I'm copying a sample script I found at darkhorse.com for my format. They publish manga, so I figured it might be what you're looking for. I've lost the link, but I'll give you the first page of said sample:
PAGE ONE (four panels)
Panel 1. Establishing shot. A dark street in one of Arcadia’s more dangerous urban industrial areas. The tallest buildings are no more than three or four stories in height and many feature steel roll-up doors that allow trucks to enter for loading and unloading. At this late hour, all of the businesses are closed and the steel doors rolled down and locked. A few of the places are closed permanently — their doors and windows boarded up. The street is deserted except for a single figure, an OLD MAN, half-running, half-stumbling down a sidewalk. Maybe in the distance we can see some of the taller buildings of the downtown area, but please, no full moon (there can’t always be a full moon in Arcadia). It’s cool, but not uncomfortably cold. No rain.
1 MAN (weak): HELP!
2 CAP: HIS CRIES ARE WEAK … HIS VOICE BRITTLE WITH TIME AND HOARSE FROM DISUSE. NOBODY WILL HEAR HIM.
Panel 2. Ground level, close on the old man’s feet as he leaves the sidewalk and begins to run across the street. The man is wearing threadbare jeans, wrinkled and sagging on his thin form and notched with a belt obviously too large for him, and battered work boots.
3 CAP: HE RUNS, BUT HIS OLD LEGS CAN’T CARRY HIM FAST ENOUGH, AND BESIDES, THERE’S NOWHERE HE CAN RUN…
Panel 3. Medium shot of the man as he stops suddenly, terrified. Headlights from off-panel have come on, illuminating him and half blinding him. He has thrown up one arm to block the light. The man is wearing a tattered button-front shirt and an equally tattered army fatigue jacket. He has a short, grizzled beard, but it doesn’t obscure his hard cheek bones or thin, cracked lips. Everything about this guy says hard times, shattered dreams, and life on the street.
4 CAP: …THAT THEY CAN’T FIND HIM.
(more)
PAGE ONE, CONTINUED
Panel 4. Larger panel. Through the window of the vehicle whose headlights shine on the old man. Make it one of those ubiquitous Jeep Cherokees. At the wheel is a burly creep with a crew-cut and an underbite. Let’s call him BRUNO. Beside him, leaning close to the windshield, is a smaller guy, CLIFF. Cliff has all the charm of a weasel, with longish dark slicked back and an earring in one lobe. He’s holding an expensive home video camera to his eye, taping as the car races toward the terrified man frozen in the headlights. Both Bruno and Cliff are sixteen or seventeen, dressed in expensive “brand name” clothes, and look like they come from very well-to-do families. Bruno is turned to shout something at Cliff, his face lit with an evil grin. Both are wearing gloves (so they’ll leave no fingerprints). Leave room for the captions.
5 CAP: I’D HEARD ABOUT THIS. THEY CALL IT “CAR TAG,” “BUM HUNTING,” OR JUST “THE SPORT.” THE CHILDREN OF ARCADIA’S ELITE STEAL A CAR AND CHASE A HOMELESS PERSON UNTIL THEY RUN THEM DOWN.
6 CAP: SO FAR, THE POLICE HAVE FOUND NO LEADS. BUT I HAVE. IT’S AMAZING WHAT SOME PEOPLE TALK ABOUT WHEN THEY THINK NOBODY CAN HEAR THEM.
***
http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2445332/1/ = my nano novel
http://www.drunkduck.com/MOSAIC = my webcomic
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