Destruction Crew

All he wanted was a drink.

Luke Brady got his drink at first, at the Full Moon Hotel, but now here he was running from his would be murderer.

Or a would be Dripper, if the guy with the Tommy Gun was really paid behind closed doors..

To Luke, Bars in Morissey normally lined up like how women saw clothes. Each had their own brand, was unique in some way, and appeared different from others, somewhat. In the 20s, there existed a thing called Prohibition, and it's safe to say that a number of people, women included, were quite a little upset when alcohol was getting a ban, born in the city and the nation.

And the people running the Prohibition thought it was going to make pure minds? No it resulted in two things: crime, and a giant 'fuck you' to the supporters and the higher end individuals running the show at the time.

Besides, the war was over 4 years ago, why can't a guy have a drink? Luke said.

***

Had Luke been a gangster in Morissey, maybe he would have his fair share of dogs guarding him, Chance thought of his drip work target.

He saw Luke just going through the staircase, he didn't hesitate to follow suit.

"Did those Italians send you!? Huh!?" Luke called loudly from above. "I don't recall doing jackshit to any of them!"

Chance responded by firing his Tommy Gun upward, spraying the upper steps. Luke himself flinched and tumbled onto the ground.

"Little Italy says otherwise! I'm just giving you a one way ticket to hell!" Chance said that line came from the phrase written on the paper card Valefar gave him far earlier. He rolled his eyes after saying it.

"Shit. Trent!" Luke called out to something, or someone. "TRENT!"

Must be his bodyguard, Chance thought. Last year, he encountered a client who had a bodyguard, such people were easy to find in some parts of the city; all you needed really was a good reason to have a bodyguard, and the money.

Chance didn't count what floor he was on, but he did see a large 18 in big bold letters, He made his way through the hallways.

Ivory colored walls decorated with red carpets. Each of the hotel rooms had pure white doors. He looked right, before he saw Brady on his left. In front of Brady was a large man in an undershirt. The man's hair was orange in color, and his muscles were showing greatly.

"Watcha gonna do now, killer?" Luke mocked Chance. "Think you can face a Hellfire Arm user!? Trent, Another 10k for ya if you make sure he's dead!" He shouted at Hobart Trent, before ran like the dog he was into another corridor, making a right turn.

Trent revealed American Violence, black aura surfaced from the hairs of his skin, there were also streams of red.

He plunged at Chance, using his left arm as a battering ram. Chance shifted to the side and used one hand to pick up a nearby small vase, shattering it onto Trent's head: no reaction.

Chance fired rounds of his Tommy Gun. Bullets were traveling as fast as light. The gun was unusually lighter. Did Valefar really prepare for this through.

Not trying to kill him, Chance thought of the Hellfire Arm user in front of him. He remembered about how Hellfire Arm users can only be really harmed by another user. The bullets made contact with Trent's chest. Some of them were penetrating the shirt and the skin of his upper chest. Some bullets were ricocheting of it.

One bullet made its way to hit Trent in the eyeball. His head was flinged upward, as he stumbled backwards slightly. He maintained his posture, as well as taking a few seconds to position his head upright.

When he positioned his head, the bullet that hit his left eye came out, and fell onto the floor gently.

Chance reached into his coat pocket. He threw out a grenade before he fired a shot from his Tommy Gun. The thing exploded as soon as the bullet touched the outer shell. Shrapnel came flying everywhere as Trent was blown back a few feet away.

The explosion blew away the small tables and shook up the floor. Screams were heard from the hotel's doors. Many were screaming what was going on, others were screaming in panic. All these screams, consisting of both men and women, pierced through the elegant looking walls and into Chance's ears.

The Haverton detective could hear sirens wailing in the distance.

"Police sirens." Chance thought as he ran away from Trent waking up.

As he ran toward the direction Luke Brady went, Chance's ears picked up the sound of Trent screaming in the background. Something was ripped out and he heard the screams of a woman.

"Shut up!" Trent said. "Shut the fuck up!"

Chance took a few seconds while running with the Tommy Gun. As he reloaded a new barrel drum, he looked at the corner of his eye at the back; Trent carried a ripped out door with one hand, before he threw it at the Haverton.

Chance ducked under the door as it was thrown horizontally. The door was slightly smaller than the hallways, yet its edges managed to tear down some of the wallpaper within the hallways he was currently in.

He brought himself back up again, before he ran faster with the Tommy Gun on one hand. Turning to see Trent again, the Hellfire Arm user walked through the broken door that was stuck, it broke like a toothpick by the time he went through it.

Yet his pace was slower.

"DAMMIT!" Trent screamed as one of hands became flamed with black red aura. "Get out of my head!"

Guess that's a flaw for that Hellfire Arm, Chance thought as he found a staircase leading up to the roof.

He stopped at a gunshot.

"Why aren't you dead yet!?" Luke Brady yelled out at the top of his lungs

"You forgot an important thing Luke." Chance replied. "Hellfire Arms have their flaws!"

"Shit."

Chance ran up the staircase and blitzed through. He was nearing the rooftop of the Hotel. It all felt so fast. He could feel his heart racing. He hadn't felt this much energy and adrenaline since the war.

He kicked open the door of the roof, before he was met a smack in the face with Luke's pistol. The Tommy Gun was thrown out of the detective's hands, but Chance jabbed Luke in the lower chest, causing the hot shot to let out a painful wince.

"Bring it on." Luke put his hands up. The hot shot was itching for a real fight.

The two were circling each other. This was like a boxing match. Only real difference, there wasn't really a crowd, and it wasn't about titles, fame or even money for that matter.

This was a kill to be killed situation.

Luke backed off from Chance's incoming jab, before the hot shot gave a good punch to the Haverton's face, moving the cloth closing his face.

Chance narrowly avoided Luke's own jab, before the Haverton shifted to the left and his fist made contact with the hot shot's cheek. A frenzy bursted inside of Luke, whose both arms started to break Chance's block with two arms. The block the Haverton had was disrupted, and Luke gave a whirlwind of a punch to Chance's face.

The cloth was going to fall out soon enough.

"That mask ain't gonna change anything." Luke said with a proud tone. "Cause you'll be dead soon after." Luke plunged at the detective and Chance fell to the ground. Luke's punches were attempting to break Chance's face left and right.

But Luke felt his stomach being jabbed by Chance's knee, before the hot shot placed his hand onto his chest, and Chance's arms were wrapped around his neck.

"Please, don't." Luke said in a tone akin to a whimper. Chance felt his heart stop for a moment. He thought it was an illusion, but this man literally said 'please' to the Haverton in disguise.

"I got a family." continued Luke. "And two daughters."

Chance felt Luke struggling out of the chokehold. From a distance, he saw MPD officers storming the area. As Luke was in his chokehold, Chance spoke in a dark tone. "The first man I've ever killed said something similar too.."

Luke's eyes bulged in horror. "NO WAI-"

Snap.

Chance twisted Luke's neck until the man himself dropped to the ground dead. Luke's eyes were closed, saving Chance the trouble of closing them himself.

As he grabbed his Tommy Gun, he heard footsteps. Chance touched his cheek. There was a tiny speck of blood on him. He heard sniffing and growling from the staircase, and out came Trent.

Trent's eyes were blood red. Pupiless.

Trent fired his American Violence and out came red flared bullets. The shots were insanely loud, even made the hairs on Chance's skin rise. This was like Piercer all over again, minus the distance. The blood from Chance's cheek soon evaporated, and was heading back to Trent's left hand.

"So that's how he found me up here." Chance whispered to himself.

No more second chances, Chance said to himself, and thought of what might happen if he fought Trent one on one without a Hellfire Arm.

As the police sirens became louder and louder, Chance ran towards the buildings behind the hotel.

And he jumped off; a leap of faith.