Issue 4: part 1

Panel 1:A wide alley cordoned by yellow police tape. Red and blue lights from patrol cars paint the wet pavement in alternating colors. Uniformed officers stand at a distance. A sheet covers a body lying on the ground—Joker—his arm extending from beneath the white fabric, lifeless. Smoke hangs in the air from the earlier gunfire. The neon glow from Club Noche's sign bleeds into the scene from above.

Narrator:“Later that night. The aftermath of Jokers murder. ”

Panel 2:Slik pushes through the gathered officers and henchmen, his massive frame cutting through the crowd. His eyes lock on the covered body. His jaw tightens visibly. His hands, hanging at his sides, begin to shake—subtle tremors that betray the storm inside him.

Panel 3:A close-up of Slik's face as he stares down at his brother's corpse. His eyes are wet. His jaw is clenched so hard the muscles in his neck stand out. His breathing is heavy, controlled—a man holding back an ocean of rage.

Panel 4:One of Slik's henchmen—Henchmen 1—steps forward carefully, his posture cautious and deferential. He keeps his distance, voice low and measured, choosing each word with care as he approaches his boss.

“Henchmen 1: What do we do now, boss?”

Panel 5:Slik's head turns slowly toward Henchmen 1, his expression unreadable but his eyes burning with barely contained rage. After a long pause, he speaks quietly—his voice controlled but carrying the weight of absolute authority and devastating grief.

“Slik: I gotta call my mom.”

Panel 1:A narrow, shadowed alley—different from Club Noche. Neon light from a distant sign flickers overhead, casting everything in blue and red. Creed stands facing the Chief and Officer Vargas. Creed's face is bruised, his clothes torn and bloodstained. The Chief's expression is dark with fury. Vargas stands rigid, arms crossed, jaw locked. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

Narrator:“Later in a quiet part of the city: Creed secretly meets with the Chief and officer Vargas.”

Panel 2:The Chief's face fills the frame, anger etched into every line. His jaw is clenched, his eyes blazing. He leans forward, his voice exploding into the night. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Chief: Creed, what the hell went wrong?!”

Panel 3:The Chief continues, gesturing sharply. Behind him, Vargas watches with cold intensity. Neon flickers across their faces. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Chief: We're getting millions of reports of gunfire at Club Noche!”

Panel 4:Creed's face hardens. His eyes flash with barely contained anger. He steps closer to the Chief, his voice sharp and controlled. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head.

“Creed Rivers: They're dead, Chief!”

Panel 5:Vargas's face snaps toward Creed, his body language suddenly aggressive. He takes a sharp step forward, pointing directly at Creed. His voice is accusatory and cutting. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Officer Vargas: Dead?! I knew something was off about you. You're a traitor.”

Panel 6:Creed steps directly into Vargas's space, their faces inches apart. Creed's voice is low and furious, controlled but dangerous. Behind them, the Chief watches. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Creed Rivers: Do I look like a damn traitor to you?”

Panel 1:Vargas fires back, his voice sharp and accusatory. Creed stands immovable, his fists clenched at his sides. The Chief stands behind them, watching the confrontation unfold. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Officer Vargas: You promised us you could do this quietly!”

Panel 2:Creed's face is stone. He spits blood to the side, then looks back at Vargas with eyes burning with controlled fury. His voice is low, precise, lethal. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Creed Rivers: I said I could get it done with the right men.”

Panel 3:Creed continues, his voice cutting like a blade. He glares at both the Chief and Vargas. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Creed Rivers: You didn't hold up your end of the deal.”

Panel 4:Creed leans in, his voice dropping lower but more intense. Behind him, Vargas's face darkens with anger. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Creed Rivers: Your boy Austin was a loose cannon. He botched the mission and got everyone killed.”

Panel 5:Creed's voice drops to a dangerous whisper. He glares at both men, his words final and cutting. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Creed Rivers: If that's this department's finest, then I'm fucking scared for this city.”

Panel 6:Creed's voice drops even lower, his eyes blazing with the weight of what's coming. The neon flickers across his bruised, bloodstained face. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Creed Rivers: Especially now that the Noches are going to be looking for vengeance.”

Panel 1:The Chief raises his hand, commanding silence. His face is weathered, his eyes tired but sharp. Behind him, Vargas's anger simmers. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Chief: He's right. This is on me. I made the wrong calls.”

Panel 2:The Chief turns to face Creed directly, his expression grave and final. His voice carries absolute authority. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Chief: Is Joker dead?”

Panel 3:Creed nods once, a sharp, definitive movement. His bruised face is impassive. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

Panel 4:The Chief exhales heavily, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders. He looks older in this moment. His voice is heavy with the gravity of what comes next.

“Chief: Alright. We'll handle it from here.”

Panel 5:The Chief's voice hardens as he leans closer to Creed. His eyes are cold and calculating. Behind him, the neon flickers like a dying heartbeat. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Chief: The Noches are going to be hunting whoever did this. That means you.”

Panel 6:The Chief's voice becomes an order, absolute and final. Creed listens, his jaw set. creed should look battle damaged with blood from his head

“Chief: I'm putting you on paid leave. Get out of the city. Rest. Heal. That's an order.”

Panel 1:A car pulls up to Club Noche. The door opens and Momma Noche steps out—a commanding presence. Her face is sharp, her eyes cold and calculating. Behind her, the neon sign of Club Noche glows red and blue. Slik stands waiting, his shoulders tense.

Narrator:“Back at club Noche: Momma Noche arrives from out of the city.”

Panel 2:Momma Noche steps past Slik without greeting, her eyes blazing with cold fury. Her voice cuts through the air like a blade.

“Momma Noche: What the hell happened?!”

Narrator:“Momma Noche: The true leader of the Noche syndicate..& mother to Slik & Joker.”

Panel 3:Slik's face is etched with pain and anger. He stands rigid, his voice controlled but heavy with grief as he explains the catastrophe.

“Slik: Joker's dead Ma’”

Narrator:“Slik explains the whole story to Momma Noche. ”

Panel 4:Momma Noche's face is ice. She exhales sharply, her voice cold and cutting as she addresses Slik.

“Momma Noche: Of course it had to be Joker. My favorite son.”

Panel 5:Momma Noche leans closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. Her eyes burn with absolute authority.

“Momma Noche: I take it you murdered the shit out of the bastard who did this?”

Panel 1:Slik's jaw tightens. His voice is slow, measured—the words coming with difficulty. All we know is the bodies left behind were cops.

“Slik: ...No. Not yet. I’ve been working on a funeral service for Joker.”

Panel 2:Momma Noche's eyes narrow dangerously. Her voice cuts like ice.

Panel 3:Momma Noche's face explodes with fury. Her voice rises, sharp and cutting. Behind her, gang members stand at attention, watching.

“Momma Noche: For fuck's sake! You know damn well if this were the other way around, Joker would have burned this entire fucking city to the ground for you.”

Panel 4:Slik stands silent, his jaw tight, his eyes burning. After a long moment, he speaks quietly. Hes looking at down towards the ground in shame.

“Slik: …I think I know who ratted Joker out to the police.”

Panel 5:Momma Noche's response is immediate and absolute. Her voice carries the weight of an executioner's order.

“Momma Noche: Good. Go kill him.”

Panel 6:Momma Noche turns to address the gathered gang members, her voice carrying absolute authority. Gang members stand at attention, listening intently. Her silhouette is framed by the neon glow of Club Noche behind her.

“Momma Noche: We will not let the murder of my son go unpunished. They will feel this.”

Narrator:“The room is in complete silence. Momma Noches presence alone is enough to freeze the room..and the men in it. ”