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

McSweeney heard tales of Jack Lark from Chance even before they stepped foot in Oyster Bay. During their time resting at the Full Moon hotel, McSweeney sat on a chair listening to Chance's explanation of Lark.

Lark was a hard bastard, who barely blinked during the war, even that one time where a bullet knocked his helmet off.

"I met Jack in '44." Chance once told McSweeney. "We went to the academy and the training grounds together. Me, him, and a couple of others were eventually under Andrew Denton's command."

"Mowed down soldiers at Iwo Jima like lamb to be slaughtered." CHance spoke, recalling his time at Iwo Jima. "That was my first real witness account of the Hellfire Arms."

"Damn." McSweeney pictured Lark's Hellfire Arm, the Ripper, and its bullets straight up tearing people's bodies as soon as they get penetrated. "That's a shitty way to go, but hey, you told me that this guy's got a top hat right?"

The Ripper