A Kick of Hellfire

The officers of the MPD went over to the Hellfire crate, taking those red grenades like apples and throwing them like rocks towards Johnson's army of madlads obsessed with freedom, or at least blindly following the user of Chaos Freedom Cannon. The crate was a kick of Hellfire. Chance saw the area unfolding, with the arrival of the gravestones that popped up from the ground.

"You're from the Old West. So I expect you know what's going on now?" Chance spoke in a calm but demanding voice. Hardin looked at him with a deathly glare.

"I was elsewhere while Voyde was wielding that thing, detective!" Hardin spoke. "Besides, even I can't predict him, and the last thing I need is bothering him and that fight with that Hellfire Arm user over there!"

He's got a point, Chance thought as he saw Voyde's figure jumping and exchanging bullets with Johnson. But what this thing is affecting the area is beyond me.

"Chance!" McSweeney demanded. "Ford and Freddie will use the things in that crate to fend off these assholes. You and me, to the hostages, now!" The larger HAST member jumped over the hood of the car that was abandoned in this part of town. He ignored the dust and the current atmosphere of the area caused by Voyde.

"You heard the big man." Hardin spoke with his eyes rolled. "Let's get those people out." Chance looked at him and began to run. He went through the distracted minions of Johnson, handled off by Ford, Freddie and the remaining members of the MPD. As he caught up to McSweeney, he saw a figure wielding a single barreled shotgun.

"Shit!" he muttered. His arms were shaking and the shotgun nearly tumbled over his arm. "Spike! They're here!"

"Put some bullet holes in them!" Spike shouted from inside the building the Johnson minion was situated at. "Taylor! Get your ass out there!"

Out of the entrance of the building came out a tall figure covered in sheets of metal. The figure's helmet was dark and cold. Glass was covering the figure's face. On the strap of his back was a light machine gun, and Chance widened his eyes in surprise.

"BAR!" Chance yelled out as he shifted to the left and McSweeney went to the right. Taylor shifted his Browning Automatic Rifle into a full circle as Chance crossed his arms, and McSweeney ran as fast his legs could bring him.

Chance felt the bullets ricochet off his arms, but when they made contact and bounced off, he winced at the scrapes of pain. He remembered what Valefar said about normal firearms, and the men accompanied by Taylor could overpower him.

"I don't normally do this, but since that fucker's got metal covering up his sorry ass." Hardin began to speak. "Shoot him toward that glass covering him up. I'll deal with it." As he said that, his transparent form turned into a stream of energy and went inside Showdown's cylinder. The Hellfire Arm glowed with a burst of white smoke with a stream of blood red."

Chance took out Showdown and the burst from the Hellfire Arm was much stronger than usual. The blast sent Chance onto the ground falling on his back first, while Taylor saw the blinding light of the projectile heading toward him, smashing the glass covering his face, and pushing him far to the edge of another building.

Inside the armor, Taylor opened his eyes, the shrapnel from the broken glass cover avoided his eyes, but in front of him was Hardin in his transparent form. "A real man, fights fair." was the sentence Hardin spoke, before his transparency enabled him to blend with the wind, and went through the armor.

Taylor's muffled screams were heard among Chance and the people around it. The metal covered man was now grasping his head with his hands. He saw Spike Beecher exit the building, along with 2 other men part of Johnson's army.

"Chance!" Hardin's voice echoed in Chance's ears. "You take care of those three jokers! No backshots!" As he heard that, the Haverton rolled his eyes, before he gave a large whistle towards Spike Beecher. Spike shifted his head, and Chance took a millisecond to have Showdown deliver a new bullet curving towards one of Johnson's minions.

The first one had their neck ripped by the bullet, sending him dead just as he was about to hit the ground. He dropped his weapon, as the other minion and Spike were shaken by the sight.

"Got ourselves a gunslinger!" Spike spoke with a light tone, it was full of energy but also mocking. He was holding a rifle, and Chance saw green gloves on the man's hands.

Spike's fingers grasped themselves onto the trigger of his rifle, before they pressed the trigger at rapid speed. The bullets were as fast as Chance blinked his eyes, he got up as he carried himself away from the spray pattern of Spike's rifle.

"Take the buildings." Hardin's voice spoke in Chance's head again as the Haverton saw Taylor struggling with himself from the outside. "And I don't mean going inside!" The rapid fire from Spike's rifle moved Chance to run toward a building, as he jumped on and his boots latched on the building, allowing him to run vertically.

"What the hell!?" Spike said as he stopped his shots and took seconds to see Chance running up. The Haverton detective stopped at his current pace. He was standing upright, yet his feet were stuck on the building like glue. His feet did not feel sticky, not even the soles of his boots felt that way.

I'll be damned, Chance thought about his boots. Had Hardin done something similar with these things when he himself was using Showdown? He couldn't really imagine how tall buildings actually were in the old west. Speaking of the devil. "Gordon!" Hardin's voice boomed as there was a tiny surge of electricity buzzing on Chance's skin. "Get back down there and fight these guys fair!"

Sounds like my grandfather already, Chance sighed as he dropped down onto the ground. The height was immense, yet as he landed, he didn't feel a thing. The ground underneath his feet cracked as he made his landing, before he took out Showdown from his holster, facing Spike Beecher

***

"Why won't you die!?" Valefar spoke out loud as the streets of Little Italy were not far from being a ghost town. Defici rolled up his sleeves slightly, before he slammed the ground, a wave of concrete heading towards Valefar.

The Representative simply stepped to the left. He charged himself up front, his fist clashing with Defici's, as the two men were in a struggle. Red smoke emerged from Defici's back, while yellow aura appeared from Valefar's hands.

"What the hell's Odette Black doing!?"

"Do I look like a man who's willing to blow the whistle? Sing like a bird?"

"No, you're a fucking idiot who threw his life away. Even if I kill the bitch, you're a goner in the end."

Defici's eyes fumed at the word 'bitch', as his knee jabbed Valefar in the stomach, before he delivered a punch towards Valefar's face. The Representative was sent flying like a football, before he landed on his back, the concrete of the street dragging him alongside the broken pieces of it. Valefar shook his head away from the punch, before he saw Defici charging at him again. The Representative, the palm of his right hand.

"Not this time!" Valefar spoke with a booming voice as he kept on standing, waiting for the right moment. "Come on, come on!" He clenched his fist as Defici grabbed hold of it, but felt his hand stuck. Defici felt a glimpse of the air as Valefar brought him up and pulled him down onto the ground. Defici's face struck with the pavement first as the hostile man let go of his grip.

"HA!" Valefar spoke before as he saw Defici's bounce from the impact, yet Valefar saw a fist coming from Defici's rubber like arm, expanding itself to hit him.

Defici gave a large punch towards's Valefar's cheek, as the Representative was brought to the ground, and Defici swore he saw pieces of the Representative's face fall onto the ground like broken glass.

As Defici brought back his long arm to normal, he saw Valefar get up to his feet. The Representative's face on the right side was cracked, and Defici swore he saw a glowing red eye, in addition to dark acid like skin.

"Your true form? Demon?" Defici mocked, but his eyebrow was raised as Valefar responded with a simple laugh. The laughter soon became larger.

"This isn't even the one." Valefar said in a bold tone. What Chance saw of me at Galley's apartment, that was just one of my many forms. "What you see right now, it's nothing special, but forget about me hotshot, give me Black!"

Defici pounded both of his fists together, revealing a blood red color going up half of his arm, they were tacked on like tattoos, yet they were beaming and glowing with light. A helmet formed around Defici, accompanied by horns, and red pupils appeared on his previously white eyes.

"I respect your honesty, being real silent." Valefar admitted. "Shame I won't see you again after this."