Fermor's squad car had a smooth surface for its seats, including the ones at the back reserved for criminals alike. Chance was in the passenger seat, looking at the streets and the people passing by. The two were on the road within the Central area of Morissey. Buildings were colossal and close to each other. Very few of them were small and short.
"I've heard that Hellfire Arms were around back in the war 4 years ago. That true?" the police officer asked.
"Yeah." Chance started. "Story goes that a certain man in a suit visited the Allies in '45. Said man called himself a Representative of a Hell's Gunsmith."
"Gunsmith?" Fermor looked at the Haverton investigator next to him as they stopped at a red light. "From Hell? Like, that Hell?"
"The Hell that people want to avoid by the time they die? The kind of hell that has the flaming lake and terrains deadly enough to eat up your skin and your own state of mind? Most likely." Chance replied as Fermor drove on.
"Nobody's been through Hell and back here to tell us what it actually looks like, that's just my guess."
"This Gunsmith." Fermor asked after he had some pondering to his mind. "Is he the Devil?"
"Not that I know of. Nobody's ever seen him." Chance replied. "What I do know is that the Gunsmith's Representative offered the Allies, including American soldiers, usage of the Hellfire Arms to win the war, firearms with powers beyond what man would think of. It was more than just a bullet involved. There was a catch though, to use one."
"What was that?"
There was a silence after Fermor asked that question. By this time, he and Chance had passed the Concord State Building. "The Representative gets your soul by the time you die. Hellfire Arms. No pun intended but they pack one hell of a punch, of course you'll only know what kind of Hellfire Arm you got by the time you make the deal with the Representative."
"Safe to say that the Havertons have been equipped with the knowledge of Hellfire Arms?" Fermor noted the conversation so far. "It's no secret that it appeared in the war four years ago. We're almost at the station by the way, to brief with the commissioner and the other Haverton agents."
"Yeah, I had to look into it, and I was there as well."
Fermor took a moment to process what Chance had just said, before looking at him. "Pardon?"
"I was there, in the war when Hellfire Arms appeared."
"Really?"
"Iwo Jima. The Representative made a deal with some soldiers, some of them were great friends of mine. The amount of death and destruction those Hellfire Arms brought." Chance paused. "Those Arms were so powerful it made tanks and planes look like toys."
The two were startled at the sound of the police radio within Fermor's squad car.
"All units, all units" the radio spoke. "We have a 10-71 in progress, at an apartment building on Penrose Avenue.. Car 357 is currently at the scene and requires any available nearby backup."
Chance noticed Fermor looked at him. "Go on." he said. "Answer the call. I'm sure the chief will understand. They probably need our help."
"This is Car 201, available for backup for the 10-71" Fermor said.
The radio replied. "Car 201 on route to the 10-71. Be advised, suspects have been reported to look for a Hellfire Arm somewhere around the building."
"We've been confiscating some Hellfire Arms over the last year. This is just another day to do so. Chance, I trust you got a piece on you?" Chance opened his coat to reveal a silver plated gun. "Good, I hope you're ready for a fight."
***
Fermor's squad car made a hard right by the time he and Chance arrived at the scene. Any shoot out or a situation involving a gun would have citizens back off and run like chicken with their heads cut off. In front of the two men, was squad car 357. Fermor and Chance had their guns in their hands, approaching the officer squatting behind the car.
"Officer Fermor." Fermor spoke first to his fellow officer, who seemed younger. "This is Haverton detective Chance Gordon. What's the current situation?"
"Officer Wells called it in.'' said a shady looking man with a gray coat with 2 others scouting the place. One of them yelled out about a Hellfire Arm, but I don't think they got their hands on it, yet. The rest is history." Rollins, the squatting officer spoke in a fast tone. "I called it backup, also HAST."
"HAST?" asked Chance.
"Hellfire Arm Securement Team." Fermor said. "Rosenthal had it legitimized 2 years ago when they started to appear in the city. What we need to do right now is to take down or subdue these punks at least until backup arrives. We can't let a Hellfire Arm get into the wrong hands."
Fermor lifted his head above the hood of the squad car and ducked behind as a bullet went past his officer' cap. He fired his revolver back at them. "2 in the apartment building, ground floor!"
"Keep them active but don't get shot Chance! Fermor yelled out. "Those punks can't make a deal with the Representative for the Arm if we give them a piece of our mind."
"Go back to your family copper! This ain't worth it!" yelled one of the punks who returned fire. He was out in front of the apartment building. A bullet from Rollins hit him in the foot as he went down. "I'm hit!"
"Shit!" the second punk spoke.
"Go up and meet with Graham! He'll help you out." the first shot punk spoke,
"Get in!" Fermor said as Chance followed. "I'll put the cuffs on this punk and secure the perimeter. You and Rollins chase the other guy."
"You coppers won't handle Graham." the first punk spoke as the Haverton detective and Rollins went into the brown building. Their feet made contact with the wooden floor as they went up the stairs. Apartment doors were closed as they went up onto the first floor. On the second floor, they stopped.
"Mr. Graham!" the voice of the second punk was heard. "They're here!"
"The call was three guys, one of them had a gray suit." Rollins spoke as Chance as behind him. The two then heard sirens approaching. "That must be the backup and HAST, but we've got to keep moving."
Chance saw the second punk with his gun and fired. The second punk had a jersey like jacket on him, and was hiding behind the staircase leading up to the third floor. The Haverton detective and Rollins went up as they heard footsteps going up.
The second punk aimed his gun, but a bullet from Chance flinged it out, puncturing his hand. "Mr. Graham!" the second punk yelled out in pain. Chance saw at the corner of his eye, a man in a gray suit.
"Get him Chance!" Rollins yelled out to the Haverton detective who gave chase. Chance ran after the gray suited man onto the third floor. Inhabitants of the place were present as they saw the chase unfolding and ran back into their rooms.
Chance went up to the staircase leading to the roof. The gray suit man was in his sights. The suited man who had the gray fedora stopped at the edge of the building. He turned swiftly with a black and gray revolver in his hand.
The revolver had a quite big handle. Chance aimed his gun at the suited man.
"You must be Graham." Chance spoke of the name mentioned by the second punk earlier. "Your two friends have been saying your name rather loudly, and not in a good way.."
Graham's head was down, his fedora covering his eyes. He lifted his head up, scar bearing down his face from the corner right top, ending on the edge of his chin.
"Damn." spoke Chance looking at the man's deformity. "You look cut open." The detective's eye looked at Graham's hand holding the revolver. "Throw the gun down, hands where I can see them."
Graham lifted his arm slightly before he swiftly clenched his gun. His arm movement caused a small force of wind to make Chance flinch. Graham's gun barrel slowly disappeared, a medieval like blade replacing the barrel instead.
"You've got to be kidding me.." Chance spoke at the gun's sudden transformation.
Hellfire Arm, Chance thought of the gun that transformed into a blade, gripped by Graham. The Haverton detective fired a shot from his gun.
The blade held by Graham was spun by its holder, the bullet ricocheting off it.
Chance's heart dropped. The man in front of him was deflecting bullets like swatting off flies. His own eyes bulged as he fired more shots. His ears picked up clicks from his gun as he continued to pull the trigger.
He was out of bullets, and he didn't have spares.