Issue 5 part 2

Panel 1:Exterior of a mid-rise apartment building at night. A single hallway light above the door flickers. The building entrance is quiet and empty. Aline Fonseca approaches the front door of her apartment on the second floor — she stops dead, one hand braced against the door frame. The door is ajar by two inches, a thin sliver of darkness beyond it. Make sure Aline is not battle damaged, no blood or dirt on her.

Narrator:“Aline’s apartment: later Aline arrives at her apartment, but the door is already open. ”

Panel 2:Close on Aline Fonseca's hand as she draws her pistol from her hip holster in a single practiced motion. Her knuckles are tight around the grip. Her wrist is steady.

Panel 3:Wide shot of Aline Fonseca's apartment interior. She moves low through the dark hallway, pistol raised in a two-handed grip. Furniture shapes loom on either side. The room beyond is black. Nothing visible moves.

Panel 4:Over-the-shoulder shot from behind Aline Fonseca as she pauses at the hallway junction. In the deep background, barely visible in the darkness of the living room, a tall silhouette stands motionless against the far wall — Slik, unmoving, watching her.

Narrator:“A monster waits in the shadows”

Panel 5:Close-up on Aline Fonseca's face. Her eyes go wide. She spins — her body already turning, pistol swinging to bear.

Panel 1:Dynamic wide panel: Slik surges out of the darkness, his Samurai blade already in motion — a single horizontal flash of steel. Aline's pistol is cleaved clean in half at the barrel, the two halves flying apart. Sparks catch the dim light. Aline recoils backward, her face a mask of shock. Make sure Aline is not battle damaged, no blood or dirt on her.

Panel 2:Medium shot: Slik reaches for Aline with his free hand. But Aline twists his grabbing wrist sharply downward with both hands, locking it. Her knee drives hard into his stomach. Her teeth are clenched with effort.

Panel 3:Aline immediately grabs a ceramic vase from the side table beside her and swings it into the side of sliks head with both hands. The vase explodes into white ceramic shards across the floor.

Panel 4:Close-up on Slik's face, slightly turned from the impact, ceramic dust settling on his shoulder. He does not grimace. He does not stagger. His expression is flat and patient. He slowly turns his head back to face forward.

Narrator:“Aline fights hard…but Slik is un-phased. ”

Panel 5:Wide shot: Slik straightens his posture deliberately and begins walking toward Aline. His stride is slow and unhurried. Aline backs against the far wall, the broken halves of her pistol and ceramic shards scattered on the floor between them. Her fists are raised but her body is pressed to the wall.

Panel 1:Exterior night shot: Creed Rivers sits in the driver's seat of his red GTO parked on a quiet street. Through the windshield, his face is lit by the pale glow of his phone screen. He holds the phone to his ear, his brow furrowed. The street behind is dark and empty.

Narrator:“Elsewhere.”

Panel 2:Close-up on Creed Rivers' face. His jaw tightens. His eyes are fixed ahead, listening. The phone is pressed hard against his ear.

“Creed Rivers: Aline? Aline — say something.”

Panel 3:Wide low-angle shot from street level: Creed's red GTO tears out of its parking spot, rear wheels spinning, headlights blazing, the car rocketing down the empty night street.

Panel 4:Interior of Aline Fonseca's apartment: the front door explodes inward off its frame as Creed Rivers shoulder-barges through it. He is in the doorway, one arm raised, scanning the room instantly. The apartment is dark and still.

Panel 5:Medium shot: Creed drops to his knees on the floor beside Aline Fonseca, who lies unconscious among ceramic shards. He gathers her upper body into his arms, one hand cupping the back of her head. His face is inches from hers, his expression raw with alarm.

“Creed Rivers: Aline. Aline, look at me.”

Panel 6:Insert shot: Creed's fingers pinch open a small folded note lying on the floor beside Aline Fonseca's limp hand. The note is open. Two words are written inside in large, blunt handwriting: 'Wanna fight.' Below it, a single name: 'Slik.'

Panel 1:Medium close on Creed Rivers kneeling beside Aline Fonseca. He checks her pulse with creeds two fingers at her throat. His face settles from panic into a controlled, hard stillness.

Narrator:“Unconscious…but alive?”

Panel 2:Close-up on Creed Rivers' face. A single breath of visible relief — his eyes close for one second, then open hard and certain. His jaw is set.

Panel 3:Medium shot: Creed stands with his phone to his ear, looking down at the unconscious Aline Fonseca on the floor. His posture is upright and controlled. The apartment is wrecked around him.

“Creed Rivers: I need police and an ambulance. Now.”

Panel 4:Wide exterior shot: red and blue emergency lights strobe against the apartment building facade. Two paramedics wheel a gurney through the building entrance. Creed Rivers stands on the sidewalk outside, arms at his sides, watching them go in. He does not follow.

Panel 5:Low angle wide shot from behind Creed Rivers as he walks away from the building toward his red GTO parked at the curb. The emergency lights flash behind him. He does not look back. He pulls open the driver's door and drops in.

Narrator:“He doesn't follow. Tonight….this ends.”

Panel 1:Extreme wide establishing shot: Club Noche's exterior parking lot at night. The neon sign above the entrance is dark. The lot is completely empty — no cars, no people, no movement. The building sits silent and black against the night sky.

Narrator:“Club Noche. Empty.”

Panel 2:Interior wide shot of Club Noche's main floor. No dancers. No bartenders. No gang members. Tables are empty. Bottles stand unattended. The only light is a dim overhead glow filtering down from the arena below. Creed Rivers walks through the center of it, jacket on, heading straight ahead.

Panel 3:Wide shot of the Club Noche fight arena. The boxing ring sits under two dim overhead lights, everything else in darkness. At the center of the ring, Slik stands alone, arms loose at his sides, the Samurai blade resting upright against the corner post behind him. He watches Creed enter.

“Slik: What do you say we drop the weapons. Handle this the old-fashioned way.”

Panel 4:Medium shot: Creed Rivers stands at the ring apron, staring up at Slik. A beat passes. He reaches down, sets his Creeds magnum blaster pistol on the ring apron, and steps back. His eyes stay on Slik the whole time.

Panel 5:Wide shot: inside the ring, Slik picks up his Samurai blade and tosses it underarm out through the ropes. It clatters on the arena floor below. He turns back to face Creed, who is climbing through the ropes. Creed shrugs his jacket off his shoulders and lets it fall to the canvas.

Panel 1:Wide action panel: Creed Rivers charges across the canvas at Slik, his face twisted with fury. Slik sidesteps left with a pivot and dodges easily. Both men should be shirtless.

Narrator:“Creed fights angry….blinded by rage.”

Panel 2:Medium action panel: creed picks up Slik and carries him about to perform a slam. Both men should be shirtless.

Panel 3:Wide shot montage-style panel: a sequence of brutal exchanges shown across the same panel — punches, kicks, a knee strikes from both men. Neither man is going down. Both men should be shirtless

Narrator:“Minutes become formless. Neither gives an inch.”

Panel 4:Medium shot: both men are visibly exhausted — chests heaving, faces bloodied. Slik delivers a headbutt to Creed. Both men should be shirtless

Panel 5:Medium shot: Creed, still in the clinch, snaps his arm up under Slik's chin and locks in a standing guillotine choke — his forearm pressing across Slik's throat, his other arm clasped tight, wrenching upward. Slik's face strains against the hold, his hands clawing at Creed's arm. Both men should be shirtless.

Panel 6:Wide shot: with a guttural effort, Slik's legs drive upward — he lifts Creed clean off the canvas while still in the choke and slams them both backward into the center of the ring. Both men crash down together. The canvas shudders. Both lie still on their backs, arms spread, chests rising and falling in heavy gasps. The overhead lights look down on two broken men. Both men should be shirtless.

Narrator:“After 15 minutes of brutality…. Both men lie on the ground, exhausted.”

Panel 7:Medium shot: Slik delivers a devastating knee to Creeds face while creed is on his knees getting up from the ground. Both men should be shirtless.

Narrator:“Slik makes it to his feet just a second sooner….”

Panel 8:Wide shot: Slik stands alone in the ring, looking down at Creed Rivers who is face-down on the canvas, one arm pushing weakly at the mat trying to rise. Slik's face is battered and expressionless. He rolls between the ropes and drops to the arena floor. He walks to the Samurai blade lying where he kicked it, and picks it up. Both men should be shirtless.

“Slik: This fight is over.”

Panel 9:Full-page climax panel: Slik re-enters the ring and stands over Creed Rivers, who has pushed himself up onto both knees. Creed's head is raised, looking up. Slik holds the Samurai blade raised in both hands above his head, the blade tip aimed downward. The overhead ring light catches the edge of the blade in a blinding white line. The blade hangs in the air, inches from Creed's face. Neither man moves. The rest of the arena is black. Both men should be shirtless.