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

Holt brought himself down on the fire escape of the rooftop he had been brought by Cultro. A literal case of repetition of events, only here, he came face to face with the Dripper from Oyster Bay yesterday.

Holt took a cab and headed over to the Sacrement Bon. From the side of the window, he swore he saw Maldici hovering above the buildings, far from the naked eyes of the people on the sidewalk. Maldici didn't seem to make a sun as he was hovering above the city.

Cultro, that fucking rat and demon, Holt thought, maybe this was funny for that demon, to see a human fall for his trick, if it was even a trick. Those sunglasses he was given before, they certainly weren't fucking around or whatnot.

Those things were the real deal.

"You got a date or something at this place?" the new taxi driver spoke as he stopped at a red light.

Money Talks, I