Chance grasped onto his M1911 service pistol. The pistol of gray and brown mix had been around since he completed his training into the Corps. For as long he could remember he never had a day where he didn't carry it.
You might think soldiers were paranoid if they brought their pistols everywhere, but you couldn't be too careful. Sometimes, it was the unofficial rule.
You'd never know if people would go crazy during the war itself, the moment they lose all control of their own mind and soul, as the world plays devilish and delusional games with them, whether it be the world's conditions or it's overal people.
As Chance and other soldiers equipped with their respective pistols and rifles such as M1 Garands and Thompsons, he saw few men of the 4th Marine Division with Hellfire Arms. By few men, it was 7 of them. Just 7 compared to the thousand soldiers standing behind them.
Jack Lark seemed to be in the lead of the 7 The remaining others beside him were now holding Hellfire Arms in their hands, each standing out from most of the soldiers.
There was Keegan Douglas, with the Hellfire Arm Sick Bastard. Instead of the usual uniform, Douglas had a fedora on his head, and was wearing a plan white with suspenders on, in addition to black trousers. His face was beaten up, his left eye bruised, and blood was coming out of his nose. Douglas had a grin on his face, and some soldiers shuddered at the sight.
Sick Bastard was a shotgun, a single barreled. But underneath the body was a drum barrel like how a Tommy Gun would have. Sick Bastard also had an extended part at the back. It made the gun heavier but in Douglas' hands it was as light as a feather.
"And he's normally the quiet guy." one soldier spoke Douglas' smile. Chance shuddered at the sight of Douglas even though he was inches away. Also speaking of sight, Douglas seemed taller and bigger than he initially was. Not that he was the weakest of the Marines, but damn, how the hell could a weapon from Hell change him completely?
"Stand by men," said Peckham. His Hellfire Arm was Dr. Goodlife. As the name suggested, the people that were going to be affected by it will be guaranteed to have a good life, even if it matters for seconds. But for the soldiers, it would be a godsent.
Peckham's helmet bore a red cross within a white circle. He had a small white cape that also showed the red cross. His boots were darker in color, and his overall uniform seemed much more cleaner than it initially was before. Even with the air in Iwo Jima, Peckham's face was clear and clean as a newly cleaned bathtub. It was almost shining.
Dr. Goodlife had a large scope on it. Even from afar, Chance narrowed his eyes and saw a giant circular object dangling from the handle, it seemed like an accessory. On the accessory was an engraved writing.
FOR HEALTH, EVEN IN HELLFIRE.
The soldiers went on the gravel of the dank and emotionless ground. For the moment, they were on their way to the further North where the battle was going on. Shots were heard and pierced the air, prompting everyone to move the pace.
Chance looked over to his superior, Captain Andrew Denton. Denton was an auburn haired Irishman who had a peak build; the healthiest of all the other soldiers, someone who might excel in sports, and he does, just not in a competitive kind of way.
"Where'd he go?" Chance spoke carrying his rifle on his back.
"What is it Chance?" Denton spoke for the first time, his arms were clenching his Springfield.
"Rowland." Chance spoke of Rowland. Rowland was a soldier almost about Chance's age, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen.
"Your buddy's getting himself prepared." spoke a voice. Chance to turn to see the Representative floating but maintained the same speed as the other soldiers. "I had to teach him the ins and outs of his Hellfire Arm."
"Captain!" Jack Lark shouted to Denton who was behind. "Orders?"
"You and Douglas head on further North. I'll be leading Chance and the others here. Wait. Where' the hell Fields?"
Billy Fields was a soldier who had the habit of combing his hair every now and then, even if there wasn't any woman around. Sometimes he spent more time appreciating his looks and his parents who made him the way he is compared to polishing his rifle.
"Present!" said a voice that made Denton surprised. He and the other soldiers stopped to see Billy Fields dressed in an expensive dark blue suit with fedora matching the same colors. His deep black shoes were high class.
He was holding a Thompson M1A1 submachine gun, but this one was colored in gold. Everything was colored in gold. The handles. The fore grip. The barrel slider. The barrel itself. Even the butt stock of the rifle was golden
"What the hell?" Chance asked.
"Ha! Welcome to the billionaire's club Chance!" he ruffled Chance's helmet. Fields was 3 years older than Chance, the two had the same blond hair. Similar face structure.
They could have been brothers, and they are; brothers in arms and war to put it bluntly.
"Fields, no time for jokes." Denton rolled his eyes. "Get in front and mow down the enemy, we need to capture Iwo Jima!"
"Heh. Got it boss." Fields ran faster than he was as the other soldiers attempted to catch up.
Denton and his group soon splitted into various smaller groups of 3 or 4 men, some slamming themselves onto the ground or smaller hills avoiding enemy fire.
Enemy numbers were a factor in this part of the battle, but the overall marksmanship of the enemy was a different thing altogether.
Although he was ducked down, Chance saw a glimpse of Lark running head on to Imperial Japanese Army soldiers.
He mowed them down with the Ripper. Lark pressed the Hellfire Arm's trigger ever so tight, he continued to fire short but sturdy bullets, all of them traveling at lightning speed, sawing the enemy soldiers in half.
Some of their upper bodies were cut, while others lost an arm or a leg, flying away from them, before other bullets went through their necks or upper chest. Lark was panting, and an Japanese soldier was heading to him with a knife.
But the soldier was stabbed with the barrel of Douglas' Hellfire Arm. The enemy soldier coughed up blood as he tainted Sick Bastard; blood just streaming through Sick Bastard's barrel. Douglas aimed the gun at other enemy soldiers, releasing his victim with a giant shot and a loud bang.
The victim bursted into smithereens, blood splashed onto the ground like spoiled milk.
Those weapons are insane, Chance thought as he fired his rifle, a Springfield, before giving himself seconds to reload.
As he reloaded, he noticed the Representative sitting next to him, sipping on a glass of wine. Chance rolled his eyes as he continued on.
Run, stand up, shoot, duck for cover, reload, repeat. This was Chance's routine when it came for wars. He looked over to the North of Lark and Douglas, slaughtering the enemy soldiers like pigs in a slaughterhouse.
No hesitation at all appeared from those men.
Next Chance saw Billy Fields, firing his Hellfire Arm Billionaire Supreme with a single arm, while the other hand was hanging around in his pocket.
Fields looked at Chance. He smiled at his fellow soldier before his facial expression changed immediately.
"Chance!" Fields yelled. Chance saw an enemy soldier behind him with a knife.
A golden bullet flew through Chance narrowly, hitting a tiny bit of his hair and hitting head first into the enemy soldier.
"Don't mind me!" Fields said enthusiastically. "This Hellfire Arm is tight. You go on and help the others!"
"Don't be cocky Bill." Chance exclaimed as he continued to shoot his rifle.
But a bullet from far ahead went through him, piercing his lower abdomen.
"CHANCE!" Fields spoke as he used one hand to drag Chance to a smaller hill, as the other continued to shoot bullets from Billionaire Supreme. He was spraying bullets, but none of them seemed to hit the enemy soldiers. "DENTON! Chance's hit!"
Chance attempted to stand up, taking out his pistol from his belt.
A hand soon stopped his own. Chance turned to see Denton.
"Let me-"
"No." Denton spoke. One of his hands held onto Chance and began to carry him. Chance forced his legs to follow his superior's pace.
"I'll take my Chances."
"Would you believe me if I promised your folks back home that you'd return alive?" Denton spoke before he stopped for a moment. "Darn it. The medic's too far. Jensen!" Denton yelled out loud to a slightly larger soldier. "Get Chance to lower ground. Gather him with the other wounded men. We need to get them at least to safety."
"Jensen." Chance spoke as Denton left him be and went on.
"You heard the Captain, Chance." Jensen frowned. "Let the Hellfire Arms do their job. I think we can win."
Jensen flinched as one bullet passed him, before another hit Chance in the upper shoulder.
"Shit!" Jensen spoke as he saw the Representative walking calmly toward him. "The hell you're doing here?"
"Looks like you need help."
"You think? Can you get Chance to safety?"
"Yeah...but no. I gotta watch Rowland. You get him there. Rowland will take care of the rest. Now."
"I trust you on this." Jensen said as he began to carry Chance, wrapping the latter's arm on his body. Chance's legs moved slightly to keep up with Jensen.
"That guy, that Representative."
"HEY ROWLAND! PUT UP A GOOD SHOW!" The Representative screamed at the top of his lungs. Jensen and Chance, although hearing more bullets being fired and the wind blowing around, stopped to see a man in the sky.
The man was floating. He had wings coming out of his back. Wings! They were made out of dark steel. And he had a gas mask on.
Rowland? Chance thought as the gas mask man was holding a rifle that was dark green in color, and attached to the rifle had a pipe that was attached to a pack on the man's back.
Chance swore he saw gas in that transparent pack. His vision soon felt weary.
"Chance? Chance!?" Jensen said in panic before he turned to Rowland, still in the sky. "Rowland! Kill those bastards!!"
"You heard the man." the Representative spoke from a lawn chair he just made appear from the ground. "Release the gas."
Even as Chance's vision was weary, he saw Rowland flying at a distance from the ground, and blitzed to the far North where the enemy soldiers were positioned. Out from Rowland's Hellfire Arm came out gas that spread as far as a large farm field. The gas in question was yellow and brown in color.
Mustard gas.
But the screams of the Japanese soldiers were loud, slow and agonizing as the gas entered their nostrils and through their lungs. The enemy soldiers felt their inner flesh burning and melting away. Jensen even saw one Japanese soldier's flesh melted to the core, leaving bones.
"Don't die on me yet." Jensen spoke as he carried Chance back to a nearby group and medic.
"Hellfire…" Chance spoke as he began to see black.