Setting: Interior, old West saloon. Panels 1 -4 are from the same p.o.v., as if we're watching from halfway up a flight of stairs. Tables and chairs upended and scattered all over the floor. Note: NO SOUND EFFECTS.
Panel 1 - An older JONAH HEX, his Confederate army uniform covered by a grey duster, is surrounded by a weasely looking cowboy, dressed relatively well with thick, round spectacles, and five rough-looking outlaws, one grabbing a rifle. Hatless, HEX's mane of white hair whipping around behind him, his eyes following his right throwing hand. The outlaw closest to us rocks his head back toward us, a Bowie knife sticking out of his forehead. HEX's left hand breaks a whiskey bottle over the edge of the bar. The cowboy behind him is raising a wooden chair over his head, in the hopes of smashing it over HEX's head.
Panel 2 - HEX twists and ducks his body, left hand driving the broken bottle into the throat of the cowboy with the chair raised, arterial spray shooting upwards. HEX's right hand grips the handle of his holstered Navy Colt 5-round, long-barreled revolver:
Another gunman has drawn his own weather-worn pistol, and the weasel is hiding behind two more beefier cowboys, one rolling up his sleeves, the other cocking his swing-lever-action rifle:
Panel 3 - HEX draws and shoots the pistolero in the eye, his brains exploding out the back of his head. The one with rolled-up sleeves goes into a wrestler's crouch, ducking under the gore. The weasel pulls on the rifleman's shoulder, the rifleman swinging his shoulder, and rifle, away from the weasel, aimed toward the ceiling. (The chair has fallen with the wielder.)
Panel 4 - HEX aims, shoots the crouching wrestler in the teeth. The weasel falls backwards to the floor, as the other cowboy lowers his rifle, aiming at HEX.
Panel 5 - HEX turns so his torso is facing us. As the rifleman's shot misses, crossing HEX's midsection, HEX returns fire, slamming the rifleman in the gut.
Panel 6 - HEX nonchalantly tosses his revolver to the side, toward the weasel, as he bends over to pick up the rifle. HEX spits through his teeth.
HEX: (small font) ...taken dumps scarier than y'all...
Panel 7 - HEX takes a military rifleman's stance, his bulging eye sighting down the long barrel, cocking the rifle from the swing stock, aiming at the weasel, who is looking up at him in fear, and has pissed himself. The weasel's hand is fumbling behind him, his right hand's fingers on HEX's revolver handle.
HEX: (small font) That's right, ya little dungtick...
HEX: (return to normal-sized font) Fill your hand, Judge.
Panel 8 - HEX fires a rifle blast, the weasel's hand explodes, his fingers flying in all directions, the revolver falling from the stump.
HEX: Gavelin' lefty, now...