Johnny let the song end without encore as they touched down. Now that they were on the job he shifted the way his guitar functioned, as he strum the strings, no noise came out as he was working his way up the scales. He smelled faintly of brimstone as he started to sweat from the effort of his silent solo, clearly he was preparing for something and only by His Infernal Majesty did they not encounter any guards before all hell broke loose.

One solider down by heat vision, one taking down the muscle of the group, and the knight about to take on a third. There was no way in hell he could take on even a half-baked clone, it wasn't his gig, but he could help in plenty of ways.

He took up his slouched stance, his spine in an exaggerated S-curve as he brought his arms down hard, releasing....nothing. Nothing that is, that any human could hear. One hundred and eighty decibles, the level at which ear drums rupture, at fifty hertz, the range of a dog whistle. A very limited range of targets, five targets. Let the bastards heads explode from the magical maelstrom if it works. He himself was immune to the sonic slam...and he hoped he didn't just melt the faces off of his whole team. but this is why they were a suicide squad.