Psymon Derby vs Kelani Alex - Beat Your Heart Out

[threedee]

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whhhhhhr
khTHNK

Psymon crouched down and pushed his hand into the door of the vending machine, grabbing an ice cold bottle of cherry cola he just purchased and cracking it open. He helped himself to a big swig and let out a content sigh, glancing around at the bare hallway he stood in.

He had gotten to the arena far sooner than he intented- And figuring it a bad idea to go back out and risk being late for the show anyways, he decided to stick around and kill some time. Unfortunately for him, there wasn't as many ways to do so as he hoped- He's hardly ran into anybody here. Sure, the occasional stagehand scurrying from place to place, and a couple custers of ring crew on there break, but that was it. The most interesting thing he's run into was this vending machine. He'd actually worried that at some point one of the workers would confuse him for a trespassing fan- He didn't exactly fit in with his tattered black jeans and red flannel-wifebeater combo. And the pink hair and shark teeth probably didn't help his case either...

["Fuckin' eerie..."] he whispered to himself, shaking his head... Something about the inactivity in the hallway gave him the creeps. He tries to recall something he read about in regards to that- 'Limited spaces' or something? Bahhhh, it's not coming to him... With a small tut, Psymon simply turned and continued down the hall with another sip of his drink. Either he'll waltz upon something interesting, or he'll die of boredom in these corridors. Whichever came first.

[threedee]

Psymon's lackluster tour around the barren halls soon came to a stop as he heard a pair of voices down the corridor he was walking- Figuring it just to be another group of stagehands moving some stuff around, he didn't pay much mind and press forward. Backtracking didn't seem very appealing right now.

It wasn't until the two owners of those voices came into view that the young punk realized they weren't stagehands, instead a wrestler and presumably an agent of his squabbling. And that was when Psymon start actually started paying attention to what they were saying. Something about photoshoots- I mean, the one guy did seem more like a model than a fighter. For a split second, Psymon wondered if maaaaaybe he got the wrong place on accident...

Then the model(?)'s attention turned to the Canadian, quite possibly the sorest thumb of all time. He paused as Alex addressed him- With one word sticking in his brain.

"... The hell's a 'lolo'?" Now, with Psymon's words, and his slight head tilt and squinting of his eyes, what he was trying to portray was innocent confusion. Buuuut, with his messy pink mane and his dangerously razor sharp teeth, he could very easily be misconstrued as someone with bad intentions: And thus, his pondering of the term could be interpreted as backtalk, an indication that he would wish to escalate the situation and start off on as wrong of a foot as possible.

His appearance and demeanor had a funny way of getting him into situations like that.

[threedee]

Psymon watched on with a quizzical look at the two whispering in front of him, just quiet enough to be inaudible to him. He couldn't help but get the feeling he should be worried... But he simply shrugged it off, and took the opportunity to take a quick swig of his soda--

Oh of course that's when the shorter one broke away and started to talk to him. In a small moment of panic, Psymon gulped and pulled his soda away, instinctively moving an arm to brush past his mouth in case some dribbled down his chin. Greaaaat first impression, dumbass... he thought to himself.

"Uh... No, nope, not lost," he answered as casually as he could, glancing around the hall... Before his brow furrowed again. "... Least I hope I ain't. I'm just waiting for the show to start y'know?"

[threedee]

Psymon blinked twice as Alex listed off all the possible occupations for him- He couldn't help but feel just a bit miffed that his first thought was 'janitor'. Was that seriously the kinda impression he gave off? Although 'punk rock band member' was a significant improvement. That may have been the subject of a few day dreams of his as a young boy...

The mention of boy bands was the final straw for him though. The Canadian couldn't hide his distaste ofbthe accusation with a soft click of his tongue- Though he did try to smooth if over with a small joke.

"Hey man, if anyone's got the looks to be in a boy band, it's you. I'm one of the wrestlers, I just ain't in my gear yet."

There. An answer to Alex's question, and a compliment to his good looks. Surely that would satisfy him, right? Thinking things would be cool, he went to take another sip of his drink...

[threedee]

Huh. Wonder what his deal is... Psymon couldn't help but wonder to himself. It seemed like Alex was annoyed by the conversation, but he couldn't really pinpoint the issue was...

Ohhhhh, he was probably just holding up their work! They had been squabbling about a photoshoot before he waltzed in- That's probably why he was all huffy.

"Sorry to interrupt your modeling gig, dude." With a sympathetic shrug, Psymon moved to continue walking down the hall, thinking the beef had been properly squashed.

[threedee]

"Hm?" Psymon paused and glanced back upon hearing that odd nickname again. Seeing Alex approach, the Canadian raised an eyebrow and turned to face--

KRAHK!!

He didn't even get a chance to turn all the way before the sole of Alex's shoe connected flush with his jaw, forcing Psymon's entire head to snap back violently with the force, his messy pink mane swaying wildly! Almost instantly the punk's legs turned to jelly underneath him, sending him staggering backward like a drunken fool until his knees finally gave way, and he crashed into a stack of stage crates with a resounding THUD!

"Ghhk--!" He slumped to a seat and instinctively raised a hand to his now sore chin. A harsh ringing drowned out any sound besides that of his own heavy breathing for a moment, his vision blurring into a misty haze to match that soundscape. He caught the faint taste of iron against his tongue...

When things started to shift back into focus, Psymon was face to face with his now assailant, his wide eyes locking with that narrowed scowl of his. He remained silent for a good moment, still trying to collect his scrambled thoughts... But before he could formulate any words, Alex was already moving on like the attack didn't even happen. Leaving Psymon to sit there with a tiny bit of blood pooling in his mouth...

And a fire festering in his soul. That guy is fucking dead.

[threedee]

Luckily for Alex, he hardly had to wait- As soon as he settled in one spot and awaited his opponent, his theme faded away into peaceful silence...

... And was instead replaced by a sudden, chaotic cacophony of drums and guitar chords!

It's Gonna Be A Long Night

https://youtu.be/6amOtv1Sw3s?si=Yqq3GEivguopN7rg

Stomping out onto the stage was that "lolo" boy Alex had picked a fight with earlier, his brow contorted in a furious scowl. Psymon's serious expression was a stark contrast to his overall appearance however- It's a biiiiit hard to seem like a threat when you've got a tight pair of cyan shorts with bright yellow trim and a small pink decal on the front hugging your pale hips. It certainly helps him stand out at the very least...

Psymon didn't seem to care about anything besides Alex however, his eyes firmly focused on him as he walked down the ramp with a purpose... Before suddenly jolting forward to slide into the ring! In one seamless motion, the pissed skater pushed himself up to his feet, clenched his fist... And while gnashing his razor-sharp teeth, he lunged forward at Alex to throw a wild strike right for the side of his head, letting out a vitriolic shout! "Come ON motherfucker--!"

[threedee]

Psymon had plenty of anger pent up and stewing within him for the couple of hours leading up to this match, and he was deadset on letting it all out with every single shot he hit Alex with! His first shot already had the heel falling to the canvas, and the skater was quick to dive onto him and continue raining down punch after punch, grunting with exertion on each swing of his fist--

"Hoh--!" A soft gasp left Psymon's lips as Alex managed to kick his feet up and plant a foot on the Canadian's chest, shoving him back with his powerful legs! Psymon was sent staggering back and tripping over himself, hitting the mat with a soft thud. Alex had managed to buy himself a few seconds to recover, but the rookie growled as he pushed himself back up, eager to pounce at him yet again...!

[threedee]

This was a feeling Psymon was quite used to- Blood surging through his veins, adrenaline overtaking his body. When he wanted to do something, he was deadset on doing it, showing little to no trepidation in any attempt. It serves him well enough hucking himself down flights of stairs on a skateboard, and one would think that sort of thing would pair quite nicely with pro wrestling as well.

But while Psymon was certainly not afraid to step right back up to Alex, his determination gave way to a deadly drawback: Tunnel vision. He was so gungho on attacking Alex again, he didn't once consider Alex doing that same to him- And so, despite the sloppy nature of the strike, it managed to catch Derby right in the side of the head, leaving him to hiss through his teeth and stagger to the side! "Gah, sonuvabitch...!"

[threedee]

Psymon let out a frustrated huff as he rubbed his jaw, muttering a sharp curse under his breath- It was a stiff shot, but it only seemed to piss the wild boy off even further, filling him with determination to step forward and--!

... Wait, why is he twirling around like tha--

THWACK!

Oh, that rattled Psymon's brain alright. His head snapped to the side from the force of the elbow bashing into his cheek, a glob of spit flinging from his lips and splattering on the mat. Almost immediately the skater sunk to a knee right in front of Alex, his eyes widened in shock as inky black spots flocked around his vision. Damn, he didn't think a pretty boy could hit like that...!