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

"The fuck it isn't what it looks like." Chance yelled out toward Robert Neal. He was a few meters away from the man himself. They were standing on the white concrete surfaced rooftop the building had. Some parts of the roof were fading away, showing gray. "You caused this."

"I had to detect Gordon!" Neal screamed, his voice was high, but disemboweled. "Bright and Clive Stabler. They had my wife and children. They threatened to hurt my family if I didn't do as they asked!"

"You couldn't trust any of us?" Chance began circling the rooftop, Neal did the same keeping his distance from the Haverton detective.

"I got the call from my wife saying a certain crimson man visiting the house." Neal spoke. "You think I don't know anything about Bright? You think I turn a blind eye to what he's capable of? Wouldn't you do the same thing!?"

"Your rats killed Ford! Injured Freddie." Chance spoke. "Harmed our allies, and now they're out there in the city."

The Dirtiest Rat