Day of the Representative

Chance's living quarters weren't far from his workplace. The apartment building where his office was located was a place of decent quality. Not a five star hotel, but at least the bricks were highly intact with the concrete.

This was especially important cause he lived high above the streets in Central.

The building had an elevator that was powered by a small load of electricity, but it only went up to the 5th floor. As he arrived at the building after his drink with Stacy, he used the remaining energy he had to bring himself the next 5 more floors via the stairs. The place was quiet and the night sky was already around.

He needed sleep.

There were many other places the Haverton detective could have stayed in. Maybe in a much more higher end apartment building over the North part of the city. Over there within the Winslow Mile, where the buildings seemed like the result of a millions of dollars in investment. Apartments, hotels, companies, work places, even small restaurants there seemed so elegant there.

Chance knew this, and he knew that the money he got from his service from the Havertons, half of it went for his parents.

It was the least he could do for them, buying them a very simple and fortunate home in Oyster Bay, the city his father Richard was born in, the city the old man spent the majority of his early life there, a place Richard was truly proud of living there.

It wasn't that Richard didn't like Morissey, he just never saw any need for staying there. Until that day he looked for work, and eventually met his future wife Louise. They married, and in 1922, Charles Reagan Gordon was born, or "Chance" as he was soon called back in school because there was another guy named Charles. That nickname stuck to him for years.

That also included the great war.

After changing into his nightwear, Chance brushed his teeth hard. His apartment was a fair looking one. Not the most elegant, he was grateful. The thing about having a place like this, is that it doesn't attract a potential thief.

Even if somebody wanted to rob this place at night, Chance would still have his gun.

But what if that somebody had a Hellfire Arm? Possibility of that happening was quite high considering they could be literally anywhere in the city, and a random citizen would pick it up by accident, before making the deal with Valefar.

"He's helping us." Chance referred to Valefar, speaking to his reflection in the mirror. His hair was messy at the moment, and he splashed some water onto his face. He breathed slightly. But at the same time, he's associated with Hell, though the detective.

Valefar, no doubt he sealed the deals with the people behind Drip Work Inc. But he was just a dealer in the end, and nothing more. He seemed legit when he said he couldn't interfere. Did his boss see humanity as his ticket of getting his Hellfire Arms back?

The answer to that question was probably a big fat YES into Chance's tired face.

The Haverton detective drifted to his own chambers, and took the fast train to Sleepyville.

***

Back then, when people knew the year as 1945, the world was at its peak with the war. Hundreds to thousands of men fighting for their respective countries, being put on the front lines thanks to people in higher places; the kinds of people who had the power and the suits that said so.

In the midst of all that fighting around the world, were millions of civilians who preferred not to be involved at all. Some supported their fellow troops, but how much of them genuinely tried to fight on the frontlines.

Chance was all suited up in his uniform. A handgun in his strap, with a Thompson near him. He sat on top of a cache in the 4th Marine Division camp, one of the many camps stationed, while his colleagues were either busy planning the next move, or just praying to get home safely to their families, wives or girlfriends.

Chance wasn't all that different than all these guys when it came to why they were here in the first place, risking themselves on the line, fighting other men of the Axis who were basically doing the same thing as them; the difference being the country and ideology..

'A real man' his grandfather Ulysses once said to him in the past. "Is a courageous man, the kind of person who is willing to take his chances, just like your nickname, pretty much stuck to you like glue.'

'Nobody likes a coward.' Ulysses' words echoed in Chance's brain. 'A real man loves his country and respects all of the people living in it, even if they're not family. He also remembers what his country has done for him, and does what he can to serve it.'

'Being in the army is the best way of showing service'

"What's on your mind Chance?" a voice was heard, and Chance turned to see First Lieutenant Jack Lark. Lark's scratched dog tags were as clear as day, and his helmet was slightly beat up.

"Family?"

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't"

"I get ya." Lark sat down beside Chance, before taking out a smoke and a lighter. Letting out smoke, the lieutenant exclaimed calmly. "Personally I don't mind doing all of this. Compared to some guys here I'm not that attached to friends or some woman back home. My own family? A bit, but they should know the consequences of me being here."

"Not everyone is as hard as steel as you."

Lark chuckled before he slapped Chance's back. "I ain't heartless, I'm just a man who isn't attached to anything. If I have to go at some point during this fight, I'll go. I ain't worried leaving this Earth. We all go someday. It's just a matter of when."

'Rest assured, you'll be a man by the time you get back here.' Ulysses Gordon's words echoed in Chance's head. Those were the words his father Richard hated with a passion. His father and grandfather had a war of their own a few months after Ulysses pulled strings to get Chance enlisted into the Marine Corps.

"Have you seen Denton by any chance?" Lark asked.

"No sir."

"Probably polishing that rifle of his." Lark joked. "That man sure knows how to shoot."

"Lieutenant Lark!" a soldier came running to Lark and Chance. The two men saluted at him.

"Ease down." Lark noticed the soldier's nervous sweaty face. "What is it?""I-"

"Your man over here found me relaxing." a voice spoke. Chance turned to see the source: a man wearing an expensive tailored suit and a red tie. What was such a man doing here? And why was he acting so casual?

Chance stood up to his feet, followed by Lark and the soldiers behind them.

"Good day soldiers!" the man spoke. "I couldn't help but notice these last few years the world has been in. A literal world war, and the United States is certainly doing their part as the Allies."

"Who are you and why are you here?" Lark exclaimed.

"I'm just a Representative Lieutenant Lark." The Representative said. "Yeah, I know all of you here. For years I've been watching each and everyone of these men and the people on Earth going through their lives. You humans are interesting creatures. You all care for one another but as soon as something like this happens everybody's carrying big guns and killing others, all in the name of serving one's country!"

"You have a problem with that?"

"Nah, my boss and I figured that maybe all of you could use an extra boost to fight against the Axis", the Representative said with a deeper voice, almost demonic.

From below the ground, cases went up almost instantly. Their entrance from the ground did not shatter the surface, let alone leave a crack on it. Each of the cases opened up instantly, revealing oddly shaped and colored firearms. Some seemed to resemble guns such as an M1 Garand, or a Springfield, but even then there were strange add ons equipped.

"These are Hellfire Arms." The Representative spoke. "Made by the Hell's Gunsmith, offering it's user power beyond the simple human being." Chance noticed that all of the soldiers stood in shock and awe.

"Look at them things." said one soldier

"They look like they're damn powerful."

Lark furrowed his eyebrows. "What's the catch?"

"HA, smart man." the Representative spoke. "One soul for each user."

Jack, don't. Chance thought. We have no idea how dangerous these things are.

The Representative used his hand to direct a floating rifle towards Lark. In front of Lark's eyes was a Thompson submachine gun, but this one had an extreme coat of darkness, as well as a shed of blood across the gun's body.

"The Gunsmith calls this one, Ripper." The Representative said of the Hellfire Arm. "Suitable for someone like yourself. Rest assured, all of you will win the war much easier, and with much pride. So we got a deal?" The Representative extended his arm.

There was a moment of silence for all the soldiers including Chance. Their eyes widened as Lark shook the Representative's hand, and light came out of Lark's eyes. Lark was screaming in pain, before the light was gone.

"Contract is sealed. I'll get your soul when you die, but in the meantime, enjoy Ripper."

Ripper floated to Lark's hand, and as Lark grasped the gun. He felt a surge of power running through his body. Like before he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Soon a heavy coat was formed onto Lark's body, and a top hat appeared onto his head. A large collar of the coat went around the lieutenant's neck, and soon the ground shattered slightly upon the change in his appearance being complete.

The soldiers in front of Lark saw his eyes: they were dark and lacking pupils.

"Here, take a practice shot." Valefar extended his right arm and inches away out came out a target dummy with a wide smile and Xs for eyes. "Imagine that as a enemy soldier."

Lark looked at his new appearance in addition to satin black gloves. Grasping the handle of the Ripper, he pointed it at the dummy, and a lightning spray of bullets made contract with the dummy, and ripped it in half.

The Representative used his hand to take out more target dummies. This time the dummies were all standing in a row. Like before, Lark fired the Ripper, and all of the dummies were cut easily like butter.

All of the soldiers reacted in extreme shock. Their eyes wider than the sun, and jaws dropping to the ground, but soon some of them reacted with loud cheers at the sight of the power the Hellfire Arm brought.

"Chance." Lark spoke to Chance without looking back.

"Yes?"

"The boys and I here will take on the Hellfire Arms, and we'll be sure to capture Iwo Jima as we were ordered to. Ain't that right!?" Lark barked out to the soldiers in front. Some of them had a cold stare on their face, but others had grins on their faces.

"Now this is what I call firepower." said one soldier!

"More like Hellfire power!"

"Make your pick men. Just be sure to line up and make a deal with me." The Representative said.

"Jack-" Chance spoke.

"The nation and our Allies depends on people like us to defend and fight. Understand that." Lark spoke as Chance was silent. "Where's your superior?"

Chance knew who Lark was talking about: Captain Andrew Denton. "He's on the line with Chief of Staff Keller."

"Tell Denton of this, and make sure he'll gather the other men." Lark spoke. "We're going to play our part in the war."