The Greatest Deal

Chance went down the building via the stairs and the eventual elevator. People inside the building did not question him by any means upon seeing his Haverton badge. He told them. "Whatever happened up there and outside, it was a Hellfire Arm matter."

He couldn't tell them about Bright.

Coincidentally, his fight with Bright took place on top of the headquarters for Atomic Cola. By the time he exited the building, he got a glimpse of the large sign with the name of the building: Atomic Cola Company & Holdings.

He saw the amount of people that were crowding the streets. Many were driving in their cars and blitzing through. Others were on the sidewalk, chattering in great frequency regarding what was happening.

He heard footsteps behind him, and didn't have to look back who it was.

"Maybe you were trying to drag Bright away from higher communities, and I get that." Valefar spoke. "Unfortunately, using yourself as bait only resulted in making people even more scared of this Hellfire Arm crisis than they should be."

"Where were you might I ask, when the Hellfire Arms were freed from the Gunsmith's chambers the first time?"

Valefar frowned but sighed. "South America. Like, far South."

"And there wasn't anyone else to guard his guns?"

"The Gunsmith is a member of Hell, but that doesn't guarantee he's liked by everyone down there." Valefar clarified. "I was one of the few demons that was loyal to him. He gave me a life, so I figured I'd repay the favor by doing deals on his behalf."

He continued. "The Hellfire Arms users weren't visible at first, not clearly around a year or two ago. The Gunsmith sent me to Earth to keep an eye on things, but only now he decided he's had enough, that he wants them back immediately, and also get the fiend who freed them and pissed him off."

Chance's arms were in his pocket. "You mentioned a deal you had with Bright. I'm assuming it's not his Hellfire Arm was it?"

Valefar sighed. "No, but obviously it's not something I wanted to do. I may be a demon, but some things are out of my control. I couldn't reject deals, especially since my boss was involved."

"Tell me everything." Chance spoke.

Valefar snapped his fingers as his own car that Chance drove to Pembroke before arrived, driverless. "I'll drive." he said, you just relax in the passenger seat.

***

Valefar recalled the moments he left Chance's apartment when the Haverton wanted to go to Little Italy. The Representative felt a surge inside of him, an burst of energy. His palm became warmer, and upon lifting it to his view, he saw the amount of yellow light blinking slowly. Soon the blinking became rapid.

A Hellfire Arm, he thought, somebody's gonna be making a deal.

He couldn't disappear in mid air, he thought. He could, but the last thing he needs is the people of Morissey wondering why the Hell is a magic like man doing in these times of the Hellfire Arm crisis.

He hated the idea of creating another Hellfire Arm user, considering this crisis. It is what it fucking is, he thought as he grumbled and went into an alley, before he snapped his fingers and puffed into smoke.

His eyes opened, and he turned to see how far he was from the city. He looked at the edges of the place, they were close to the sea, yet far from Morissey.

"Ryder's Island." he said out loud. "Well I'll be damned." He looked around the giant prison Island. The place had its history of holding prisoners of a much more dangerous kind; criminals whose crimes were heinous enough that they would be sentenced here and far away.

If any of them tried to escape, well they volunteered to become shark's lunch.

The only thing keeping the sharks away from the city, is the buoys scattered around the island far away. There weren't that many sharks, but one was enough to become a killer in the waters.

"Where was this guy." Valefar thought. He looked at the palm of his hand. The blinking was supposed to end.

It wasn't.

He lifted his palm to the upper hill that had the giant prison in beige stone. A couple of birds were flying all over the place. Valefar huffed in frustration. This wasn't the first time. Back in the day, he only managed to get himself teleported within a certain area of the potential Hellfire Arm user.

He snapped his fingers again, this time facing the prison. Opening his eyes once more he saw the damp and gloomy inside of the prison. He could hear several prisoners shouting and demanding they got out.

He was in someone's cell. His eyes widened at the sight of a man sitting on his bed. The man had auburn hair, and was wearing a navy blue prison outfit. On the man's outfit was his serial number, 23712. In the man's arms was a Hellfire Arm deep in black, and had a red lining. Valefar recognized the Arm as American Violence.

The thing about American Violence, was that the Gunsmith made it out of every single bastard, fiend and prick that existed during the 20s and 30s. Not even Valefar knew how many poor bastards' souls were in that gun. What he did know was that the more damned souls it was filled, the more powerful.

Valefar was surprised at the sight of the auburn haired man holding the Hellfire Arm, but he was equally surprised at the other figure.

"You son of a bitch." The representative spoke at the sight of Bright who was leaning against the prison walls.

"Bright tells me you're gonna seal the deal with me cause I got a hold of this." the auburn haired man, Hobart Trent, said.

"I'll get to you in a minute asshole." Valefar exclaimed before he turned to the crimson Dripper. "You hiring more people for Drip Work Inc? You're just making it harder for me and my boss!"

"Let me speak to your boss."

"Why the hell should I do that?"

"Cause you're that devil's lapdog." Bright said. "And I got a deal for him, involving the Hellfire Arms. But not now, settle the deal with Trent first."

Valefar furrowed his eyebrows before he turned toward Trent. "Before I make the deal with you, what got you in here?" he pointed downward on the prison floor.

"Killed a broad. A selfish bitch if I'm honest, rude as well, even to other women." Trent said. "I was doing society a favor."

Like I never heard THAT before, Valefar thought. "You know I'll be getting your soul once I shake your hand right?"

"Yeah." Trent said. "I want out of this here place, and Bright tells me I could make a living off drip work."

Nothing to lose it seems, Valefar thought of Trent before he took Trent's hand and shook it hard. Beams of fire started to emerge from Trent's eyes and started to engulf his entire body. Trent's hair slowly turned more orange than its original colour.

Trent's prison uniform burned away, revealing his fatty chest but soon he was covered in a white undershirt. Next, he had a silver necklace in the shape of a hunting knife, before his muscles bulged.

The transformation was complete. American Violence wasn't the most appearance affecting Hellfire Arm, but with that undershirt Trent was bound to be seen as off putting.

Thank god Sick Bastard was destroyed, Valefar spoke of a past Hellfire Arm used back in the great war, thank goodness the Gunsmith realized how powerful it was. Too powerful.

"Good." Bright spoke. "Trent, stay here first. Don't escape until I tell you too. I'll give you your first drip work contract soon enough. Valefar, to the roof. Now."

Valefar sighed as he followed Bright. The Dripper went into his mist form and went through the ceiling. Valefar followed suit, and was now on the roof with him.

"Why do you want to talk to him?" Valefar demanded.

"I want to make him an offer he can't refuse."

"Oh fuck off." Valefar spoke. "We already had one deal: I'd speak to the Gunsmith about you keeping the Crimson '45 for life if you find the Fiend who freed them all! And this was before I ran into the MPD, again."

"Well, let me speak to him, cause I want to extend my deal and I think he'll want to listen to this, cause it involves me…. getting all of the Hellfire Arms back?"

"You fucker, you just gave American Violence to that prisoner. What other Hellfire Arms have you been collecting behind my fucking back? I bet you got the Rat King, considering Matt King himself is a dead rat? Or maybe Queen's Revenge? Who do you plan to give it to next?"

"Temper, Representative. You know what happens if you try to destroy my own contract with the Crimson '45? Or harm a Hellfire Arm user even?"

"Dammit!" Valefar spoke with his hands up. He snapped his fingers and out came a telephone from the air. He caught it with one hand. He extended his arm to Bright. "Dial 4-2-0-6-9-6-9. Don't ask me why that's his number, cause it ain't my business."

Bright dialed the number with his crimson gloves, and took out the phone. The phone was elegant in design, made out of crystal and having pointy tips at the edge of it. "Good afternoon, Hell's Gunsmith. This is Bright." The dripper spoke. "I was just talking to your Representative here that I have an offer for you, perhaps the greatest deal you could ever have. Of course, someone of your caliber requires yourself to be able to make the deal, am I right?"

There was a pause, before Bright turned to Valefar. "Your boss is listening very very carefully." The crimson dripper's tone was menacing, but also cocky.

Valefar's eye twitched, he couldn't believe what was going to be the case.

***

Valefar drove all the way back to the 9th precinct. He turned off the engine of his car. Chance could see a sad look on the Representative's face.

"In exchange for gaining all of the Hellfire Arms back, Bright wouldn't only be able to use the crimson '45 for life, but he would gain the powers of the Gunsmith, and immortality at that!"

"I'm assuming you know Bright when he was a human?"

Valefar paused. "Actually, no. I wasn't there when he made a deal with the Crimson '45. My predecessor, the past Representative, did the deal back in the Old West, but he's retired."

Old West, Chance thought. "I'm guessing Bright's Hellfire Arm has taken a lot of lives, hasn't it?"

"He'll be bound to take more if we don't get to him."

Chance smiled. "So I guess you do care about humanity, do you Valefar?"

Valefar sighed. "The little things. Politeness. Hospitality. Kindness. You don't get those kinds of things in Hell. Now I've held my end of the bargain, time for you to return the favor, and fast, otherwise I'll tell my boss that you chickened out, and well, something will happen.."

Of course, Chance thought in frustration as he recalled Valefar, the demonic Representative, saving his life from near death. He could have been dead in the war or after, but here he was.

He had to bite the bullet, and go through the next insane thing.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Chance in confusion.

"Drip Work." Valefar spoke and folded his arms. "And trust me, I'll pay you more than money once it's done."

A life for a life, Chance thought about his position.

This was gonna be one of those experiences the disturbing kind.