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

Dina Holt made herself and her son some tea. She and her husband Warwick,  had received this apartment from her son following his winnings through boxing. A portion of them went into this exact apartment, with the beige walls, elegant rug and couch, the equally nice tidy bedroom that mostly people with the highest income would achieve.

Money was such a universal concept, and Morrisey was no exception, especially when the Crash came to be in the 30s. Stock markets hit a new low, and so did the people, physically and mentally. Dina and Warwick were one of the lucky ones. She looked at her son Roscoe, who had his father's features, even that brawn like jet black hair and those piercing brown eyes.

"Are you still boxing for those men?" she asked in a firm tone. "That Nicoletti-"

"No." Holt spoke. "Not at the moment."

"They cut me loose, decided to get me away from their business, wouldn't want me all wrapped up."

Words, Words, Words