And at that declaration, the majority of the assembled capes visibly tensed. More than most, PRT capes were trained to be cautious when dealing with parahumans with unknown powers.
They just saw me materialise a giant regenerating robo-spider out of nowhere after all, and they were fully cognizant that their entire PRT Assessment of my powers was now hilariously outdated. Certainly, they put on well-practiced brave faces for the cameras that still rolled, but my {Psy-Implant Mk. I} could pick up the palpable fear that clung to them like inky black tar.
Fear ensnares their hearts, years of hard conflict have seared into them caution for powers yet known.
They don't know what you're capable of. And it frightens them.
Fear.
Upgrading concluded… commencing closing prayers to the Machine-God…
Alright, time's up. I met the primitive meat eyes of the assembled PRT heroes, and gave them the bad, bad news.
"Unfortunately, that was also your one chance to surrender that you just let slip by."
"But don't worry… I'll be gentle."
Another flash of fear flared up through the Warp. Then their three speedsters- Velocity, Assault and Battery- all burst in a blur of speed as they attempted to close the distance to stop whatever they thought I had planned. But even with super speed, they were all far too slow…
Recalibrating {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II}
A more 'subtle' form of Mechanicus weaponry now upgraded with the forbidden xenarite knowledge of a Necron Psychomancer Cryptek.
The Proselytizer is an electronic countermeasure weapon that broadcasts sonic, electromagnetic, and microgravitic cacophonies over a broad spectrum- bombarding every possible sensory organ or apparatus with the crushing weight of overwhelming stimuli.
Radiowave-based communications screech in agony while video-screens fizzle with static. Eardrums pop from screaming tinnitus, eyes ache as their internal fluids are disturbed, digestive tracts churn sickeningly as sonic and gravitic oscillations cruelly agitate them.
As the taste of burnt metal fills their mouths, it is all victims can do to remember how to breathe- futilely clasping hands over bleeding ears and screwing shut bloodshot eyes as they thrash excruciatingly in puddles of their own vomit.
Only through Null Codes can the frequencies be transmuted back into a harmless song, the cruel barrage of neurostatic rendered as nothing more than a soft psalm to the Omnissiah's glory… or the haunting verses to a Necrontyr song forgotten countless millennia ago.
Activating {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II} at 25.0% maxload
There was no sinister loud boom or bright flash to herald the sinister effects of my weapon that took the form of my metallic gas mask-like face. No, the only evidence of its effects were the entire room of heroic PRT parahumans crumpling to the floor as they screamed.
"STOOOOOOP THIIIIIIIIISSSSS!" "AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH!" "WHAT'S HAPPENNIIING TOOOO MEEEEEE?!"
It wasn't an Inquisition Excruciator where it was supposed to cause the most pain possible, but it was certainly very uncomfortable. Imagine having an entire can of pepper spray emptied on your face while a thousand nails scratched on a thousand chalkboards… All while you tumbled in an endless unpredictable spiral into a bottomless abyss as you yanked in every direction.
And while they were busy clutching the carpet as if they were going to fall up into the sky, I ordered a clear path for our escape.
" Procession Squad, destroy the Rig's Anti-Air emplacements… "
We hear and obey, O' Forgelord.
And almost immediately, the Rig began to rock with explosions and the sound of battle as my {Ironstrider Engines}, {Castellax battle-automata}, {Onager Dunecrawler} that had accompanied me and looked cool during my arrival to the Rig were unleashed. Dragon's memories about designing its defences proving to be invaluable in indicating where all the emplacements were as well as the other defences on the Rig.
Speaking of which… one of my mechadendrite tentacles subtly jacked into (heh) my AI waifus unresponsive form to directly transmit the null code to her.
"Can you hear it, babe?" I stage-whispered to the unresponsive Dragon. With humans and their inability to comprehend the Null Codes, they'd hear nothing but some odd static, however Dragon and I heard the music just fine as the neurostatic of the {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II} translated into a contemporary song with a nice beat.
'Oh-ooh-whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-ooh-whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh.
"I chose this song because I think it will define the 2010-2011 era after all." I calmly explained to her over the screaming flesh-normies, "It's still topping charts even though it was released months ago, and even comes from your home country of Canada. But I'm sure you already knew that, they practically play this song every hour on the hour now. What do you think? Should we make this our song?"
You know you love me, I know you care
Just shout whenever, and I'll be there.
"S-SPINNING! EVERYTHING'S SPINNING!" Velocity, Assault and Battery skidded pitifully across the floor as their sense of balance was taken away from them. To the merciless neurostatic assault of the {Sicarian Infiltrator Proselytizer Mk. II}, they held their ears, evacuated the contents of their stomachs and writhed like maggots in pain.
You are my love, you are my heart
And we will never, ever, ever be apart.
"OH GOD MAAAAAKE IIIIIIIIT STOOOOP!" Even the film crews were caught in the blast radius. How unfortunate, but at least I had [Way of the Void Dragon] to keep the cameras rolling and steady even as the film crew squirmed on the floor.
Baby, baby, baby, oh
Like, Baby, baby, baby, no.
"MAKE IT STOOOO- BLEURGH!" Miss Militia and Dauntless were in similar state, likely regretting that their costumes covered their mouths as vomit trailed down their fronts rather than the floor.
Like, Baby, baby, baby, oh
I thought you'd always be mine, mine.
"MY EARS! MY EARS!" Triumph and Armsmaster were both curled up at the ground clutching at their helmets- unable to cover their ears. Not that it would have helped them. And just like that, the Brockton Bay Protectorate were all writhing on the floor screaming as I promised. That would have been the end of the battle, if not for one small detail…
The Triumvirate were a bunch of disaffected Generation Xers, and thus, immune to the Bieber Fever.
Alexandria- being the flying brick that she was- unsurprisingly ignored the neurostatic noise outright. Eidolon was quick to call upon a similar brute power to resist the effects, and Legend had immediately transformed into his breaker form to become a glowing light-blue ball of highly destructive light.
Now, it was just Triumvirate versus me. And unlike them, my plan for kicking their asses was still mostly intact.
Being the fastest of the three, Alexandria swooped in first. And even with my accelerated mind, she moved quick- closing the scant distance between us to try her best to tear me limb from limb. Worse still, Legend reacted too- Blasting away at my {Conversion Field} with various beam attacks as Alexandria closed in. Unfortunately for me, the countermeasure I had for Alexandria was in my original left arm that Meatmaster had destroyed. But thankfully, the massive floating [Canoptek Spyder] had me covered, the Spyder's stalked optics locked onto the heroine as twin-linked {Particle Beamers} glowed a deadly green.
Krakathoom!*
Sickly green lightning bursting forth from the beamers- launching around 10 nanograms of antimatter straight to Alexandria's breastplate and exploding with the force of a kilo of dynamite. The concentrated nature of the blast was deliberately not enough to kill anyone in the blast radius, but certainly enough to send the world's premiere Brute tumbling through the window before she caught herself in mid-air.
Of course, Alexandria was unharmed as she floated about 20 metres away from the window. But unfortunately, I had overlooked the effect it would have on Alexandria's costume: Her pitch black costume of kevlar and armour plates was apparently no match against a matter-antimatter reaction, and aside from her helmet, the entire front of it was either in tatters or blasted right off.