The Haverton detective pulled up his fists. It wasn't compatible against a blade like Graham's, but it was better than running. Graham swung the blade across as Chance bent down, his neck nearly getting hit by it. He moved to the front, rolled onto the ground, bringing himself back up afterwards.
Turning his back, Graham pushed the blade as Chance side-stepped to the left. It was a dodging game now, Chance pictured, just as his eye took a second to spot additional police cars on the street level. There was even a paddy wagon, sturdy and large as it was supposed to be.
"Over here!" Chance said to the officers below before he turned his face to Graham again. The attacker didn't let out a voice at this point. Graham's blade struck a portion of the bricks on the edges of the rooftop, chunks of it were sliced like fruit. Near perfect clean cuts.
Graham took a step back, and he swung his blade across the roof. THe portion of it Chance was standing on now had lines from the blade. With a tip of the blade touching the lines gently, the roof began to collapse.
Chance's hands gripped onto the remaining edge he could hold on, all while he could hear screams of fear of the inhabitants of the building. Concrete parts of the roof crashed down the building alongide the wood.
The Haverton detective then got a glimpse of Graham's blade, right in front of his eyes now. Chance's heart jumped at the sound of a door being kicked. Someone else was the roof. Graham turned and a shot was fired, sending him flying and hitting the edge of the roof.
Chance pulled himself back up. He saw a Morissey police officer. Like the other officers, this one wore a navy blue uniform, yet he seemed much more muscular than most officers. On the officer's neck was a glimpse of veins running through his neck, orange veins. In the officer's hand was a medium barreled shotgun, drenched in brown and have gold plates. Chance swore that he saw the initials "S.P" on the side of the shotgun.
Graham's Hellfire Arm was now lying away from its owner. The officer with the shotgun approached Graham, who now had a large blast on his chest. The officer pointed his shotgun against Graham's head. "You flinch in the slightest." he started. "And I'll make sure you have a great big fall from here."
The officer turned to Chance. "You a Haverton?" he asked as Chance nodded. "Name's McSweeney. I'm with HAST." McSweeney held his shotgun against Graham's head with one hand, while the other reached into his pocket, then threw a set of gloves to Chance. "Pick up that Hellfire Arm. The gloves were drenched in Holy Water and will prevent you from making a deal with the that devil of a Representative. The water on the gloves aint permanent, so grab it and bag it.."
Chance put on the gloves as more officers came. They went to Graham and stuck the cuffs on the scarfaced man.
"Take him to base and get an interrogation room set up for him." McSweeney spoke of Graham being dragged away. He then turned to the Haverton detective. "You look stunned, but you handled yourself pretty well there."
"This isn't my first time with danger." Chance jokingly remarked.
"You got lucky son. Real damn lucky. Best get yourself to 9th Precinct." McSweeney remarked. "Get yourself acquainted with the other officers and meet up with Rosenthal, whose office is there. He needs to make sure every Haverton gets the memo on what needs to be done about these Hellfire Arms, and the devils that use them."
***
Bill Rosenthal was a large man, with the arms and hands of a strongman. His fists were robust, almost like it belonged to a butcher. He was heavily dressed in uniform, with the exception of the stars placed on both sides of his shoulders. Located on the pocket of his uniform upper left, was the last medal he received from the Mayor of the city. The medal was silver and shiny. It beared the words: Citizen of the Decade.
He took a moment to look out the window within his office. He saw the citizens on the sidewalks, the ones in their cars. People were living their lives in this bustling metropolis of the East Coast, by themselves, with their families or friends, maybe with their spouses.
How times have drastically changed since the war ended 4 years ago. And speaking of the war…
"I didn't see the whole thing, but judging by the gunshots I'd say it was quite a fight at Penrose avenue." The Representative spoke in the chair provided in the office, facing the comissioner's desk. The Representative's suit was dark yet clean, his white shirt equally clean as well as his tie, which had a blood red hue to it.
He heard knocking on his door, and saw Fermor peeking out of it. "Sir? I apologize for not being at the meeting-"
"I know. I was told that you and a Haverton detective had a run in with a Hellfire Arm user, stopped him from spreading more trouble. That user is in custody?"
"Yes sir." Fermor replied.
"And the Hellfire Arm?"
We confiscated the user's Arm, but HAST is still looking for the Hellfire Arm at Penrose Avenue."
"Let HAST do their work. In the meantime, is that all you're here for?"
"I brought the Haverton detective. McSweeney believes you need to talk to him."
"Of course, send him in. As for you Fermor, carry on with your current duties." Rosenthal said as Fermor nodded.
"Yeah, bring in the Haverton." The Representative followed, his mouth forming a wide grin at the sight of Chance Gordon.
Chance himself saw the Representative sitting rather comfortably on that wooden chair. THe suited man leaned back, watching the Haverton detective direct his attention to Rosenthal.
"Commissioner Rosenthal." Chance approached the desk and shook the commissioner's hand. "An honor to meet you."
"Likewise. Shall I call you Chance?"
"That nickname has been stuck with him for a long long time." The Representative chuckled. "I know this because I've been around as the world was running it errands and events. The war ain't no exception. I've seen people grow up, Chance Gordon here included."
"I always believed there was something odd about you." Rosenthal said to the Representative. "2 years ago there were odd reports of a man resembling yourself, wandering around American cities and allegedly responsible for the disappearances of people deemed 'sinners', but eventually it was dismissed following certain arrests."
"I am not here to cause chaos Commissioner, or spread superstition." The Representative grinned. "Well, not since somebody damn went into hell and freed a ton of my boss' guns!"
"What?" Chance said as the Commissioner was silent.
"Oh of course, you weren't here, busy handling Graham." The Representative turned to Chance. "Very well. I shall give YOU a small recap of what the hell is going on with these Hellfire Arms, and what you need and everybody with a sensible mind should do."
The Representative swiftly went out of his seat. He snapped his fingers and out of the floor came out a chalkboard. A ruler came out of thin air and landed on his hand. A piece of chalk was on standby, floating in the air.
Chance sat down. This sight reminded him of his high school days.
"History has taught us one thing." the Representative started as the chalk would then write everything he would say. "That a great war can really bring a ton of destruction and death. In the last year of the war, 1945 to be exact, the Hell's Gunsmith had seen it fit to give a lending hand to the Allies, buff out their strength in other words. What better way than to offer them Hellfire Arms in order to bring hell upon the enemy, no pun intended. Of course a Hellfire Arm isn't free, any mortal would have to-"
"Pay with their soul." Chance interrupted. "Soul is collected by the time the user dies."
"Precisely Mr. Gordon, you've done your homework, now if you'll just let me continue." said the Representative. So, essentially the Allies, and yes, the United States included, won the last battles of the war with Hellfire Arms. Not every single soldier got one, no, that would be way too risky. But nevertheless brave men have sacrificed their souls for the greater good of the world and the war was finished. Since it was finished, I had to gather all of the Hellfire Arms back."
The chalk then drew a crude version of hell with sharp rocks and flames, then a large box which said HELLFIRE ARM STASH. "Unfortunately, 2 years after the war ended, somebody managed to get into Hell and free a lot of the Arms, and quite a number of them landed accross the country, including Morissey. I have a full list of those Hellfire Arms, the ones that are missing, along with details for each. So far so good if I'm honest, HAST has brought a number of them into MPD custody, but there's still more to gather. One's still being searched at Penrose Avenue, as for the others, well, I suspect that some of them have gone into the hands of people identified as a "Dripper". Heh, that's this city's fancy way of saying killer right?"
"It's a term most criminals used to describe killers who work for money." Rosenthal said. "You can imagine, taking a life while getting blood on your hands, dripping away. Since we've had reports of Drippers gaining Hellfire Arms, we need to be more vigilante and valiant then ever."
"Precisely. A Hellfire Arm is more dangerous if the user is." The Representative remarked. "Now, the only way we get the Hellfire Arms back is if we take it from the users. You could try subduing them like you did with Graham, but of course, I'd had to make sure he would be dead, cause I need to collect his soul. When a user dies, their Hellfire Arm is left at where they died, and as long as nobody else touches it, it's safe with HAST in a vault , useful for me so I can bring it back to the Gunsmith eventually."
"Us Havertons and MPD officers are doing your boss' job of gun collecting basically?" Chance said.
"Bingo!" The Representative said. "I'm just the guy who makes the deals between the Arms and those who are willing to sacrifice their soul to use it. My boss made it clear that I should never intervene in the user's life upon receiving the Arm, other than watching what stuff they do with it . You get it quickly. Of course like many other people I've watched you grown Chance. Anyway, how's your parents?"
A pause, silence. Rosenthal noticed the intensity between the detective and the Representative.
"They're fine. They're just relaxing." Chance responded.
"Of course." The representative said as he slapped some notes onto the desk. "Here's the Hellfire Arms you gotta collect back. No point in giving you the names cause well, what's the point? I can't keep track of every single person whose used these things since the Old West now can I? Thankfully, there's another way of identifying a Hellfire Arm user."
"How?" Chance said. He remembered that he saw Hellfire Arms in the war, but the situation at Iwo Jima distracted him from what the users at the time look like.
"The Representative made it clear for all of us that a Hellfire Arm will give a user some sort of attribute, a change to some part or their entire appearance. Their face, arms, clothes, anything that makes them look out of the ordinary." Rosenthal said. "Look for the oddest people of society."
"Take Graham for example. Blade gave him a large scar across his face. Every other Arm has its...own appearances as is the owner." The Representative recalled. "That's all for now, unless you got any more questions. Chance?"
"What's your name?" Chance said with a serious tone.
"Of course!" the Representative chuckled. "I rarely give my name to human beings. Not like I was gonna spend time with them more than say a few hours or even minutes. You may call me Valefar."
"And normal guns wouldn't really hurt Hellfire Arm users would they?"
Valefar hummed. "They could, but only another Hellfire Arm user could really hurt another." As he heard this, Chance recalled when McSweeney blasted Graham.
"HAST has Hellfire Arm users: men of the law willing to make a deal with Valefar for using them. You'll probably need at least one of them to get a Hellfire Arm."said Rosenthal
"And 'll be off to get something to drink." Valefar spoke. "I'll do some checking it time to time. In the meantime I'll entrust you lot and HAST to handle everything. Happy hunting and collecting."
Chance turned to Rosenthal. Both men were silent.
"Havertons and the MPD have always been seen as different, but as of this year, that will not be the case." Rosenthal said. "Us against the Hellfire Arm users, Dripper or not. We need to collect those hellish guns. Chance, interrogate Graham in the meantime, don't go hunting for Hellfire Arms alone, not until a HAST Hellfire Arm user can accompany you."
"Understood Commissioner." Chance said to the man in front of him before he went to the door. He stopped as Rosenthal called out his name.
"And Chance, is it true? You were in the war?" Rosenthal asked as the Haverton nodded. "Thank you for your service."
"Thank you for your service as well Commissioner. Doing your part here in the city." Chance smiled as he got out of the office and heading the interrogation room where Graham would be held.
He had questions that had to be answered.