The Killers

The bullet from Chance's Hellfire Arm was swift as the wind, he felt the bullet come out of the barrel much harder than it was.

The bullet went through the upper shoulder of Trent, splattering a speck of blood onto his face as well as taking a portion of his flesh. It felt like a dismemberment. Trent clenched onto his shoulder, and it was bleeding. The hand holding the injury was now drenched into his own blood.

The circle that was previously covering an area for the gunfight decimated, as Chance blew off the smoke from Showdown.

He saw Stacy and Valefar approaching him, before the latter stopped and looked up into the sky. "Not again!"

Chance heard the noises of a large eagle piercing his ears. He looked behind him and saw the crimson Eagle, the one drenched in crimson. His breath was taken away at the sight of the crimson animal.

Bright, Chance thought about the Eagle as he took out its talons and aimed for Chance. The Haverton took out Showdown, and started to fire at it. The Eagle shifted to the right, faster than a bullet. The Eagle then made a turn, and took out its talons.

"Scatter around!" Chance yelled at Stacy and Valefar, both individuals doing what he told them. The Haverton detective ducked onto the ground, before he saw the eagle's talons latching onto Trent's shoulders.

Trent was a heavily built man, yet he was picked up as light as a feather by the time he was in the air, bringing him elsewhere, far from here. Chance approached Stacy and Valefar, before he panted in tire.

"We really need a game plan." Chance spoke.

"Agreed. We need to gather with the others. If necessary, we should have the others make use of any Hellfire Arms that were recovered. We don't know what we're up against."

"Can I just say something?" Valefar demanded. "I'm fucking pissed."

Aren't we all are, Chance thought as he looked at his Hellfire Arm. I need to get used to this.

***

Even as he was in the air, Trent still felt American Violence's screams just banging into his head. They were entering his ears, piercing whatever protection his skull and brain had to offer. The pain was a bitch in his shoulder, especially made worse thanks to the crimson eagle latching its talons on his shoulders with a tight grip.

"Where are you taking me?" Trent demanded. THe crimson eagle gave no answer. He flinched in pain as he felt the pain. The edge of his shoes felt the wind below him. His eyes were as wide as plates when his eyes just how far he was from the ground.

Fuck, he thought, before the eagle stopped at a particular building. To his right, Trent could see the tallest building in all of Morissey.

He felt something releasing him. The eagle opened its talons, and Trent started to fall faster than a brick being thrown off. He cursed at the build of his body. Even with these muscles he could still be a splattered egg on the ground, only with blood instead of yolk.

Moments before he hit the ground, he saw the ceiling of a large building, and a crimson colored hole. He went through the hole; the surface making his fall even slower, before he hit the ground. He brought himself to his feet, before he saw that he was in a large warehouse, strangely packed to the brim with boxes and extremely tall shelves.

He turned to see who was in front of him.

"Mr. Bright." Trent said as the crimson eagle went through the ceiling, and landed onto Bright's shoulder, before decimating into the Dripper's crimson coat.

Behind Bright, there were other people.

The first was a Lady dressed in black from head to toe. Her outfit had some dark blue feathers, and she wore a headpiece, akin to a showgirl back in the early 20s of Morissey, when peek shows were a thing; the kind of shows that involved men paying a certain amount of bucks just to see a hot lady. Hot wasn't to describe what temperature they were at.

On the lady's back, was a dual barreled rifle covered in bright red and had gold linings on it. The handle in particular was hazelnut, and had gold linings.

Next to the Lady was a medium sized man. The man in particular truly made Trent confused.

The medium sized man had razor sharp teeth, almost as if somebody put tiny knives in his gums. On the upper part of his head was a cylinder from a revolver, and a barrel revolver was sticking out. The man was quite muscular, and was shirtless for that matter. Trent swore that on the man's chest, there were red long scars, and on the left were a couple of stars. The man's injuries resembled a vertical american flag.

Trent was stunned at the sight of the revolver cylinders embedded onto the man's palms, with both the man's index fingers becoming barrels from a revolver.

The man with the barrel revolver aesthetic teleported to Trent's stance. Trent himself backed off.

"Patience, Earl Wayne Johnson." Bright said to the barrel revolver man. The crimson Dripper took a few steps back to avoid being knocked by Johnson's barrel revolver head.

"This here the one you broke out of Ryder's, huh?" Earl Wayne Johnson spoke. He adjusted his head, before the barrel revolver soon disappeared and appeared on his left shoulder, revealing his clear face. He had red rings around his eyes, something Trent saw as clear as water.

"What would you do?" When there was silence, Johnson exclaimed. "Tell me!"

The hairs on Trent's skin went up. "Killed a woman back in '31"

"So you're the one who killed Grace Flynn?" the Lady in black spoke for the first time as she approached Trent and Johnson. "Wife of that playwright?"

"What's it to you?" Trent countered.

"Not that I give a damn to be honest." The Lady said. "I've never had respect for married women who think life is all good as soon as they're married to a rich man. Trent right?"

"Hobart Trent."

"Odette Black." The lady said her name. "The Hellfire Arm I got with me is Queen's Revenge. The man with the barrel revolvers is Earl Wayne Johnson, his Arm's Chaos Freedom Cannon; CFC for short."

"Tell me Trent do you have a moment to talk about FREEDOM?" Johnson said before Bright raised his hand.

"You may have your freedom of speech soon Johnson, and your actions, but right now, there's something important for all of you, but before that." Bright placed his hand onto Trent's wound, and was healed in a jiffy. "This is only temporary, make sure you're not shot next time."

Odette Black and Earl Wayne Johnson stood beside Trent. The trio then saw Bright in front of them.

"With the exception of Trent, most of you have been with Drip Work Inc. for a while, gaining money in the process. Well, I'll be sure to give you even more." he went over to a crate, before he slammed the front, and out came dollars. There was a colossal pile in it, and it went onto the floor like a sea of riches."

"Hunch Harvey is a certain client that I want protected, mainly because he has an important mission with his own Hellfire Arm. He's holed up in Barker's. Previously there was a certain Haverton detective that tried to find him, but even as I took care of him, well, the crimson eagle tells me that he's still alive, and with a Hellfire Arm nonetheless!"

"So, the money you see there. All of you, and Mustang, will protect Mr. Harvey. Ensure that no MPD or Haverton gets near him. Take them all out if you need too, but then again, it's the only real way to stop them."

"I'm more concerned about freedom." Johnson said.

"Think about it Johnson, taking out these coppers will ensure that the people limiting the freedom here, they won't be protected at all."

Johnson grinned at the idea of that.

"Trent." Bright said as he appeared in front of Trent. The user of American Violence was slightly shaking. How could this be? He couldn't even see Bright's angry face.

But then again, the unknown can sometimes be scary.

"I may forgive you for failing to protect your client at the Full Moon Hotel. Afterall, you were asked to distract the MPD, and you had no idea Chance Gordon was there. However." As Bright began to speak again, Trent swore he saw a giant wall of crimson reaching the ceiling. Behind the crimson Dripper were an array of wild animals; a bull, an eagle, a tiger, a dog, and even a large serpent: a dragon.

"If you fail again, then rest assured you will endure something worse than death." Bright said with a demanding tone, as Odette and Johnson barely flinched.

"Understood." Trent said with an agitated tone, but Bright nodded.

"Good, now I suggest that you all meet with Mustang, and tell him of this plan. Rest assured, if you all kill the MPD and Haverton Hellfire Arm users, this money is all yours, and Johnson? When this is all over, do what you wish."

"You're damn right." Johnson grinned as Odette Black gave a cold smile as well.

"Think you can handle it this time, Trent?" Bright asked with a serious tone.

Trent clenched onto American Violence, the black and red aura started to come back. He looked at his new Dripper colleagues, and spoke. "I know what I have to do; what we have to do. We are the Killers."