Author's Note: Reviews are welcome, but this was only done for quick fun. Characterizations are probably a mix mash of old and new comics, and of no definitive piece of the timeline either. But I love both, and get a kick out of these two in the new Jonah Hex comics, and how they play off one another with their odd friendship. So I just got the bug to write a bit. This first chapter has a little more Bat than Hex. But I have a bit more planned for the future with possibly the additions of more of those friends Hex utterly denies having, or possibly other favorites of mine. So we'll just have to see if it gets a few more chapters in or not. Thanks for reading anyway, if anyone does. I think their whole rough and tumble group is very entertaining and under-appreciated as a whole in the DC-verse.

Life could often seem like only a string of violent moments, destined always for the same inevitable conclusion. But a man couldn't allow himself to fixate permanently on such unhealthy thoughts. It was the lulls between the storms that had to be appreciated. This was necessary if only for a soul to stay acquainted with sanity at all.

And even after all these years of running, only one false step ahead of a six foot trench at any given hour, Bat Lash still hadn't become the kind of person who could truly punish himself for the past or present. No matter how many lies, thefts, or deaths lay behind or ahead of him, he still sought warmth and comfort in whatever form it might offer itself. Guilt had yet to surmount those deep seated desires.

And this morning, it was an old mattress which became preferable to a hard bed of dirt. A body beside him far better than another night on his lonesome, and a morning bird's song sweeter to his ears than any coyote's hungry yowling out in the desert twilight.

His eyes squinted lazily up into the light now scattering in through dusty window panes. The talkative finch perched out on the windowsill seemed oblivious to any reservations of worn outlaws residing within. It was morning for all the little interloper knew, time to carry on as always and make its presence known in this equally ugly and beautiful world the only way simple instincts said how.

The man puckered his lips on a whim, mimicking that kindred spirit in a melodious whistle as the small bird carried on. Nature and music…two more beautiful distractions in his mind. But the little thing couldn't hear him from beyond the glass. Nor did Bat receive any appreciation from within for his efforts.

"…You fancy yourself an overgrown flute, stranger?" Spoke the woman beside him in all the perturbed clarity of half-wakefulness.

"Ah. Sorry, darlin'." He apologized without missing a beat, though inwardly chiding himself just as quickly for waking the company so soon. She'd likely have him gone, and he wasn't quite ready to lose this yet himself. Last night's cash could only account for so much. And unless he was willing to fork over even more of those dangerously acquired wages, she wasn't obliged to humor him much farther.

"But if that tune wasn't to your tastes, Miss, care to enlighten with another request? Anything fonder to the heart? I do a pretty darn amazing meadowlark as well I'm told…or perhaps even something with words?" He offered with a saccharine grin, one arm still circled lightly around her bare waist. The man wouldn't give up easily. Not when everything outside this room was so barren and uninviting by comparison. He'd been as kind and pleasant as could be hoped for in the short hours they'd known each other. Maybe that sentiment could provide for at least a little extra consideration now?

But she was clearly not yet as enthralled as she'd seemed the night before as her eyes only kept with his. "I never much had an ear for music, Mister," she countered. "There are only certain things I can consider muhself good enough to make a trade on. That's all I have right to worry with."

As disheartening as the statement was to the depth of her character, he didn't yet allow his smile to falter. Some of the women might swoon and carry on like schoolgirls just to part a man more quickly from his funding. While others could behave with all the coldness of a tycoon, blockading a precious resource they knew you needed far more desperately than they did. He much preferred the former type of course. But he also had the patience to at least attempt and goad it back out as it'd clearly existed the night before.

"And I do appreciate that nubile grace of yours, Ma'am…very much so." he murmured warmly, possibly fishing for a compliment himself in it all. He didn't doubt his own abilities of course, but a bit of ego stroking could also never bring a frown to his face.

But his acquaintance still seemed a little too thoughtful towards business alone as she eventually answered only in reference to the generous amount paid before. "You cleaned those boys out in the saloon…I appreciated that."

He knew well enough how jaded a woman of the world's oldest profession might have become to anything but the cash which came beforehand. But he was certain he didn't want to part with anymore. He still needed to buy supplies for whatever trouble may face him next. There was never a real plan, but moving from state to state became at least a little easier whenever food and bullets were equally affordable.

He only responded kindly after another moment though, "Yes, Ah'm sure that you did…perched on my thigh like a siren, pouring the wine as if it were nectar, and riling me to victory each hand with a few discreet moves of your own." It'd made it a little more troublesome to stay focused and cleanly cheat the entire table of course, with a woman's hand wandering so persistently below his belt during each poker draw. But it'd made for an enjoyable evening over all. He continued with the trademark flattery, still hoping to negotiate for further, albeit cheaper time together. "You, dear, had to be the most tempting, raven haired representation of lady luck I'm certain those unwashed gentlemen had ever seen…"

She seemed to at least take some shine to the gleam in his eye and the velvet in his voice at this. But the war was not yet won, even as her fingers found his bed ruffled hair to a bit of his surprise then, starting to gently stroke through it in the same patterns he imagined must have been practiced on so many others before him.

The woman watched him with a fitting curiosity before finally posing her question aloud. "But you think you're just too special don't ya? That you aren't anything like those roughnecks you were clowning with last night…"

"Mmm?" He feigned brief ignorance, though certainly not complaining as long as the touches remained free. But he did keep his eyes on her at the slightly accusing words, even as he felt his muscles relaxing predictably all the same. How easily women must see all the little puppet strings of men. "I've been called many things in this life, Miss…see if you wouldn't believe some of them yourself after a while."

She didn't seem fazed at the thought of offending him, or at whatever he was now implying about himself. Not that he gave her too much time to think on it at all, taking the initiative to begin kissing along one of her collarbones at the first open opportunity as she'd shifted.

It was a bit of a calculated self defense as well of course. He knew well that certain directions of conversation could only end up unhealthy for the both of them. But the gamble seemed to pay off handsomely when that sentiment finally brought a smile to her face.

"Well…for whatever ya are, you do have the softest head a'hair of any dog I ever did pet…and a pair of the bluest eyes. I'll admit that to you at least…even if you're the oddest fella all the same."

Her grip in said hair only tightened as he teasingly nipped a shoulder in response, and it was then that he knew he had her. He couldn't resist a prideful smile into her soft skin as their legs gradually started to tangle once more. "Then don't kick me down the street, darlin'. You know a good mutt never has a proper place to go..."

"…but-" He didn't give her time to protest where this was obviously going, sensing a moment of weakness and pulling the girl into an abrupt kiss as he shifted them quickly so she was beneath him again.

It had all seemed fine and dandy too as her body didn't fight or tense, but appeared to quite enjoy the surprise as the kiss quickly deepened. His spirits were naturally put on the rise as he'd thought boldness had won the morning.

Yet it wasn't to be. Even if they both seemed ready and willing for another lengthy experience together, she still had much more on her mind than she'd been letting on. And a guilty conscience was never much conducive to romance. This was at least one of the reasons he enjoyed putting his own out to pasture almost around the clock.

In fact, it was only a few moments later when her body language had then decided to fully reverse itself, violently in fact. He didn't have time to make much more than a hurt grunt of surprise as the woman abruptly bit his tongue instead of further meeting it. Reflexively, he'd shoved her down in defense, jerking his face away in a harsh glare. "The hell, girl! Make up your mind!"

The abrupt rise of his voice and the speed of his movement were obviously just as unexpected. The woman looked more startled at the sudden fierceness than he'd meant to invoke, but she interjected quickly before he could say a word more. "I…I didn't know how else to stop ya quick enough! But it ain't that, I…" Her eyes flitted away nervously, as if his own fiery blues suddenly had power to harm. "…I like ya enough, really…but we don't have the time, they're-" Her fists tightened against the mattress. "Dammit you idiot, don't you know who you robbed last night? I was just supposed to stall ya, but…I'm sorry! Please…"

The room was quiet for a painfully long moment, save for maybe the girl's heart pounding up into her ribs as she feared further strong reaction in response to the sudden confession. But she simply got to stare back up to him as her strange client gave only an eventual sigh of weighted resignation. And then, to her further shock, another abrupt kiss as if to apologize for the flicker of his temper before.

God, he'd thought this had been heading in a much kinder direction, and was more disappointed than anything else to tell the truth. With obvious reluctance, he finally pulled away from his pretty conspirator. But was it made even sadder by the fact that this situation wasn't completely novel? "Well, if you've decided on that truth now…then the fact is, Ma'am, that they don't know who robbed them." He didn't give her time to ask, only continuing. "I appreciate your change of heart regardless though." Her look of worry was genuine enough, though whether more for him, or now because of him couldn't be said. "I'm supposing I might have time to pull my pants on before these friends of yours break down the door at least?"

She tried to agree, her new anxiety seeming to more than make up for the lack of much of his own. "Well…yeah, maybe. That bird woke you up a little earlier than I figure they'd been expecting. Wanting to get you in your sleep and all after I'd tired you out, but-"

They both paused at the distinct sound of many heavy footfalls rapidly rising up the staircase.

He frowned, frustrated in what was clearly only becoming a more unfortunate situation. The morning had looked so promising. Though he couldn't help but find insult in their idea of opportunity. "I hadn't been that tired, darlin'."

Out of the many things a man like himself could find to hate in this world, wasted time was likely right near the top of the list somewhere. Every sunrise and sunset was only another day the trail could go cold, or worse, some damned fool would get lucky and get their hands on his bounty before him. The train hadn't run through town the day before. He'd had to sit on his information all the way through to this morning.

He'd camped outside the settlement however, not feeling the need to waste money better spent on supplies for now with unneeded lodging. But he wasn't so averse to being among the bustle of the townspeople that he wouldn't return at least slightly early for a full stove cooked breakfast before the train was due in at eight.

The man arrived into town unbothered, as per the usual attracting far more stares than all else. He ate alone, mind disinterested in anything other than his current plans. Two days by train and he'd be to Hamilton. There he could pickup his targets and then be on to Tyson's Ridge before nightfall to collect the bounty and get himself a new horse. Damned if it wasn't a mess to have his last shot out from under him the way it had. Many ways to rile his temper to a boil, and that certainly was a good one. A good horse was no disposable thing.

Steak, eggs, and potato hash all went down rather quickly as he chewed, ignoring the squeamishness of the bar keep forced to watch him. Even a bit burnt, and hardly seasoned, the food was at least something different than the deer jerky he'd been subsisting on the last few days. With his coins left on the counter just minutes later, he'd hoisted his bag again and headed for the door.

But it wasn't going to be a quiet goodbye in this town for him, not at all. He'd barely had time to turn his boots onto the porch before he'd heard the first shot, and saw some half naked son of a bitch go rolling down a tin roof across the street in a flurry of broken glass and the familiar whiz of bullets.

Like so many before them, they rightly may have had him if they'd only possessed the sense to shoot before speaking. You couldn't give a man like him even a moment to forge a new plan. He'd certainly take whatever option was available to him. Like anyone else, he had no fondness for jail cells, nooses, or lonely graves.

They'd assumed him cornered enough, having just stepped into a second pant leg before they'd kicked the door wide off its hinges. And he'd known they were nearly right in that assumption, and that he'd be bleeding no matter what decision he made. But between glass and the organ rupturing holes of several large caliber guns, he'd always choose the former. They'd barely stuttered his name accusingly before he'd had one shoulder up and out through the shattering panes.

There hadn't been much chance of aim in a landing however, because of all the hurry. He'd just made sure to keep his gun belt in a death grip as he'd tumbled, hoping all the while not to break any appendage too important to him as he'd finally left the roof and hit the dirt in a violent roll.

If the pain was extreme in any one area, he didn't know it then, adrenaline being a helpful ally in at least that regard. But the whole acrobatic maneuver had only been meant to get him out of immediate harm's way. He'd have no chance of true escape into the desert as poorly attired as he was, barefoot and shirtless. Nor was he very fond of abandoning the rest of his possessions upstairs, few though they may be.

His tongue worked by default while his mind continued to rethink the ever changing scenario. "Gentlemen! Can't we discuss this more civilly, before being motivated to needless violence? Such a lack of hospitality to bushwhack a harmless traveler so little time after sunrise! I haven't done a thing so personal as to merit a mornin' like this!" His hands went up in helpless innocence, even if one now carried his gun.

He was considering their numbers, the angles he'd aim for, and whether or not he intended to wound or kill. A wounded enemy would usually be preferred as less drastic. But without having time to reload his own gun, that strategy could easily endanger him again if men with too great a motivation towards harm were left very able. He wished he knew their full vendetta. Was it really just about wounded pride and loss of money? If only that, his resilience may startle them enough to back down. But if not…

The bounty hunter betrayed little surprise, even as immediately as he'd recognized the flowery words and the too well tailored, pinstripe pants that suited them. If Jonah Hex had been the type of man who believed in supernatural forces governing the whole of men's fates (he adamantly wasn't), he would likely have told said forces to go and bed their damned mothers multiple times over by now. It was sheer unnatural the many, many times he'd happened upon this one man in such an expanse of territories and nomadic cross country travels.

But as one sided as the fight should have been, with seven bandits against one scrawny fool who seemed to only enjoy talking himself into a deeper and deeper grave, Jonah knew not to be impressed when the direction of the skirmish inevitably changed. The distraction of the younger man's voice, as annoying as it could often be, sometimes could also take a more comparable function with that of a snake's rattle. Bat Lash was giving them ample warning in his own way. But obviously they didn't know him well enough to understand the concept, or they were just too damn stupid as they simply barreled down the stairs and out the door like a mess of hogs to slaughter.

Hex's only wonder was which way Lash would decide to take the situation as the rapid gunfire of his sixshot broke the air at last. Bat always professed a dislike for what he called unnecessary violence and killing, an issue of practicality they inevitably butted heads on many times. But while Jonah always stood by his words, Lash's limits on what was right and what was wrong seemed to change about as often as the stupid flower in his hat did.

It looked like he was still agreeing with his play as the gentleman today though, as most the bullets went straight for the guns aimed against him. Though still piercing through hands and blowing away fingers that didn't let go quite quick enough.

Even with Bat only having six bullets at the ready, all seven men were wounded. One had been mule-stupid yet again, standing too close in front another to make a clean path through both. It seemed it might end there too, with the bastards mostly in shock as to what had just occurred. But one of them either had the idiocy or the guts to remember the knife in his belt next, taking it quickly in his now only workable hand before making a sudden charge at the gambler.

The whores had all come out to watch by now as well of course. Huddled at the porch railings in all states of undress, likely having just deserted the beds of their Johns for a chance to see the commotion. It was certainly no surprise to Jonah either as several began wailing not so unlike a bunch of cats, carrying on for their remaining knife wielding bandit to not cut up the pretty gringo's face too badly.

He knew it was cruel to take the use of a trigger finger permanently away from any man. Especially one who may need it simply to survive in a hell hole such as this. But he'd given these men a chance for kindness, and they'd just plain ignored him.

The glint of the knife metal in the sunlight took his full focus once more as the bandit charged him with all the grace of an overweight bull coming to the matador.

A woman's voice came from a balcony somewhere. "No, Fernando! Don't kill h-"

But the butt of Lash's pistol only connected across the stranger's face in a bone splintering crack as soon as the other had first entered striking distance.

The gathered onlookers were immediately hushed to silence as more blood met the ground. It poured from the man's nose and mouth as he'd buckled instantly towards the dirt.

Lash suddenly wasn't sure if the man was unconscious or worse as the body had gone so abruptly still. It was actually enough of a surprise to give him pause. Because Christ knew he'd just intended to bring the man to the ground and really no worse. Bat caught the stranger by the collar before he'd even fully fell though, holding him up in question even as he kicked the knife away from the now limp hand.

That man was dead. Busted his skull too hard. Jonah didn't even have to consider it, but he waited regardless. Inwardly becoming more and more frustrated the longer Bat seemed to lose focus at the realization of murder. He couldn't be idiot enough to lose track of his surroundings for that many seconds could he? Not even over some soft headed guilt that seemed to come and go from his personality as erratically as the flicker of firelight.

The bounty hunter seethed, his own instincts beginning to become deafening as he first heard the soft metal ting of more spurs walking from the alley on their left. It wasn't his business and there wasn't a lick of sense in diving into a mess he didn't make, for a man he shouldn't give two shakes about.

Years before today, Jonah had known he didn't need or want friends ever again. After all life had shown him, it'd been far smarter to never again offer that opportunity for trouble. So why he'd collected any man, especially that man, to now be a burden in this way was beyond him.

"DAMMIT, YA IDJUT! THEY AIN'T DONE WITH YOU YET!"

Bat startled at the yell, far more than if he'd heard another gunshot. There wasn't even a moment's hesitation for his brain to connect the voice to any other soul but that of its foul tempered, demon of a master. As local folklore often said, the one whose only true accompaniments were that of death and the acrid smell of gunsmoke. Though it hadn't taken long in their friendship until Lash had likened Hex to that of death himself, instead of just a harbinger of it. Why else would he and Jonah so often find their paths as one?

But since he so accepted Hex's presence as inherent to the natural order, and thus didn't have to wonder much on the abruptness of it, Lash's mind was then free to proceed in processing exactly what Jonah had said.

Out the corner of his eye he'd finally seen it then, the new men, and his body had only told him to dive immediately for the dirt. But they hadn't been too slow themselves, with their shotgun fire still catching him across the back in a bloody spray as he'd hit the ground.

The shallow angle wasn't as lethal as it was painful he assumed. But the intensity of the pain also made him realize that even the brief lull in the fighting must have allowed a slow in his adrenaline. It was the wrong time as well to now be noticing the unsettling run of red he was also starting to contribute to the scene.

"Hex!" Lash called, wholly unconcerned with any pride when he knew he would likely not be fast enough to dodge the next shot. And they'd traded life saving favors so many times, it wasn't even worth considering who was indebted to who at this point.

Jonah knew that if any of the sons of bitches had a bounty on their head, he'd be a lot less angry later about the bullets he was about to waste now, as he then finally responded in kind, unleashing his twin .44's like cracks of thunder onto the men of the alleyway.

At this horrific new development, there was amazing fear in the eyes of those already wounded in the street. Men who now may be realizing it only God's grace that they'd encountered the kindness of Bat Lash before the lack thereof from the behemoth in old confederate rags now known to them as the monster Jonah Hex.

Lash alone knew that the only reason the men in the alleyway then had their hearts instead of their brains suddenly exploding out the backs of their bodies, was because Jonah wanted to make sure their faces stayed recognizable. In the off chance he could make a profit off those soon unseeing eyes and frozen grimaces.

He tried not to watch regardless though, letting Jonah handle things as he was apt to. If Bat had been more on his guard, the men would not have had to die in such a gruesome way. So he had no right to tell Jonah how to treat them now. This was his fault alone for needing the help.

That self-directed anger was enough to bring him achingly back to his feet as he grabbed the nearest, still conscious man. Though just as swiftly picking up one of the bandits' dropped pistols in his other hand as well. Lash pressed the gun sight harshly into the flesh of the stranger's forehead.

Even if his style of speech was retained, the frigidness of his voice left nothing to question in regards to his current emotions or seriousness. "I regret it had to come to this. Honestly, Sir, I do. But as Ah'm sure is now painfully clear, this has escalated far beyond what you expected...or anything that should have been warranted for the petty crimes I've committed here. So I suggest it'd be in your best interests to now tell me the truth of what you wanted. This can't all be about some damned crooked poker game..." Hell, the only reason he'd cheated in the first place was because they had. Fair was fair, but this certainly wasn't worth a massacre at dawn.

The response of fear in the man's face told Bat that the stranger was no hardened killer though. And that only made it all seem even more senseless and difficult of course, but Lash wasn't going to leave this place until he knew why those men had had to die. He glowered, shaking the man once as hard as he could muster, even as he continued to bleed from the shoulder. "I'm talking to you, dammit!" He wasn't as weak as he looked. If they didn't understand that yet...

His hostage stammered, the added viciousness from the outlaw finally loosening his lips. "You…you are Bat Lash! He told us to kill you if you ever came here, Señor…kill you and collect the bounty for him!" He kept on rambling, too nervous to now know when to stop. "He said we would know you by the flower you wear, and the gambling, you cannot be beat at a card table! And that your weakness for whores would offer our best chance to-"

"Who!" He barked, though an abrupt turn of his stomach already had him assuming the name.

Jonah emerged like a tower at his side then, now reloading his pistols with a deep scowl. He answered what they were both thinking. "El Papagayo?"

"Si! Si!" The man offered instantly. Even with Lash being the one holding the trigger of the gun that was still to his head, it was evident the bandit seemed even more terrified of making eye contact with Hex once the hunter had joined them. "But he said never to try when you were together…God help us, we did not know!"

"Wasn't planned," Jonah only huffed, reholstering his still warm Colts. He then ignored the man entirely, looking directly back to Bat. "Ask him where that piece of shit is."

It would have been a strange command, since Jonah was standing right there and could speak at the man just as easily. But Bat understood. It meant ask him your way, because if Jonah took control, it was doubtful that Lash would agree with any of those methods. Not in this instance at least.

"You heard him," Bat grumbled, though doubting they'd learn anything further from this one squirming man. Papagayo was an enemy they'd apparently had the misfortune of sharing even before meeting one another. Lash only did his best to avoid the murderer and his web of mercenaries, having no intention of stumbling back into that hornet's nest willingly. But the fact that even Jonah hadn't successfully tracked and killed the snake as of yet, even after the many cruelties Papagayo had inflicted upon Hex himself, left something to be said on the lunatic's dangerous resourcefulness.

"I…I do not know. He moves so often. He was in eastern Texas the last I have heard. But I do not have high rank in his affairs…he only demands revenue from our town…"

Bat felt Hex's hard stare upon him, but he had no intention of beating the man for further information. He was sure that was the truth. The level of fear this man held for them spoke of inexperience and low affiliation. He glanced to the side, making eye contact with the bounty hunter.

Jonah's good eye burned at him, leading to a silent contest of wills for a moment. But Bat was certain there'd be nothing more to be gained and only looked back down to the man again. "I think my friend would also like to tell you that he has no reservations of applying the worst known Indian tortures to you if you are not being fully forthcoming with us."

The words easily terrified the poor soul all over again as he trembled in Lash's grip. "I swear it! On my mother's grave! It is all I know, please Señor!"

Hex grumbled loudly, glaring abruptly out to the others, "What about the rest of ya! That it?"

Those who had only been watching in silent awe now came to match their unlucky friend's fear. One by one they all affirmed that they had nothing else to add.

Bat dropped the man unceremoniously at that. But the searing pain in his back was again becoming his focus, they needed to move on while he still had the energy for it. If Hex wanted to pass on anything else to Papagayo through these men, that would be his own concern. Bat wasn't the type to ask for that kind of trouble needlessly.

"I'm going to go get dressed." He announced tiredly, rubbing at his face before snatching his empty revolver back up and limping for the stairs.

"Train leaves at eight," came an indifferent sounding grunt from the street a few moments later. There was only a ruffle of papers after that as Hex began searching through his wanted posters for any matching faces.

To be continued...