Opal City
Now

"Lament. That's what I promised them all those years ago. Too late for your brother, but your time is now, younger Knight. Time to make good on promises."

He landed silently upon the floor, low to the ground and ready to pounce. Scraping the blades of his knives against each other, the doll-faced killer slide-stepped in a low crouch, never taking his eyes off Jack.

The man moved in unnatural, inhuman ways, twisting in directions that should have been impossible and doing it with a liquid grace. Circling like a predator round its prey, the Ragdoll writhed in sharp, angular motions. His face remained emotionless, stitched and grease-painted burlap hiding the man's thoughts and intentions. By all rites, the man should be dead, but for Jack, the villain moved much better than any dead man he'd ever seen. Much scarier. Even his father's descriptions of the Ragdoll seemed pale in comparison.

Jack kept a hand pressed against the soft of his shoulder. The warm red seeped through his clothes and between his fingers. And for the briefest of moments, Jack wondered if this was how David felt as he plummeted from Opal's skies. If his brother even had the time for such thoughts.

Keeping an eye on his adversary, Jack tightened his one-handed grip on the cosmic rod and said, "So, you shot me. Hardly seems like a fair way to start a fight. Last time I was shot, the bastard at least had the cajones to do it face-to-face. Not you, though. Not quite the honorable thing to do, ya know."

"Care nothing for honor or what's fair." The Ragdoll's blank stare didn't even flinch as he continued to dance around Jack. "Death for death. Lasting resonance. My name on the lips of every dying scream in this city. That's all that counts. Why aren't you screaming? Not scared of me?"

Jack floated a flinching glance toward the window, eyeing his chances for escape. How quick could this guy be anyway? Probably quicker than he'd give the freak credit for. For now, that meant he had to buy some time. "I've heard the stories, and I've got a theory about you. See, I applaud the creepy freakshow vibe -- I really do. But see, the way I heard it, you're not exactly the kinda dude that gets his hands dirty."

A raspy, cracking laugh spilled softly from beneath the Ragdoll's mask. Flashing the knives about as he advanced upon Jack, the Ragdoll said, "Death has a way of changing a man. Shall we see?"

	"Tattered Hearts" Part Two of Four
Starman # 2 - March, Year Five	by Chris Munn & Michael Franzoni

Opal City
14 Years Gone

Peter Merkel cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone, his hands gripped onto the sides of the podium. “I would thank you all for coming tonight,” he said, his voice a shrill rasp caused by too many years of a pack a day smoking habit, “but it would be pointless, wouldn't it? You're all here because you have nowhere else to go, nothing else in your worthless lives to keep you away from this place.”

Merkel looked out at the sea of people collected on the floor of the abandoned theater, the seats that had rested before the stage having been ripped away by time and vandals. It was a gathering populated mostly by men with a few random women inserted here and there, but all of them - despite sex or age or race - had a common element between them.

“But I'm here to tell you that you should not be ashamed by your misfortune and misery!” Merkel said into the microphone, his voice rising with each annunciated word. “You have been given a gift that the rest of this city has been denied. Because you are those society regards as unwanted or unworthy, you have the ultimate freedom.”

Peter fought the smile that wanted to creep across his face as he looked over the sea of people mesmerized by his words. He was old, his 63rd birthday quickly approaching, and the life of crime had aged him nearly twice so in appearance. He was no longer the young man who fought and killed with trademarked style, but once he discovered his gift of wordplay - it made him feel like the young man of old once again. His father, the carnival barker, had given him a childhood of horror and misery, but he'd finally received something from the bastard that was good.

“Those of us who have nothing left to lose,” he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the large chamber, “can do absolutely anything without fear! Now we will be the ones with power, taken by force and hatred and blood, and I promise you that by this time next year we will be kings of Opal City!”

The crowd erupted in applause and shouts of victory while Merkel raised his hands and soaked in the adulation. These were the dregs of the Opal, the homeless, the addicts, and the mentally disabled who had been discarded by a system set against them by those in control. Now they had an outlet, a way to get back at the misery of their lives, all their faults and problems laid at the feet of anyone but themselves. They were prepared to give their lives for Peter Merkel, making the once low-list villain into a God.

“Don your masks,” Merkel commanded as he pulled his own patchwork mask down over his face, an act repeated by the two hundred plus followers beneath him, “and go paint the streets with chaos and death! Go out and kill...”

Peter finally allowed himself to smile wide, his face hidden beneath the cloth mask.

“Kill in the name of the Ragdoll!”

Opal City
Now 

"Always gotta be a riot, don't it?" he asked, backing toward his brother. His guns blazed in front of him, firing low into the surging crowds. The old Matt O'Dare would have taken a different kind of shot, the killing kind, but he was a different man now. A man trying to live up to the legacy he was reborn into. He had a lot to atone for.

Caught in the thrill of the moment, he cracked a smile beneath his thick mustache and fired another round from his twin revolvers. "One of these days, we're due for something more white collar. Something quieter. These crime sprees are becoming an annoyance. Wouldn't you agree?"

Standing at his back, another red-headed man moved with ruthless efficiency. In contrast to the precision mercy Matt was now showing his enemies, the other O'Dare was pulling no punches. Barry was ruthless in his efficiency, aiming to take the rioters down and keep 'em down. "Just shut up, already. There's work to do here."

"Sometimes, you're a bastard, Barry."

"Just sometimes?"

"I'm trying my best to remember that you're my brother. Playing nice 'cause of it."

The loud report of gunfire silenced Barry's reply, but Matt felt like he knew the gist of it already. Turning his attentions back to the surging crowds, he tried his best to thin the herds, dropping the forerunners and watching in horror as they trampled their own people in order to gain ground. Cursing under his breath, Matt lowered his guns for a quick reload and then set back to the work at hand.

Behind them, the east entrance of Opal City City Hall waited. The police had placed a full guard on all sides of the building, barricading the politicos inside. If the Ragdoll's cult intended to get to the mayor, they'd have to run the gauntlet of Opal's finest.

Clarence was upstairs, coordinating the various forces throughout the city, doing the best he could with badly strained resources. Somewhere in the city, Hope and Mason were bringing the fight to the streets. Looters, robbers, killers all tearing the city apart. It had to stop, and the O'Dare clan wasn't going down without a fight.

Opal City
13 Years Gone

It had taken nearly a year to the day, but the Ragdoll Cult had brought Opal City to its knees with its plague of crime and death. The city's hero, the Starman, had proven ineffectual in putting a stop to the wave of random robberies and murders, and had been forced to call in the assistance of his superhuman brethren. While the Hourman and Dr. Mid-Nite had foiled the villain's armies, stopping their advancement on a retirement home and rescuing a pair of twin girls that had been held for ransom, the brunt of the heroes' force had been brought to bear against the Ragdoll himself.

The Flash and the Green Lantern had joined the Starman in his attack on the Ragdoll Cult's base of operations at the same abandoned theater. After the brief yet fierce battle that followed, the three veterans of the Justice Society had defeated the Cult and apprehended its leader. Tied up and awaiting the police to come, Peter Merkel sat facing his three enemies - and it was then that the villain showed just how villainous he really was.

The blood of the heroes chilled as the Ragdoll explained how he could reach out from prison, using his followers to murder those loved by the three men - wives and employees and, most important for Starman, children. While those thoughts of horror danced in their minds, distracting them, Merkel used what little fluidity remained in his triple-jointed body to slip free of his bonds. He broke out in a run toward the door, but his quick movements did not pass unnoticed by the heroes. All three reacted as one, and when the smoke cleared the Ragdoll lay dead.

The official story was that none of the three heroes knew which had delivered the killing blow to the villain, but the truth was obvious to any who looked deeper. Ted Knight, fearing for the safety of his two sons, had taken Merkel's life with the power of his Cosmic Rod. In truth, none in authority blamed the hero, and so the investigation was done half-heartedly.

The following night, the body of the Ragdoll disappeared from the morgue. This is the story of what happened afterward.

The elderly woman was a late recruit to the Cult, though she joined more for the ensuing chaos than out of any belief or interest in the Ragdoll's rhetoric. In Abigail Moorland's prime, during the 1940s, she too had been a villain and murderer - a green skinned harlot known in fear as the Prairie Witch. She waited in the basement of her home, waited for the return of evil.

“We got it, ma'am,” the voice of a middle-aged man said as he came backward down the stairs, a body wrapped in plastic hefted awkwardly by he and one other as they descended into the dirt-floored basement. “We had to kill a guard, but we got it.”

“Place it on the table,” the Witch commanded as she lit a cigarette, and the two men did as she requested, dropping the body bag onto the long marble table. She made her way to the table, shooing away her minions with a wave of her hand, and when they departed she grabbed the bag's zipper and pulled it down.

Within the bag was the charred and blackened body of Peter Merkel, his flesh seared by the cosmic power of the hero's weapon. “You were wise to come to me before this,” she said softly while rubbing her arthritic fingers across the body's burned face, “the spells I cast will keep you from passing on to the other side, trapping you in this shell until the proper rites can be written. You will be in unceasing agony until that time, but hear this - you will live again.”

The Witch turned to her two aides, bathed in shadow beneath the hanging light bulb at the far end of the basement. She watched intently as the men dug into the desecrated earth with their shovels, digging away a place of rest. “Of course,” she said while turning her gaze back to the body, “you'll need a place to stay until then...”

Gotham City
Now

Glancing half-heartedly out the window of his taxi, Ted Knight couldn't help but notice how different two cities could be. Both Gotham and Opal had their share of darkness, but while Gotham wallowed in its gothic shadow, Opal resonated with art deco and onyxian vibrancy. For Ted, the difference was almost too stark to bear, and as the taxi wound its way further and further into the city, Ted felt his heart yearning for home.

The car pulled to the curb with a suddenness that Ted had not been expecting, his mind too lost in thoughts of his son and the research that awaited him upon his return. Opening the door, he stepped from the cab and out onto the gloomy, overcast sidewalks. A smiling face greeted him, and Ted extended his hand. "It's been much too long, Alan. Of course, that always seems to be the way of things."

"I'm glad you could make it out on such short notice," the blond man replied, ever the statesman. Leaning past Ted, he handed the driver a few folded bills and waited for the cab to drive away. "Also, I'm sorry that this couldn't have been a more social call. It would be good to catch up with you, maybe talk about the old days some. But there will be time for that later, I suppose. You look eager to get started."

Ted nodded. "It's not every day that my technologies surface in random places. In fact, I've been down right careful about who had access to the designs and specs of my cosmic inventions, and most of them -- God bless their souls -- have taken those secrets to their grave. That said, you can understand my urgency."

"Of course. Once we're in a more private place, I'll signal the League and let them know that we're ready for transport. That is, unless you'd prefer..."

Waving his hands and shaking his head, Ted interrupted, "Oh no, my flying days are behind me now. I leave that to those with the hearts and bodies to support their feats."

A slight smile creased Alan Scott's face. With an open palm, he gestured toward the front doors of the GBC Building. "After you..."

Opal City
3 Years Gone

“Help me! Please, for God's sake, let me go!”

Felicia White whimpered as she scrambled back against the wall, her feet scuffling across the dirt floor of the basement. She'd been walking to her car on the campus of Opal University when she was taken, strong hands grasping her shoulders and a cloth doused with chloroform pressed to her face. She'd awakened with her hands bound, left in the dark of a nightmarish abattoir, the smell of blood and rot assaulting her senses.

When the lights came on, she found herself wishing for the dark to return, to hide her from the evil that waited. Standing before her was an old woman, the strings of her white unwashed hair hanging in her face as she smiled a smile of yellowed teeth. “Welcome, my dear,” she greeted, “I do hope you enjoy your stay, brief though it may be.”

The Prairie Witch stepped aside, letting Felicia catch sight of the large, shirtless man standing next to a table coated red with crimson stains. “Oh my lord,” the girl whispered, tears streaming down her face, as the large man grabbed her by the arms and hefted her onto the table, “please save me.”

“Restrain her, Malcolm,” the Witch ordered, “and get to work.”

Her wrists and ankles restrained by leather straps, Felicia screamed as the large man raised his axe into the air above her.

“You weren't the first, darling,” the Witch said as the axe fell, “but take solace in the thought that you are the last.”

The Witch watched patiently as her servant butchered poor young Felicia, defiling her body in ways too gruesome to describe while the girl was kept alive just long enough to experience the excruciating pain that came from such grievous injuries. When her screaming finally stopped, Malcolm took a step backward from the table, trying to catch his breath and slow his pounding heart. The old woman brushed past him and dipped her fingers in one of the many axe wounds carved into the girl's torso.

“With this I mark thee,” the Witch said as she drew an arcane sigil on the bare chest of her servant, painted with Felicia White's blood, “the souls of thirteen innocents – men, women, and children – are trapped within you, their murderer. The first step of our task is complete, and for the next step to begin we must venture forth from our beloved Opal City.”

Malcolm grunted, feeling a surge of strength from the thirteen souls imprisoned within his body.

“Come, my love,” the Witch bid, “it is to dark Gotham City we must fly…”

Opal City
Now

The villain pounced upon him with lightning quickness, and Jack, in his injured state, just managed to move out of the way in time. The Ragdoll somersaulted against the far wall, planted his feet flat against the drywall, and reversed directions. Jack could hear the sneer in the Ragdoll's voice as he said, "Ahh, wish to make a game of it. Fun fun for me."

Defiantly, Jack raised the cosmic rod in front of him, both weapon and shield. His hand started to shake, but this wasn't fear. Adrenaline maybe. That or shock was starting to set in. Either way, it wasn't the best timing. Flipping his thumb upward, he pressed down a switch and the tip of the staff flared once more, flooding the room with intense light and heat.

A squeal of horror erupted from across the room, and Jack felt cold metal trickle across his left thigh as the Ragdoll leapt for him again. The attack had narrowly missed being more than a slight flesh wound. Landing once more in a crouch, the Ragdoll straightened up slightly, blinded by the light and trying to get his bearings. His long, angular hands traced their way up the wall, finally stopping as they wrapped around the old windowsill.

Swiveling quickly, Jack took advantage of the situation and lashed out with the cosmic road. He swung the staff from his hip, using the weight of his body to fuel the momentum, and the rod caught the Ragdoll broadside in the center of the back. The impact carried the villain through the broken window, but he was surprisingly quick. Twisting his body, the Ragdoll managed to right himself in mid-air and grab the end of the cosmic rod before Jack could retract it.

"Heh heh heh. Not so easily rid of me," the Ragdoll taunted.

Inverting his body, the villain flashed his legs upward, wrapped them behind Jack's right shoulder, and tied them into a knot. Yanking backward with the full thrust of his body, the Ragdoll pulled them both into the night air.

To be continued…

Next Issue: We've left our hero in a precarious situation. Come back next month as the fight with the Ragdoll continues and learn the secrets behind his resurrection...

LOST IN THE STARS

A few words, eh?

Well, what you're seeing here is a labor of love. Pure and simple. This is my third foray into trying to get a Starman fanfic title off the ground, and working with Chris, I think we've finally found the formula to make it work. And the ultimate spark for that success? A keen mixture of idolatry and reverence. We're treating this material with kid gloves, but not to the point where we're missing the chance to have some fun with it.

I found Starman right as it launched. In the 1990's, it was so different from anything being produced at the time. It certainly wasn't the big-guns-big-shoulderpads-big boobs fare that was being thrown at us from all sides. And maybe that's why it survived when all the other titles that came out of Zero Hour failed. Starman created a resonance with its readership.

In many ways, I think it gave us the first real "everyman" in comics since the initial days of Spider-Man. It gave us a character we could root for, because in some ways, it was a character that we could be . And at the same time, it created an examination of the superhuman mythos that focused on the human portion of the equation.

So, where does it go from here? The stars, my friend.

Always the stars.

-- Michael Franzoni
March 2009

Rock on, Mike! Let's go through a few letters about # 1, shall we?

The always classy Steve Crosby, writer of the best Batman fanfic series on the 'net right here at JLU, had this to say:

Right before Jack's shot he sees the sniper, then after getting shot he's trying to determine the sniper's position? That is my one strike mark in this otherwise pristine tale. Classic Starman, beginning at the end and showing us how we reach that point. The foreshadowing of a madman's return without mentioning his name, and foreshadowing another villain's appearance with only his name in an unrelated fashion? Nicely done.

Poor Jack, he gets his father out of town, not knowing his pop is going into the fire. Liked that Jack immediately links Wesley Dodds with great detectives. Bobo...I must have read his intro story fifty times when writing him for a guest appearance, and you guys nailed him far better than I ever could.

Old-timey pop-culture references great. Research on this thing must be a killer. You got the landmarks in, making Opal alive. This doesn't just feel like Starman. It feels like Robinson's Starman. All we're missing is the Harris art.

::sniff, sniff:: Comparing us to Robinson's Starman, Steve? Brings a tear to my eye, it does!

Next up, this brief message from Tony Thornley, writer of Legion Worlds here at JLU:

Hated it less. :-)

Okay, when I read #2, I won't be an ass any more. Another good issue. The series is written for Starman fans, but it's accessible to someone like me who's read... an issue, maybe two, of the series and knows nothing about any character within except the Shade. Great stuff guys.

And finally, my good buddy Derrick Ferguson (who writes a kick-ass Superman that's, again, found right here at JLU!) was kind enough to write a review for our first two issues:

I suppose I should start off this review with a confession: I've never read a single issue of DC's "Starman". Nope, not a single one. Yes, I've heard how awesomely fantastic a series it was and how it was everybody's Must Read List. But I just never got around to it. Don't look at me that way. I'm very well read but I can't read everythin, y'know.

Paradoxically, that's the very reason that I wanted to jump in on JLU2001's STARMAN: I wanted to see if I could come in on a fan fiction series featuring a character who I knew nothing about and not feel confused or lost. It helps that the series is written by two of the most talented writers I know: Michael Franzoni and Chris Munn. Separately they're dynamite. Together they're nuclear.

One thing I really liked about #0 is that both Chris and Mike work hard at setting up the atmosphere and mood of what this series is going to be about. Let me vent a little bit here, okay? Sometimes I'll get a story from a writer asking my opinion on it and somewhere in there they'll throw in something that goes like this: "I really think it's good but I'm afraid it's too wordy and there's no action. Should I put in a fight scene?" Which usually leads to me writing something back that goes like this: "If you don't think it needs a fight scene then why put one in?"

Mike and Chris are far too intelligent as writers to fall into that mode of thinking. There's something far more at work here than just your standard superheroics and I found it a pleasant and engaging issue to read purely because I was being introduced to characters I didn't know before and the world they inhabit and I didn't give a poobah's pizzle that not a punch was thrown. The first half of the story, written by Franz and describing Jack Knight's looking through his brother's effects in a storage unit told me quite a lot about Jack, his relationship with his family and gave me some insight into what kind of guy he is.

The second half, written by Munn and narrated through the voice of The Shade was really fun to read. As I said earlier, I know nothing about these characters but I delighted in the voice Munn has found for this character. It's as if The Shade is sitting in a Victorian tea room relating these events while munching on scones and having an afternoon apertif. I hope Munn sat back and had a cold beer and lit up a cigar after writing this one because it's a wonderfully well-written way to bring readers up to speed as to who Starman is and who the other characters we'll meet are. It's obvious Chris is having a hell of a good time writing in The Shade's voice and I look forward to seeing a lot more of this character.

I was surprised to see the blue-skinned Starman show up in #1 as outside of the original Starman, Ted Knight, the alien Starman is the only one I'm familiar with and I'm eager to see how he fits into all this. And speaking of the original Starman, I greatly liked the scene between him and his son in #1. One of the major things I love about DC is the generational aspect of the characters and how superhero identities are passed on, nurtured and held in high esteem. It's an aspect that isn't taken advantage of very much but I'm glad to see it used here.

Usually I wait until there are at least three issues of a new fan fiction series posted before I start reading it but I couldn't wait this time and I suggest you don't either. If you haven't checked out STARMAN yet, do so at your earliest opportunity.

P.S. The Shade has a LiveJournal that's damn good reading as well. You can find it here; http://shadesjournal.livejournal.com/

That's an awesome review, Derrick, AND an awesome segue into telling you all about The Shade's Journal being posted on an intermitent basis. Currently running is an extra special "Time's Past" story that features the Greg Saunders Vigilante AND Frankenstein! Check it out and be cool like everyone else!

Oh, and come back next month to see all the special guest-stars we have popping in, including Alan Scott and Gotham City's dark avenger...the Ragman! (Ha, got you on that one, didn't I?)

Chris Munn
3/27/09

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