is right." T'Challa offers, standing a bit to the side and behind Duke, still half-facing Danny, and the crowd. "And the clinic needs to be free, so that all who need help will get it. Let those who can pay make donations. But never let money keep them from getting that help." She turns to look towards the crowd more fully. "And perhaps, when you cannot pay, you can instead donate your time, your talents, to help the center. Let it not be just those hired, paid by money beyond your community. Let it be a place where your community helps your community, encouraged and supported by all who are willing." Even those who are white. From somewhere else. Or blue, with tails. Or scales.
*
Nightcrawler looks sharply at Duke when he mentions a clinic that will treat others, "They have that in Mutant-town. Maybe you were bit because you deserved it?" His smile may not be quite so friendly as the conversation turns. "They need a clinic here that will help those who are not white. It is not about the mutants. Not for everyone. It is bigger than that." He then looks back to T'Challa, "Do not try to make this a charity. These people here are proud und they do not need to be made to feel that they are not good enough because there are people who are wealthy und need a project."
*
"I met some people who've started a similar thing in Harlem," Danny nods to Duke. "They've offered to give some of their advice to the project. It's definitely on the list, though…it's a lot to put in one place. Not to say it isn't needed. Just that fixing everything overnight's going to be tricky. And clinics and hospitals need special equipment…" She trails off, looking back over her shoulder toward the property.
"I'll do what I can," she says as she turns back to the others. "People who want help will have it available to them."
*
T'Challa looks to the blue young man curiously. "It is not abut charity, young one. It is about lowering the barriers so that everyone gets help. Black. White. Blue." She gestures, with a light smile. "Scales. Skin. Fur. With money, and without. For everyone. Everyone is good enough."
*
"I don't know if I deserved it," Duke says to Nightcrawler with a laugh. "But I don't blame anyone for it. Babies are hard work, especially on the way out. But it's important to have people around who understand. The person who did it wasn't bad. Just scared. And different. That's all." He thinks for a moment, then turns to look at Nightcrawler. "Charity is not just for the recipients. It's a gift to the giver, as well. To be able to do something for someone in need is the best gift I know."
*
"I am just saying that you should think about how you present it," Kurt offers, complete with a little smile that has returned. "If you say that it is being built by rich people to give to those in need so they feel better…you may find that it is not as appreciated even if the purpose is for the good of all." The smile shows sharp teeth briefly, "I am not so young."
*
"Personally, I'm doing it because helping people when I can is the right thing to do," Danny replies to Nightcrawler, smile flickering across her features. "And it's okay if people don't get that, or they don't agree with it. I've got nothing to prove to anyone but myself. I'll know I'm doing the right thing."
*
"Call me if you need a gardener," Duke says to Danny, as though she should know where to find him. She should, he trusts she remembers from their meeting about the vampires. "Remember that you don't need to do everything at once," he adds. "It'll come." With that, and a nod to the others, he heads off to find Tex before the car decides to find him.
*
"And I hope to be able to help as well." T'Challa offers, with a little smile. "I look forward to it." She can see most of those that were involved in the discussion seem to be heading their own ways, and she's more than willing to step back. No need to crowd anyone, after all. For Kurt, she offers simply, "We are all only so young, or so old, as we choose to be. I bid you all good evening." There's probably an ESU lab in her near future. Darned homework!
*
Nightcrawler also notes that most of those offering opposition are going back to their own business and he seems willing to do the same. He turns back as T'Challa comments to him before he asks, of no one really, "What did that even mean?"
*
"Will do," Danny nods to the others with an easy smile. "I'll be around." She tips her chin, turning to head back to that little scooter. Whatever it is she came here to do…it can wait for another day.
*