Bakuda liquefying/frequency bomb

He blinked back tears, staring up at the sky.  The gun fell from his hands to clatter to the pavement.

“That’s a no.  Shame.  No use to me as a soldier.”  Bakuda kicked him in the stomach, hard enough to send him sprawling onto his back.

"No! No no no!" The guy looked up to her, "Please!"

Bakuda half-stepped, half skipped back a few feet. The people around them took that as their cue to get well away from him.

She didn't do anything, didn't say anything, didn't offer any tell or signal. There was a sound, like a vibrating cell phone on a table, and Park Jihoo liquefied into a soupy mess in the span of a second.

Dead. He'd died, just like that.

[...]

She slapped her leg as she stood, made a noise that might have been an intake of breath or a chuckle, but her mask didn't translate it into anything recognizable – only a hiss with barely any variation to it. She spun in a half circle as she crowed, "The six-eighteen! I forgot I even made that one! Perfect! Better than I thought!"

[...]

"I know, right?" Bakuda turned around to face him, cocked her head to one side, "I modeled it off Tesla's work in vibrations. He theorized that if you could get the right frequency, you could shatter the Earth it-"

[...]

“How’d you do it?  You stuck bombs in these civilians to get them to work for you?”

“Everyone,” Bakuda answered, almost delirious on the high of her successful ‘experiment’ and Regent’s attention.  She half skipped, half spun through the crowd and leaned against one of her thugs, patting his cheek, “Even my most loyal.  Bitch of a thing to do.  Not the actual procedure of sticking the things inside their heads.  After the first twenty, I could do the surgeries with my eyes closed.  Literally.  I actually did a few that way.”

[...]

She clapped her hands together.  Then she pointed into the crowd  “Alright!  So, you…  yeah you, the girl in the yellow shirt and jeans.  If I told you to, would you pick up the gun and shoot someone?”

It took me a second to spot the girl, at the far end of the crowd.  She looked at Bakuda with a stricken expression and managed to answer, “The gun m-melted too, Ma’am.”

“You call me Bakuda.  You know that.  Nothing fancy.  If the gun was still there, would you shoot?  Or if I told someone to give you a gun?”

“I-I think I maybe could,” her eyes flickered to the puddle that had been Park Jihoo.

- Shell 4.8