As Amy grew more extreme, so did her workouts.

She'd graduated from a home weight set days ago...

Heck, she'd graduated from a full gym setup days ago.

These days she was... well...

Getting a second job.

Kind of.

The point is, she was going to the junkyard after work, had been for a couple days, and they were letting her keep stuff afterwards.

It was one of those quaint local junkyards with piles of rusted out garbage and steel, and the secondhand auto-parts business never really took off.

They couldn't afford a magnet crane, or a crusher, so the garbage just kind of sat there.

Unless, of course, some brave soul were to be able to fill those roles.

Some bold, curvy soul who could squat a 1950s American made cruiser (the fatass of cars.)

Some strong, toned, bouncy soul who could deadlift various truck bits and have rusted spikes of jaged metal bounce off of her chest when she did something clumsy.

Amy. They needed Amy.

Hey she had to be unsubtle about it, two weeks ago she was a wimp!

But now she was kind of reorganizing things...

Tearing through engine blocks with her bare hands until she found usable parts to take home and make herself a new ride...

And, slowly – it took her a couple extra days to reach this point, it was the new 'fun' for day 15 – getting the ability to make those LOVELY little cubes.

She still hadn't figured out what people do with the cubes, but that wasn't her problem.

She just wadded up tons of metal into a deadly mess, shaped it into a platonic solid, and left it for somebody else to work with.

As a workout.


Flexed Arms: 35 inches
Max temperature material touched to body without noticing: 950 degrees
Odds of successful assassination: stressful for local threat evaluation