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

Richard Gordon felt like weights felt onto his shoulder by the time he saw Chance arrive at his house, for the first time in a while, yet his son wasn't in that fancy suit of his, nor he was wearing that Haverton's badge that he often wore. He was something else, someone different. He spent the next hour listening to more of Valefar's explanations. 


Throughout that time, Richard thought of his son. 


It wasn't the clothes that gave Richard the entire painting of his son, it was also the pale skin Chance had. Well, he had to admit the clothes his son wore seemed out of place that most people in Morissey, or Harbor City for that matter. Heck, not even people in Oyster Bay had clothes that. People in Scarburrow? Perhaps, but not in these times. 


Running Scared