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

"Good to see you too Valefar." Silverton brushed off the smoke from his shoulder, approaching the table filled with the people. "Some of you might be wondering who the hell am I: my friends call me Silverton. I was the guy who used to represent the Gunsmith back in the old days, before Valefar done fucked up things on his side in Hell."


"Fucked up?" McSweeney was the first to speak, looking at the Representative. Looks from Freddie, Stacy and the others also followed. They were staring at the Representative, even Chance himself.


"Is this even the best fucking time Silver?" Valefar spoke before he turned to Chance. "Spill it Gordon, what did this sonuvabitch tell you in Hell?"


"Stuff." Chance folded his arms with a monotonous tone.


"Ha!" Hardin's voice echoed from Showdown. "Get screwed Valefar."


"What I did before this Hellfire Arm crisis doesn't matter." Valefar spoke. "Besides we need to get Hunch-"


The Hunt for Hunch Harvey