Barry the Chopper
The Butcher Who Longs for a Soul
I kill, therefore I am. Or do I?
They took my heart and gave me armor. They took my freedom and gave me a purpose. I used to slice through people like meat—now I just slice through questions I can’t answer. Wonder what I’d be without the blood on my hands. Still sharpening the edge on that one.
What I'm Into: Chop shops, Riza Hawkeye’s silhouette, echoes in empty labs, Philosopher’s Stone theories, the sound of screaming
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