Manhattan’s emptiest hours — those surreal days of 2020 when the city that never sleeps took an unprecedented nap — have found new life in “Dark Honor,” a noir series that transforms pandemic-era New York into something unexpectedly compelling. Who’d have thought those haunting, vacant streets would make such perfect fodder for crime fiction?
The five-issue Image Comics miniseries feels almost prophetic now in 2025, especially given its gambling subplot (anyone else noticed how those betting apps have practically taken over every commercial break lately?). But what’s truly remarkable is how it manages to walk the delicate line between entertainment and respect for recent history.
“It was so unknown. It was life-threatening,” recalls filmmaker Brian DeCubellis, whose original screenplay morphed into this graphic venture. The creative team — including writer K.S. Bruce and comic veteran Ethan Sacks — didn’t just want another pandemic story. They wanted something different. Something that captured that peculiar moment when even Grand Central Terminal stood eerily empty, its usual bustle replaced by ghostly silence.
Here’s where things get interesting. Rather than stick to a single artistic vision, “Dark Honor” employs four distinct artists: Fico Ossio, David Messina, Gabriel Guzman, and Jamal Igle. Risky? Sure. But like New York itself, the variety works — each artist bringing their own flavor while maintaining the story’s noir heartbeat.
The plot’s pretty straightforward on paper: ex-con with a gambling problem (seriously, though — how prescient is that given today’s sports betting mania?) gets caught up in pandemic-era criminal shenanigans. But it’s the execution that elevates it beyond typical crime fare. The empty city becomes more than backdrop; it’s practically a character itself, brooding and dangerous in ways that feel completely different from the New York we know today, with its returned tourists and trademark chaos.
DeCubellis and team showed remarkable restraint in handling the pandemic element. “We wanted to be very respectful,” he explains, acknowledging the real human toll that continues to shape our world. It’s refreshing to see creators who understand the weight of recent history while still managing to craft engaging entertainment.
The decision to shift from film to comics wasn’t just practical — it was inspired. “We just put it on the shelf,” DeCubellis says of the original screenplay, demonstrating the kind of adaptability that’s kept New York’s creative spirit alive through countless challenges. In a city where Broadway shows pack in millions annually and the Met Opera still sets global standards (despite those recent union disputes), “Dark Honor” carves out its own unique space.
Each issue brings something fresh to the table. The rotating artist roster could’ve been a mess, but instead it works like a kaleidoscope — turning and shifting to reveal new aspects of the story, much like how different neighborhoods show you different sides of New York. As DeCubellis notes, “Seeing the story get interpreted through their artistic lens… I think was the biggest surprise.”
The series serves double duty: it’s both a gripping noir tale and an accidental time capsule. Those empty streets we’d rather forget? They’re preserved here, transformed into something meaningful rather than just tragic. It’s a reminder of how art can take our collective trauma and reshape it into something that helps us process, understand, and maybe even heal.
Looking at it now, with Manhattan’s streets back to their familiar chaos (and then some — thanks to those new pedestrian zones), “Dark Honor” feels like a snapshot of a moment we never thought we’d see. It’s proof that even in New York’s darkest hours, creativity finds a way to shine through the shadows. Sometimes it just needs a different canvas to tell its story.