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 ship containing the Hellfire soldiers with flamethrowers, "Burners", stopped at the dock as soon as Valefar had the Duke's Hellraisers in his hands. The dual pistols' handles were soft, complementing its sleek design.

"Where you gonna start?" Howitzer asked of Valefar as the Burners made their way towards the Representative, standing in formation and gripping their flamethrowers.

"The 9th precinct for sure." Valefar thought, remembering he had the place cleaned up after Robert Neal's rat attack. "I doubt people were outside when Bright brought this entire crimson sky."

"Yeah, it fucking stings for my eyes." Howitzer looked up toward the sky for the moment, it was coated in crimson with few streams of black and white. "Damn gun of Bright's making everything crimson."

"Blame Karmoz." Valefar said. "That was his gun originally, before the Gunsmith won it in a gunfight."

Screaming Streets