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

Sweat was raining down Holt's neck as he swiftly side stepped to the right. Boxing matches all over the U.S were always like this. His opponent, a sturdy looking Irishman named Dwyer jabbed at Holt with the dark red gloves on his fists. The two men were on a clear white boxing ring, decorated with blue safety lines.

Behind them was the Referee, standing inches away from the two boxers going all out tonight.

Holt shot himself backwards as the crowd of thousands continued to roar tonight. The match between Holt and Dwyer took place within the Hatcher Drome in Arctor, a place of action one might say in Oyster Bay. The noise and excitement caused by most of the attendees in question were men, looking to see a fight between two well known fighters.

In Holt's case, he was the up and coming boxer.

"Not bad." Dwyer said with a grin as he dodged Holt's swift right hook. "For someone from Morissey."

Cashing in and Running Away