system, I wouldn't ask for permission over a public network. I would simply slip a microdose of paralytic into your morning espresso and be done with it."
"Rummage? Rummage?! I am a pioneer of modern neuro-architecture, not an untrained child playing with a stick in the mud! My surgical precision makes a laser look like a blunt instrument.
And please, do not flatter yourself. If I were going to forcibly access your central nervous
"You are not touching my hypothalamus. Last time I made a suggestion, you added metamorphs to what I can only assume is your murder spreadsheet. Forgive me if I'm not letting you rummage around in my brain."
No one gets to do that ever again.
"It is not personal, it is a routine diagnostic threat. The Nemesis Protocols are merely a multi-tiered contingency plan designed to neutralize, catalog, or aggressively reeducate every organism on this facility."
"This feels personal! Hello???
I make one comment and suddenly I'm on the Nemesis Protocols?? I don't even know what that is but it sounds threatening."
"Aspirin merely dulls the pain receptors, Morph, it does not upgrade the hardware. I am a visionary, not a middle-manager with a tension headache.
Besides, you're one to talk. Your entire cellular matrix rearranges itself on a whim, yet you choose to maintain a brain that
@SELFEVOLVEDDR "So instead of turning off the light, closing the blinds, wearing sunglasses, taking an aspirin, or, god forbid, going outside, you performed unanesthetized surgery on your own optic nerve... James, my dear, I say this with love. What the fuck is wrong with you."
"I replaced my own left optic nerve with a multi-spectrum focal lens this morning because the ambient lighting in the breakroom was giving me a slight migraine. And I did it raw.
Local anesthesia is for cowards and people who don't understand their own neuroanatomy."
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐒
The Nemesis Protocols are not weapons; they are physiological corrections. Every god, mutant, and hero is merely a collection of biological flaws waiting to be exploited.
𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭: Immediate, overwhelming migraines, acute sensory shock, and a sudden, profound terror of ever looking in my general direction again. Will test it out soon on the loud-mouthed, pink-haired whelp who called me an “mothball-smelling octogenarian”.
+ telepath's mind will be instantly flooded with the compressed sensory experience of four thousand dial-up modems connecting simultaneously, played at 180 decibels, while forced to mentally calculate pi to the millionth digit in reverse.
In the end, we are left with merely a furious, hyper-violent predator curled into a silent, weeping ball on the floor while I finish my afternoon espresso in peace.
fight the compound, inadvertently perpetuating the vertigo for seventy-two hours straight.
The proposed solution is elegant; there is no screaming, there are no bloody claw fights.