( Prior to this, mitch would have considered himself as a fairly steady individual. he wasnât an easy scare, he didnât allow himself to be swept up in the usual threats of epidemics and disasters that might catch someone of a more highly-strung countenance. however, there was something about waking up in a world that was essentially alien to him that caused him to believe that a little bit of panic was probably justified. survival mode had kicked in eventually, as it always did. so maybe he didnât understand pretty much anything about where he was, at the very least he was alive.Â
he settled himself on a stool in the dimly-lit bar, perusing the lunch menu with a wry smile â whatever happened to a simple sandwich, huh? what the hell is a pain-ni? â )
( thomas doherty / cismale / he/him ). mitch newward wasnât expecting to be given a second chance at life. the twenty year old last remembers living in the thirties in pittsburgh, pennsylvania. one thing they remember from their past is a hammer. theyâve been decribed as being exuberant and vacillating, but that is to be expected since they are a libra.Â
birthday: october 11th, 1911.
deathday: july 22nd, 1932.
mitchell newward was a first-generation american, struggling to survive during what, at the time, was the worst economic slump the world had ever seen.Â
he considered himself first-generation given that his knowledge of his own family tree began and ended with him. he had been left in front of the door of one of the cityâs many orphanages at just a few hours old, and no long-lost relative had ever come to inquire about him. so there he stayed.
perhaps if he had been a little less mischievous, he might have found himself an adoptive family - but one word from the matron as to his various antics, and any hopes of finding a family were dashed.
it wasnât for lack of intelligence that he misbehaved so spectacularly in school - it was for lack of caring. he left school at thirteen to begin work on building sites simply because he couldnât continue on with the charade. there was no trust fund for his college education, so why pursue something which he could never attain in the first place?
the twenties in pittsburgh were a frenzy - he bounced from project to project, helping to build everything from family homes, to industrial warehouses to allow for further still expansions, as the city unfurled itself like a concrete carpet.Â
he found himself a job in one of the lucrative steel mills just before his fifteenth birthday, and an accompanying bed rooming with two other workers.Â
and for a while, mitch had really felt as if he had a real shot at becoming something. the money was good, the lifestyle was even better, and for just once, mitch allowed himself to dream about the sort of life he might be able to build himself.
and then, of course, all those dreams came crashing down around him, just as the economy crashed around the world.
pittsburgh, and its once-thriving steel industry, was one of the worst-hit. the scrapyards began operating on skeleton-staff, possibly why mitch and mitch alone was tasked with carrying out a job which three years prior would have required a crew of at least three.Â
the crushing sensation when the beam had collided with his chest had been an out-of-body experience, the realization that he might be dying more of a neutral observation rather than a consuming fear.Â
of course, waking up in maine of all places, that sparked a little bit more of an animate response.Â
