Ragnor Vs Handy

Ragnor Vs Handyman

Down in the training district of Cloudfell City, where all manners of gladiator come to hone their skills, two gyms were being terrorised. A behemoth of a man, dressed in nothing but animal furs, managed to lift two gymnasiums out of the ground, their foundations becoming naught but gaps in the floor. He was able to attach these two buildings together using parts from a nearby truck and started dead-lifting right in the middle of the damn street. By the time the police came around he had performed his 230th lift.

"SIR, PUT DOWN THE," the cop paused to contemplate the absurdity of his request, "PUT DOWN THE GYMS OR WE'LL BE FORCED TO OPEN FIRE!"

But as the cop was aiming down the barrel of his small black Glock, he and the others started to realise one thing; this monster was deadlifting without a spotter.

"Jesus," muttered the cop, pistol falling out of his limp hands, the others following suit. "He's-!"

Ragnor dropped his makeshift weight, the resulting impact causing one of the gyms to crash through the road and partially enter into the sewers below. He sat up, his body tearing through the improvised bar, his hella buff bod slicing through metal like a hot chainsaw through orphans.

"RRGH?" grunted the immense beast, aiming his eyes towards the stuck-for-words cop. "RRGH DRRRGH WRRRGHNT?" But as he asked, bodily fluids spluttering from his muscle-bound mouth, all the cops were already several hundred meters away screaming "HE'S TOO SWOLE TO CONTROL!"

The monster thought nothing of it, simply picked up the gym that had crashed into the floor and repaired the giant weight before pumping several hundred tons of concrete and steel again.

By the time night came, he had lifted several thousand times. He didn't count for two reasons: The first reason being, as he says, "It's not how many you do, it's how seriously to take them", and the second reason being, as he doesn't say, he can't count past a hundred. But as the area fell pitch black, lights remaining dark due to the government officials shutting off the power grid due to the buff beast, another contestant showed up.

Ragnor had sensed that something swole was coming his way, and decided to keep pumping until it was near, though it was close now. He carefully set aside the weight and stood up, turning and facing his opponent.

It was tall and black, easily the height of one and a half adult men, standing at a size much taller than Ragnor. Its long, black arms dangling from its shoulders to below its knees. It was dressed in a white open-side tank top with a Japanese letter on it (probably saying "courage"), tailored to be long enough to cover its long, thin waist and still to be able to drape itself over the purple skinny jeans covering the thing's legs, the jeans themselves also tailored for its size. On its large, round head was a regular-sized snap-back held on by a strip of duct tape, the tape being the only thing keeping it from falling off. The hat was practically on the side of the thing's head.

It put its giant, black hands around its waist and nodded its head towards Ragnor. He took it as a challenge. He waved his arm, motioning to the giant two-gym weight, beckoning his new opponent to have a go.

"LIGHFT," he bellowed, and the black thing obliged.

The thing lowered itself onto the ground below the giant metal bar, and it placed its great, black hands around it, squeezing it with its grip. Ragnor knew that, though this thing looked strong, its arms weren't nearly capped enough to support the weight, but then he was taken aback.

Before the thing started to lift, several more pairs of arms started to scatter out from the sides of its open-side top, each resulting hand grabbing the bar in a new place. It tilted its head towards Ragnor, a finger-filled grin clicking in assay joy. It started to lift, and cor blimey, lift it did.