Issue 4 Fight Scene
by darkknight95

You may not know that when CackleoftheGreenGoblin writes the script for Shadows of Night, he writes it entirely in novel form, descriptions and everything. This leaves it up to me to chop it all up into pages and panels, where often his awesome descriptions are lost. For the action scene in issue four, Cackle has written it out beautifully, and here it is:

(Pages 17-20)


The lackey nodded, and continued with his job. As he turned back around towards the truck's back door, he was met by a gloved fist.


He went flying through the air, and smashed into a brick wall opposite of the truck.

"-the hell?" William began, spinning back around to face the truck.

Nothing was there.

I almost felt bad for what I'd done: I was sure that the man I had just knocked into the wall wasn't going to be coming around anytime soon, and when he woke up in a cell, I was certain his pain was going to be excruciating. But the key word is almost.

Some guy in a goofy-looking green/black striped sweater turned around to look at me. I assumed that the truck I was hiding in was extremely dark, because he hadn't seemed to notice me, which was probably a good thing: he looked well-built enough that if he got a hold of me, I'd probably be crushed to dust, even with my spider-strength.

"Hey, Vito, get over here," he waved to one of the other men with him.

Three guys standing, and only one of them looked like a challenge.

"Get inside there, and check it out." He pointed at the truck's storage compartment, where I'd been hiding in the darkness.

I saw Vito reach down around his waist, retrieving a handgun. A few seconds later, the other weak-looking guy did the same. The striped-sweater guy did not, however. Vito climbed up into the back, quickly standing back up, gun raised.

"Anybody in here?" he called.

Why the hell would I reply to him?

Because the truck wasn't exactly as big as a mall like I'd hoped, I only had a few seconds to react before he eventually bumped into me. I bounced up to the ceiling, and looked down on him. He continued walking, smacking into the end of the storage cab.

"Dammit," he cursed, massaging his forehead. "Boss, nobody's in her- GAH!"

I came down full force on his head, smashing him into the floor, causing him to fire off a round before he passed out. His gun clattered against the wall. The second lackey began to make a mad dash for Vito's body when his boss stuck out his arm, holding him back.

"It's the Spider-Man," he told him. "Don't go in there: it's just what he's wantin'..."

He was a wise man. Kicking off the end of the storage cab, I torpedoed out of the truck, sticking to the same wall I had knocked the first guy into.

"What'd I tell yah?" the big guy yelled.

The lackey trained his gun on me, and fired three consecutive shots. I dodged each one, and splinters of brick flew in all directions.

The boss turned around, reached into the truck, and pulled out a large bag of sand. He was definitely as strong as he looked. With a groan, he lobbed the sandbag my way, narrowly missing his guy's head in the process. I was easily able to avoid it, but after it smashed into the wall, it threw clumps of sand everywhere.

"Watch where you throw that sand, man!" the lackey yelped.

"Hah! Sandman, you get it?" I quipped, something I rarely did. I repeated the torpedo maneuver, and smacked into the lackey, who was able to fire off one more round. This time, it shot the glass straight out of a window above us, sending glass showering down on us. A fist to the jaw silenced him and his gun.


"The Talk"
by darkknight95

As mentioned in the intro for Shadows of Night #2, Peter Parker had a "falling-out" with his Aunt May. Below is that scene in text form.


The dark heart at the center of my city is outmatched by one other: mine.

After pulling the trigger on that father of a little girl who didn't get to see her daddy come home that night because he was killed by a fifteen-year-old kid, all out of revenge, I fell apart.

I was on the road to being valedictorian of my class at Midtown High; 11th grade and an A+ honor student, even though I was still coping with the death of my uncle two years after his death. I hadn't shown too many signs of depression at the time. Then... there was the argument.


"Aunt May, I'm home," I shakily called out, entering the house I shared with my aunt, the house we formerly shared with my uncle. Aunt May had been in the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are dear," she replied, walking towards me with a worried expression on her face. I set my back-pack down on the floor.

She wrapped her arms around me, and held me in her embrace. When she released her arms, she kissed my cheek. I couldn't meet her eyes.

"Peter, is something wrong?" she asked. Her hand motioned for me to follow her to the kitchen table.

After taking our seats, I still found it difficult to meet her gaze.

"Is something wrong?" she repeated. "Are you in trouble?"

She moved her hands over mine; I hadn't even remembered resting them on the table.

"Did you do something wrong?"

I had been dreading this moment the whole day. I was finally going to tell Aunt May, after two years of pain and suffering... I was going to tell her the truth. The truth of what happened the night Ben Parker died. I almost decided not to call out to her upon my arrival, and just skip what I was fearing altogether. But I couldn't live a lie anymore.

"Uncle Ben was murdered." I told her.

A strange look of sadness, but also confusion crossed her face.

"I know, Peter. I know," she put her hand under my chin, lifting my head up. "What do you really want to tell me?"

I bit my lip.

"I could've stopped it from happening... I went to a place where I thought I could make some money, help you guys out for all you've done for me... I got cheated out of the cash, and when the manager running the place got robbed right in front of me... I let the burglar walk free. I could've easily stopped him, and I didn't." It all left my mouth in one breath.

A look of even more confusion played across her face. Her hands pulled back off mine, but only slightly. I still noticed it, though.

"I don't understand," she told me, her voice cracking. She understood.

"The burglar killed Uncle Ben," I told her, my voice cracking as well. I lost it "Because of me, Uncle Ben is @#$%ing dead! He's dead, and there's not a God %&#$ed thing we can do about it!"

"Don't talk that way!" she yelled, fully removing her hands from atop of mine. "This isn't you!"

"Yes it is," I told her, my gaze shifting towards the ground. "And you know what? I found the guy at a warehouse..."

I raised my head up, and looked her straight in the eyes.

"And I put a bullet in his head."

Her jaw dropped.

After a handful of seconds of complete silence, she struck me across my face.

"Get out," she demanded in a monotone voice.

"But I-"


I couldn't believe what was happening. I didn't expect it to go over well, but... this had taken a terrible turn; and I fully embraced it, through the tears and the heartache I felt.

"Fine!" I screamed back, standing up, and knocking my chair over onto the tile. "I don't @#$%ing need this place! I'll find my own place, and... I'm gonna get a job! I'm gonna make it without you! I thought you'd understand. I was a @#$%ing Freshman! My uncle had just been killed, and you don't think I'd do something drastic?"

"You killed another human being. I don't care what he did, nobody deserves to be murdered. You are not the boy I raised. Get out of my house. And don't you dare make me say it again."

She quickly stood up from the table, and ran for the stairs. I heard her slam her bedroom door. I guess I couldn't blame her.

Deciding there was nothing of interest to me in the house, I picked up my back-pack, and casually walked out the door, slowly closing it behind me.

It hadn't been a good two years after Uncle Ben's passing... but that was the last day of the best of my life.


The following morning, I dropped out of school. I was on my way to my high school diploma, countless scholarships, a real chance to attend Empire State University; and I threw it all away.

I haven't talked to Aunt May much since that day. I've tried to reconcile with her, and she's had her fair share of tries as well, but things haven't been the same. I don't think they ever will. Things will never be the same.


Every night for the past five years, I've harbored a secret.

Every night for the past five years, I've watched over this city - my city - and I've protected her.

Every night for the past five years, I've helped to put away at least one more criminal, in some misguided effort to redeem myself.

Every night for the past five years, my city has looked upon a vigilante.

Every night for the past five years, Spider-Man has left his mark.

It was on that night five years ago that I had reached my breaking point.

I am Spider-Man.