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

"What the hell is this?" Holt spoke as he stared at Cultro, holding the two suitcases full of money.

"For your own sake, stay put. Nobody's looking out for you here."

"To show you something to believe again." Cultro explained as a dark two seater Wyeth arrived. The car was cool and sharp, its back end resembling a plane yet at the same time, quite retro. The exterior was darker than night itself, but the inside was pure blood red. Holt's eyes widened when the windows were rolled down.

He looked at the driver's seat, his own mouth opened in shock. "Nobody's there."

"Get in." Cultro circled the car. "Unless you wanna walk home and risk people knowing your face."

"You think I didn't know about what happened not long ago? About Maldici using his Hellfire Arm to warp the sky and do crazy shit?"

A Burning Message