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

Valefar never recalled fighting a beast as the crimson Dragon, even as a resident of Hell. Back then, all the demons he rebelled against, the same ones he cussed and ridiculed, as well as harming them physically and mentally, they weren't even close to his Duke form.

Forms were just looks, nothing compared to one's power. The case of the Dragon in front of him and his allies was a different thing all together.

"Valefar!" Stacy yelled from down below. "We'll try to keep the fort down here!"

"Noted!" Valefar spoke as he looked at his icy cold hands. Has it been even half an hour already? He thought before he shot himself into the air, high enough in order to get sight of the crimson Clone, whose legs were absent as it was infused with the dragon.

Rise of the Duke