Issue 3 part 1 fight

Panel 1:The 2 enforcers stand across the ring from creed. A 3 way stand down. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Narrator:“2 club noche fighters, not showmen. They fight for money, for survival”

Panel 2:A view of the balcony overlooking the arena. Joker stands at the railing, leaning forward slightly, his expression one of genuine interest. Beside him, Slik leans against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. His face is unreadable, his dark eyes locked downward on Creed in the ring below. No smile. No reaction. Just observation.

Panel 3:Close-up of the referee's hand holding a small bell. The bell is struck sharply. The image captures the moment of impact, the clapper moving forward.

Narrator:“The bell rings.”

Panel 4:The two enforcers circle Creed from opposite sides, moving with practiced caution. One enforcer feints high with his right hand while the other drops low, driving forward with a takedown attempt. Creed's upper body shifts back, dodging the high punch cleanly. His hips drop and his legs sprawl backward, his hands pressing down on the mat as the second enforcer's arms wrap around empty air. Creed pivots smoothly, using the momentum to rotate around the man's body. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Narrator:“The fight begins and both men immediately rush Creed, forcing him to defend and evade.”

Panel 5:Creed throws a hard lateral elbow right to the first enforcers jaw snapping his head back. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Narrator:“Creed manages to get a blow in”

Panel 6:Creed lands a double foot drop kick on the second enforcer. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

“Second enforcer : Ahhhhh!”

Panel 7:The first enforcer is on his feet again, shaking off the suplex. He rushes Creed and forces him back into the corner turnbuckle. Both enforcers swarm, raining down a barrage of punches—left, right, left, right—their fists coming from both sides. Creed keeps his hands high, elbows tucked, his chin down, absorbing the blows on his forearms and shoulders. His face is impassive. He is not trying to escape—he is waiting, reading the rhythm of their assault. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Panel 1:Creed's body tenses. In one explosive moment, creed lunges upward with a hard uppercut to the second enforcer. His fist travels in a tight vertical line, catching the second enforcer on the chin. The enforcer's head snaps back, his body lifting off the ground, and he crashes backward onto the canvas. The first enforcer continues his assault, but Creed is already moving. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Panel 2:Creed picks up the first enforcer and carries him before slamming him down.

Narrator:“Suplex city!”

Panel 3:The second enforcer gets back to his feet despite his shattered knee. He limps toward Creed, his leg buckling with each step, and screams in rage and pain. His fists are raised, but his stance is compromised. He charges anyway.

“Second enforcer : ARGHHH!”

Panel 4:Creed stands his ground. As the second enforcer lunges forward, Creed throws an upward soccer style kick to the groin region of the second enforcer.

Narrator:“One down…one to go”

Panel 5:The first enforcer slams creed to the ground with a takedown. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Narrator:“The remaining fighter takes down Creed!”

Panel 6:Creed is able to lock in a triangle choke Jiu jitsu submission and the first enforcer passes out. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Narrator:“Out of desperation, Creed locks in a triangle choke hold! Eventually the fighter passes out”

Panel 1:Creed releases the choke and stands. Both enforcers are down. One is coughing blood, his body curled on the mat. The other lies still, his arm hanging at an odd angle. The canvas around them is marked with their impact. Creed stands in the center of the ring, breathing steadily, his bare chest rising and falling. No exhaustion on his face. No celebration. Just stillness. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Narrator:“The crowd now screams for Creed. ”

Panel 2:From the balcony, Joker leans forward and grabs a microphone. His expression is one of genuine interest and amusement. He brings the mic to his mouth. Do not show creed in this panel.

“Joker: That's enough.”

Panel 3:Creed's head tilts up toward the balcony. His eyes meet Joker's. He nods once and releases his grip on the unconscious enforcer. The crowd noise rises—mixed cheers, shocked murmurs, whistles. Some spectators clap. Others stare in silence, processing what they have witnessed. Creed steps back, creating distance from the broken men on the canvas. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Panel 4:Joker stands at the railing, the microphone still in his hand. His face shows genuine respect and intrigue. He smiles—not a cruel smile, but one of recognition. Behind him, Slik remains motionless, his arms still crossed, his eyes still locked on Creed. But something has changed in Slik's expression. For the first time, there is a flicker of recognition across his face—not respect, not approval, but acknowledgment. The look of one predator recognizing another. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

“Joker: Not bad. You move like a soldier. But you hit like something else.”

Narrator:“He studies Creed for a moment.”

Panel 5:Joker leans against the railing, the microphone at his side. His expression is calculating but open. He gestures slightly with his free hand as he speaks.

“Joker: Come back. Fight again. Or don't fight. Work for us. Men like you always find a place here.”

Panel 6:Creed stands in the ring, his body still glistening with sweat under the harsh lights. His face is composed, unreadable. He looks up at Joker, his jaw tightening slightly. He does not answer immediately. The silence stretches. The crowd noise has faded to a low murmur, waiting for his response. Creed is shirtless wearing only black pants and wrist wraps.

Panel 1:Creed's mouth opens. His voice is steady, controlled. Creed is shirtless here but it’s an up close view of him focusing on his face. He does not have tattoos

“Creed Rivers: I'll think about it.”

Panel 2:Joker's expression shifts into an amused smile. He chuckles—a low, satisfied sound. He nods appreciatively.

“Joker: Good. I like men who think.”

Panel 3:Creed turns and walks toward the edge of the ring. He steps through the ropes and drops to the floor. The crowd parts slightly as he moves through them, shirtless and bleeding from small cuts on his face and torso. He does not acknowledge the spectators. His eyes are forward, focused. He disappears into the darkness beyond the arena lights, swallowed by the crowd and the shadows of the club.

Narrator:“Creed leaves the ring. Leaving two broken men, a curious king, and a silent monster watching from above.”

Panel 4:Back on the balcony, Joker watches Creed disappear with a satisfied expression. Beside him, Slik remains motionless. His arms are still crossed, but his head has turned slightly, tracking Creed's movement through the crowd. His face is still unreadable, but his eyes—dark and cold—hold something new: recognition. Not warmth. Not admiration. Just the cold acknowledgment of a dangerous thing seeing another dangerous thing.

Narrator:“A collision feeling more inevitable than ever…”