Sunshine Heights wasn't so full of sunshine after the mishap that happened. Mishap was just the other way of an MPD officer's calling a shitstorm. Bonus points on the shitstorm that caused it involved a Hellfire Arm user, a rat of it. Cops were on every corner of the neighborhood, ensuring their neighbors were inside at all times, only going out when absolutely necessary.
News traveled faster than a bullet at high speeds, and clocked into the speakers: "Due to the recent events that have occurred at Sunshine Heights, all citizens will be monitored by officers of the law via checkpoints stationed at every bridge or regional entrance. You are expected to cooperate with the police and the Haverton agency. "
Freddie Bass got his Hellfire Arm, the Red Rocket, a while back during his time in Oyster Bay, the city on the West coast. He found it on a rooftop whilst on a case he was assigned to. In his own words, Freddie was baffled by everything, the idea of selling your soul to the Devil, or someone close to that, in exchange for using a gun that offers abilities beyond the average human being. The OBPD gave him the heads up about the Hellfire Arm crisis, and it didn't take him long to catch the first available times for public transport. Oyster Bay was on the other side of America, afterall.
"I got mine on accident." he said as he, Chance and other law enforcement members went back to the 9th precinct to debrief. "But my supervisor in Oyster Bay said he was fine with me being a Hellfire Arm user, long as I don't do anything rash, he says."
"A good guy like you breaking bad?" Chance slightly scoffed in disbelief. "Unlikely."
"You know people in Oyster Bay can be a little funny in the head? By little, I mean a lot. THese Hellfire Arms really made them think about actual demons."
"Far as I'm concerned, Oyster Bay ain't even close to what's happening here, even without Hellfire Arms. And as for the demons part, well, Morissey had its fair history. Superstition stuck like glue back in the day"
"I'd comment on that but lemme tell you, I had to help the OBPD gather some Hellfire Arms, not a lot though." Freddie spoke
"Where they at?"
"Safe. Didn't see reason to bring em here.."
Bill Rosenthal came into the hallways the two men were in. "Keep that way detective Bass. Had you did bring em here, some Hellfire Arm user might try something stupid and get them all, but Valefar tells me that The Rat King is just the tip of the iceberg." He had his hand to his head. "Sorry if I seem tired, it's because I am. Dealing with assholes was something I'm familiar with back in the day, but now I'm dealing with assholes with weapons from Hell."
"I hate to be a pain but any word about that Hellfire Arm that killed Lloyd Howitzer?" Chance spoke.
"I wish I could give you the good news Chance, but the coroner's still checking on his body, along with 15 others." Rosenthal said. "Whoever this Hellfire Arm user was, he really loves to cover his vics up in blood. Dammit, the press is gonna have a field day about this, as if the Hellfire Arm crisis wasn't enough!"
"We'll do what we can, commissioner." Freddie spoke.
Rosenthal sighed. "Not to be rude detective Bass, but we'll need more than that." he had his hand to his head. "But even I don't want to tell state officials or the President that we need the military involved. Think of the citizens. The last thing they need is this city turning into a warzone. It be the great war all over again, but here." he paused. "But if there's anything that is good news, is that Chance here rounded up the Morissey Four at the Midnight Owl. Didn't expect this crisis to turn in those guys. It's best that you two interrogate them, there is absolutely no way on Earth they don't know shit about the Hellfire Arms.."
"Mind if I interrogate Wes Riskell?"
"Do what you need to do." Rosenthal said to Chance. "You Havertons are out of my reach if I'm dead honest."
"Sir." Grant McSweeney walked in with Sucker Punch. "Sorry to disturb you. There's a call for you, a certain R. Chandler."
Wonder what the director has to say, Chance thought about R. Chandler. The director rarely makes calls, even if they were outside of Haverton business.
"Freddie, any word from Stacy?" asked Chance.
"The broad? Last I heard she was looking into some hotel, Full Moon I think the name was. Said something about a Hellfire Arm user being spotted."
"Guess I know where I'm headed next."
"I'll come with."
"If you did then some Hellfire Arm user will try and get your own Arm."
"At least I have one." Bass spoke louder. "I don't know how you lasted in Morissey even before this Hellfire stuff, but you can't take any chances." he paused. "No pun intended."
"After what happened at Sunshine Heights, I doubt anybody's gonna try something that stupid."
Freddie crossed his arms. "Alright, but after you're done with Stacy we need a game plan." he then left for the Interrogation room 2. Chance went down the hall and passed the watch commander, he stopped at a door with the words Interrogation Room 3 written in gold and capitalized letters.
Unsurprisingly, he saw Riskell slumped in his seat. There wasn't a window in this room. Instead everything was just wall to wall, with the exception of the blurry glass across the door and side walls. McSweeney was there with his Hellfire Arm, and his eyes were burning.
"I knew Jim since the war ended, and that ain't a short time." McSweeney spoke of Rollins, before turning to Chance. "I know you're gonna question chicken shit here, but I'd like to try something different." he said that as he approached Riskell, before he yanked Sucker Punch from his strap and proceeded to aim it at the gangster's head.
"Whoa hey hey hey!" Riskell had his handcuffed hands up. "This ain't how you coppers do it."
"Don't tell me how to do my fucking job asshole. I bet you knew The Rat King, maybe every single Hellfire Arm user in the city! Give me and the detective here answers or I'll blow your fucking head off."
"Fuck you." Riskell countered. "I want these guys done for as much as you do. You think we could do our businesses? No! It's all gone to hell! Hey Detective! A little help here?"
"McSweeney's out of my reach." Chance spoke as he took his seat. "But we need information from a live man, not a dead one." he looked at the HAST officer, who put back his Hellfire Arm.
"Now, the guy with the walrus mustache, the other Hellfire Arm user. Where is he?"
"A lot of men in town have mustaches, genius." Riskell chuckled.
"But not all of them are named Hunch, are they?"
Riskell's stupid smile slowly turned into an equally stupid frown. "Shit." he muttered.
"Barbie Keane's a keeper, for information that is." Chance spoke. "I bet you told the Rat King to shut her up, didn't you? He's a Dripper too probably, isn't he?"
"Why would I want Lloyd's mistress dead?"
"You tell us." McSweeney butted in. "Chance and the boys had to deal with a single guy and his fucking rat army."
"I don't know jackshit about the Rat King."
"Chance." McSweeney said as he used one hand to grab a knife from his gun strap. He shoved it onto the table. "If gangster boy doesn't say anything about Hunch then cut his balls off; unman him."
Äs Chance started to chuckle, Riskell's eyes became as big as giant plates. The Haverton detective stood up, his hand grabbing the knife before the other hand moving the table away. The knife's edge was near in between the gangster's legs.
"Okay okay! Hunch Harvey!" Riskell spoke. "That's the guy you're looking for."
"I'll need more than his name." Chance kept a straight face.
"He's got a Hellfire Arm called Misery. A ghost of a lady following him from place to place. Creeps me the fuck out, and the others, even Lloyd himself."
"You know where Hunch is right now?"
"No." Riskell heard the click on McSweeney's Hellfire Arm. "Look I can compensate!"
"Yeah, I doubt money will help in this situation."
"I didn't mean that you moron! I meant Piercer!" Riskell shouted. "Clive Stabler! Are you getting this detective? That's the Hellfire Arm user! I know certain people that know him! He works for Drip Work Incorporated!"
After Riskell shouted those words, the room was filled with silence. The gangster took his breath bit by bit as he began to smile a bit. "You probably heard of them, detective, this copper too especially." He looked at McSweeney.
"Son of a bitch." McSweeney spoke as Chance looked on. "The commissioner's not gonna like this, not at all..."