"Mercies of the Closed Door"
Starman # 0 - January, Year Five	by Michael Franzoni

The metal grate rose with a shriek of objection, grinding against long-rusted tracks and then stopping halfway up, refusing to go any further. Jack scowled at the stubborn door, muttering a few choice words under his breath. Stooping down, he stepped below the half-raised door and into cavernous space beyond.

Inside, the air hung thick with forgetfulness. Dust stirred and swam within the pool of light gathered around the entrance. It was the sort of greeting that told Jack that he'd just hit the jackpot, that some forgotten heirloom lay hidden somewhere in the room, waiting to be appreciated once again. It was a chance for the young Knight to immerse himself in a bygone era, and it was akin to turning a child loose in a candy store and telling him there was no spending limit. Under the best of circumstances, it was just the thing that could save a bad day and send him home with a smile on his jaded face. This, however, was neither the time nor the place for such feelings.

Walking into this particular room held its share of rough memories, good times and bad times that tugged at his heart. This was the warehouse they had chosen to store the belongings of his deceased (Dead, he was dead Jack. Murdered.) brother. And even though the secrets and treasures of a David's shortened life were hidden away in boxes, Jack still found himself longing for his brother's company. Just one more chance to argue about the difference between junk and a one-of-a-kind collector's item, about whether the Stones or the Beatles were better (Stones all the way, discounting the bubblegum stuff they tried to come back with in the 1990's), about whether it was cool or dumb to put on the capes and tights that his father wore in the superhero hey-day.

A knot formed in the back of his throat and Jack swallowed back hard, steeling himself against the wet that formed at the corner of his eyes. There'd be no tears today. It wouldn't be too much longer before he got the chance to see David again. Their yearly visit would cycle around before he knew it, and he was happy enough for that little miracle. Besides, there was no use in pushing that particular boulder uphill.

Reaching upward, Jack pulled down on the ripcord that dangled from the storage unit's single light bulb. A splash of sickly yellow crept along the floor and walls and tried its damnedest to push its way into the far corners, to no avail. He slipped his arms free from his trademark leather jacket and laid it gently atop the nearest box. It seemed silly to treat the coat with such kid gloves, knowing that he wore it proudly into battle (it was as much a costume as he allowed himself) with any number of villains that could have just as easily destroyed it. Somehow, it seemed like the jacket brought some measure of luck with it, and preserving the luck for when he needed it only seemed right.

Boxes shifted easily from one place to another, and Jack did his best to keep them sorted by like contents. Today's visit had a single objective, and Jack had every intention to leave everything else as he found it. He had no intention to turn it into a treasure trove or a flea market. This was his brother's legacy (a piece of it anyway), and it wasn't meant as fodder for his store.

Digging further into the stacks, Jack found the box he was looking for and paused. He closed his eyes for a moment and whispered, “So Davey, I figured I owed you one. What, with that thing you put together with whoever it is you're working with on the other side, getting me a last chance to spend some time with Mom. That was first class, man. Truly a snazzy thing to do. So yeah, you did me a solid on your side of Heaven's turnstile. This is my way of trying to even things up. Hope you appreciate it, man.”

He peeled back the cardboard edges delicately, taking special care to keep the box intact. Inside, old newspapers lay twisted and screwed together, and Jack felt a wince roll through his body. This was his dad's idea of packing, and Jack hoped to God that the old newsprint hadn't bled through to the rest of the box's contents. Impatient now and more than a little worried, Jack dove deep into the box and pitched the balls of newsprint out, not really caring where they ended up. If it was even a little damaged, then this whole trip would be for naught, and somehow, in his own mind anyway, he'd have failed David again.

He lifted the frame from the box, using kid gloves to handle the old wood. For a moment, he was transported back in time, and he paused there, staring blankly at the item he'd just taken from its forgotten hiding place. The painting was just as he remembered it. Somehow, even the coloring had managed to stand up to the test of time, looking just as vibrant as the day he and David had first painted it.

And what a day that'd been. The two brothers, different enough in age for it to count socially and definitely different (even at that tender age) to how they approached life, had managed to put aside those differences and devote an entire afternoon to the production of a self-portrait of Adele Knight's two pride-and-joys. Jack had always been the artistic one, but the painting had been David's idea, a gift to their mother on the final Mother's Day they'd spend together.

Seemingly lost for so long, the painting had slipped Jack's mind, until an adventure with his deceased brother provided Jack with one final chance to share time with his mother. Now, it felt like the right thing to do, for Jack to give as much effort to David and to his mother. Time among the living in exchange for time among the dead. It seemed only fair.

Flipping open his cell phone, Jack scrolled down through the list of numbers and waited for the phone to pick up on the other end. “Hey dad, yeah it's me. I found the painting, right where you said it'd be. Looks like it's in pretty solid condition. Probably only needs a new frame, and then it's good to go. Fair warning, though. You and I are gonna have a talk about how to properly take care of stuff that matters. I mean, c'mon, newspaper? Haven't I taught you better than that? Fair enough. I'll be home before too long. Promise. Later.”

Happy with his find, Jack set the painting to the side and then repacked the emptied box. As he turned to head back to the entrance of the storage unit, something caught his eye and Jack turned in place. A single shoebox rested against the far wall, far away from the other boxes, and he was pretty certain the box hadn't been part of the truckload of David's belongings they'd originally moved into the unit. Surely, his dad hadn't been out here on his own.

Shrugging, Jack crossed the short distance to the shoebox and knelt down to the cold cement floor. The thing was taped tightly shut, and cautious, Jack lifted the box to his ear. No way in hell was he gonna open something that was ticking inside. Not today, and not ever. Save that one for the pros. Still, he wanted to be sure that the box really did belong here, and that it wasn't part of some stupid prank. The tape peeled back easily enough, and Jack counted to ten before lifting the cover away. The box immediately fell out of his hands as a breath caught in the back of his throat.

Inside the box, nestled tightly against the cardboard edges, a weather-worn doll rested. Both eyes, delicately stitched as widened O's, lay open to the world, curious and mocking at the same time. The nose was a simple red triangle pointed upward. But the mouth was the worst. A jagged stitch across the lower part of the doll's face stood out against the blotted, sun-dried stain of pale red that dotted its lengths as if someone had sewn the mouth shut on a normal human being.

Already panic settled into his mind, and Jack lifted the doll from its shoebox nest. Turning it over in his hands. Safety-pinned to the back of the doll's tattered gingham dress, a small piece of yellowing notebook paper read:

“SOON ENOUGH”

	The Shade's Journal
Starman # 0 - January, Year Five	by Chris Munn

From the Shade's Journal

Ah, my Opal, how I've missed thee. Though I am loathe to use such a tired cliché, in this case home is most certainly where the heart is, shriveled and blackened as mine may be. I have been away for far, far too long, and the reason for my absence is a lengthy and winding tale. Naturally, for posterity's sake, I'll recount this as succinctly as possible.

As I realize it has been nearly a fortnight since I last scribbled in this journal (never to be referred to as my “diary”, I assure you), perhaps an introduction is in order. Not that I expect this to be read by anyone save for Jack, but it will allow me to collect myself and my thoughts into a coherent narrative. Reminding the reader of my identity will serve as a reminder of the same for me.

I, as you no doubt have realized, am the Shade. He of shadow and darkness, who controls the black of the night to do his bidding. I am an immortal, having strode the alleys of the Earth for the better part of two centuries (or more so, if you take into account my time before I became who I am today, though I rarely like to recollect that time). I am a villain, dark as they come; across the world…save for one place. My home, where I strive to preserve the things about it that I love ever so much.

Opal City, the jewel of America, is where I hang my hat, and no other city in the world can compare.

So why have I been away from my Opal for so long? There is but one simple reason: a curiosity and a chance to relive the past. Orchestrated by a fellow criminal of the unnatural variety, the Wizard, who unfortunately had one major flaw. The Wizard was a fool. But did that make me an even bigger fool for following his mad plan to create a villainous paradise? Through a coalition of hoary ne'er-do-wells from the time of the last Great War, the Wizard took it upon himself to recreate what he felt were our “glory days” of times past. Through magic, time manipulation, technology, and my own humble participation, his goal was met.

We had a world of our own with our own puppet simulacrum of our enemies in the Justice Society to fight anew; a world where the dark stakes of today's battles, the death and madness, were no longer a concern. It perhaps would make a nice retirement home for villains whose time has passed, but I discovered that I missed the edge of our present reality. I was bored on this “Earth 2”, and that made me long for the Opal even more.

So I returned home, having bid my adieus to those content to stay in their fabricated world. Let them have their paradise, it's not for one such as I, I'm afraid.

Much has occurred in my city in recent history, the most significant event being the murder of Starman David Knight, eldest son of the first Starman Theodore Knight, and the taking of the mantle by the younger son Jack. This Knight has his own ways, different than his father and brother, choosing not to wear the green and red, nor the fin atop his head. He is tattoos and leather over polyester, his sense of style harkening back to the 1940s. That's the most singular thing about Jack Knight: he is a slave to the past, a collector of what came before him. A “junk peddler” as his father so often remarked, a merchant of “collectibles” (as Jack prefers to call it) with a store from which to sell his wares.

Regardless of whatever faults he may have, Jack Knight is undeniably the guardian of Opal City with a true heart and assured bravery that he attempts to hide behind an air of bravado and cynicism. He is Starman now, and while I wouldn't go so far as to call him friend (for my only friend has been dead since 1899) I would certainly call him a treasured acquaintance.

Jack is guided by his father Ted, the first to don the Cosmic Rod as Starman beginning in 1939. With his age having caught up with him, Ted has begun to apply his science in different ways, creating new devices to advance and help the planet. With his sage wisdom and years of experience, Jack could do worse for a teacher in his quest to become a hero.

Assisting in the protection of the city is the O'Dare clan, a collection of siblings who all hold the position of law enforcers. There is the oldest, Clarence, newly appointed the “superhero liaison” for the city; Barry, the least family-oriented of the five; Hope, the single female; Mason, the youngest sibling; and the most important of the family in my eyes, Matt. Matthew O'Dare, I've recently discovered, is the reincarnation of my good friend Brian Savage, Opal's former sheriff that was murdered in 1899 yet swore to return in the future. This revelation has caused Matthew to change his crooked ways, to try and redeem his name from the thievery and murderous acts he has committed in fair Opal over the years. I have agreed to assist him, steps having already been undertaken.

And there are others, of course, a varied assortment of aides and Opal residents of note. Jake “Bobo” Benetti for one, a former villain invulnerable to harm now reformed; Mikaal Tomas, the amnesiac Starman of the 1970s with his blue skin and crystal embedded in his chest; Sadie Falk, Jack's current paramour; Charity, the fortune teller with genuine gifts instead of the usual trickery and false claims; Jon Valor, the Black Pirate who haunts Opal City as a ghost until his name is cleared of the crimes he stood accused at his death; all have their parts to play in this grand opera of life.

You might believe that I have the largest part to play of all, but your assumption would be wrong. There is another who will play the antagonist, the rogue of this story, but his part to play is not for me to reveal at this time. Cryptic, I know, but I refuse to speak about something which I have but a sampling of the details.

Back before the Wizard approached me for his plot, I had spent some time away from Opal City for reasons of business (and I admit, a reasonable amount of pleasure was involved as well) involving the Ludlow family. The story is far too lengthy to address here, especially when I've written about it in detail in past entries, but in short it concerns a family and my vow to kill any who bear their name of Ludlow. Believe me; I have just cause for such actions.

While I was absent from my city, a nefarious insect of a man began to terrorize the citizens with a series of bombings. The Infernal Dr. Pip the people dubbed him as he continued his acts of death and horror, ultimately taking the life of the monster Solomon Grundy, who had recently been befriended by the Knight family. When confronted by the Knights and O'Dares, Pip saw it fitting to affix a powerful explosive to his dying body, his form of revenge. That was when I returned, justifiably angered at what this Dr. Pip had done to my home in my absence. I had my shadow wraiths devour him, sending him screaming into the void dimension which my darkness inhabits. Let the man suffer for eternity I say, an apt punishment for one so vile.

The city fell into a period of calm following Pip's rampage, allowing the residents to move past the shock of so many deaths in such a short period of time. Jack Knight had some adventures, one of which involving the Justice League, and Ted Knight continued his scientific endeavors. It was following this period of calm that the Wizard came knocking, not just for my assistance but also for an item that I would be best able to acquire for him: the Cosmic Rod of Starman.

It saddens me to say that the Wizard's plan had some dire consequences for the Knight family, though it was through no actions of my own. Ted Knight was grievously wounded and hospitalized by the villains, forcing a long period of rehabilitation and recovery. It's my understanding that he is back on his feet, though I wonder if he realizes how close to death he actually came that night. During his recovery while at home, the elder Knight built his son a new staff to replace the stolen Cosmic Rod. The original had been recovered, of course, but not to the hands of Jack. Instead it was passed down to another successor hero, a young girl named Courtney Whitmore (though I believe she prefers the moniker “Star-Spangled Kid”, which shows that there is no accounting for taste amongst the youth of today). Regardless, Jack has returned to flying over the Opal spires once again.

Things are seemingly back to what passes for “normal” in the Opal, but things are rarely as they appear I've learned. I hear rumors of an evil returned from the dead, the hushed whispers simultaneously thrilling and frightening the criminal community in the city. I remember the last time this evil came to Opal, thirteen years gone, and scowl. I will not allow such a massacre to happen again, not here.

And there is the seer, Charity. I've only had the briefest of encounters with this lovely young woman, during a Christmas gathering at the home of Clarence O'Dare. She, too, was a victim of the Wizard's plot, having had her “magic” or whatnot stolen by the mystic Enchantress, leaving poor Charity comatose. Like Ted Knight, however, she too has since recovered, but not unchanged. From my talks with Jack I learned that Charity had the gift of foresight, able to peer into the future of those who request her readings. Since her recent ordeal, it seems that her power has enhanced to the point that she's had trouble controlling it. Jack says she spends her time writing her visions down in a journal, perhaps as an alternative record to my recollections of times past. A “times yet to come”, I suppose? I believe I shall have to pick this young lady's brain in the near future…I wonder if she'll see me coming?

It appears that I've sufficiently caught up to the present in my writings, having provided an accurate accounting of the events of my time away from Opal City. There are mysteries that remain to be solved, of course. The Black Pirate and the alien Starman; the Mist and the son of Jack Knight; the unknown Starman of 1951; and of course there's the one whom I hate most of all…

I find myself pausing, I know not why.

Another mystery for another time. Could this be the beginning of something new or the end of something old?

Only time shall tell me which…

Next Issue: An undying evil has returned to the spires of Opal City, sparking a murderous campaign of shock and horror to grip all that live within its borders. Jack Knight will face his greatest foe yet, a monster with a grudge to bear against Ted Knight and all who love him.

Story © 2009 Chris Munn and Michael Franzoni and may not be reproduced without permission.