Nutritional Bargain Bin [Atlas/Invite]

[Trent "Hyas" Cassidy]

A dull, yet still clamorous clunking and thumping had no room to echo. Trudging along beneath piles and piles of pounds of material goods, the apprentice wrestler Trent Cassidy was one of two pack mules. The burden that he was sworn to carry was a tremendous one indeed. Then again, such a burden was critical to others' survival. Today was a day in which he and the Man of Steele himself would sell his recent crop at affordable bargains. Whilst incredibly tiring, they were prime weight lifting days. A slew of whole fruits, root vegetables, and more was plenty for a burgeoning wrestler! Although, in this case it was for training, rather than weight control or straightforward consumption. Every few crossroads, Trent would heft his personal basket of overflowing foodstuffs, as if to brandish it like a weight. The barbells of nutrition were of no true challenge! ...If Trent considered it so, then it may become true. Approaching their usual spot, the apprentice wrestler grunted to himself.

"Urgh..."

A pause.

"Say, Atlas, I'm still able to move. Care to stack your share onto mine?"

---

A bit of a shorter one than usual, Atlas Steele . Sorry about that, but I wanted to make sure I got this through before it was too late!

[Atlas Steele]

"Excuse me? Did you just ask to increase your own training regime!?" He asked, his eyes burning with an intense passion as he would bring his hand upwards, balancing the crate of food with his knuckles as he would tremble violently as his muscles were tensed before slamming his hand down with killing intent...!

Before placing his hands on his shoulders with tears in his eyes as he would smile widely from side to side.
His entire body radiating happiness as he would lift Trent up with relative ease if he didn't struggle along with his stuff!

"You are finally growing up to be a real fighter! A real wrestler, a real go-getter! I thought that you would be stuck playing video games and following the little dreams instead of finding yourself a rival, like the great ones in the past, have done!" Atlas spoke, slowly starting to spin around as he was hoping to be able to spin Trent sideways, before then letting him go as he would take out a notebook to mark today, April second as 'Trent did it' Day~

[Trent "Hyas" Cassidy]

The apprentice wrestler failed to flinch at Atlas's retort. An ultimately stiff grin creased his lips.

"Yes! I AM!"

While a burden, the current workload was far from crippling. Another heft. Eye contact persisted. The evident blood lust grew. Wait, blood lust? Atlas emanated a severe degree of killing intent. Fortunately, Trent knew that this would determine one of two likely events. Odds are, it was either an attention-grabber or legitimate marking for death. This wasn't in any wrestling ring, therefore --! A pair of broad bounders clapped the apprentice's shoulders. There it is. For that matter: thank god. Atlas wasn't above sudden sparring. Sometimes, at least.

Trent would grunt inquisitively as his feet left the pavement. Another grunt followed suit. Real fighter? Go-getter? What had his life been this last decade then?! It was when the Man of Steele mentioned Trent getting stuck in video games and "little dreams" that his grunts became words. Trent's brow furrowed as they did so. Eventually, the duo began spinning of Atlas's sole accord.

"Hey hey, what the hell, Atlas? I play those games to pass time. Wrestling has always been my main gig ever since I met you! You've always been my goal, and I'm gunnin' for it. Better not forget that, friend."

It was by then that the apprentice wrestler had been freed; and left to stand on his own again. He hadn't gotten another load, either. What a embittering turn today took.

---

:V

Gonna get the tag right from now on, btw Atlas Steele

[Atlas Steele]

He would glare at Trent as if he just spoke an unbelievable lie, his arms slowly stopping as he would drop Trent on the ground and make him carry both sets of goods while turning around, waggling his finger with a condescending teacher tone that he practiced oh so well.

"Well, Well, Well, the Fighter Trent considers himself a true go-getter, a true warrior and unbeatable merely because you fought a few times in the rings?!" Before Atlas would take out a small piece of paper, a banner to say the least before slapping it against the wall with a wide grin on his own face.

"Dear old boy, There is a match that I wrote you up to!" as he pointed at the piece of paper with a man coated in flames and bulging muscles standing in the center of a boxing ring, his eyes lit with fire itself too as the sensation of power was visible from their entire body...

"You see, Our matches in the areas outside of the city have gone from passable to a weak beginning as the world had a new stage for us, as I have been doing research!
Apparently, the fighters here have super powers and abilities beyond our mortal comprehension! We can easily be destroyed in a single move by them because they can blow up people with their minds!" He would proclaim before through his visor, one thing was shown in Atlas his eyes...

"And I am excited about this fight to see if you can beat the mighty flame wrestler of death! Because physically... He is weaker than even the water chick on our farm!"

---

Trent "Hyas" Cassidy

[Trent "Hyas" Cassidy]

The burden Trent swore to carry spontaneously doubled. The apprentice wrestler groaned, albeit only briefly. He stood fully in less than a moment. As veins emboldened themselves, as if to display the compensated redistribution of weight, Atlas didn't seem particularly convinced. Apparently, Trent's claim was as solid aloud as it seemed to be within. The condescending tone of voice, of course didn't sit well with Trent. Well, why wouldn't he believe him? He lived as his apprentice, roommate; and as if he were Atlas's own blood for ten years! What was so different today? Then, it miraculously became clear. Brandishing a banner-length poster, it was all certain.

The figure of a competitive, combative sportsman was labelled outrageously. A classic combat sport match poster. Whilst still irritably roused, the reason as to why Trent was made so came to light by that imaging alone. The apprentice wrestler snickered beneath his breath. A match. In this city, too? What a treat! Atlas, however, made sure to act like a second for this one. He'd taken to research. Within this "new stage", super powers was the norm? Trent's arms shivered some; from both the weight of his produce and this newfound prospect. What a quirky arena gimmick! Then again, the city limits had mention the same.

"You think this isn't all just photoshop?"

Spontaneous human combustion was something outta fiction and stupidity. Exclusivity in that didn't matter. Regardless, the wrestler's brow grew furrowed. Atlas's words were dangerous, albeit tantalizing all the same. The "Mighty Flame Wrestler of Death"? What a childish name. Did he have anger issues? Low-hanging fruit, but good for the audience.

"I'm not taking any-a that play-down nonsense, Atlas. If he's in that ring, he's gotta be throwing a few good hands somehow. You gonna get 'n prep that match or not?"

---

Sorry for the delay, but now we gotta get ready to rumble Atlas Steele!

[Atlas Steele]

"Well, I would believe it was photoshop if I wasn't capable of summoning children like Pokemon." Atlas would comment on the side before turning to the upcoming warrior as he took all the weights off him for a moment before then checking his body...

"This will be your first match to see if you can even do a boxing match with your body, this isn't much more than that to be blunt." He would comment, as he would start stacking the items on the side of the road before counting them to make sure nothing had vanished by any greedy little impatient buggers running by before sighing loudly.

"A few people have been able to use powers that I am honestly surprised even existed in this world and they blew me clean away with a single blow, It was beyond shocking, to say the least." He commented, before then pulling out a tablet he was given by Aroma and showing the video of a man that soared through the sky of the boxing ring before slamming down with a massive burst of flames as the opponent was getting pelted from range...

"Disgraceful." Atlas would say with an intense amount of hate within his voice as he would almost tear the tablet in pieces as he would glare towards the person that made a fool of this sport.

"This is a fucking disgrace to boxing and wrestling, as these people have turned it into mere brawling!" He proclaimed, slamming his fist on one of the crates as it would almost instantly shatter, Atlas bending forwards as he would start picking up cabbages before then chomping down on one with relative ease, showing once again how extreme his daily intake was to keep his body at full power.

"We are beating his ass with classic fighting, boxing and body blows, as you can guess with a little bit of a lacking stomach foundation on him..." Atlas spoke, as he knew Trent would know that this person had no actual defences against infighting then...!

[Trent "Hyas" Cassidy]

Trent would chuckle lightly at the point of Atlas's sprites. He spoke of it lightly, but it was nonetheless no less impressive than magical fire. Then, the produce crates were taken from the apprentice wrestler. Without a complaint, Trent was inspected. The briefly light demeanor he was allowed before had then vanished. This guy wasn't that big a deal, right? A moment was taken to listen to Atlas. Yes, this was, admittedly, outside Trent's expertise. Boxing was still a combat sport, but wrestling was another ball game entirely. Physical contact was inevitable, albeit one required the whole body; the other, only fists. The apprentice wrestler would then merely spectate the Man of Steele's taking of inventory. However, it wasn't long before he continued about the flaming boxer. Atlas mentioned being able to be blown away in one shot. Trent scoffed, unconvinced.

"C'mon Atlas. That's ridiculous, and you know it. You're totally known for that endurance factor of yours."

Suddenly, a tablet. Even more sudden than that, the video footage. What Trent bore witness to was an absolute travesty. That flaming baboon made more of a heel-like performance than an actual wrestler. This buffoon probably never entered a real boxing ring in his life. Well, neither did Trent, regardless of legitimacy -- but that wasn't the point! What a fucking asshole! A smudged, bloody spit mark on the names of combat sports! Trent's palms curled into fists, promptly smashing them together in a scrappy fashion. By his hands alone, Trent was antsy enough to throw down. Atlas, in also confirming the mockery this Ace cuntwaffle stood for, only roused his apprentice more.

"Dammit, I wanna kick his ass so bad!"

Unlike his mentor, Trent refrained from damaging the merchandises' containers. However, that didn't make him any less aggravated. The apprentice wrestler's neck tensed up tremendously, highlighting his extremely built neck muscles. Both that and this opportunity was thanks to Atlas. Now, Trent wanted in. Way in.

"Lemme at 'im Atlas. I'll give 'im the fattest liver shot he'll ever know!"

---

Big bros mad. Atlas Steele

[Atlas Steele]

"Well, first things first," Atlas spoke, walking up to Trent from behind him as he would draw his arm back hoping to score a neat sucker punch against the man known as Trent before scoffing contently.

"If you wish to learn how to deal with a bastard like this, you need to learn how to fight an actual bastard!" He would proclaim, getting his body down into a position for a good dirty fighting style before starting to lower his right hand before himself, slowly pivoting it from left to right as if he was carrying a reaper scythe instead of an arm.
Glaring passionately, the man known as Atlas would slowly take a few steps backward whilst mentally calculating that he had a certain amount of time to teach him the ins and outs for how people could cheat in a boxing match...

"Come on, Do not get too riled up, a little wet behind the ears buddy, we are going to teach you the ins and outs on how people cheat, and why they would cheat to force certain answers on their predicament!" As he would teach him the strikes of his assassin-style boxing moves...!
Hoping that their drastic differences in speed would help him with this.

[Trent "Hyas" Cassidy]

A dull strike biffed against Trent's back. To think, he'd be able to just get a run-down before diving into the nitty-gritty. Then again, the wrestler figured, Atlas wasn't so plain. Trent was pushed forward some, albeit not too terribly far. The apprentice wrestler's mentor figure outlined the idea, as if fully acting as his second. Fair enough. The position Atlas posed was completely unfamiliar, dangling his arm around like that. It was ridiculous! But, of course, the unknowns of boxing was easily just the same. Some goading words were thrown at Trent. He cocked his head to his left, exhaling harshly in amusement. What a weirdo.

"I didn't take you for someone who cheated, even as a demonstration. Today's gotta be some kinda wack."

It seemed as though the farm's produce took a back seat for the time being. With that in mind, there wasn't much keeping Trent from hesitating. Suddenly, he took a combative stance. The apprentice wrestler hung low, presenting his left foot forward. Further up, his palms were concealed by fingers, balled into fists and wielded before his jaw. Then, Trent breathed a long, heavy exhale; as if to steel himself for what came next. After all, this was the Man of Steele. It hardly mattered if he was acting.

---

Short, sweet, and a fist straight to the point! Let's give this a go, Atlas Steele .

[Atlas Steele]

"Turtle style, Clever" Atlas commented, before lunging his body forwards as he started to unleash vicious blows in multiple angles towards the guard that this man had projected forwards, hoping to be able to snap through it and break past it with deliberate blows.
Shifting his balance from one leg to the other, Atlas would keep pressing on his charge as his teeth gritted together with an obvious opening visible on his torso...

Yet... What would clearly become obvious from the way that Atlas was pressing his advantage that he didn't need to keep his own guard up to be able to defend against this man.
Not for the fact that he was sturdy enough to take the hit, he surely wasn't with his lack of defensive posture at this point.

It was the fact of pressure from this aggressive stance gave no opening to the opponent unless they learned the timing of each blow and took the time to respond in turn by adapting to it, which Atlas was waiting for...
And when he would do this, Trent would be met with a sharp hook out of his sight...!

---

Since we are going to fight, Time to make these shorter and to the point

[Trent "Hyas" Cassidy]

Swiftly steeled against the brunt of it, it was a fine enough idea for Trent to begin defensively. Atlas, in demonstration or otherwise, unleashed a hefty onslaught right out the gate! The peek-a-boo imitation style shifted straight upwards, becoming a sturdy blocking position. The Man of Steele's apprentice seemingly gave way to these strikes, bending at the knees and steadily sliding downwards. Just as fists pounded at his forearms, a drum beat to the sound of battle. A mental drum, but a drum nonetheless. It was disorganized, overlapping with Atlas like a venn diagram. It was a heavenly wonder that Trent had kept up with Steele's hellish, mountain man lifestyle and training. The impact was tangible, and was felt quite clearly; but it wasn't that close to dangerous.

An opening appeared at the Man of Steele's torso, around the lower abdomen. That wasn't a lack of foresight. In a painful truth, that was Atlas's sheer physical fortitude. Both wrestlers knew that it was only Atlas that could afford to allow and maintain such "openness" so brazenly. Regardless, Trent's block remained alive and strong. It'd take far more than the opening act to break through these logs for arms! Unfortunately, the drum of Trent's mind was still completely off-key. Well, it was just practice, right? The apprentice wrestler threw himself into the punches, yet found himself diving beneath eye level! A fist wound back, outrageously flexing the accompanying shoulder and arm muscles.

Just as one would expect an opposing punch to fly, however, Trent made himself scarce! If Atlas was tempted enough to look below, there'd be no such apprentice of his. On the flip-side, a highly intense set of steps kicked up dirt and scuffed the pavement. Was there any counterattack to begin with? Encircling counterclockwise, Trent had to consider his options. This was no game, for there was no script; not in his hands, anyway.

---

Shorter, right Atlas Steele? 

[Atlas Steele]

"You little...!" Atlas would comment, watching him having dashed beside himself before something started to become obvious as Atlas his left arm had vanished from the usual place, his body turned at first for checking where he had turned before everything started to fall in place for Trent his sight.

Gritting his teeth, as the body of Atlas became more and more open, it was a lure that was as appealing to the mind of a warrior as it was like a meal left in the sun for a bunch of insects.
Yet it was Atlas his lack of speed that would betray his plan as he would go for an interrupting hook that was cutting through the air, precise and sharp...

But with such a sudden blow there was always the risk of cuts on the opponent their body as Atlas would then draw his most vicious trick out of all of them.
With the pavement cracking underneath the tips of his toes on the right leg, it was obvious that he went from a shocking hook into a straight downwards blow aimed towards the stomach of Trent, right between his elbows...!

In all of the training, one thing was absolutely certain with how Atlas had placed himself out there, his balance was abnormal to say the least...!

[Trent "Hyas" Cassidy]

Gotta think, and gotta think fast. Atlas wasn't a speedy fella by any means, and makes that clear every damn day. Compensation isn't something he does, either. Just a helluva lot of effort stacked up real high. Having, frankly, what boils down to having studied Atlas for just about a decade has its perks. Then again, that hardly leaves room for anyone else. In the moment, Trent was briefly thankful that he ended up getting just a bit faster than the Man of Steele. If nothing else, it makes all that roadwork go that little extra bit quicker.

Steele kept out a fat hook of bait as he slung around punches. Just beneath a deep red hairband, the apprentice's eyes took to a strained glare. Physical aggression was his forte, and likely his worst habit. Combat sports were a convenient outlet, but are reflected more and more with them. Trent's fingers from his left hand rolled several times, his eyes taking in the sight of an incoming hook! Shame that they weren't wearing gloves. Or headgear, for that matter. Safer, usually. Oh well. In truth, there wasn't much thought afterwards. The wrestler lunged forward. As if in preparation, his nape shifted some, prompting his chin to do the same. That hook straight outta Atlas sliced straight along; tearing right along the bridge of his apprentice's nose! Skin tore, a burning sensation spreading throughout the rest of his everyday honker.

Having shifted just a split second before, however, allowed Trent to attempt a head twist! Far from perfect, but perhaps just enough! Unfortunately, that first throw was just the beginning. Atlas had a nasty plot in play, a deadly scheme. Another hook; one aimed way too low! The hell was that?! The apprentice wrestler pushed inwards, forcing himself to keep in balance. As he did so, however, he revealed his back to the Man of Steele's ten ton punch -- launching his left fist straight towards his mentor's kidney in one megaton uppercut motion!

---

Atlas Steele 's Punch-Out for the NES, anyone?