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Post by ryokowerx on Dec 11, 2010 13:25:51 GMT -5
 All-Star Comics
(Featuring Ragman)
Issue #17: A Handkerchief in the Wind
Written by Ted Kendrick
Cover by Nate Lyons
Variant cover by Timo Shono
Edited by James Stubbs  |
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Post by ryokowerx on Dec 11, 2010 13:34:08 GMT -5
A woman is beautiful but you have to swing and swing and swing and swing like a handkerchief in the wind. - “Woman” by Jack Kerouac
The sound of a bell woke Rory Regan from his sleep. Damn, Regan thought to himself. “Fell asleep on the job again.” Rory rubbed his eyes and and took a sip from his now cold coffee and grimaced as the liquid went down. Alright, now I’m awake. The nights were always long. Not only did he work the cash register at the Rags n’ Tatters pawn shop during the day, but Rory was also a bona-fide superhero to boot. Regan would wrap himself up in his mystical cloak of rags and become the vengeful scourge of the Gotham City underworld known merely as the Ragman. Rory fought back a yawn and remembered that someone had just walked through the door of his pawn shop. He looked around, searching for the customer.
“Excuse me?” a feminine voice said from behind Rory. He turned around to see the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had light blond hair the color of cream, eyes that could pierce a man’s soul, and wore a tight pink glittery dress that she knew would command attention. She had his. Rory glanced her up and down. He noticed that she was carrying a large cardboard box but didn’t think too much about that since he had never had anyone with her caliber of beauty set foot through his door.
“Uh, yes? Can I help you?” Rory said, stammering a little. “Ah, come on, Rory!” he mentally kicked himself. Can I help you?! Real smooth! You can do better than that!
“Yes, I’m trying to sell some old things that used to belong to my father,” the girl placed the large box that was in her hands on the check-out counter. “Would you like to take a look? If you want, I’d be willing to part with them all for a couple hundred dollars.”
Rory picked up the box and rummaged through it. There was a wedding ring, a couple of old shirts, cassette tapes, harmonicas, a high school track trophy, and a few other things. He picked up the wedding ring and examined it closely. It was a diamond ring and certainly worth way more than two hundred dollars. He looked at the woman again and put the ring on the counter. “Are you sure your father is okay with you selling his things? This wedding ring looks pretty nice.”
“Oh, that ring shouldn’t be there!” the woman said, grabbing the ring off the counter. “It belonged to my mother. I don’t know how that got in there.”
“Oh, okay,” Rory replied. “Yeah, you should take that one back.” The woman smiled and held the ring in her hand.
“So would you be willing to buy these things?” the woman asked. Rory nodded and smiled. He did not want to disappoint this beautiful woman, although the contents of the box weren’t really worth a whole lot. Rory Regan wasn’t desperate or anything. Being a superhero just made him very busy. He rarely had time to spare on dating and relationships. He had few friends and his family had died years ago. Rory was alone, but that was a price he had to pay as the Ragman.
“I’ll give you five-hundred dollars altogether. How does that sound?” Rory said, smiling. He knew that price was way too generous, but he didn’t mind helping this woman out.
“That sounds good to me! Deal,” the woman said and shook Rory’s hand. “So, is this your shop?” the woman asked Rory. She looked around the shop. There was furniture, clothes, old movies, video games, musical instruments, comic books, and more.
“This is my shop,” Rory replied. “It used to be my father’s until he... passed away.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” the woman replied. “I’m sure it must have been hard.”
“He was a good man,” Rory replied. “He always wanted the best for me.”
“I understand,” the girl smiled. She moved her hand into his, trying to be nice and comforting. “I lost my mother too.” Rory and the woman looked at each other. Rory wanted this woman really badly, but again, not because he was desperate or anything. Yeah, right! echoed in his brain. She was out of his league anyways.
“I’m sorry,” Rory said, lowering his head. “At least she was able to raise a lovely daughter.”
“You’re sweet,” the woman laughed and his heart flopped. “And kinda cute,” the woman eyed Rory up and down. Could it be, perhaps, that this woman was interested in him, too? You’re acting like a lovesick puppy, his mind raged.
How could a beautiful girl like her ever want a ragged guy like me? Rory thought to himself. If he could, he had to find some way to ask her out on a date! Not many women could start up a conversation this emotional with him. This was something Rory wanted more of. He needed more of it.
But then Rory’s racing thoughts came up short, Come on, man. You know superheroes can’t have girlfriends! If a villain ever figured out your secret identity, she’d be a target! Then Rory realized an important point. He was only the Ragman. The only real super-hero that people cared about in Gotham was Batman. What sort of villains would attempt to destroy the Ragman’s loved ones? Rory hardly even had any loved ones. There was no danger at all in trying to seduce this woman. He crushed the rational red flags springing up in his head. If he wanted to think with his pants, he could.
“My name’s Rory Regan,” he said with a smile, extending his hand to the girl.
The girl shook his hand and replied, “I’m Mary Buchanan. It’s very nice to meet you, Rory.”
Their eyes met and it was obvious that there was instant attraction between the two. Rory slowly let go of her hand and said, “I think I would like to buy these things from you, Mary.”
Mary laughed and pushed the box closer to Rory. “Five-hundred dollars, then?”
Rory nodded and pushed a button on his cash register. He pulled out five one hundred dollar bills and handed them to her. “Sounds great,” he said, still smiling. Rory picked the box up and put it behind his desk. “Can I ask you something, Mary?”
“Sure,” Mary said. She placed her hands on the counter and leaned down. Her eyes were so dark and deep that Rory could not stop looking at them.
“Do you like food?” Rory said.
“Um... yeah, I mean, I guess so. Everyone has to eat, right?” Mary said, a little confused.
“No, no, no! Uhhh... haha. I mean... do you want to get some food sometime?” Rory said, trying to correct his mistake. “With me, I mean.”
“Sure, that sounds like it would be nice,” Mary said with that smile that broke hearts. She then pulled out a piece of paper from her purse and wrote down a phone number. “This is my number,” she said. “Call me soon?”
“Definitely!” Rory said. Mary smiled, put the cash in her wallet, picked up her purse, and started to leave the store. “See you soon, Rory!” She said, waving good-bye.
Rory watched her leave in her red Volkswagen convertible and sat there for a moment. He had both elbows on his desk with a dreamy look in his eyes. He could not get Mary out of his head. Her beautiful, glittery pink figure was seared into his brain. He desperately wanted to call her right then, at that moment, but she had only left his store roughly thirty seconds ago. Is it too soon? he thought to himself. “Surely not!”
“Surely not what?” Rory looked down and saw a little boy behind the counter. He didn’t realize he had said that last sentence out loud. “Surely not what, mister?” the boy repeated. Rory noticed that he had a copy of the Aquaman X-Box video game clutched in his hand.
“You’re... uh... surely not going to buy that game, are you, kid?” Rory said, trying to defend his last statement. “It’ll be five bucks. Is that worth the time you’ll never get back from playing it?”
“Here’s a dime then,” the kid said. He dropped the coin on the desk, took the game, and left.
“That kid’s lucky I’m not evil,” Rory mumbled to himself, “or else I would have made him a part of the Ragman for sure!”
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Post by ryokowerx on Dec 11, 2010 13:40:42 GMT -5
Rory picked up his fork and took a stab at his salad. He dropped a crouton on his lap and it rolled off onto the floor. “Excuse me!” he said.
Mary laughed and said, “It’s okay. How are you enjoying your salad? You should have gotten the pork chops. Mine are delicious!”
“My salad’s great. I actually can’t eat pork though,” Rory said. “I’m Jewish.”
“Oh, okay,” Mary smiled. “Well, I’m glad your food’s tasty.”
“Me too,” Rory said. He wasn’t focused on the food as much as he was focused on the beauty of his date, though. Mary was looking extremely wonderful tonight. She wore a long glittery, pink dress. He wondered is she always wore pink. Rory wore a white, collared dress shirt and black tie, trying to look classy without being too overdressed for the Gotham City streets in the early fall. Rory had waited three agonizing days before he had called her. He figured that was enough time not to seem too desperate without looking like a creep as well. He had called her up earlier that day and set up a fine dinner date to O’Neil’s Diner.
“So tell me about your father,” Rory said. “From what you were saying in the store, the two of you sound close.”
“Oh,” Mary said. “Well, we are. I love my father.”
“Tell me about him,” Rory said. He put his hand on hers. “I don’t really know anything about you at all. Tell me about your family.”
“Well,” Mary said. “I -” Mary was cut off from her story. There were sounds of screaming coming from outside of the restaurant. Mary turned to look at the front door, hoping to see what it could be. “Did you hear that!?” She asked Rory. She turned her head back around to see an empty chair and a couple of dollars left on the table. “Rory?”
Rory Regan charged into the men’s restroom. Not because he had an incredible urge to go, but because he had to change into the Ragman, scourge of the Gotham underground. Ragman unbuttoned his shirt and his cloak of rags emerged and snapped like enraged tentacles at the air around him. His cloak stretched and enveloped his body. Rory Regan was Ragman and Ragman was Rory Regan. The two of them were one. Ragman unbolted the restroom window and crawled out onto the evening streets of Gotham. Justice would be served.
Ragman immediately saw a crowd of people milling in a circle around whatever was causing the screams. He glanced quickly at the restaurant entrance and saw more people filing out to see what had caused all of the commotion. He saw Mary through the corner of his eye. He felt bad for ditching her, but he had more important things to do now.
Pushing past people, Ragman broke into the middle of the circle. People were now screaming at the sight of the Ragman too. Rory had begun to get used to it. He knew that his appearance was unsettling. He looked around on the pavement and didn’t see anything. What are people so scared about? Looking around at the crowd, he realized that people were pointing up. Ragman looked up as well and a drop of crimson fell on his nose. There were two men, floating in mid-air. That was definitely what was causing the commotion. Obviously, having two men floating in mid-air would be cause enough for a disturbance, but these two men were dead as well, their eyes gouged out, and contorted in a way that suggested they had been hanged. “Oh, wow,” Ragman said. Another drop of blood fell on Ragman’s shoulder. He backed up a couple of steps.
A handkerchief fell out of one of the men’s pockets. It fell down to the ground, slowly and methodically. For a split second, it almost looked as if the handkerchief was dancing in the wind. Ragman watched the handkerchief hit the ground. He wasn’t sure if his imagination was playing tricks on him or what, but it seemed as if the blood on the handkerchief made up an image of an eye.
Ragman pulled out a pocket digital camera and took two quick shots of the victims and the handkerchief. Rory began to hear the distant wail of police sirens. As Ragman, his methods as a vigilante weren’t liked by most, so he took the sirens as a hint to get lost. He ran out of the crowd and climbed up a nearby fire escape. He pulled out his camera and reviewed his photos. This time, something more important stood out. In the background of the first image, there was a hooded man lurking in an alleyway. Not really dressed right for this part of town, buddy, Ragman thought to himself. Judging by the angle of the picture, the alleyway should be around the next block. He ran, jumping and pushing off from the fire escape, to the next roof over.
Reaching inside a pocket of his cloak, Ragman pulled out a pair of binoculars. He glanced toward the busy street once again, noticing at least three GCPD cruisers in the vicinity now. Whoever caused those murders had to be on their way out of here by now. Fortunately, Ragman also looked in the other direction of the busy street and spotted the hooded man rounding a corner. He raced along the rooftops, gaining proximity to the fleeing man.
The man stopped for a moment to rest. He was panting, leaning heavily against a dirty alley wall. Under the purple cloak he wore, Ragman could see the hooded man’s heaving sides. He was out of shape and certainly unfit for running away from costumed vigilantes. Not a good combination in this town. Ragman produced a flashlight and snapped it on. The light shined directly into the man’s eyes. “Arrrgggh!” The hooded man cried, as he turned away and continued to run down the alley.
Ragman turned off the flashlight and headed back after him. The next turn is a dead end. There is no way for this man to escape me now, Ragman thought to himself.
Rounding the corner, Ragman was surprised to find the alleyway empty. “Damn,” he cursed. “I thought I had him! That’s what I get for the theatrics with the flashlight. I should have just bagged him then and there.” Looking around, Ragman saw no clues as to where the man could have gone. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.
Rory climbed back up onto the rooftops of Gotham City and scurried back over a couple of blocks to the scene of the crime. There were more police cars blocking off the road now and cops were directing people away, telling them that there was nothing to see here. The hell there wasn’t! A couple of firemen had ladders extended so that they could reach the victims and pull them down. Ragman sat on the rooftop, watching the scene. He pulled his camera back out and glanced at the photos again. He briefly thought about going down to the street and helping the police by giving them the clues he had, but he thought better of it. If he went down there, they would be on him as fast as they would have been on the hooded man.
Ragman didn’t like to think about his job this way, but he knew that the power behind his suit made him a murderer. The police understood that, too. After a few encounters with Batman, the Dark Knight was able to accept Ragman as an ally, but that didn’t mean that he had to like Ragman’s methods. However, the men and women whose souls were trapped in his suit of rags deserved to be there. They had all committed evil that cried out for redemption. If they participated in aiding him by giving their energies to help increase Ragman’s strength and stamina, they would be rewarded one day with entrance to heaven and the afterlife. Even though they all deserved hell, the suit of rags gave them a second chance. For that, Ragman decided that his actions were always just, or fair, at least.
“Alright, let’s look at what we have here,” Ragman thought out loud. He looked at the pictures again in close detail. “We have two men. I’m not sure who either of them are. Both ordinary looking men, wearing suits, probably going to O’Neil’s, like Mary and I did. One had a handkerchief that had a strange symbol of an eye on it, drawn in blood. Both of them had their eyes gouged out and they were hanged, mysteriously suspended in the air and you chased down a hooded man who may or may not have anything to do with this.” Ragman looked around for a second, pausing to catch his breath.
“Wait a sec...,” he pondered. “Maybe if I zoom in a bit....” Rory zoomed in on the first picture of the camera to where he could see the hooded man clearer. Despite the increased pixelation, on the front of the robe, near the man’s chest, there was a symbol of an upside down hand. In the center of the hand, there was an eye. “An eye,” he said. “Just like the eye on the handkerchief.” He looked even closer to the picture, “I recognize that hand symbol too! As a kid at synagogue, I learned that symbol was called the Hand of Miriam. Interesting...”
Ragman slumped against the wall of the building. He was tired. Rory put his hands on his face. “Sigh... I can’t believe I ruined that date too. Maybe Mary will forgive me for running out since there happened to be a murder... I don’t know. I guess we’ll see. I should call her tomorrow.” Ragman picked himself back up, called upon the strength of a handful of murderers from within his cloak, and his cloak teleported him back home.
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Post by ryokowerx on Dec 11, 2010 13:45:23 GMT -5
The next morning, Rory Regan woke up in his bed, alone and tired. “What a night...,” Rory thought aloud. Shuffling to his kitchen, he poured himself a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk. He noticed that there was a message on his answering machine, but he ignored it. “It’s probably Mary, calling to tell me what a cowardly guy I am for running out on her last night,” he sighed. “That torment can wait.” He then opened the door and got his copy of that day’s Gotham Gazette. Rory picked it up and brought it inside. Getting comfortable, he began his breakfast, mechanically putting food in his mouth but not really tasting any of it.
Nothing too exciting in Gotham today. Bruce Wayne was opening a new branch of WayneTech in some city in Washington state called Vanity. Batman made the front page by apprehending some nutcase called the Condiment King who was holding up a Big Belly Burger last night. Nothing too exciting at all.
Rory turned to the obituaries section. It could just be because he was morbidly curious, or, being Ragman, Rory has begun to invest an interest in all things pertaining to souls and the afterlife. Whatever the case, today Rory was surprised to see familiar faces in the obituaries.
The two men whom Rory had seen strung up last night were there. The article stated that Frank Potter and Harvey Smith were just two ordinary guys. One was a business man and the other, a dentist. The two of them had been roommates at Gotham University and were catching up over a meal at O’Neil’s last night. Rory couldn’t understand why someone would want to kill two innocent men and take their eyes out like that. “If I ever get the chance...,” Rory said to himself. “... I’m going to add those murdering cultists to my rags for sure.”
Then, something else caught Rory’s attention. There was an obit for a man named Patrick Buchanan. “Patrick Buchanan,” Rory read out loud. “Widower of Rebecca Buchanan and late father of Mary Buchanan.” The obituary was very short, skimming over, like Frank Potter and Harvey Smith’s obituaries, the cause of death. Rory understood why the Gotham Gazette wouldn’t want to publish anything about how the two men were hung without any strings with their eyes gauged out. It was lurid. However, Rory was confused about Patrick Buchanan. How come Mary didn’t mention this to me? Rory thought to himself. She had to have known that her father was dead. She was even selling his stuff! Hmmm... Mary couldn’t have -?!
Could Mary have killed her own father? For what reason and why?! That accusation made no sense to Rory. She was such a nice woman, but she had been lying to him about her father. It was time to figure out why.
Rory pushed the button on his answering machine and listened to Mary’s message first. <<“Hi, Rory. It’s Mary. Listen, I don’t know what happened last night, but I know you ran out on our date. If you didn’t want to go out with me, you didn’t have to ask. Even if there was a murder, you were still very rude to me. Ughhh...”>> There was a slight pause in the message. Mary was obviously frustrated and thinking. <<“This always happens to me. I pick the worst people to go out with.”>> Not knowing what else to say, Mary hung up and the message ended.
Rory hadn’t had to deal with an upset woman in a while. He wasn’t quite sure what to do next. He sighed and picked up the phone. He was just going to have to call her back.
The phone rang a few times before Mary answered. “Hello?” she said.
“Hi, Mary. It’s me, Rory. I just wanted to say how sorry I am about last night,” Rory said. “I guess I just freaked out when I heard all of the screaming.”
“Yeah, you did,” Mary said, not sounding very happy about it. “If I hadn’t gone outside to see what it was all about, you would have left me with the check!”
“Oh,” Rory said. Frankly, he hadn’t really given that much thought at all, but she was right. “I’m so sorry, Mary! I wish I could explain, it’s just... my dad was murdered. I can’t handle things like that. I’m sorry.” Rory wasn’t exactly lying. It was true that his father was murdered by gangsters. His dad had found a wad of bills in an old mattress that had wound up at Rags n’ Tatters one day. He and his friends had spent it all and then were tortured when the gang to whom the money belonged to wanted it back. However, they decided to settle on interest compounded in blood instead of cash. Rory’s father had been killed, so Rory donned the suit of souls for the first time, which he had found in a dusty box in his store, to avenge him and destroy the murdering gang.
“Rory, I... it’s okay. I’m sorry for getting upset. I should have been more understanding too,” Mary replied with more grace. This was good. They were back on good terms. The fact that Mary had not been phased by the story of Rory’s father meant one of two things. One, either she did not know that her father had been killed, or two, she had done the killing herself. With a public obituary like the one in the Gotham Gazette, it’s hard to imagine that Mary didn’t know about her father’s death. This made Rory suspicious. He would find out tonight.
“Mary, could I make it up to you? How about we go see a movie tonight?” Rory was trying to sound as nice as he could. He wanted to be around her some more so that he could judge for himself the truth about her. Was Mary Buchanan a murderer or simply in the dark? He really hoped there was some explanation that didn’t involve Mary with blood on her hands.
“Tonight, Rory? Hold on... let me check my calendar,” Mary left the phone for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Tonight sounds great.”
“Okay, thank you, Mary,” Rory said. “I promise it’ll be fun. I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock.”
“Alright. See you later, Rory,” she said, hanging up the phone.
Tonight, Rory would find out the truth about Mary Buchanan.
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Post by ryokowerx on Dec 11, 2010 13:51:54 GMT -5
At seven o’clock, Rory Regan arrived at Mary Buchanan’s house. There were two cars parked in her driveway. The red Beetle that Rory knew to be Mary’s and a white Jeep Wrangler that had to belong to someone else. Perhaps that’s her father’s, Rory thought to himself. He didn’t think that Mary was seeing anyone else, but he didn’t know that for sure. He’d ask her about it once she got into his car.
Upon seeing Rory’s car, Mary opened the door to her house. She was wearing a white sweater, pink skirt with flower print and matching pink heels on her feet. Her blond, curly hair swayed in the wind. Mary made sure to lock the door behind her as she left. She smiled toward Rory and walked towards his car.
“Good evening,” Rory said as she opened the car door.
“Hello!” Mary beamed. “So what movie are we going to see tonight?”
“Anything you want to,” Rory answered. “Is that your father’s car there? Is he over at your house?”
“Oh, yes. That’s his jeep. He’s just inside, watching TV and drinking a beer,” Mary replied. “I figured he wouldn’t mind if I stepped out of the house for a few hours.”
“Well, I would love to meet him,” Rory replied. “If that’s okay with you?”
Mary began to look nervous. “Umm,” she said. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea. He had a hard day at work today. He was a little grouchy.”
Rory knew that Mary’s evasiveness meant that she was lying. That was unfortunate. Rory had high hopes for this relationship with Mary, but he knew that she was hiding something and he had to figure it out. “Mary,” he started. “I know your father is dead. I read his obituary in the paper this morning.”
Mary started crying. She put her hands on her face and bent over, trying to hide her sobs. Rory put a hand on her back, attempting to ease her pain. “Just tell me the truth,” Rory asked.
Mary cried for another minute or two. Eventually, she was able to collect herself, “I... alright, Rory. I’m sorry for lying. It’s just so hard to understand his murder...”
“Believe me, I know,” Rory said. “My father was killed too. Could you tell me what happened?”
“Of... of course,” Mary stammered. “It happened a week ago...
“My father always had a difficult time providing for my family. Growing up, Dad never really had a steady job. I think my mother’s disappointment in my father drove her to be sick. My father struggled for weeks to find a steady source of income to provide for her care and raise me at the same time. My mother was bedridden for months before finally passing away. I hate to admit it, but sometimes, I thought she was faking it just to get him to work harder. I guess I was wrong.
“I grew up and it was time for me to start thinking about college. Like I said, we were poor and there was no way that Dad could afford it. I wasn’t bright enough in class to earn a significant scholarship and there are few people in Gotham, besides Bruce Wayne, who helped out people like me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t lucky enough to get Wayne’s attention.
“My father was dead set on finding a way to earn enough money to get me into Gotham University. Through an old friend, he discovered a society called the Hamsa Cult that fought to ward off something called the Evil Eye. I didn’t find out about how crazy it all was until after dad died. The members of this society claimed they protected Gotham City by targeting a select few who had significant influence in bringing the Evil Eye into our plane and killing them. The Hamsa Cult then took every penny to the targets’ names. It wasn’t stealing since the targets didn’t deserve their money. They gained a holy reward and protected Gotham City. It seemed like a worthy calling to my father.
“However, after awhile, the ‘holy work’ had begun to take a toll on my father. He wanted to get out. He couldn’t kill anymore. He did not understand that the Hamsa Cult was asking him to kill specific targets who were bringing about ‘the return of the Evil Eye.’ He saw the targets as innocent people. He had to get out.
“Of course, the Hamsa Cult wouldn’t have that. They came to my house one night when my father was here and they used their arcane powers to levitate him into the air by his neck. Then they... gouged his eyes out.”
“Like the two men at the restaurant last night,” Rory said out loud.
“Oh no, was that how they were murdered!?” Mary exclaimed. “I couldn’t see past the large crowd and the cops. That means that the Hamsa Cult must be looking for me too! They know that I know that they killed my father!”
“I don’t think...” Rory began to say, but Mary cut him off.
“And you!” she exclaimed, her eyes going wild. “You’ve always been so interested in me and my family! Maybe you’re one of them!” Mary opened Rory’s car door and bolted out of the car. She looked at Rory and screamed, “I don’t ever want to hear from you again, Rory! I can’t trust you!” She slammed his car door and ran back towards her house.
Rory was taken aback for a moment. He was genuinely shocked. Had she just accused him of being a murdering cultist? “I take it our date is cancelled then?!” Rory called back after her. Mary slammed her house door and was done with him.
Rory drove slowly back towards his shop, his mind more on recent events than the road. He had to drive through downtown Gotham to get there. Good thing the usual logjam of traffic didn’t require too much of his attention. Rory was feeling pretty sad that Mary had broken things off with him so fast over nothing of his own fault. He was obviously innocent but there was no way he could explain things to her. He had to give Mary up and see if he couldn’t help her out as Ragman. Even if Rory Regan couldn’t have Mary in his life, Ragman could still help her find her father’s killer and bring him and the Hamsa Cult to justice.
Rory had the window to his car rolled down as he was listening to the radio. He was stopped at a red light when he heard a cry from outside, “Aggggghhhh!”
He threw his car into park and jumped out. As he ran towards where he thought he heard the scream from, his ragged cloak began to engulf his body and bind itself to him. The Ragman was on the prowl again. He rounded a corner of the alley and saw the last thing that he expected to see. In Gotham City, crimes and murders are vast and random, but lately, things had been all too coincidental in Rory Regan’s life. Not only had Mary Buchanan’s father been associated with the cult that had interrupted their lovely dinner, but Ragman had just stumbled upon another incident caused by the Hamsa Cult.
There were two men dressed in purple robes. Each robe had the symbol of the hand with the eye, the Hand of Miriam, in the center on them. Above them, a woman floated, hanged in the air. Her freshly-plucked eyes rested in the hand of one of the cultists. When they saw Ragman, they started and attempted to run. They did not get far however, because Ragman used the strength of ten men to run and subdue them before they knew what was happening.
Ragman had a small bit of rope in his cloak and used it to bind the two cultist’s hands and feet. He flung them over his shoulder and teleported to the rooftop above where they would not be bothered by the arriving GCPD. “Hello, gentlemen,” Ragman growled. “I have a few questions to ask you.”
He flung the two cultists down on the floor of the roof and stared them down.
“What... what... what are you?” one of the cultists stammered.
“Don’t tell him anything!” The other cultist yelled back.
Ragman shook his head in disgust. Suddenly, the cloak began to move and tentacles of rags sprung out and grabbed the defiant cultist. “Ahhhhhhh!” the man screamed. The rags pulled the man towards Ragman’s cloak, drawing him in. The cultist clung to the ground, scraping it futilely with is fingernails, trying to get a grip. Eventually, his strength gave out and he disappeared screaming into the darkness of the cloak. A new purple rag appeared on the top of Ragman’s foot.
“Did you... did you kill him?” the other cultist asked.
“He is in Purgatory,” Ragman answered. “He has a chance to earn redemption if he aids me during the coming centuries. Only then, will he be allowed into Heaven.”
“I didn’t want to kill her!” the man cried. “She was on the list though! She was going to bring about the coming of the Evil Eye, an ancient spirit who is content with nothing but mass chaos and torture!”
“I know about your list,” Ragman snarled. “Was Patrick Buchanan also on your list?”
“Pat?” the man replied. “He was one of us! Of course he wasn’t on the list!”
“But yet he was killed,” Ragman said. “You say the Hamsa Cult wasn’t the cause?”
“Positive!” the man yelled in reply. “Now you have to let me go! I need to return to the shrine so that I can complete the ritual! I can’t be responsible for the return of the Evil Eye!”
“Of course,” Ragman replies. “You can’t be responsible for anything, can you? There is no going back.” Ragman pulls the screaming cultist into his cloak as well, adding another purple patch to his cloak of rags. Ragman wasn’t sure if he believed what the cultists said or not. He was pretty sure that he didn’t believe in the existence of the Evil Eye, but he had seen weirder things during his days. Just above Ragman, if a person looked hard enough, a shape of an eye could be seen among clouds that gathered in the dark red sky of Gotham City.
Ragman teleported back into the driver’s seat of his car. As he pressed his foot down on the accelerator, his suit of rags began to fade away. “The Hamsa Cult didn’t kill Mary’s father. She was lying,” Rory thought to himself. “If that’s true, then did Mary kill her own father?!” Rory’s phone began to buzz. He had left it on vibrate. “Hello?”
“Rory Regan?” an unknown voice said on the other end of the phone. “This is Officer Lisa Ramirez, Gotham City Police Department. I’m sorry to report that there has been a break in at your shop.”
“Oh, great,” Rory said sarcastically. “Thank you, Officer. I’m on my way now.”
Rory drove for another fifteen minutes and finally made it back to his pawn shop. Officer Ramirez was there, waiting for him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Regan,” she said. “Do you have a security camera to review and see who broke in to your store?”
“Honestly, it was between buying a security camera or paying for electricity this month, Officer,” Rory replied. He looked around his shop to see everything pushed over, scattered, and out of place. “Not all of us can have a steady salary,” he said. The store was a mess. However, nothing looked like it was stolen. Rory walked behind his desk and saw that the box that Mary had sold him was gone. It was the only thing that was missing.
“Notice anything gone?” Ramirez asked.
“Actually, nothing but a box I had right here,” Rory said, “which isn’t even a big loss since there was nothing in it except for a few worthless bits and ends.”
“So you don’t want to file a report?” Ramirez said.
“I just want to get to sleep, thanks. It’s been a long day.”
“Of course,” Ramirez replied. “Goodnight, Mr. Regan.”
“Goodnight,” Rory replied. However, it was not the end of Rory Regan’s night. Rags n’ Tatters had been trashed, but only Mary’s box had been stolen. The only person who could have wanted that box back had to be Mary Buchanan. However, Mary had told Rory that she never wanted to hear from him again.
“Alright, Mary. Have it your way,” Rory thought out loud. “You don’t want to see me again? Fine. Looks like Ragman’s paying you a visit tonight.”
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Post by ryokowerx on Dec 11, 2010 13:57:46 GMT -5
Ragman teleported right outside of Mary Buchanan’s home. The lights of the house were dark, but her convertible and her father’s jeep were still parked in the driveway. That was a good sign. She was home. Ragman turned the doorknob and tried to enter the house. Of course, the door was locked. Ragman called upon the powers of the Hamsa cultists that he had collected earlier that night and teleported through the door.
The house was neat and looked as if it had been untouched in the last few days. Ragman slowly walked through the whole house, checking every room to see if Mary Buchanan was anywhere to be found. She was not. Where could she be? Ragman thought to himself. He had checked the entire house. A door in the kitchen suddenly caught Ragman’s eye. He had assumed that it was a pantry or closet, so he hadn’t touched it, but it could possibly lead to a basement as well. He opened the door and saw that his hunch was correct. There was a flight of stairs leading down.
Ragman pulled out a flashlight and proceeded down the stairs. He did not care if Mary saw him because he intended to confront her anyways. At the bottom of the stairs, he saw a desk with a lamp on it. Mary was sitting at the desk, flipping through a wad of dollar bills. The box of her father’s things that she had sold to him were on there as well. She had stolen the things back from his pawn shop. Rory wished now that he hadn’t bought her things for such an elevated price to get on her nice side. He was also beginning to think now that Mary Buchanan lacked any sort of nice side at all.
Suddenly, Mary spotted Ragman on the stairs. She gasped and dropped the money that was in her hand. “Who the hell are you?!” she screamed, picking up her father’s high school track trophy and throwing it at him. Ragman moved to his right one step and dodged the trophy with ease. It hit the floor and shattered.
“You killed Patrick Buchanan. Why?” Ragman said. His voice sounded deep and scary. He could tell that Mary was frightened, as she should be.
“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mary yelled back.
Ragman walked over to her and grabbed her wrists. He bent down so that his face was even with hers. “You lie!” he replied.
“Stop! You’re hurting me!” Mary screamed. Ragman let go and she fell to the ground. Mary lay in a heap on the floor and began to cry.
Rory took pity on her for a moment. “Just tell me the truth,” he asked. He hadn’t meant to hurt Mary, but she had provoked him. Perhaps, talking it out would help, but Rory knew that no matter what she said, he couldn’t trust her for sure. She had told him so many stories already that even he was getting confused with her lies.
“You want the truth? Fine,” Mary said. “But if I go to court, they won’t do a thing. I had to kill him! It was self defense!”
Ragman was somewhat startled that Mary had admitted that she had killed her father. “Go on,” Ragman said. “Why did you have to kill your father?”
“He... he,” she stammered. “He was becoming very dangerous. He had become a member of a society called the Hamsa Cult. They’re a group of people who are dedicated to preventing the return of the Evil Eye. My father joined up because of the money, but it became more than that to him. The Hamsa Cult eventually became the only thing that mattered to Dad. He craved power and respect, things he never had before. He increased in rank with the cult and got more dangerous and insane with every step of the ladder.”
“I see,” Ragman said. He looked down at the floor and looked at the scattered money. “Where did you get the money?”
“I... I sold some of Dad’s things to a pawn shop in town. I got some really good money for them, so I stole them back and figured I could resell them to other pawn shops and get the same deal,” Mary said. “It was wrong, but I need the cash!”
“Mary,” Ragman said. He pulled back his hood and revealed to her that he was Rory Regan. Rory was upset that the woman of his dreams had turned out to be a common thief, and a murderer too. He wondered what that said about his character. He knew there was no going back now. Ragman was going to have to take her in one way or another.
“Rory?!” she exclaimed. “What are you?!”
“I am the Ragman, Mary,” he said simply. “How could you kill your own father? Sure, he may have gotten in with the wrong people, but it was always to help you, wasn’t it?”
“My father,” Mary started, “was an evil man. He murdered innocent people and took their eyes. All just to keep away a mythical evil eyeball. It was disgusting.”
“But Mary,” Ragman pleaded, “killing your father only puts you on the same level as him! Can’t you see that?”
Mary paused for a moment and then broke down and cried again. “Oh, Rory!” she cried. “I’m sick! You have to help me!”
“You’re right,” Rory replied. He lifted his hood back up on his head his face disappeared. “You are sick. And you’re lying.”
Ragman grabbed Mary’s left arm and pulled the sleeve of her sweater up. “Stop! You’re hurting me!” she screamed. They were useless pleas because her arm revealed a tattoo of an eye on her wrist.
Mary was a member of the Hamsa Cult too?! Ragman realized. He hadn’t fully believed that she could be a cultist, but he had been right. Mary, seeing that her lies were useless now, spun out of Ragman’s grasp and muttered some words under her breath. He hands began to glow blue and a burst of bright energy shot out of her hands. Ragman just barely had time to jump out of the way. The burst of energy hit a nearby wooden cabinet and shattered it into a million splinters. The remains of books and other nick-knacks went flying everywhere.
“I never wanted to kill my father!” she screamed at Ragman as she sent more attacks his way. “I wasn’t lying, he had become a power hungry madman!”
“So where does that leave you?” Ragman asked in retaliation as he dodged behind a couch to evade another large burst of energy. Ragman wasn’t sure what would happen to him if one of those finally hit him but he didn’t intend to find out.
“Me?” Mary asked. “I am the human avatar of the Hand of Fatima.”
“So lay off the Big Belly Burgers,” Ragman retorted. Jumping and dodging another attack.
“You laugh, but it’s true,” Mary said. “My father and I joined up with the Hamsa Cult in an attempt to get more money, but soon, it became much more than that. I discovered that I was a goddess! I am the living embodiment of Tanit! The Hamsa Cult worships me!”
“So you discovered you were a goddess, mastered all these magical powers, gave some to your followers, and kill people to ward off the Evil Eye? That’s how the other cultists were able to hang their victims in midair and take their eyes, isn’t it?” Rory asked.
“I trained my people well. The targets on my list must die because they could bring about the potential return of the Evil Eye! My followers understand that! And you know what else, Rory?” Mary said as she stared Ragman down. Her eyes glowed bright blue with the might of the goddess Tanit powering her.
“What’s that, holy one?” Ragman retorted as he prepared himself for another blast.
“You were always on the list!” she said as she sent a larger, more powerful blast of energy in his direction. Rory dodged it again and it hit the stairs, causing a massive hole. “Why do you think I went to your store to sell my father’s things? I could have gone anywhere, but you were on the list. You could bring about the return of the Evil Eye! When I kill you, it’ll be like two birds with one stone, Rory Regan.”
“Yeah, about that,” Rory said. “I stopped two of your cultists tonight from returning to your shrine. Whatever you do to ward off the Evil Eye, it didn’t work tonight.” Then, as if on cue, a gust of wind suddenly engulfed the basement. Books and papers flew around the room, cutting Mary and Rory with their pages. The wind had came from the top of the stairs. Rory looked up and saw a bright red eye floating at the top of the stairs. It blinked a couple of times and the wind began to get even more intense.
“It’s here!” Mary cried. “The Evil Eye has returned! What have you done?!”
The eye began to float down the flight of stairs, as if it were heading towards Mary. Ragman used every bit of power that he could muster up to make his way towards the stairs. The wind was intense. Ragman could hear the souls of his cloak scream in pain as he fought to keep his footing against the rough gusts.
Ragman placed himself in between the Evil Eye and Mary. The Evil Eye and Rory stared each other down for a few seconds. Then, Rory smiled. He had an idea that had worked well enough before. He pulled out his flashlight and shined it into the Eye. Suddenly, the winds ceased and the Eye reeled back in agony. It began to pulsate and shake and then it caught flame. The Evil Eye then deteriorated into a pile of ash on the basement stairs.
“Hurts like hell, right?” Ragman said triumphantly. The pile of ash that had formerly been the Evil Eye was still smoking.
Mary stood in silence, gasping for her breath. She looked dumbfounded and amazed at what Rory had just done. “Being one with Tanit has made me thirst for blood and war,” she said. “I never fathomed that the Evil Eye could be defeated. I never wanted to kill anyone... I just wanted my father and I to be safe and secure. What have I done?”
Ragman walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. His cloak began to move and sway. “Mary,” Ragman said, taking his hood off once again. “You have a chance to earn redemption. As a patch on my cloak, you have an opportunity to do something worthwhile for once.” His cloak wrapped itself around her as the two of them met in a hug. “Today, the nightmare is over.”
Ragman walked out of Mary Buchanan’s house. He carried the large cardboard box with the odds and ends that she had sold him days before. Rory glanced up at the dark red sky of Gotham City and sighed. He walked alone, a soldier of Gotham City, receiving nothing but heartbreak for all the good he did. On his chest, a new glittery pink patch glistened in the moonlight.
The End.
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Post by mockingbird on Jul 26, 2011 10:54:46 GMT -5
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