TaintedMetal

Once upon a millennium ago, there was a Gunsmith from Hell, and he made hellish guns with abilities that were beyond human: Hellfire Arms. Of course, using these guns required a certain price: the human soul

But a "mishap" in Hell has caused many of the Arms to drop in the east coast city of Morissey, where not everyone is exactly a saint

In this fantastical representation of 1940's America, private investigator Chance Gordon works with the city's finest in order to get the Hellfire Arms back where they belong before the human race is slaughtered by Hellfire.

Bullets will be exchanged, and bodies will hit the floor.

Drip Work

Earl Wayne Johnson panted in tiresome as he went down onto one knee. Even as his head was down, Voyde was still standing tall, the man's legs didn't seem to be uncomfortable standing upright, or moving about. Johnson knew he had the firepower to take down a large group of people.


But his barrel revolver arms, and the one attached to his upper head, they were heavy. He cursed in his thoughts.


Damn terrain must have affected him, he thought about his surroundings. All these Tombstones everywhere, the dark clouds forming above the sky.


"One last opportunity Mr. Johnson." Voyde spoke as he spun his revolvers. The other hand was gently throwing some dice into the air, as big as his palm. Johnson's eye locked onto the dice itself. "Give me Chaos Freedom Cannon. Your merry band of idiots have been cleaned out, like swatting fucking flies."


"Go to hell." Johnson exclaimed as he went back onto his feet. "To the farthest ends of it dammit if I could damn send you there."


Lucky Bastard