Interrogation Room 1 was coated in a shade of deep blue. The table there was next to the windows. Graham sat upright in his seat. His scarred face turned to Chance by the time the Haverton detective walked in. The interrogation room was simple, no sign of excessive detail to the dark blue walls or the wooden floor.
McSweeney was standing near the door, one leg pressing against the wall while the other was on the floor. His Hellfire Arm was strapped onto his shoulder. His uniform wasn't far from any other serving officer.
Even as McSweeney was stationary, Chance could see the bright veins of the HAST member. The veins on McSweeney were glowing slowly, at a pace akin to a heartbeat.
Chance had the notes of the Hellfire Arms that were given by Valefar before. He turned to McSweeney, whose arms were crossed. "What's yours called?"
"Sucker Punch." McSweeney replied. "Lives up to its name, although I don't always need to point at the face. Eventhough scar face here isn't having his Hellfire Arm, I'm here to keep watch, just in case he tries something funny."
"Rosenthal said that he-"
"Wanted you to interrogate scarface. Sure, we bagged him together afterall. You should do the talking."
Chance sat opposite Graham. Graham's facial features seemed like he was living his life to the fullest, although he wasn't having any wrinkles or signs of gray hair yet. All the Haverton could see was the scar running down the man's face.
"You familiar with drip work, Graham?" the Haverton asked in a heartbeat, a calm but strong tone.
Graham himself grinned and huffed. "You're calm. Look at this guy." he looked at McSweeney and pointed at Chance. As he said that, the scar faced gangster waved his hands around.
"Calm is what anybody should have in any situation. People can read you, and the last thing the world needs is a broken person with a nervous breakdown."
"You Havertons really have balls of steel, do you?"
"We prefer the term 'not backing down'" Chance replied rather quickly. "Now answer the question."
"Fine. I ain't a Dripper, but I wont deny the money's good. Real good. People will pay a lot just to get another person get killed, and Drippers equally get paid for it. People are desperate for money detective, you had any idea how much this place has suffered back in the 30s?."
"Money is good until people like you end up in prison or dead." McSweeney interrupted, facing Graham.. "Besides, compared to you, there's some good souls out there making an honest buck. They ain't using the Crash as an excuse to get involved in dumb shit."
"I'll say it again just in case you're deaf I ain't no Dripper." Graham called out. "I just had Blade on me as part of my job."
"What job would that be?" Chance spoke.
"Protecting my employer's interests."
"That's bull." McSweeney replied. "Who you really working for? This person the reason you went Hellfire Arm hunting at Penrose Avenue?"
Silence from Graham, who looked down at the table for a moment before looking back up to the men in front of him. "I want a deal."
"Keep talking and maybe we can think of something. McSweeney?"
"Yeah I'm with Chance on this one. I personally ain't making promises though."
"The MPD is very well acquainted with the likes of Wes Riskell, right McSweeney?" Graham spoke, taunting the MPD officer. "Not so much with the Havertons. Mr. Riskell likes to keep things under tabs, without any unwanted attention. But what he does is none of my business, I just do what he asks and he pays me."
"You the only Hellfire Arm user under his employment?"
"Me and another guy, I never knew his name though, we never saw eye to eye."
"OF COURSE you don't. You get a good look at this guy at least?" McSweeney came in standing next to Chance.
"That's the thing about Hellfire Arms ain't it? It'll always give you a new look, and not in a good way." Graham retorted. "So yeah I had a look at him before. Had a hat, mustache, I tell ya that mustache of his makes him look like a damn walrus. Freaking hilarious."
Chance took notes of his on a small notebook he took out from his pocket. "Penrose Avenue. Normal place, nothing like our encounter happened before today. You think finding another Hellfire Arm would be good for Mr. Riskell?"
"That was the case until you and this guy ruined it." Graham turned to McSweeney. "To think I paid those two punks of boys to scout the place and let me in. More Hellfire Arms we got, the better Mr. Riskell cares for those who work for him, and he wasn't gonna let Lloyd's killer get away with it."
"Lloyd Howitzer? He works for Riskell?" Chance questioned.
"News travels fast in the underworld faster than the Morissey Bulletin can pump out their own." taunted Graham. "We got word of it far earlier than the MPD. Riskell's pissed off as much as the next person."
A bullet ran through the window Chance and Graham were sitting at. McSweeney flinched and moved back. Another bullet came, and this one grazed Graham's shoulder. It wasn't just a graze, Chance saw, it took out a chunk of Graham's flesh.
A third bullet made contact with Graham's chest. A fourth came crashing through the window nearly ripping off Chance's fedora.
The Haverton detective dropped down, and he could see the thin outlines of a soundwave coming out of the last bullet. He felt something piercing in his ears, and covered them with his hands.
"Head down detective!" McSweeney spoke as he crouched down. He gripped Sucker Punch tightly, as he looked at the broken window at the corner of his eye.
Next came the fifth bullet. This bullet pierced the walls, creating another soundwave and out was a chunk of the wall. Chance saw the waves from the bullet, it past by him and it shook up the hairs on his skin and his organs.
The soundwave itself was a large boom. Seconds lasted as no other bullet was fired, then McSweeney rose to his feet.
There was a moment of silence as the firing ended. McSweeney and Chance rising from their previously crouched positions. Both men took out breaths as well as looking at their surroundings.
The bullets that were shot were still red hot, with the edges bearing a color aking to its heat. McSweeney soon heard footsteps frantically going upstairs.
Fermor bursted into the room. "We heard shots!"
"Secure the perimeter, Fermor! The shots most have come from the Northwest, just off Ulwray street." McSweeney barked. "Stop anybody that was there. There should be a witness. Now!"
"Yes sir"
"Hey." Chance came over to Graham. The scar faced man was giving out heavy breaths as he held a hand onto his wound. The Haverton detective noticed the wound, blood dripping out of it and onto the floor. He looked at McSweeney. The HAST officer immediately ran over to Graham.
"Pier-" coughed Graham.
"What?" McSweeney said. "Don't die on us yet! What is it!?"
"Piercer." Graham's finger was shaking and his index finger was facing the pristine silver sharp bullets. Chance saw them and compared them in his mind with that of a sniper's bullet.
It was similar.
"Is that the name of the Hellfire Arm?" Chance asked. No answer from Graham anymore. "Or a person." Still no answer. "Graham!"
Chance put his fingers onto Graham's neck and shook his head. The man was gone.
"Chance, Wes Riskell has been on the MPD's eye for sometime. Hot shot gangster who thinks he's above everybody, but it's safe to say that the Hellfire Arm Crisis is making him scared shitless. We know for a fact that he likes to let his legs rest at the at Midnight Owl."
"Name like that they also open in the afternoon, right?"
"Funny. Jokes aside, it's Riskell's excuse to be part of the 'normal' society' and blend in. It's in Central. You can't really miss it. Big hawk flying."
"You want me to bust Riskell's chops?" Chance asked.
"You bet it. Another one of his guys was killed, by a Hellfire Arm user nontheless. After that, investigate any lead you can on the Hellfire Arms, the last thing we need is an entire wave of panic amongst the citizens. Morissey ain't going down to Hellfire!"
"Anyone here?" Valefar spoke, He peeked into the room and noticed the destruction. A glass of whiskey was in his hand, and he whistled at the condition of the room.
"What I'd miss?"
"I was just about to meet a certain somebody." Chance spoke. "I sure as hope you didn't cause this."
"Chance how could you?" Valefar joked. "I'm just a dealer. I'm not allowed to interfere with Hellfire Arm users. And besides, Graham was killed by someone else I presume, judging by those bullets."
"I sure as hell you can give us some answers and leads for this crisis." Chance grumbled as he went outside.
"I'll be getting a team here to secure the area. Don't mess with anything, fiend" McSweeney said as he left Valefar. The representative placed his glass onto the table, and crouched to see Graham's body. He picked up one of the silver pristine bullets. He sighed.
"Shit." he spoke. "Here we go again."