6. Mother Became the Butcher
6. Mother Became the Butcher
The next day, at the promised time, the bell on the laundry shop door rang.
Instead of the menacing tactical vest from yesterday, Mama Butcherer walked into the shop wearing an old duffle coat, striding in with heavy steps.
She gave a curt nod to my greeting and picked up the pitch-black suit I had placed on the counter.
"I'll go try it on."
She took the clothes and went into the narrow changing room in the corner of the laundry shop.
For a moment, the sound of heavy fabric brushing against itself could be heard from behind the curtain, and then, chwalak, the curtain was pulled back.
"......."
I almost let out an exclamation of admiration without realizing it.
The matte, pitch-black suit, which absorbed light perfectly, clung literally perfectly to her massive, muscular frame—185 centimeters tall and over 100 kilograms.
There wasn't a single wrinkle to hinder movement, and the joints, reinforced with new metal fiber material, fell smoothly.
Above all, the dark red skull mark embedded in the center of her massive chest was emitting an overwhelming aura that made it suffocating just to look at.
Mama Butcherer twisted her waist in front of the full-length mirror, swung her massive arms, and threw a punch into the air as if shadowboxing.
The sound of the air being sliced echoed through the laundry shop.
"Perfect."
After bending and stretching her body for a while, she said with a satisfied smile on her lips.
"It's like a second skin. Even though you used such heavy bulletproof material, it doesn't hinder my body's movement. I didn't know such a genuine craftsman was hiding in a back-alley laundry shop."
"You're too kind. Even if you get hit by a shotgun at point-blank range, it'll only leave a bruise, so you won't have to worry about broken ribs anymore."
At my reply, she chuckled and tapped her chest.
"Good work, Tailor. I might come back soon to drop off laundry soaked in blood. I'll look forward to your skills in removing bloodstains, too."
Mama Butcherer put her ordinary duffle coat back on over the suit with a satisfied look.
As the vicious skull mark and bulletproof suit were perfectly hidden inside the coat, she just looked like a neighborhood Black lady who was a bit on the large side.
Only after she opened the laundry shop door and left did I let out a long, held-in breath and let the strength drain from my legs.
Amanda Johnson was walking down the dark, gloomy streets of The City at night.
Her appearance, with both hands shoved into the pockets of her old duffle coat, was extremely ordinary.
She just looked like one of the daily laborers struggling to survive day by day in this hellish city, or an ordinary citizen out to buy dinner.
However, the stiff and cold sensation of the bulletproof suit felt inside the coat was reminding her that she was a being very far from ordinary.
The smell of burning trash piled up in the corner of the alley wafted in on the cold night breeze.
Burning trash is illegal, and she frowned as well—but she didn't try to do anything about it.
The people burning the trash were indeed doing something illegal, but they weren't trash that deserved to die.
That acrid smell naturally dragged Amanda's mind down to a certain night in the past.
'It's hot... Mom, it hurts...'
The voice of a child could be heard as if it were an auditory hallucination.
Amanda's eyes slowly turned cold, like empty glass beads.
It was the night of a large-scale shootout between a cartel and a local gang that had made the world noisy.
The weak public authority turned a blind eye to mere gangs, and the heroes ignored the slums while dealing with major villains in other districts.
That night, a stray incendiary shell fired by the gang struck Amanda's small, peaceful wooden house.
Her small universe, where she had tried to wash away all the blood and stench of the world after being discharged and live only for her three children, turned into black ashes in a single night.
When she held the bodies of her three children, burned beyond recognition, in her arms amidst the ashes after the firefighters finished extinguishing the fire, Amanda couldn't even shed a tear.
Because such immense and terrible despair tends to shatter all human emotions entirely.
Heroes say:
Even the most terrible villain has room for rehabilitation, and that bringing them to justice is what justice is.
Indiscriminate murder is something only villains do, and heroes must avoid taking lives until the very, very end.
Amanda felt nauseous every time she saw those arrogant non-lethalists.
'What a mad dog that bites people to death needs isn't a training center, but a shotgun.'
To her, evil was neither a complex social phenomenon nor a sad result created by an unfortunate environment.
It was just an infectious disease that needed to be eradicated.
A doctor who leaves cancer cells alone without cutting them out is no different from a murderer killing the patient.
She was willing to become the surgeon of this rotten city and cut out the filth forever.
Such blind hatred and psychopathic obsession were the single driving force moving the current Mama Butcherer.
'...I need to buy dinner.'
Her footsteps, lost in thought, stopped in front of a neighborhood supermarket where a shabby neon sign was flickering.
Jingle-
"Oh, Amanda! On your way home from work?"
From behind the counter, Carlos, an immigrant from El Salvador, greeted her with a good-natured smile.
He was a good-hearted man who had been running a small shop in this rough neighborhood for over 10 years, living a tenacious life.
"Is business good, Carlos?"
"It's been doing pretty well lately. I was sad because today was supposed to be the day I pay protection money to the gang, but nobody's come for over two days. I saw on the news that there was a large-scale shootout and they all died, so I'm so happy."
The large-scale shootout mentioned here was something she had caused all by herself.
Amanda walked over to the freezer and picked up two packs of cheap macaroni and cheese to heat up in the microwave.
It was the moment she placed the frozen food on the counter and was about to take out her wallet.
Bang!
The supermarket door was roughly kicked open as if to break it, and two thugs wearing black ski masks burst in.
The larger one among them had a pistol in his hand.
"Don't move! Fuck, put everything in your hands down and get your head down!"
"Open the cash register, you immigrant bastard! Empty all the money inside right now!"
The muzzle of the gun was pointed at Carlos's forehead.
The good-natured shop owner's face turned pale as a sheet, and his body began to tremble like an aspen tree.
"P-please, spare me... I'll give you all the money. Take it all, please..."
Carlos, tears dripping down, hurriedly opened the cash register with trembling hands and swept the cash into a bag.
Amanda was watching that whole commotion quietly, standing behind a display stand next to the counter.
The fear of an ordinary person facing an armed robber did not exist in her eyes.
'The gun is loaded with 9mm hollow points. Judging by the trembling of the hand holding the gun and their posture, they're punks who haven't received systematic training. That disgusting adrenaline smell peculiar to trash with at least three or four prior convictions.'
She slowly slid her hand inside the old duffle coat she was wearing.
Inside the coat, a sheath was attached to the back of the newly tailored tactical suit, and the cold steel machete that was always with her was sleeping there.
It was the moment the robber with the pistol was about to snatch the wad of cash Carlos was handing over and spit out a dirty curse.
Slice!
"Ugh..."
The first one to spew blood foam from his mouth was the guy holding the gun.
Before he could even realize that something had cut through his vision, bright red blood gushed from his neck like a fountain.
Thud, roll.
The severed head fell onto the chocolate bar display.
"Uh, uh...?"
It was before the other robber standing next to him could even turn his head while making a stupid sound.
Amanda's massive body kicked off the floor like a leopard and sprang up, and the machete she held drew a silver trajectory, slashing diagonally in a gruesome manner.
Crunch!
The second robber's neck also flew into the air with a horrific sound of the spine being severed.
The time taken up to this point was 0.8 seconds.
The two armed robbers lay rolling on the floor, decapitated without being able to even scream, let alone resist.
Blood was splattered everywhere on the ceiling and display shelves.
"Hiiik...! Gasp, huff...!"
At the unbelievable carnage that had unfolded before his eyes, Carlos sat down behind the counter and gasped.
A fear far deeper than when he was about to die at the robber's gunpoint dilated his pupils.
Watching the ordinary neighborhood lady who used to buy frozen food with a tired expression now standing there covered in blood, expressionlessly shaking off her machete, he finally opened his mouth with a trembling voice.
"A-Amanda... Why, why on earth did you do that... If I had just given them the money, they would have left on their own..."
Amanda, who had been looking down at the two headless corpses, slowly turned her head to look at Carlos.
Her voice, after she wiped the red blood splattered on her cheek with the back of her hand, was incredibly calm.
"Villains must die, Carlos."
The voice sounded so affectionate that Carlos almost burst into tears for a moment.
She took a few crumpled 100-dollar bills out of her wallet and placed them on the blood-soaked counter.
"Sorry for dirtying your shop. I'll give you cleaning money too."
After finishing her words, Amanda tucked the frozen macaroni and cheese packs under her arm and grabbed the back of the clothes of the two headless corpses with her remaining hand.
Then, as if clearing away luggage, she dragged the corpses out and carelessly threw them into a corner of the dark back alley outside the supermarket.
The two severed heads rolling on the shop floor were neatly put into an orange food waste bag bought at the mart and tied tightly.
"Might as well leave them at the trash dump while I'm throwing them out."
Having finished all her tasks, she silently resumed walking and returned to her old house.
Standing in the kitchen, Amanda carelessly threw the blood-stained machete into the sink, put the frozen macaroni in the microwave, and pressed the start button.
Lying down on her bed with the humming sound of the microwave as a lullaby, she quietly closed her eyes in the darkness that reeked of blood.
There were still mountains of beasts left in this city to hunt tomorrow.
She knows she can't kill everyone.
But, she must kill at least one more.
That way, the companions who will accompany her to the bottom of hell will increase.
After finishing her meal, Amanda fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.