Opal City
1:00 A.M.

The wind kissed his cheek, the exhaled collective breath of a city blowing through his hair from his position high atop the stone and steel architecture. Libra Avenue yawned below him, the traffic thin at such a late hour, the lawyers that inhabited the office district having long departed for their homes. There was a chill in the air, he noticed, and closed his eyes to better feel the crisp cold singing in his lungs.

Jack Knight, Starman, opened his eyes and smiled. The beauty of his city never failed to stun him in the late hours, and with a squint he noticed the first few snowflakes of winter drifting down from the heavens. The last few months had been hectic – no, crazed was a better adjective – and it amazed him how quickly the Opal had bounced back from the mad bombings of the Infernal Dr. Pip. Not just the physical city, but its inhabitants as well, in particular his own father who had been so sorely wounded by the Injustice Society. Theodore Knight had survived his wounds, his recovery deemed by some as “miraculous”. All Jack could do was thank the stars he hadn't lost his father like he'd lost his brother, David.

David, heh, Jack thought it funny how it took his death to bring the two together (though that was a much more complicated story best left for another time). There Jack stood perched atop the one building in Opal City that he usually tried to avoid, the building upon which David Knight stood only moments before a sniper took his life. Jack shivered, more from the memory than the cold, and buttoned his leather jacket closer to his body.

He normally didn't stay out so late in such a capacity, his normal Monday night routine being a Fellini film and the company of his girl. Sadie, god, she'd been a revelation to him of late, a woman that had finally forced him to stop his wandering ways. Well, or so he hoped anyway, baring any potential road blocks in the freeway that was his life. His planned evening with her, however, had been spoiled by his heroic duties earlier in the evening. Things felt off in the City today, a sense of foreboding horror that skirted the periphery of the rooftops, a dread that he'd felt since the bank robbery in the afternoon. And then the arson attempt on Burnley Street , the car-jacking in the Chowder District, and the attempted rape of a female student in the Alleys.

Something had the lowlifes stirred up, but damned if Jack knew what it could be. He was no detective, certainly no Wesley Dodds, and such things always seemed to slip by him until they were dead smack in his face. He had instincts, sure, but he'd yet to develop the “sixth sense” that so many successful crime fighters seemed to have.

Jack sighed and adjusted the goggles to rest across his eyes, the flare from his Cosmic Staff illuminating the snowy night sky. Before he could step off the building, wanting nothing but to curl in bed with visions of salvage deals dancing in his head, something happened to end his relatively peaceful night.

He felt the pressure wave first, followed by the sonic boom that rocked him off his feet back onto the rooftop. The building directly below and to the right had exploded, sending a storm of glass, concrete, and smoke in all directions. By the time the shaken Starman had made it back to his feet, the sound of another massive explosion – this time a few blocks away – echoed through the urban canyon.

“Great,” Knight commented as he took flight in the direction of the second blast, “I'm so sick of bombs!” His frustration, at least, was lessened as he thanked silently that the buildings were empty for the night. Before he made it to the site of the second bomb, yet another blast sounded off further down the street. The blasts were trading sides of Libra Avenue , reenacting some morbid game of pinball, and Jack increased his speed. Yet another explosion, ahead on his left, leveled brick and mortar. “How many bombs did these guys plant?”

His questions were answered when he reached the site of the fourth blast and was met with relative silence (or more accurately, the absence of a fifth explosion reverberating like a Mark Sandman baseline inside his skull). Starman hovered above the smoking remnants of the destroyed building, questions jumping hurdles over his attempts to answer them. Each building had been empty; none of the residences or hotels had been hit. What would a terrorist or a villain have to gain by blowing up deserted office buildings?

The answer struck him, literally. The bombs were just a way to attract his attention…he'd been guided into place, herded like a head of steer.

He saw the sniper in the window just as the muzzle of the rifle flashed. Then Jack Knight saw nothing at all.

History had just repeated itself.

	"Tattered Hearts" Part One of Four
Starman # 1 - February, Year Five	by Chris Munn & Michael Franzoni

11:13 A.M.
14 Hours Previous

“Talk to me, Lars,” Jack said into his headset, a pen tapping anxiously on the notepad resting on his lap, “word's out that you got some posters I might be interested in. What's the skinny?”

Knight reclined back in his leather chair and kicked his feet onto his desk. His store, Knight's Past, had just re-opened, but he still had items that he needed to procure for his inventory. Lars was one of his best reclamation contacts, but he'd long ago learned that no matter how well or long he'd known someone in the business there would always be price haggling involved. “This Island Earth, High School Hellcats, Blackboard Jungle, yeah, I can use all those. You want money or swap? I got a fistful of Terry and the Pirates floppies, if you're interested.”

Jack narrowed his eyes as he looked back over his shoulder, noticing the shadows in that corner of his apartment beginning to swirl and coalesce. “Look, Lars, I gotta go. Yeah, yeah, I'll call from the store later.”

Knight spun around his chair, turning to face the dark gentleman appearing from the black ink wafting throughout the air. The Shade stood, top hat on his brow and cane gripped in his hand, with the ever-present smirk of bemusement wiped across his lips. “I received your message, Jack,” the immortal stated, “Matthew O'Dare was most insistent that I should speak with you.”

“I have something to show you,” Jack replied as he stood from the chair and walked over to his sofa. Getting down on his knees, he reached beneath the couch, searching for something hidden from sight. “I couldn't go to Dad about it, and once you see it I think you'll understand why.” From beneath the sofa's belly Knight revealed a worn and weathered shoebox, which he lifted over his head for his visitor to receive. The Shade noticed that the younger man's hand was shaking slightly as he passed the box along. Whatever was contained within had unnerved the young hero, and the immortal couldn't help but let his interest become piqued.

Shade removed the top to the shoebox and casually dismissed it to the floor. “How curious indeed,” he remarked as he removed the small patchwork doll from its cardboard cradle, taking note of the jagged threads stitched across its eyes and mouth. He flipped the doll over in his hand when he noticed the note safety-pinned to its back. “Soon enough?” he read, and then cocked an upturned eyebrow at his host.

“I found it in with my brother Davey's possessions, which have been locked in storage since his death,” Jack explained after he moved to the bar in his kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then did the same for his guest, remembering that the Shade only drank his coffee black. “The place was locked up tight; the locks hadn't been tampered with. The only way in I could see was a small vent shaft running into the ceiling.”

“It does seem rather obvious, does it not?” Shade commented, dropping the doll back into the box in a gesture of feigned boredom. “Have you said it aloud yet, even if just to yourself?”

“I don't have to,” Knight answered, “we both know what it means, and why I can't tell my Dad about it yet. Not until I'm sure, y'know?”

“He had a son, you know,” Shade offered, “one ‘gifted' – if that is even the word for it – with similar contortionist abilities. I met him during the Wizard's unfortunately recent debacle with the Justice Society; the boy has a genuinely damaged mind in his possession. Perhaps he is seeking retribution for his father's death at Starman's hands?”

“I thought of that,” Jack countered, “and believe me, that's the best scenario I've come up with so far.”

“A villain returned from the grave?” Shade mocked. “How very droll…”

Jack laughed, despite himself. “Man, since I donned the sheriff's star I've seen everything from swamp zombies to demon posters. You and I went to Hell not long ago, even. So the return of some geriatric psychopath thought to be dead some thirteen years gone wouldn't surprise me at all.”

“So what do you wish of me in this grim pantomime?” Shade asked as he adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses before sipping at his coffee.

Jack's eyes narrowed, his tone turning serious. “You turned against us when the Wizard came for my father. I don't want to trust you, man.” The Shade offered no reply in his defense, allowing Jack to make his statement. “If things get bad in Opal, am I going to be able to count on you?”

“Opal City is my home,” The Shade answered. He stepped sideways into shadow and disappeared, his departing words lingering in the air. “I will defend it with my dying breath…”

Jack sighed as the dark mist faded from the Shade's passage. “Easy for an immortal to say.”

1:45 P.M.
12.5 Hours Previous

“You'd think people would stop trying to rob that bank after all the beat downs handed out,” Jack said as he collapsed into the rolling chair, his cosmic rod resting across his lap, “its starting to get a tad bit ridiculous”.

Theodore Knight, father to Jack and Starman the first, nodded from the seat at his workbench, his attention only half provided to his son as he tinkered with a batch of electronics on his table. “You mean the one that Bobo Benetti guards?” he asked between dabs with his soldering gun, throwing bits of liquefied metal onto the work-worn wood.

“Yeah, who'd have thought a guy known for robbing banks would be so good protecting one?” Jack answered, spinning himself round and round in the wheeled seat, his eyes shut tight to keep dizziness at bay.

“You know the saying,” Ted replied as he removed his glasses from his face, bringing them down to wipe clean with the end of his shirt, “it takes a thief to catch a thief. Perhaps Bobo has found his true calling after all these years?”

Jack's heels skidded against the concrete floor, slowly bringing his spin to a halt. He watched his father move across the laboratory, still marveled after all these years at how easily his scientific work came to him. It had been like the injuries he'd suffered at the hands of the Injustice Society had never happened. “So the docs gave you a clean bill of health?”

The elder Knight leaned back against his work table, pushing his glasses back onto his nose as he spoke. “The new Doctor Mid-Nite gave me a thorough examination; I'm fit as can be expected.”

Jack smiled and leaned forward in his chair, hands gripping onto the handle of his staff. “But you already knew that, son,” Ted stated, “what's the real reason for your visit today?”

Busted, and so easily at that, Jack thought. “Dad, after everything that happened with your injuries and all, have you given thought to maybe, I dunno, taking a vacation or something? Spending some time away from the Opal, even if its only a week or so?”

Ted gave his son a look, the quizzical expression that always preceded the activation of his analytical mind. “I've suffered much worse than a gunshot wound in my day, Jack,” he answered sternly, causing Jack to shrink just a little into his seat, “but as it so happens I am leaving the city for a brief sojourn.”

Jack perked up, as much out of surprise as relief. “Really? Er, where and why, if you don't mind my asking?”

“I received a call from Alan Scott this morning,” Theodore explained, “who in turn had received a call from his daughter, Jenny-Lynn.”

“Jade,” Jack commented, “this isn't about Solomon Grundy again, is it?”

“She called as a representative of the Justice League about a discovery they've recently made,” Ted continued to explain. “Apparently, there is a satellite facility in Earth orbit that has evaded detection for some number of years, a place created by one of the League's lesser-known enemies and promptly forgotten about upon his defeat.”

“So what?” Jack interrupted yet again. “The JLA lose an orbital platform like once a month, what makes this so special?”

“Apparently,” Ted said with a sigh, “the technology contained within this station bears strong and striking similarities to my designs for the Cosmic Rod.”

“Okay, that's weird,” Jack admitted.

“Indeed,” Ted agreed, “but its also a mystery that bears to be investigated. I kept my research a closely guarded secret over the years, so a study of this technology is something I'm very much looking forward to.”

Jack relaxed back into the chair, his mind relieved despite the potential dangers of such a mystery. His father would hopefully be away from Opal City should Jack's fears come to a realization. He didn't like keeping secrets from his dad, but it was the lesser of the two evils.

2:32 P.M.
10.5 Hours Previous

"I can't keep coming down here," she said, shoving down on the man's head and roughly pushing him into the back of the squad car. Turning back, she kicked the door closed just as the crook started railing on about his lawyer and phone call. "Opal Police aren't your personal clean-up crew, Bobo. We have other messes to work on, too."

The lumbering ox of a man shrugged his shoulders. His pin-stripe suit was torn at the shoulder seams, and during the fight, one of his suspender clasps had flown off, never to be seen again. An imperfect ending to a perfectly good suit. "Hey doll, it ain't my fault if some stupid schmoes think it's high idea to come down here and take what ain't theirs. I'm just doing what good security should be doin'."

But Hope O'Dare wasn't buying into his swagger, and he knew it. "Don't feed me that line, Benetti. I know what your job is, and this is mine. There are plenty of other banks in Opal, but none of them are getting anywhere near the attention as this one. You ever think about that?"

A wry grin spread across his face. "Every damned day. Thinkin' about starting me a consulting firm for all of Opal's banks, maybe branching out some and providing that classic Benetti protection all across town. What ya think about that?"

"I'm not quite sure their insurance companies will be too happy with that decision. Hell, I can't figure out how this bank holds back the mounting premiums." Pacing back and forth along the side of the squad car, Hope just shook her head. "Point being, we need to find a way to dull down the destruction end of things with this bank. Part of being security is finding ways to prevent robberies -- not just stopping them when they're already in progress. You get that part mastered, and your little consulting business might be the next big thing."

Jake 'Bobo' Benetti reached up and rapped against the side of his head with two knuckles. "Tell ya what, I'll put it to the old thinkin' factory and see what comes back. All for you, beautiful, so don't let anyone tell ya that Benetti ain't in the business of being a good guy."

Nodding as she smiled, Hope just replied, "You've got a deal, Mr. Benetti. Good day to you."

As the redhead climbed behind the wheel of the squad car, Bobo turned back to his precious bank and sang a few bars under his breath, "Ain't nothin' like a dame..."

4:00 P.M.
9 Hours Previous

The breeze whipped through his long, red hair and the Hawaiian shirt clinging to his blue skin, but he barely felt it. His heart and mind were elsewhere, meditating on the lost and the found.

For years, he had wandered as a simpleton, caged on the carnival circuit as nothing more than a sideshow, a freak with alien features and an indecipherable tongue. Through a stroke of fate -- or destiny, perhaps -- Jack Knight had stumbled upon that carnival and saved him from the incubus that had imprisoned the entire troupe. At the time, Mikaal had thought himself lucky to be freed from one prison, even if he was still in thrall to the greater cage -- his lost memories.

With the Mist's rampage through Opal City, Mikaal had thrown open a door and unlocked the power within himself, just in time to save himself and Solomon Grundy from a skyscraper explosion. With the blockages removed, all those memories were starting to come tumbling back, and Mikaal was finding them not so very pleasant to remember. Worse, he had to do it without Solomon, gone now to his place in the swamps and likely never to return in the way that he had known him.

It didn't seem fair. There was so much opportunity around him, and so much of it was marred by pain and loss, death and destruction. And how much of it had he unwittingly caused for others? Until his memories all fell into place, he might never know.

Calming his mind, Mikaal Tomas reached down into that pool of memories and began sifting, building upon tangents and tracing his way through the threadwork. Time, after all, was a very tricky subject, and he had so very much of it to recover. And as he delved deeper, one name kept surfacing over and over again -- Turran Kha -- but he was damned if he knew what the name meant or the mysteries it held.

The crunch of footfalls upon the grass startled him from his reverie, and Mikaal snapped open his eyes to see a silhouette approaching from the direction of the observatory. The figure paused at a safe distance away, reached up and plucked a pair of round spectacles away from his eyes. "Dr. Knight said that I would find you out here. I'm glad to see that you're up-and-about again. No pain in the stitched areas?"

Lifting the edges of his undershirt, Mikaal revealed the indigo beneath it, now fully healed. "Even the scars have gone away. I think I have the sonic crystal to thank for that. Well, that and your help with my convalescence. Thank you, again."

The black man smiled, and if not mistaken, Mikaal detected a slight blush in the man's cheeks. "You're more than welcome. It was just part of my job, you see. And...well..."

Mikaal craned his head to the right, curious as to why Tony had stopped. Motioning for the other man to go on, he said, "Yes?"

Seconds passed before either man spoke again, and the silence was nearly unbearable. For his part, Tony looked down to the grass, scuffling one foot back and forth as he wrestled with the words in his mind.

Mikaal watched him with some curiosity, waiting for the man to just come out and say it. There was no disguising the intentions. Mikaal had seen it a hundred times -- especially in the hedonistic seventies -- and this time was no different. Growing impatient, Mikaal unwound from his floating lotus position and placed his feet firmly on the ground. Crossing the distance between them, the blue man from the stars lifted his nurse's chin with his fingers and the two met gazes.

"Whenever you're ready."

1:26 A.M.
Now

The bullet pierced Starman's right shoulder, passing through while miraculously missing easily shattered bone. The recoil sent him flying backward through the air, though the power of his Cosmic Rod still kept him afloat high in the Opal skyline. Jack fought to recover his balance and stop his erratic flailing. Holy shit, he thought over and over, did I just get shot?

Another round from the sniper's rifle went streaking by, missing only due to the aerial maneuvers he'd undertaken once his wits had returned to him. He dove into the smoke cloud that had plumed out of the destroyed building below, hoping to use it as cover against his unknown assassin. As he looked over the buildings facing him, trying to recall which window he'd seen the sniper in the moment before the first shot, he saw the smallest glint of light.

The light from a rifle scope, searching for him yet again.

Jack ignored the pain in his shoulder and gripped onto his staff, allowing it to send him flying out of the smoke toward the window in which he'd seen the reflecting light. “Got you!” he yelled as he unleashed a blast of stellar energy from his rod, blowing inward the glass and stone of the shooter's window.

Starman charged through the opening he'd exposed with his blast, finding as he touched down the sniper's discarded rifle. Darkness enshrouded the deserted office space, providing plenty of shadows for his unknown assailant to hide within. “Let's let some sunshine in, jackass,” Jack announced as he turned up the luminescence of his Cosmic Rod, bathing the room in blinding light while his own eyes were protected by the anti-flare goggles on his face.

He saw the figure in his peripheral, skittering behind desks and cubicles. Jack blasted with his rod and stalked forward, but found nothing but smoking paper and plastic where he'd fired. The skittering continued, seemingly all around him, coupled with an unsettling, echoing giggle of laughter.

Starman moved into the center of the room, turning slowly in a counter-clockwise fashion as the noise grew louder. Was there more than one of them? Why couldn't he see them? The noise and laughter ceased as suddenly as it began, causing Jack to freeze in place.

“Heh heh heh heh heh,” he heard from directly above him. Starman craned his neck backward to look up, his staff coming to target a half-second later. What he found, hanging from the ceiling in such a position that made him doubt if what he was looking at was even human, was a twisted caricature of childhood play. The stitched mouth sneered while Raggedy Andy strings of yarn “hair” hung in clumps from its patchwork scalp.

The Ragdoll fell upon his victim, knives in hand and manic laughter on his lips…

To be continued…

Next Issue: The Ragdoll, possibly the greatest evil that Opal City has ever known, has returned. Find out how next issue, the second chapter of "Tattered Hearts".

LOST IN THE STARS

So, welcome to the first official issue of Starman at JLU 2001. My name is Chris Munn (writer of Wildcats and Hellblazer) and my esteemed co-writer is Michael Franzoni (writer of Planetary), and boy do we have some cool stuff lined up for you as this series progresses. But first, I have a confession to make, something I feel I need to get off my chest here at the oneset of the series.

The idea of writing Starman absolutely scares me to death.

Jack Knight and his supporting cast comprise what, in my mind anyway, is the absolute pinnacle of comic book writing. James Robsinson, Tony Harris, and Peter Snejbjerg gave us 80+ issues of Jack living his life as an unlikely superhero, producing my all-time favorite comic book series and one of the best endings to a superhero opus that I've ever read. I've always wanted to write Starman, but the thought of trying to match what Robinson did on the series usually made me back away in crippling paralytic fear. Luckily, Mike Franzoni knows no fear. He and I have worked together many times in the past, and the opportunity to work with him again on a series that both of us love as much as we love Starman was just too great to pass up.

And so here it is, our first issue (though everyone got a glimpse at our Starman in last month's # 0 issue). I'm well aware that nothing we do will match what James Robinson accomplished with the characters, but we're hoping you'll give us a chance anyway.

Now that that's out of the way, here are some comments made for Starman # 0:

Scott Redmond: I'll just get this out of the way now, I know next to nothing about Starman and his legacy outside the basics I've picked up from sporadic reading of Justice Society. That being said, I definitely feel I know more now after reading this. Perhaps not the whole canvas of the character and the legacy, but enough to truly wet my appetite for more knowledge and stories. The first bit was a good way to see inside Jack's head and get a bit of how he thinks and works and foreshadowing for future issues I'm assuming with the doll.

I liked that the actual history lesson of Jack and his family and such was done through Shade's journal. Instead of just being a cold stating of the facts, it had a bit of personal touch of being someone elses observances of the life of Starman. I learned enough about the supporting cast and what lead up to the current status of Jack to allow me to not be that lost once the series starts. This is definitely a type of issue that would be great seeing done with other titles to ease readers in who may not be as familiar with characters. Can't wait to see the first issue, now that I know just who Jack Knight is.

Gary Jones: I must confess to never being a fan of the Jack Knight incarnation of Starman, pretty much the only issues I liked of his run were those set on Krypton.

Still the Shade being a favourite character made me give the issue more of a chance than I would have otherwise and to my surprise I enjoyed it very much.

I'll be on board for the next issue at least.

Tony Thornley: Hated it. ;-)

Seriously, it was a good issue. Both stories were good hints of things to come, and were framed very well. I liked it, and I'm looking forward to more.

Steve Crosby: Though I was given a sneak peek long ago and gave you my thoughts then, thought I'd chime in here. Perfect setting to introduce Jack to those unfamiliar. Right off the bat they know he's a guy that likes the old stuff. It was one of the highlights that Jack was a regular, fully fleshed guy with geeky interests and complex relationships with loved ones.

Thanks to all of the above (who are all great writers in their own right). If you'd like to drop us a line about Starman # 1, discussion of the issue will take place on my LiveJournal so feel free to stop by and join in. Maybe next month I'll be able to coax my co-writer Franzy into saying a few words.

-- Chris Munn
02/18/09

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