Certified Old Timer

Humans.

Valefar saw them as destructive creatures, especially when they're provoked or dragged into crazy stuff by other humans, if not nature itself, but time and time again, maybe some humans are that naive; lacking the proper knowledge of what can really put them into a tight spot, the ones who really couldn't think for themselves.

He heard about tales in the old West, when his predecessor was dealing with Hellfire Arms and potential users; batshit insane individuals who were corrupted for whatever reason, or people who think they were doing the right thing; and they were right, in their own mind that is.

Although other humans were also resourceful, caring toward each other, full of thought, witty. Chance Gordon would count as one of those humans when it came to be full of caring thought. He had shook the Haverton's head about the other deal the Haverton offered. Even if Valefar was just the One who did Deals, he still had to do it anyway.

Just like he was still involved in this Hellfire Arm crisis.

He was at the bar of the Midnight Owl, just miles away from the 9th precinct, he needed a break from this entire monitoring of the situation and shit, also hoped that there wasn't some idiot in the city that naively grabbed hold of a Hellfire Arm.

"Here you go sir." the 50 something year old bartender spoke.

"Thanks." Valefar smiled. Some humans were kind, but finding such humans was a rarity. When he first touched down on Earth and maintained a disguise, he had to act kindly towards humans, in order not to attract unwanted attention.

"Mr. Vale?" the same bartender came back with a phone in hand. The phone was still tied to its cord. "There's a call for you…"

Valefar raised his eyebrow. His hand picked up the phone from the bartender. "Yes?"

"George!" a woman's voice called out.

"Barbie?" Valefar asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"George! My friend and I, we went out for clothes shopping, a Hellfire Arm user was here, he-."

"Wait, what?"

"He had revolvers in his hands! And there was a large barrel coming out from his head. He demanded that we shouldn't listen to the MPD and the Havertons, that we should get the Hellfire Arms and fight them back, George, I'm scared."

"Barbie! Barbie." Valefar said. He felt a sudden surge of concern running through his brain. Why did he start to care for humans?

Wait.

I saved Chance Gordon before, he thought, but he knows who I really am.

"Where are you?" The Representative asked Barbie. He overheard her speak. "Get back home, I'll handle this."

"What do you mean, handle it? You can't stay out there, are you insane? There's gonna be Hellfire Arm users everywhere." Barbie spoke.

Her statement made him silent, before signing out of upset based on what the hell was currently going on.

"I'll be fine Barbie." Valefar spoke before he signaled the bartender to close the phone. He downed his shot of glass, before leaving a tip. He stormed out of the door, before he saw cars passing by. Looking left and right, his eyes flickered.

Before he saw a figure in the sky, floating above him. People on the sidewalk stopped near Valefar and pointed toward the figure, drenching in crimson.

Bright.

Valefar looked at the people around him. Taking in a deep breath, he turned to them. "Get far away people. NOW!" they looked at him with shock, but then looked at the crimson man.

"Call the MPD!" said a man as people ran with fear deep in their nervous systems. Each of them were trembling and running with only a few people.

"I won't be here long." Bright lowered himself to ground level.

"What the hell do you want?" Valefar demanded.

"Straight to the point. I like that." The crimson Dripper landed just a few inches away from the Representative, whose fist was clenched together and gritted his teeth.

"I'm just interested as to why you're putting faith in the human race to help someone who isn't human in the first place."

Valefar looked down.

"You even helped Chance Gordon gain life. You think I didn't have a good idea about what was in that suitcase you brought at the time? Or that my crimson eagle didn't see the Haverton fight Trent?"

"I swear if I wasn't bound by my status of interfering with fiends like you-" Valefar started, but stopped as Bright did not say a single word, he didn't flinch, not even blink. "I doubt you're gonna find that Fiend that freed the Hellfire Arms in the first place."

"And what if I do get him?" the crimson Dripper stopped in his tracks and turned to the Representative. "What if for some odd reason, I managed to get all the Hellfire Arms back and find that Fiend, before telling the Gunsmith in his own face that his Representative failed to enlist the help of the humans?"

"I know you can't ruin their contracts." Bright spoke of Chance Gordon and his Allies. "But you could at least tell me where they are, where they're headed, maybe insight about their Hellfire Arms."

Valefar was silent; he folded his arms before he tapped his shoe onto the pavement multiple times, before turning towards Bright's hidden face. "Piss off."

***

Grant McSweeney was driving a police wagon at 50mph, more than the usual speed limit. He had the siren on, and in the passenger seat was Chance Gordon. The HAST member grinned in impress at the Haverton's new appearance, even laughed when Chance told him what happened with Trent.

"But the bastard's still out there." McSweeney acknowledged. "Ford and Freddie are gonna try and get after him with the boys."

"What ever happened to Angus O'Malley and Derman Whittle?"

"We initially wanted to transfer them to Rockwell Prison, but we figured these two might be useful in gathering information for us. Those two are in the Northwest, of course we got some officers assigned to keep an eye on them."

"And Joey Satriano?"

"I respect Italians on a daily basis, but Satriano ain't one of them." McSweeney rolled his eyes. "You can dress up in any fancy suit, or be from whatever country, but if you're a criminal, then you're a fucking criminal. No exceptions. Only REAL difference would be who's the bigger asshole than the other."

"Speaking of assholes." McSweeney continued. "We're heading to Hauser, a small place that has a ferry leading up to Quitely Island, if those reports of Mustang we're true, then we could get another Hellfire Arm on our hands."

"Anything we know about this guy?"

"The hell should I know, detective." McSweeney spoke. "All I care about is killing these Hellfire fuckers, cause that's the only real way we'll get them back, right?"

I just hope you don't jump around in glee, Chance thought as the car slowed down, and in both men's view, was a grey horse and a man standing next to it. When the car came to a halt, McSweeney burst out of the door.

"MPD! 2 against 1, Mustang!" McSweeney took out Sucker Punch and aimed it at Mustang. Chance got out of the car, and had a good look at the old timer in front of him.

"You hear that Shelby?" Mustang spoke to his grey horse. "2 against 1? You got anything to say about that?"

Shelby the grey horse trotted to a car slowly, before turning swiftly and knocking the car with its back legs, throwing it like a baseball. McSweeney and Chance ducked left and right respectively, before the car crushed the police wagon. Glass flying everywhere, and both cars were dented like crumpled paper.

"I'd say it's a fair fight, you boys against Shelby and I" Mustang spoke as he inspected Tombstone. He stopped as he saw Chance's appearance, and saw Showdown holstered on the Haverton's belt.

"You there. Where in the hell did you get that gun?" Mustang demanded towards Chance.

"I could ask myself the same question."

Mustang's eyes bulged before he turned and shot Tombstone towards Chance, the Haverton shifted to the left just as the bullet passed his hat. He saw the bullet embed itself into a car, before the car started to slowly rot, and die out.

"Looks like a deadly Hellfire Arm you got there." Chance said in sarcasm.

"Don't mess with me boy, this Hellfire Arm can't be called Tombstone just because I grew up there! That Hellfire Arm there was one of the two things I hated the most. Back in my day the man who used it terrorized people!"

"Piss off old timer." McSweeney demanded. "Like you ain't terrorizing people yourself!"

Mustang gave another shot. McSweeney dodged and it corroded a mailbox, causing it to die out like the car that was hit with the same bullet.

"Shelby! Take care of the fat bastard with the shotgun. I'll deal with the one with Showdown."

"You really hate this Hellfire Arm, do ya, Mustang?"

"Boy, hate wouldn't be enough to describe! You know what it's like to live in my day? Where honest folk just wanted to live life? But then a devil came, then Hellfire Arms, then the people using them." Mustang reloaded two new bullets."

"Let's put this certified old timer to sleep." McSweeney said as he held Sucker Punch. Chance took out Showdown, before revealing it to Mustang. As soon as that happened, a voice appeared in Chance's head.

"A real man...is a killer." it whispered. The voice was back again.