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 took his time flying above the city skyline, the buildings of both Harbour City and Morissey were looking like building blocks for him. Of course, he was trying to catch a meeting in time, with the Gunsmith himself.

He had only been the Representative for the Gunsmith for only a few hundred or so years, maybe more than 500 years. He never really counted, never really bothered to knowing the less he count, the more time felt faster.

In fact, time did feel fast throughout this entire Hellfire Arm crisis, even though he's only been here for a year or two when it first started, when there was trace of Hellfire Arms on this part of Earth. He sighed, knowing time wouldn't make any difference.

Humans had a saying that time would tell, but what was time trying to tell right now? The world's gonna be all sunshine and happiness once more. Perhaps, but for how long?

Hellfire Bitterness