MERCEDES, THE MERCY KILLER

Image Source: Filipina Slayer (@MorganBeem) pic.twitter.com/Qaw1TwjUOi

(The following story is inspired by the kickass variant cover of Buffy the Vampire Slayer by Morgan Beem :-) )

The first time I saw Mercedes was a terrible night to remember. But once she grace us with her wavy midnight hair, firm thin lips and big brown eyes of a doll, I wish I did meet her at the church exchanging immortal vows with one another with fluttering hearts and hungry lips.

However that night the church was raze by spawn of Satanas; violated and desecrated it with their fetid claws and teeth. That is why me and Prayle Guido, though reeling and trembling from the assault of Malignos, went immediately to Case De Fuego; the famous brothel in town for the lush red paint from its roof down to its wall.

This is where Mercedes live together with other puta in our community.

“Por favor Mercedes! They will tear down the church if we don’t do something!” Prayle Guido’s face is beyond agony and desperation that even a Maestro will fail to paint. He admit that the carnage inside the church is partly his fault. He welcome nameless vagabonds as act of mercy and make them caretakers of the house of the Lord; cleaning its yard and making sure the Candelabras and the statues of saints are well polished every week. On the first month of their stay, they show their keen devotion to the menial task. They are actually so good that the Prayle, feeling gracious than ever, give them some money to spend aside from the lodging and food he provides for them.

Yet something off happens the next couple of weeks. Many church goers complain that there is a foul odor coming from the inside of the church. At first, the priest didn’t bother finding it at all; probably the local butcher house with all the stale and putridity of their waste is the one to blame. Their location is apparently just a few blocks away from the church.

However, the hellish scent become stronger and stronger that many devotees stop from attending the mass. Worried by the declining number of church goers, Prayle Guido personally search high and low in the church, hoping to find and get rid the source of the noxious scent.

When he found out that the smell is coming from the statue of santo and santa, he instructed the caretakers of the church to strip off their clothing and see what makes them smell like shit.

The caretaker exchange worried glances. For the first in their stay the caretakers disobey the priest who take care of them.

Angry and a little bit confuse, Padre Guido do it with his own hands. After taking out all the lengthy robes, golden regalia and colorful vest of human sized statue of Birheng Maria, he was horrified that its wooden body is smeared with red, sticky substance.

It was a week old stain of blood.

“Por diyos por santo…did Mother Mary is showing a miracle?” He suspected that statue might be a “milagrosa”; bleeding on its own by the power of the blessed mother of God.

Yet it turns out to be a devil’s work after he notice a strange compartment on the wooden statue’s back. Something he didn’t see before when the statue was build.

As he open the compartment, a mass of bones with fresh flesh still intact on them make his own blood run cold.

It turns out that the vagabond use the statue as a storage for meat coming from people they butchered. They didn’t have to confess it for when Padre Guido glance at them after uncovering the truth about the nauseating smell, they begin to bare their fangs and ripped away their mortal flesh.

Padre Guido, without knowing, let the demonyo’s inside the holy sanctuary of God.

“You are too soft Padre.” Mercedes spoke after hearing the nightmarish tale of the Prayle despite the frequent stuttering and shaking voice of the priest. Her voice ironically is so soft that I can even picture them as cottony feathers that float in the air as she open her mouth.

“Bueno, let’s finish them off before they start turning the church into a blood house.”

Mercedes’ arsenal is not of a soldier but of a proficient yet brutal hunter; a variety of blades from the Dahong Palay for slashing, Bolo for thrusting and Bente-Nueve for silent slitting of someone’s throat. All of them are place in a holster underneath her skirt. God knows how I struggle to not let the Diyablo play in my mind when she lifted it up and exposed her thigh in front of our eyes.

She shot back a piercing gaze to me when she saw I was looking at it. I guess the diyablo did win that time but only for a few seconds because I took away my eyes immediately from her. I was burning red that time with embarrassment.

Aside from blades, she even take a whip like weapon made from the tail of a Pagi coated with tiny shrapnel that could inflict more than pain to anyone that taste its whiplash. The last weapon she bring was Kris dagger. Its wavy razor is glaze with white crystals that I guess is salt which one of the things that hated by Malignos for it sears their flesh.

It took us 30 minutes to return to the church. Dark sky and booming thunder accosted us as we open the gate and found ten bodies of Guardia Civil piled up in front of the door. When we go to the side door of the church, another pile awaits us right in the altar like a tower of Babel meant to mock God in front of it.

“Susmaryosep, even the guards I called are being slaughtered!” Padre Guido can only make a sign of the cross on his trembling hands upon seeing the mountain of corpse that serve as the buffet of five gargoyles that finally appears out the shadow cast by the statues inside the church.

“Say your prayer padre while I slay.” Mercedes unsheathe her Bolo and Dahong Palay as she approach the already growling Malignos. She too make a sign of the cross as he she walk gracefully; I notice even that in her right hand a black rosary was wrapped around it.

Prayle Guido told me once that Malignos before are human like everyone else. But due to strange circumstances, the seed of evil grow into their soil. This seed is not of their choosing, it just happen that they were born with it. Once it blooms it will corrupt their soul with the voice of the Prince of Lies until it persuaded them to shed their humanity and embrace the new skin of monstrosity.

Prayer can work wonders but in their case once they exchange their soul for the hunger for human, it is only through killing that can save them; particularly by a virgin maiden. A pure woman like Mercedes who hasn’t loss its innocence despite the fact that she live as a cabaret dancer of Case De Fuego.

As the priest say his rosary, Mercedes starts clashing her own steel with the Malignos’ sharpened, organic weapons. Though alone, she can deftly deflects every single blow that comes from the bestial creature.

She weave, attack and dodge all in perfect synch. Her strings of movement are calculated yet boasting of finesse and grace; a dazzling display of calisthenics that probably she learn in the casa.

However her dance is not for entertaining men who could only wish to place their hands on the curve of her waist or taste her morena skin.

At first she was just parrying each slash from the bony hands of the gargoyles. But the when duel of teeth and blade drags on her pace started to change. Faster and faster like the Pasa Doble dance until the Malignos forget their defense and expose numerous chink on their hide.

Hack, thrust, hack, thrust. Her legs and arms are so fluid that her attack imitates that of a flowing river; snaking and raging on its path. Yet instead of rocks that crushed along its way, it was the bone and flesh of the Malignos that suffered from the onslaught.

Mercedes, a one man slayer, killed five man eater without even staining his Baro’t Saya with her own blood.

Standing in front of the most holiest place of the church clothed in blood and gore, Mercedes gave me a goosebumps as she look above and let her face shine with the light coming from the remaining candles at the Candelabria.

Even if she wield the tools of slaughter, she does look like a saint at that moment. A holy virgin. A patron. The incarnate of Santa Muerte herself.

“May their soul rest in your hands.” She ended her whispered prayer with a sign of the cross. Her eyes are twinkling in the dark as she push away the hair on her angelic face.

“Padre, I think I am not going to be a priest anymore.”

Father Guimo nearly dropped his crucifix and rosary as he hear me, his most loyal sacristan, turn down the opportunity of becoming a servant of God.

“Forgive me father but…I am in love with a saint…a newly ordained one.” I said with a stomach bursting with butterflies as Mercedes walk pass by in a heartbeat.