Desecrate Through Reverence

There was no hesitation. His movements were precise and accurate. A second passed, and bodies dropped. The still-warm corpses dropped like bags of partially-mixed cement, the stench of burnt flesh and charred bones filling the small, walled-off area to the point where it was almost unbearable. A waft of the death-heavy scent was suddenly drawn in by the killer's breathing, sifting into his nostrils with the oxygen he intended to breath. Immediately afterwards, he inhaled harder. Kira Azathoth was perfectly named, and he absolutely loved the smell of research.

Yes, this was research. It was Urufu's personal duty in life to figure the exact extents of human life and just how far each individual could be pushed before submitting to Death's Calling. The particular victims in the t-square junction of a dead-end had just been tested to see how many Katsu tags they could withstand. Distinctly, Urufu recalled how each tag, placed on various parts of their body, had erupted in absolute perfect harmony, causing limbs and appendages to go flying. Rib cages split open as bones were scorched, snapping and cracking open from the heat. The flesh? Fucking roasted. No matter how strong these humans were, they weren't surviving.

So it turned out that 1 tag was enough to kill a regular human when applied directly. It was absolutely boring, but it was something Urufu had to live with. Reaching a white-gloved hand up towards his own face, the tuxedo sleeve that accompanied it rolled down slightly, revealing caucasian flesh, which matched his face perfectly. Pushing blond hair that had been skewed from the blasts out of his mauve eyes, the lazy, snide smirk that was molded onto his face relaxed into a bored expression.

Turning away from the carnage, a simple word escaped from his lips. "Katsu." The remaining tags that had been placed under and around the bodies for 'clean-up' promply exploded. A shockwave rippled through the air, whipping Urufu's hair and tuxedo jacket violently. Walking away, he savored the barely-remaining smell of boiling blood and evaporating flesh that was sent towards him, before he turned a corner and headed down the alleyway, looking for something else to do, or someone else to perform research on. Either way, the sound of Urufu's footsteps was smothered as Emergency and First-responders arrived on the scene, shouting to each other for support and the like.

Disappearing into the night, the hard killer known as Urufu would once again escape detection by the mortals. Was it the work of some elaborate seal or tag? No. Humans were stupid, nothing new about that. He could easily evade them simply by sensing their reiatsu signatures, as weak and pitiful they were. Reaching a gloved hand into the air, he snagged a steel ladder that was attached to the brick wall. Wrenching it down, he quickly climbed up, hand over hand and foot over foot on he cold steel. Flying past clotheslines hanging between the buildings in the alley and windows revealing glimpses into the lives of many, Urufu soon clambered over the ledge at the top and hauled himself onto the roof.

Brushing himself off of dust and brick-fragments, he walked to the edge of the building on the opposing side and looked down at the city below. Everyone he saw was a potential target. Just who should he pick next? Who would be the unfortunate sacrificial lamb to his angelic destruction?

Control.

One must present control over his own urges in the human world as not to attract unwanted shinigami attention. Kill to many at one point, and they catch on send out a squad, kill that squad and they send a captain. Stay to quiet and they get curious, why a arrancar is not doing anything, let your power stay strong and they catch on to you instantly, sending a 'en masse' force to wipe you out. So Solomon suppressed his Reiatsu, and walked around the city. For three hours he passed and in three hours, the Shinigami would find six bodies killed in a identical way, a very precise cut under the left arm, reaching the heart and killing them.

Solomon was a master of spiritual energy, and easily avoided all shinigami in the area using their spiritual dot on his radar as a reference point. Not very many is his area, but off in the distance were two interesting ones. A shinigami captain, and another he could not pin down. His cold features focused on the distance as he neared the position of the pair.

His footsteps were slow and paced, but his speed passed miles in seconds, arriving at his destination post haste. He raised a tanned arm toward his mask piece, and pulled his hair down over half of his face, covering it up. He toothed the whole in his tounge, and placed his tattooed hands in his pockets.

Tensing his leg muscles slightly, then releasing them he launched himself into the air, far away from the pair, but within eye sight. The carnage surrounding him was new, and surprising. Yet it only barely phased him, killing this many humans serves no purpose.

His facial expression showed no change, and he spoke no words, except one, “ Smells... “

OOC: Lolol 'sex bodies killed in an identical way'