Faux DC Presents:

in "Starshiney Day"
Written by by Chuck "da 'Cat!" BUrke

The day dawned bright and clear in Opal City, ripe with the promise of spring. In the maze of streets and vintage buildings known as the Alleys, early risers hit the streets. They made their way from shop to shop, as morning turned to noon, then afternoon. One shop was conspicuous in its lack of traffic. It wasn't due to a lack of interest in its wares, for many of those who passed its windows stopped to gaze at the variety of goods offered. No, people passed by the door of Knights Past because they knew the owner's habits, and they knew better than to hope he would be in the shop before mid-afternoon.

Above the storefront, Jack Knight lay sprawled across his bed, sheets tangled around his body. His left arm lifted, groped around on the bed. Not finding anything, his head lifted and one eye opened. “Sadie?”

Silence met his slurred query. Jack twisted around and sat up. “Sadie?” he called louder. “You here, babe?”

There was no answer.. Jack looked up at the black cat clock on the wall, with the tail swinging underneath. “Two o’clock. What was I supposed to be doing at two o-OH!” He leaped up from the bed and raced to the bathroom. “The interview for Reflections! Hope that reporter doesn’t mind me being a little late!”

Three minutes later, Jack grabbed the leather map case the stood in the corner of the living room, unzipping one end of it. “Better not take a chance on getting stuck in traffic,” he muttered as he extracted the Cosmic Rod from the battered case. He slipped the case’s strap over one shoulder, grasped the rod with both hands, activated the gravity-defying powers of the rod and shot out through the open balcony door.

Watching from a neighboring building, a figure in red and white chuckled. “Running late for an appointment, Starman? Careful, this is one date you don’t want to miss.”

Ten minutes later, Starman descended towards one of the many art deco skyscrapers decorating Opal’s skyline. He dropped down past the building to light on the sidewalk near the building’s entrance. He slid the rod back into its case and sauntered toward the revolving door. Just as he passed through the entrance, there was an explosion on the sidewalk.

“Aw, hell,” muttered the shaggy-haired defender of Opal as he allowed the revolving door to spin him back around to the outdoors. “Can’t even get to a magazine interview without something going boom” Drawing his weapon once more, he let the case fall to the sidewalk as he rose into the air. Holding the rod with one hand, he reached with the other into the pocket of his jacket for a pair of battered goggles He slipped the over his head, took a firmer grasp on the cosmic rod and looked around. Thirty feet below, smoke rose from a small crater on the sidewalk. Drifting on the air currents with the smoke were many small sheets of paper. Some of them floated up in fro not Jack Knight, and he plucked on from its eddying flight.

Looks like pages from a day-planner, mused Jack, turning his attention back to the site of the explosion. Nobody was caught by the blast, though, unless they were vaporized. At that moment, the sheet of paper in his hand burst into flames.

“What the hell?” shouted Jack, dropping the burning paper, then destroying with a burst of cosmic energy before it could fall on one of the dazed passersby below.

“You have to be careful with your schedule, kid. Lose track of your calendar, and you can really get burnt!” Jack turned to look up over his shoulder, and spotted a thin man dressed in a red bodysuit trimmed in black. What caught his attention were the pads of paper draped over the man’s shoulders like epaulets. Before shifting his attention to the man’s face, he realized the pads were calendars.

“Let me guess, you’re some lame crook, with a lame theme and an even more lame costume, right?”

“I am not lame! I’ve fought Batman! How could I fight Batman if I was just a lame crook?” asked the masked figure as he pulled a trio of cubes from a pouch on his belt and threw them at Jack.

“Did you ever beat him?” asked Starman.

“Um, well, no.”

“Then you’re lame,” barked Jack as the three blocks, one labeled with days of the week on its sides, the other labeled with numbers, whipped toward his head. He conjured up a glowing sphere of cosmic energy just as the blocks exploded. “What were those supposed to be?”

The criminal paused again, hovering in mid air on a sort of flying jet-ski, decorated up with images of Santa Claus, turkeys, rabbits, skeletons and Uncle Sam. “Why, calendar blocks, of course. So you can always, easily display the current date on a side table or book case.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, dude. Look, do you have a name? I like to know who it is I’m blowing down to the ground, y’know?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The villain gestured downward with his hand, drawing the gaze over the absurdity of the red and black jumpsuit with pouches and leather-bound day-planners hanging from the belt and the calendars flapping at his shoulders. “I’m the Calendar Man!”

“Right. Lame,” sighed Jack as he blasted the contraption Calendar Man was riding with the cosmic rod. The front and back ends of the jet ski blew apart, and Calendar Man started dropping. Jack was focused on forming a platform beneath the villain when the man’s black cape spread open and he started gliding towards the ground.

“Ah, how the days fly by,” said Calendar Man with a giggle. He reached into a pouch, pulled something out. “Now, I think this is a date that had some significance to you!” With a flick of his wrist, he sent a small, rigid card flying at Starman. Jack barely had time to register that it was an appointment card before it struck him, then everything went black.

Starman came to in a darkened room. Seconds after he regained consciousness, a glow appeared in one corner of the room. In the golden light cast by the glowing figure, he saw himself lying sprawled on a bed. Icy fingers danced on his spine as he recognized the scene.

“Jack Knight. Awaken,” intoned an inhuman voice from the blue and gold-clad figure materializing in the nimbus of light. “I have news of your father.”

“Yeah, huh, whassat?” said the younger Jack as he rolled over and threw an arm up in front of his eyes.

“Wake up, you idiot,” said Starman. Neither figure seemed to hear.

The glowing subsided to a gentle illumination from a golden amulet on the figure’s chest as he reached up to remove his golden helm. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, that of a man in mourning. “Jack. It’s Kent Nelson. Wake up.”

“Huh? What is it, man?”

“It’s your father.” Kent sat on the bed. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but there are only a few of us left.”

Jack watched as his younger self sat up. “What happened? Is he-?”

“Your father is not dead, Jack. But he is gone, probably never to be seen again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Most of the JSA are locked in an eternal battle, to prevent the coming of Ragnarok.”

“Rag – you mean the end of the world? Like the Norse believed?”

“I see you know your mythology. Yes. He and the others are caught waging this battle, forever. He wanted me to tell you-“

“No.” Young Jack Knight put up his hand. “No, Dad didn’t want you to tell me squat. Any message he had, it was for David. Go find him, he’s probably at Dad’s place anyway, waiting for him to come back.”

“But-“

Starman tried once more to make himself heard. “Come on, man, listen to him.”

“You really were an ass, weren’t you?” said a voice just behind Starman. He jumped and turned to see a faintly-glowing figure dressed in 17th century piratical garb.

“What the- oh, it’s you Jon.” The unresting spirit of Jon Valor, known during his lifetime as the Black Pirate, grinned and nodded his head.

“I’m afraid you be having the advantage of me. I can sense that you’re not from this time, and that it’s yerself that you’re watching on the bed, but apparently you know who I am.”

A few seconds of confusion clouded Starman’s brain before he realized that, at the time his father disappeared, he had not yet met Jon. “A few years down the road, we’ll meet. I better leave it at that.”

“Aye, and I’ve seen you around this fair city a time or two in the past as well, but if you aren’t knowing about that, I’ll leave it be.” The spirit faded away.

Meanwhile, the younger Jack had turned his face into his pillow and cried out loudly. “But nothing! Get out of here, Fate!”

Kent lifted his mask and lowered it onto his head. Once more, his voice took on an eerie quality as if coming from somewhere outside of normal existence. “I had heard that you had little regard for your father, but I did not believe it to be so. I was mistaken.” There was a flare of light, and then darkness. The silence was broken by sobbing, from the figure on the bed, as well as the sobbing of a watcher who could not be heard.

Moments later, Starman found himself back in the sky over Opal City, where he had left Calendar Man. The costumed criminal was nowhere to be seen, and from the looks of the city crew cleaning up the site of the explosion below, it had been an hour or two since his brief battle.

“Whatever he hit me with, must have sent me back to the day Dad disappeared. Damn, I’d forgotten what a jerk I was back then!” Jack settled to the ground and removed his goggles, then strode into the building to see if he was too late for the interview.

That evening, Jack was flying over the city when he heard sirens approaching a house below. As he descended toward the site, he spied a group of familiar faces gathered around a parked police car.

“Good evening, O’Dare clan. What’s going on?”

Clarence O’Dare, senior of the O’Dare siblings of Opal’s police force, glanced up from a set of blueprints. “Hostage situation. Got a guy holed up inside with his wife and a couple o’ kids.”

“Oh, well then how about I-“

“Forget it Jack. We need something blown apart, we’ll call you,” growled Clarence.

“Look, kid, the wife is the Mayor’s niece.” Barry O’Dare usually didn’t have much to say, but he seemed glad of the chance to push Jack out of the picture. “You go charging in there with that overgrown toothpick blasting away, someone’s gonna get hurt, or killed.”

“Hate to say it, Jack, but they’re right.” Hope O’Dare, the family’s lone female in police service, shrugged her shoulders. “Probably best if you go find that fellow in the clown costume you were facing off against earlier.”

“Hey, there’s something about him coming in on the radio now.” Jack and Hope turned to face Mason, the youngest O’Dare. “He’s at the main post office downtown.”

“Aw, hell, he’s probably trying to steal a postmark machine or something.” Jack pressed the button of the cosmic staff and soared into the night sky.

As Starman approached the massive post office building in the center of Opal, the dome atop the building exploded. Quick reflexes helped in saving people and property from further damage, as the rubble was encased in multiple orbs of scintillating cosmic energy and quickly lowered to the ground. “All right, Calendar Boy, not nice!” yelled Starman at the retreating caped figure who came flying up through the explosion. “I rent my post office box at the main branch.”

Calendar Man turned in mid air, astride a flying jet ski like the one Jack had blown apart earlier that day. “Oh for the love of God, what are you doing here? Can’t a guy snatch a few payroll checks in peace?”

“Payroll? Oh, because that means it’s pay-DAY, right?” As Calendar Man happily nodded, Jack slapped his forehead with his palm and let the hand slide down his face. “Lame doesn’t even begin to cover it, dude.”

“Bet you didn’t think my date card was so lame, did you?’ Calendar Man raised a hand, displaying another card. “Oh, look, I even have another date for you to ponder!” With a flick of his wrist, the card flew at jack, evading his attempts to blast it with the cosmic rod. Once again, darkness enveloped the hero.

When Jack came to this time, he was standing before the Opal Power Company building at dusk. Looking up, he saw the familiar art deco bust of a winged man high up on the front of the building. Next to it, he spotted something that send his heart down into his shoes.

David.

Wearing the red and green uniform of their father, David Knight stood on a ledge with the old, smaller version of the cosmic rod in his left hand.

“Rooftops. The shot came from a rooftop!” Not stopping to think, Jack rose into the air, scanning the buildings around him. In the waning sunlight, he saw a shadow move, the flash of light reflecting off metal. Willing the cosmic rod to carry him at its fastest speed, he flashed through the air toward the man he knew only as Kyle.

Funny, after all this time, we never figured out the Mist’s last name, thought Jack as he flew through the air. Weirdest things flash through your mind at times like this.

He could see Kyle leaning on a stone parapet, steadying the strange three-barreled pistol as he took aim. “I’m going to make it, I’m doing to-“

POW!

Even as he flew through the young man who stood with a satisfied smile on his face, Jack knew what was happening behind him. In his mind's eye, he could see his brother halt in his upward flight, the cosmic rod dropping from his hands as his body folded and started its final downward journey. A scram of futile rage erupted from Jack's lungs as he flew away from the site of his brother's death. As he flew high above the city, he blacked out.

Regaining consciousness, Jack blinked his eyes. The strange view didn't change. He was lying in Robinson Park, on the north side of Opal City. He sat up, trying to figure out what was bothering him about what he saw. Then it struck him: the world was devoid of color.

“David! Where are you, bro?” Jack stood up and looked around. “Time for you to come strolling in, the only color in the joint, and offer me some kind of keen insight into my life. Well come on, Davey, bring it!”

From behind a tree nearby, a colorful figure in red and green stepped into view. “Heh. How you doing, Jack?”

“A little confused, but, yeah, I think I'm catching on to this gig. I've got one of Batman's goofballs running around town right now. He's messing with my mind, sending me back to moments of my life. Maybe whatever you want to tell me today will help me with that. So, what's the big topic today.”

David slipped the cowl of the Starman costume back off of his head. “Eh, I got nothing.” And the world faded from monochrome to color as David disappeared.

After leaving Robinson Park, Starman hovered over the city, scanning the streets for any sign of his annoying opponent. “Don’t know if those cards are really sending me back in time, or just making me imagine things, but I think I’d like to shut him down before he pulls that stunt again.” Spotting nothing unusual, he veered toward the Alleys, and dropped towards home. As he lighted on the balcony, a new sign across the street caught his eye. “Julian’s Event Planning. Doesn’t sound like the sort of shop we usually get around here,” said Jack to himself as he stepped inside. “Have to keep them in mind in case I ever need to plan a special da – aw, hell!” He reversed direction, zipping up into the sky, then down to street level. “Aw, man, could you make it any more obvious? Julian calendar? Events?” He lowered the cosmic staff and fired a blast at the door. Walking in through the smoke and rubble, he called out “Hey, Calendar Girl. Come on out and play!”

“Who are you calling – oh, you! The real estate agent told me this was a possibility.” A heavyset young woman with purple and pink streaks in her black hair stood in the doorway to a back room. “But did you have to blow the place up on my first day here?”

“Huh? You mean you’re-? He’s not-?” Jack looked around, hoping to spot some sign that the shop wasn’t legitimate.

“Let me guess – you’re after the fruitcake with the calendar fetish that I saw on the news reports, right?” She walked out into the room, moving awkwardly around a display case of party favors. “sorry to disappoint you, hero, but I’m just plain old Beth Julian, no costume, no gimmicks, just trying to make a living here.”

Starman started backing out of the room, stammering “Um, yeah, uh, I’ll take care of the door, k?” As he started to lift off, he heard the familiar whine of a small rocket motor. He turned to see Calendar Man flying by above him.

“Damn, I saw the ad for this place’s grand opening, thought I might have a little fun. But you’re already here to spoil the show.” He twisted the handle of the jet ski, and sped off with Starman in pursuit. They flew over the narrow, twisting streets of the alleys, occasionally dipping down as the villain tried to shake the hero.

Turning around one building, Calendar Man found himself headed into a tunnel. Jack recognized it as an access tunnel through the Metro Insurance building to a courtyard bounded by the Metro and several other buildings. He also remembered that, since Metro Insurance had folded three years earlier, the tunnel and courtyard were no longer lit at night. He smiled as he lowered the ambient glow of the cosmic rod. Darkness suits me just fine, thought Jack as he followed the glow of the jet ski’s exhaust into the tunnel. Then the glow disappeared, and Jack realized the sound of the rocket motor was getting louder just as he felt an impact against the shielding effects of the cosmic rod. He tumbled to the ground, swallowed by darkness.

“Oh, perfect. Knocked for a loop, caught in the dark. Time for the Shade to step out of the shadows and offer some anachronistic comment on the situation that will help me catch this stupid loser.”

There was a faint rustling as one area of shadow seemed to grow even darker, if such was possible. They congealed into a human form, wearing a black suit, top hat and narrow wire-rimmed glasses. “Oh, really, Jack, what am I? Your personal deux ex machina? You really need to learn how to solve your own problems, lad.” The Shade broke apart into fragments of shadow that faded away before Jack could react.

It was nearing midnight when Jack descended from the sky to land at the door to his father’s observatory. Given his father’s life-long interest in astronomy, Jack knew the older man would still be up, and the lights burning inside the building confirmed this. He stepped inside to see his father hunched over a workbench, magnifying goggles over his eyes and a micro-torch in his hand.

“That you, Jack?” said Ted Knight.

“Yeah, you got a minute?”

The torch cut out with a snap and Ted pulled the goggles off his head. “Of course. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got this pain in the a- pain in the rear that’s buzzing around town on a flying scooter, poking his nose into anything related to dates, calendars, anything like that.” Jack flopped down on a battered couch in a corner of the room. “Driving me nuts.”

“Well, he picked the right day for it, didn’t he?” said Ted, his eyes twinkling behind thick glasses.

“What do you – oh, jeez, I didn’t even notice that it was April first! Probably too much to hope this clown will disappear at midnight, though.”

“Well,” said Ted, taking off his glasses and polishing one lens with an old handkerchief. “you never do know, do you?”

“Wait a sec! You know something about this, don’t you? Some one brought this clown to Opal, to, what? Make a fool of me?”

“Not exactly, Jack.” Ted took a seat in an overstuffed chair “You’ve been taking yourself so seriously lately, son. I made a few calls, talked to a few old friends. They made the arrangements, but you did the most important thing all on your own.”

“Huh? What’s that?”

“You were yourself. Charging in without thinking, the knight-errant, out to vanquish the dragon.” Ted got up and started toward the kitchen. “How about some hot cocoa. I could go for some cocoa.”

“Wait a minute,” cried Jack as he got up to follow. “How did you get Shade to go along? And Jon Valor. And what about David?”

Ted just shrugged as he wondered what his late son might have to do with it all.

Author’s Note:

I recently had the opportunity to read the entire Robinson run on Starman, from start to finish. Up until then, my only exposure to Jack Knight had been in JSA and his guest appearance in Power of Shazam. Usually, when a character is used in another series, they don’t some off as well as they do in their own book. So that, combined with the great reputation the book had in the 90’s, gave me high hopes.

Meh.

Robinson jump through so many hoops to forced his ideas into established continuity that it was painful, at times, to read. Tony Harris’ artwork was confusing at best, and Jack is a character that I could rarely work up any sympathy for. So, I decided to take the opportunity for a few potshots at some of the heavily-reinforced staples of the series.

Just be glad I didn’t chose to take on Grand Guignol…

Now I’ll just sit back and wait for the letters from Robinson’s lawyers, I guess.

Da ‘Cat!