Inheritance of Night

 New Blood in the City

Arrival in Queens (POV: Third Person)

The sliding glass doors at JFK hissed open, letting in a wave of humid New York air and the relentless noise of arrivals. Silas trailed behind his mother, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, blinking against the harsh terminal lights. His mother's stride was brisk, purposeful, as if she could outwalk her jetlag.

Aunt Lydia stood near the baggage claim, waving a neon pink "WELCOME HOME" sign with one hand and balancing her phone in the other. Her hair was wrapped in a bright scarf, and her smile was wide enough to light up the arrivals hall.

"Look at you two!" Lydia called, rushing forward. "You made it in one piece! I was starting to think JFK would eat you alive."

Silas's mother grinned and hugged her sister tight. "You and your dramatics, Lydia. We survived just fine."

Lydia pulled back, eyeing Silas up and down with a smirk. "Silas, you've grown taller—and what's this? College feeding you or just too many late-night pizzas?"

Silas managed a sheepish smile. "Uh, probably both, Aunt Lydia."

His mother nudged him gently. "Don't mind her. She's just jealous you still have hair."

Lydia cackled, then reached for Silas's bag. "Let's get your stuff before someone mistakes it for lost and found. Come on, help your old aunt out."

They gathered their luggage, Silas awkwardly maneuvering his suitcase while Lydia wrestled with a stubborn rolling bag. Outside, the city's energy hit them full force—honking horns, shouts in a dozen languages, and the thick scent of exhaust. Lydia led the way to a gleaming black SUV wedged between a yellow cab and a delivery van.

"Welcome to Queens, kid," she said, popping the trunk. "Hope you're ready for a real New York summer."

 Welcome to Queens (POV: Silas)

Traffic in Queens was a test of patience and will. Silas slumped in the back seat, thumb scrolling through his phone, eyes glazed. Up front, his mom and Aunt Lydia volleyed rapid-fire conversation about wedding cakes, guest lists, and which cousin had the worst taste in music.

He barely registered the world outside until a sudden commotion snapped him to attention.

"Stop that guy! He took my purse!"

Silas looked up just in time to see a blur of red and blue arc over the gridlocked cars. Spider-Man—his suit glinting with metallic blue panels and crisp white accents, just like the Insomniac games—landed with acrobatic precision on a taxi roof. In one fluid motion, he flipped forward, fired a web, and snagged the fleeing thief by the ankles. The man dangled upside down from a lamppost, squirming helplessly as bystanders cheered and snapped photos.

Aunt Lydia craned her neck. "Only in New York, huh?"

Silas let out a long sigh. "I just got here and I already hate this city. Never thought I'd say it, but… I miss Detroit."

They finally pulled up to the family townhouse—a riot of sound and color. The front door swung open before they even reached the steps. Cousins spilled out, uncles bellowed greetings, babies wailed, and someone's dog barked nonstop. Silas did his best to keep up, offering awkward hugs and forced smiles, his head spinning from the sheer volume of it all.

After a while, he slipped away, mumbling something about needing air, and escaped to the guest room. He closed the door, letting the muffled chaos fade to a distant roar.

The Corner Store Incident (POV: Silas)

Night had settled in, thick and humid. Silas tugged on a hoodie and ducked out, craving solitude and sugar. The corner store was a patchwork of flickering neon and dusty shelves, the kind of place where the cashier barely looked up from his phone.

He grabbed a six-pack of beer, a Monster energy drink, and a couple of chocolate bars, dropping them into a basket.

The bell over the door jingled. Two men stormed in—faces masked, eyes wild. One brandished a pistol, the other a battered shotgun.

"Everyone down! Hands where I can see 'em!" the pistol-wielder barked, waving the gun at the clerk.

Customers froze. The shotgun man started frisking pockets, shoving an old man to the floor.

Silas ducked behind an aisle, heart pounding. He pressed his back against the rack of potato chips and closed his eyes, willing the shadows to gather. The belt at his waist pulsed, releasing a slick, inky smoke that crawled up his arms and legs, hardening into armor. The cowl slid over his head, vision sharpening to a hunter's focus.

He moved fast—silent as breath. The first robber didn't see him coming. Silas wrapped an arm around the man's throat, yanked the pistol away, and squeezed until the man went limp, dropping him gently to the floor.

The second man spun, shotgun raised. Silas lunged, grabbing his wrist and twisting until bone snapped. The shotgun clattered away. Silas slammed the man's face into the fridge door, leaving a spiderweb of cracks in the glass.

"Call the cops," he told the wide-eyed store owner, voice muffled by the cowl.

He melted into the shadows, slipping out the back door and into the alley. The groceries were still in his hand, barely rattled.

The Bank Job (POV: Third Person, Cinematic)

Morning sunlight glinted off the shattered glass as chaos erupted on the street. Smoke billowed from the bank's entrance, alarms blaring. Civilians scattered, ducking behind cars and mailboxes.

From the rubble, Rhino emerged first—massive, his mechanical armor gleaming, the horn on his helmet catching the light. He stomped forward, cracking the pavement with every step. Shocker followed, his gauntlets pulsing with yellow energy, eyes wild behind his mask.

Inside, hostages cowered behind overturned desks. Rhino pounded his fists, denting marble counters. Shocker fired a blast, shattering a security camera.

Suddenly, a window exploded inward. Spider-Man swung in, landing in a crouch, the white spider emblem on his chest gleaming.

Spider-Man (grinning): "Rhino! Shocker! Wow, what's this, Villain Bingo? You two again?"

Rhino snorted, stomping a foot.

Rhino (bellowing): "Spider! You talk too much! This time, I crush you flat!"

Spider-Man (dodging debris): "You said that last time, big guy. Still waiting!"

Rhino charged, tearing up the floor as he barreled toward Spider-Man. Spidey flipped over him, webbing Rhino's feet and yanking him sideways into a marble pillar. The impact sent cracks spidering up the wall.

Shocker unleashed a blast, sending sparks flying. Spider-Man vaulted off a desk, landing behind Rhino.

Spider-Man: "Hey, Shocker! New gloves? They look… shockingly bad."

Shocker (growling): "Keep talking, bug. I'll fry you both!"

In the shadows, Sentinel materialized—armor forming in a swirl of black smoke. He moved with silent precision, eyes scanning the chaos. He placed a hand on a hostage's shoulder—poof—they vanished, reappearing safely outside. He repeated the process, moving like a ghost.

Rhino, shaking off the webbing, roared and swung a massive fist at Spider-Man.

Rhino: "Hold still, little bug!"

Spider-Man (taunting): "Sorry, I left my bug spray at home!"

Spider-Man leapt, webbing Rhino's eyes shut. Rhino thrashed, swinging blindly, smashing desks and scattering papers.

Sentinel reappeared near the last group of hostages. He reached out—then froze as Shocker turned, gauntlets glowing.

Sentinel (low, gravelly): "Enough."

Shocker (snarling): "Who the hell are you?"

Sentinel (cold): "The end of your day."

Shocker fired. Sentinel vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing behind him. He landed a brutal knee, then an elbow, then a backhand. Shocker staggered, firing again, but Sentinel teleported mid-punch, appearing inches from his face.

CRACK. Shocker stumbled back, blood on his lip.

Rhino bellowed, swinging wildly. Spider-Man flipped and weaved, leading Rhino straight into the vault doors with a thunderous crash.

Now, side by side, Spider-Man and Sentinel faced the villains. Spider-Man quipped, Sentinel silent and focused.

Spider-Man (glancing at Sentinel): "Nice moves. You always this chatty?"

Sentinel (deadpan, Batman-like): "No."

Spider-Man (grinning): "Cool. I'll do the talking, then."

The fight intensified. Rhino hurled a toppled ATM at Spider-Man, who webbed it midair and swung it back, knocking Rhino off his feet. Shocker unleashed a barrage of concussive blasts, shattering glass and sending shockwaves through the floor. Sentinel teleported behind Shocker, shadow blades clashing with electrified gauntlets, sparks flying as they exchanged blows.

Spider-Man wall-ran, flipping over Rhino's charge, webbing his feet to the floor. Rhino ripped free, swinging a marble bench at Spidey, who dodged and fired webs to pin Rhino's arms to a pillar. Sentinel, meanwhile, used a shadow chain to yank Shocker's arm, spinning him into a vault door. Shocker tried to recover, but Spider-Man's web yanked his gauntlets together, shorting them out.

With a final coordinated move, Spider-Man leapt, webbing Rhino's horn and yanking him forward as Sentinel teleported in front, delivering a crushing uppercut with a shadow-forged fist. Rhino crashed to the ground, dazed. Shocker tried to blast Sentinel, but a shadow shield absorbed the energy, and Sentinel countered with a swift, silent takedown.

Both villains were webbed and knocked out cold.

Scene 5 – Aftermath (POV: Silas)

As police sirens wailed outside, Sentinel knelt beside two duffel bags stuffed with cash. He pressed a gloved hand to the tile. A tar-black circle spread beneath the bags, swallowing them whole.

Spider-Man, busy webbing the villains to the floor, turned around.

Spider-Man: "Hey! Who are you, anyway—?"

But Sentinel was already gone, vanishing into a swirling cloud of black smoke. Only the faint shimmer of shadow remained, dissolving in the air.

Spider-Man stared at the empty space, shaking his head.

Spider-Man (muttering): "Man, I hate it when they do that."

Outside, Sentinel reappeared in the SUV's backseat, armor retracting as he caught his breath. He cracked open a beer, smirked, and let the city's chaos fade behind him.