I've spent a lot of time in Central City lately - the past ten years, actually, it's where I've been since the civil war in Ishbal came to a close. There've been a lot of rumors floating around the place that I was staying, and one of them dealt with a man named Barry.
Now, Barry was the owner of a local butcher shop. Always seemed like a normal guy, from what I hear - kind of unusual, kind of a loner, but mostly just the guy you'd go do business with for five minutes and forget about.
As it turns out, the guy had a few secrets, of the "crossdressing, murderous maniac" variety.
The story goes that he murdered his wife, and then stole her dresses and wore some kind of wig to approach women on the street and lure them over to his meat truck, where he'd murder them, too. Chopped them all up with a cleaver.
[...]
Don't worry, I know where it sounds like this is going. It isn't, I promise - the guy was actually caught and arrested soon enough, after he tried to pull this stunt on a few kids that he ran into. The day was saved, Barry was thrown into death row and then executed by hanging, and that's the end of the story.
Supposedly.
You remember what I was telling you about the places beneath the prisons? The rooms with the walls made of glass, where terrible people are sent to die... Someone's got to guard those places, right?
There are a few whispers here and there, around places like that - all of them about some guy that they just call Number 66. No one's actually seen Number 66's face; he wears a full-body suit of armor at all times, actually, so no one knows what the guy looks like. But some people think that there's more to Number 66. That his behavior sounds kinda familiar, you know? Especially among the death row prison guards, who find certain inmates hard to forget.
It's also worth mentioning that Number 66 apparently favors a butcher's cleaver.
no subject
I've spent a lot of time in Central City lately - the past ten years, actually, it's where I've been since the civil war in Ishbal came to a close. There've been a lot of rumors floating around the place that I was staying, and one of them dealt with a man named Barry.
Now, Barry was the owner of a local butcher shop. Always seemed like a normal guy, from what I hear - kind of unusual, kind of a loner, but mostly just the guy you'd go do business with for five minutes and forget about.
As it turns out, the guy had a few secrets, of the "crossdressing, murderous maniac" variety.
The story goes that he murdered his wife, and then stole her dresses and wore some kind of wig to approach women on the street and lure them over to his meat truck, where he'd murder them, too. Chopped them all up with a cleaver.
[...]
Don't worry, I know where it sounds like this is going. It isn't, I promise - the guy was actually caught and arrested soon enough, after he tried to pull this stunt on a few kids that he ran into. The day was saved, Barry was thrown into death row and then executed by hanging, and that's the end of the story.
Supposedly.
You remember what I was telling you about the places beneath the prisons? The rooms with the walls made of glass, where terrible people are sent to die... Someone's got to guard those places, right?
There are a few whispers here and there, around places like that - all of them about some guy that they just call Number 66. No one's actually seen Number 66's face; he wears a full-body suit of armor at all times, actually, so no one knows what the guy looks like. But some people think that there's more to Number 66. That his behavior sounds kinda familiar, you know? Especially among the death row prison guards, who find certain inmates hard to forget.
It's also worth mentioning that Number 66 apparently favors a butcher's cleaver.