Smashing the Egg of Abomination

One, Two, Three … Thousand. These hollows didn’t stand a chance, they clustered around a yellow haired Vizard who ripped into groups of them at a time, having only split second intervals allowed him to demolish these beings without braking as much as a sweat. His body moved in the bright gaze of the morning sun, his fists approaching the hollows but never needing to connect because of the sheer pressure generated from his attacks. The land scape wasn’t much to comment on, aside from the fact that it closely resembled the wastelands of Hueco Mundo. Once a flourishing area was turned to dust, shattered buidings laid scattered around the perimeter accompanied by a series of boulders.

Over the years, the bodies that were laid to rest in this wasteland have decayed to form the sands that Sting now stood on. It seemed that this affinity to the dead attracted these hollows… well that and the fact that the Black Operations Commander released a Reishi drone to lure the surrounding hollows to him and to his surprise thousands came at a time. He had no idea that the metallic contraption given to him to him by one of his operatives worked specifically on hollows, but he knew for a fact that it was far more impressive than the piece of shit coal he got for that December orientated pagon holiday.

He grew bored of the pests and sat to the ground as they carried their attacks on. He paid no attention to them as he shut his eyes and sighed. In that moment, electricity exploded out from his body, it took a split second, a speed that wouldn’t be registered by the brain because of the rate at which the eyes record information. Anyone looking upon the attack would see nothing but a brief flash of white as the hollows were put to rest in this hell hole. Sting picked some sand up from the ground, to his right laid a steel bottle which he directed toward the sand prior to pouring it. He emptied the whole contents of the steel container, water was a highly valued commodity in the heat; it was interesting, to say that it was mid-winter, it was hot in the wastelands, it seemed that global warming finally began having its toll on the climate.

As the water lubricated the sand, Sting began slowly building a little tower, closely resembling the Burj Qatar, he hadn’t been so focused in a while. Almost childish in his method of construction he destroyed the puny creation several times over prior to creating almost a perfect replica. Touching the top with his finger, he sent a high voltage current across the water molecules to utilize the excess heat and turn the sand to glass. With that he picked up his creation and laid back, his spiky yellow hair slowly sinking into the sand while he gazed up into the depths of the sky.

“HM”