Hyperdestructive Antivirus
Agent No.420

" super effective, 100% trusted to serve and protect your system from virus infestation so shut the fuck up and let's roll."

butterflies on my gun.

[Independent RP blog for P-420, an ALT of Heiwajima Shizuo from Durarara!!]

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Posted 2 days ago // 1 note
lover-of-humanity asked : You're awful, even for a gentleman.

And who said I was one, to begin with?

Posted 1 year ago // 1 note
{Hiatus for a couple of days.}

{Or, at least until I find the capacity to regain my feelings. I’m in ruins. orz}

Posted 1 year ago // 2 notes
tagged : #!ooc  #text post 

ultracontagious-138:

hyperdestructive-420:

Pity.
image

“Then again, I’d have to live with a sense of being unaccomplished if I didn’t have to end you with my own hands.”

image

“Oh, I’m sure me slipping through your fingers each time must feel much more accomplishing. Who’re you trying to fool, sugar? What, wouldn’t you miss me if I died?”

"……"

"… you little shit. If you want to die so badly, then I’ll be happy to oblige and provide you with assistance.”

Posted 1 year ago // 9 notes
tagged : #!ic  #!reply  #!rp 
Posted 1 year ago // 208 notes
;; — 420 {Open}

ultracontagious-138:

hyperdestructive-420:

Neon green shades interlaced across the infinite dimensions forming the ‘room’, giving it a stale taste of the enigmatic activity taking place at the center. The ‘room’ itself wasn’t much. If anything, it was a disproportionate area of translucent flooring - and whether the floor was truly translucent or not made a fair question as it was so swathed over with odd, pulsing green tubular cords that it, itself, seemed barely visible. Something was beyond the snake-like coils and twists that traced their way to a centerpoint, a focal point. 

Psychedelic 420 slept at the focus of the ‘room’. 

Long, smooth breaths scaled the vast walls. The faint whispers of sleep caused the room to shudder each time, like pins ringing against the thin membrane of a shell. Any minute now, that shell would break - showed signs of being on the brink of falling apart like some phenomenon would rise to the surface soon and exhale a puff of fiery life, eyes raging and teeth bared in a ready snarl. 

For now, however, the man slumbered on without a care for consequence, suspended from an inorderly arrangement of tubes and machines twisted together in a thick trunk, and hooked up to a horrific number of cords acting like tubes channeling medicine to his naked body. He couldn’t consciously be sure of how long he’d been stuck in this state of hibernation. Dreaming always felt much shorter than the realistic amount of hours a man slept - but then again, Psy wasn’t capable of dreaming.

His ‘dreams’ were pixels of color, images filtered into his mind via the data communicated to him, rendered into a visible state as if to better engrave some morbid objective into the program. Coding, to be exact. 

Unwitting to all, a certain virus should be mistakenly pleased he’d be the first thing on Psy’s mind when the program ‘awoke’.

One might have not seen the movement had the colour not been so drastically different from its surroundings - but nobody was around to notice the soft fluttering of fragile wings. They were part of a small, completely harmless device that was made to enter flows of data without disrupting them while copying and transmitting information. It left no damage and no traces, unlike its origin. The moth flew uselessly through the space, circling once around the anti-virus in the middle before returning the way it had come from.

I hate all.~” A shrill voice cut through the silence. Of my friends.~” The bug settled down on an outstretched finger. “They all accept our time.~” Crimson hues were narrowed, leaving more room for the unnatural grin with glistening shark teeth. His footsteps sounded oddly hollow, perhaps because his existence was something completely unnatural in this certain environment. In this certain presence, of a certain someone.

“R-E-S-E-T,” the virus chirped cheerfully, his little spy shattering in his hand. How stupid he had been. What had he been hoping for? A human life? Some kind of chance? A change? Though his world seemed so very small, there was much more to it. All he had was his part to play, the part where he destroyed and was destroyed. This might be just another façade to cover up what he wanted to be, but there was no point in one, for there was nobody to even consider the possibility. No one but him. Poor little virus, all alone on the world.

Pale digits turned into vermilion claws, brushing against one of the countless tubes. For a fleeting second Virus-138 considered changing the serene colour into one of alarm, but then he shifted his attention back to his unconscious enemy. It was about time for Sleeping Beauty to wake up. “Bet they messed with your head,” Vi mused, the amusement lacing his voice impossible to miss as he loomed over the bare body, a red gleam falling upon the artificial flesh. “It was fun knowing you sweetheart, it really was. I’m afraid I’m going to have to end our little relationship now, though. I’d rather not end up dying again. You really suck at your job, ne? It’s amazing I’m still alive after all those times you got to me. Hey, you want me to leave you a souvenir? Well, it’s not like it’s gonna mean anything to you. For some reason I doubt anyone would appreciate it.”

Lips were drawn into a childish pout like he really didn’t know what to do, the parasite putting up a show despite knowing Psy wasn’t able to see it. “Oh well. No one cares if you’re dead anyway, right? Riiiight. That’s what I thought.” The tips of his claws settled themselves on the anti-virus’ neck - just in case - while the small raven leaned forward, teeth swiftly burying themselves in a shoulder.

Something had slithered into the room. Even in a groggy, just-awoken state Psychedelic-420 could feel his unreasonable, unmodified pride bubbling from within – a sentient egotism that disliked the way he had to be alerted of the presence of danger rather than perceiving it on his own. It was akin to the temper humans felt when they sat behind their steering wheels and received gratuitous advice on the ‘correct’ way of driving. Only, it was a pity at the same time that there weren’t many options for Psy to deal with the infiltrator at the moment; his muscles were in a state of dystrophy and the machines had awoken him too late.

Nevertheless, he could tell who – or what it was that had joined him in the premises.  The strange thing about the updates the System Organization pulled him through was the fact that he didn’t feel like he’d changed; for fact he knew they’d put him through a process he’d been against, but it was a subtle memory and he couldn’t remember anything beyond being put down and locked away. It was the strangest thing - waking up after a long time and already knowing one’s objective the moment one regained conscience. Wasn’t it usually the other way around?

The intruder had come much closer. Psy couldn’t exactly open his eyes; they had been closed for too long and the secretion of some kind of sticky discharge of his human body had left his eyelids stuck together. He still couldn’t move a muscle to peel them open himself, either, so he hung there against the machines, simply brooding quietly and almost comfortably while the source of malice slunk closer.

Closer.

That’s when Psy felt the thing called ‘emotion’ cooperate with him. That virus was just as he last remembered – he bled an aura that held an infectious scent, and it moved with every one of his movements. He didn’t remember anything else but this. He could have expected it when teeth sunk into his bare shoulder, but the machines pinning him back had only reacted fast enough to begin shutting down only now. What was there to do besides hide a cringe and think of what might not be worst from being bitten?

Miraculously, the inevitable surprise compelled one eye to peel and Psy opened it slowly, releasing a sigh of relief or exasperation, blearily taking in the surroundings with his emerald for an eye. The gaze passively moved on to the figure attached to his shoulder, almost as if watching a tiny bird land on his shoulder, in tranquility. Pity, Psy didn’t even remember he liked birds, so he felt no loss.

“Give me just a moment,” Psy replied, shrugging his free shoulder. Ah, so he could move; when did that happen?

There certainly wasn’t much strength for him to summon, but it was enough for him to bite down a breath and tear his free arm from the machine, severing the cords connecting him to the updates and seize the back of Virus-138’s neck, pulling him away. There wasn’t even enough strength to hold onto him, so Psy dropped the small, normally-light figure, barely even hanging down from his attachments. A poisonous grin – or snarl – danced upon his face through his one open eye, and he reached up, arm shaking from strain, to finally peel the other open.

image

“… So this is the kind of rat you always were. Attacking a man who’s already down,” He heaved as he freed a leg, sending splinters of the contraption behind him onto the floor; it was probably in his favor to break free as soon as possible. “… Is that the virus way of doing things?”

HC Update 001.

{The funny thing is, even if the System Organization ‘reprogrammed’ Psychedelic-420 the update process was curbed near the end, so Psy is technically still incomplete.

The updates were interrupted because a non-malicious software gained access, and that software was actually the singing synthesizer GUMI. She did all of this unwittingly.}

Posted 1 year ago // 4 notes
tagged : #!headcanon 

izanyanorihara:

dont-touch-my-pudding:

izanyanorihara replied to your post
I don’t get it. You just reblogged their post, right? O.o

No, I took ONE image from the post, posted it, comment how I loved Izaya’s expression on it, and gave them full credit for the image, including a link to both the original post and there page.

Apparently I got them a bunch of new followers too.

And I know it’s me there upset with, as they linked to my posted in there posting about it.

Yeah, I was going to go get food to avoid this rant.

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Posted 1 year ago // 6 notes
burdenlaburnum asked : "You're very welcome Psy. And how have you been?"

“… Say what?”
image 

“How do you know my name?”

Posted 1 year ago // 1 note
tagged : #!ooc  #{Ohohoho drama}  #{woops}