Rated T for drug reference, mild violence.
Gotham City. 2006.
It was a dark street in the Gotham slums- the only lighting coming from either the moon or the bright and flashing towers from the nicer parts of the city. If there were nicer parts. The only well-lit building on the block was Rags & Tatters- a local shop, owned by a Mr. Donald Regan. The pawn shop was filled with bits and pieces of cloth and useless items. Some of the things that were sold Donald and his son, Roy, decided to keep, and were used to make clothes for them.
Roy Regan was seventeen years old and scrawny. With short black hair and pale blue eyes that frantically looked around, one would expect him to be some kind of thief or druggie- but he wasn't. Roy studied heavily, and was considered a nerd at his school. But, with the support of his father to make a better life than they did now in the pawn shop, he didn't much mind being a nerd.
One day, the small golden bell by the door chimed- signaling someone walked in. Roy, who had been sitting and reading a book, perked up. The man who walked in was tall, eyes shaded, wearing a blue hat and matching cloak. Emotionless, the man seemed to float over to the register.
Slowly, Roy managed to ask- "Can I help you?"
The stranger said nothing, but turned his head to look at a pale green jumpsuit somebody had thrown away, that Roy's father had salvaged. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to glow white, the jumpsuit glowing as well. Finishing, the man looked back at Roy. "Use it when the time is right." He said mysteriously, before vanishing in a puff of smoke.
Now Roy was utterly confused- and frankly, scared. Walking over to the scrappy jumpsuit, he lifted the cloth and stuffed it behind the counter, licking his lips as he went back to work.
Later that night, Roy and his dad had dinner- nothing fancy. Pasta. Roy ate slowly, still thinking about the stranger from earlier. His father devoured his meal, before receiving a phone call. Stroking his black mustache, he looked at his son apologetically before answering it. "Vin. Yeah. No, see, I will get the money to you Friday. Latest." He said, standing up and walking away from the couch they were eating on.
Roy knew his father was a drug addict. There was no hiding it, in their three room home. After his Mrs. Regan died, he let himself go. Roy simply finished his pasta and went to wash his dish, sighing all the while as he heard the phone conversation.
___
The Friday Donald Regan's drug money was due, was the day Donald Regan died. They had met in a lowly alleyway, Donald with a suitcase from the pawn shop, they with several guns. He had one hundred dollars less than the price for the marijuana he bought. So, they turned on him- blowing several holes through his chest before he fell over, dead.
By the time the news got to Roy, the body was already in the morgue. He was assured that the best detectives were working on his case- something about a monkey, or chimpanzee- and then left alone. Nights were lonely- most of the time he simply ate, sold stuff at the shop, and cried. He hardly slept. Roy was soon a wreck of emotions. Then, as if forced into his mind, he remembered the suit the stranger had talked about. Going into the pawn shop, he lifted the fabric with his hand, looking it up and down. It was lighter than usual, and emanated some sort of greenish light. Like magic.
So- feeling a bit silly- he put the suit on. He had heard about all sorts of super-hero figures that existed. But what could he do? Sew? Sell? Bargain a fair price? However, as soon as he got into the raggedy suit, he felt several times better. Stronger, even. Wrapping a green, wool cloak around his neck, he looked at himself in a broken mirror. Roy looked... scary. Like some sort of scarecr-
He wasn't allowed to finish that thought as the suit flashed green light, and the next thing Roy saw was the group of drug dealers his father had been associated with. Standing in front of them with cape billowing, he wondered how he got there- but the question was easily answered by a mysterious presence in his mind.
The suit is capable of increasing your overall physicals, tenfold. You now teleport to wherever is the nearest point of danger. You may also reap the souls of the evil spirits.
The voice of the stranger spoke in his mind, as Roy saw what looked like a red flame coming from the inside of the drug dealers- who were drawing guns to kill the mysterious man made of rags.
Quickly- surprisingly quickly- Roy jumped at the nearest one, reaching his hand toward the red flame, which turned into a rag as soon as his hand touched it. The man's skin grew pale white, and he fell to the ground- still breathing, but unable to do anything whatsoever. The others were surprised by this. Unaware that he was putting the rag on his suit, Roy glared at the others.
The first goon to recuperate fired his gun at him. It hit his shoulder, but passed straight through, like he was intangible. Leaping toward him, he sent a punch toward him, sending the poor henchman flying into his coworker. Their souls floated to him, turning into rags as they attached to his suit. By that time there was only one left- obviously the con artist.
Raising his hand, he unknowingly called upon the dark powers that were manifested in the suit. Four glowing and decaying arms reached out of the walls around the con man, grabbing him and holding him tight.
Struggling in fear, the thug cried out. "Who are you?!"
Roy glared at him. "The son of the man you killed. I am the Ragman." He scowled. The name he came up with on the spot was pretty lame- but that didn't matter. Reaching out his hand, he tore out the soul of the one who murdered his father, attaching the long red rag to his suit. No need to be here, he went and jumped out the window, surprising the boy inside the suit by flying.
"This is so cool," Roy said- not loud enough for anyone to hear of course. Now, he went off to find his school bullies.
___
Now, eight years later, Ragman's suit was covered in different rags. All kinds of evil souls were on his suit, and now he looked at the world below from the top of Wayne Tower. Seeing all sorts of small red lights from afar- souls to be taken. Souls from the underworld.
Jumping off the tower, he began to fly toward the nearest group of evil souls, before his suit flashed a bright green. "Not again..." He muttered, as he teleported to a local bar. Two other people stood in front of him- the stranger who had given him his suit, and a monkey wearing a detective's hat.
"Detective Chimp. This is-" The man in blue started, but the monkey interrupted him.
"Ragman. I know. You're quite popular now, Mr. Regan." The chimp said, baring his fangs in a smile as he held out his hand.
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