"This should do for now," Danny said, waving his hand at the cavernous interior of the warehouse. His voice echoed around the huge building, overlaid with the sound of dripping water from somewhere in the distance. "It used to be used for overhauling trawlers years back but no one uses it for anything but storage of old crap these days. It's still fairly secure, though, so those damn junkies haven't moved in. No one else is around now, it's nearly six PM, so we can make some noise if we need to."
Taylor looked around the vast room, nodding slightly. It was lit rather unevenly by industrial lamps in the ceiling, at least half of which weren't working. She couldn't see any windows and only the door they'd come in through, and on the other end a pair of enormous double doors that opened in the direction of the bay. Set into the floor were several sets of what looked like train tracks, greasy and oily for the most part but rusty in other places.
Overall, it looked like exactly what it was, a nearly abandoned warehouse, although in this case it was also a fairly good place to see what she could do.
Off to one side were a couple of dozen three foot square metal cubes, some sort of big dented bins, which seemed to be full of scrap metal. On the other side was a pile of cylindrical metal poles about six inches thick and six feet long. She looked at them, then her father. He answered the unasked question. "They're rollers for putting certain types of ship on. They weigh more than a quarter of a ton each."
"So what should we try first?" she asked.
He thought for a moment. "Easiest thing would seem to be finding out how strong you are. Find something heavy and try picking it up."
She shrugged, walking over to the row of steel rollers. He looked startled. "You really think you can manage one of those?"
"I won't know unless I try, right?" she asked, smiling at him.
"OK. Don't hurt yourself," he replied after a moment. Nodding, she looked down at one of the rollers, poking it with her toe. It didn't flinch, clearly unimpressed by her.
After thinking it over, she positioned herself in the middle of it, squatted down, and grabbed the thing. Trying to lift it produced nothing except a yelp of surprise when her hands slipped on the greasy metal, making her nearly fall over and Danny muffle a snicker. Glaring at him she held up her hands, watching his face as they shifted into something with a lot more grip and long talons.
Grimly, she wrapped her now-reptilian hands around the metal, squeezing hard and bracing herself with her tail, then tried again. She nearly fell over once more, this time in shock at how easily the huge piece of steel came off the floor.
"Holy shit," Danny breathed in stunned amazement.
"This is a lot easier than it should be," she laughed, hefting the roller. She had to be careful because the off center weight nearly made her fall over, but with a little juggling she had it in a stable carry. Walking slowly across the floor carrying it she could hear little crinkling sounds from the concrete under her feet since the weight was now concentrated in a much smaller area. The old material was flaking and decaying, so it didn't take much to cause it to crumble.
He stepped out of the way as she went past carrying over six hundred pounds of solid steel. A little more experimentation and she had carefully lowered it to the floor again, then grabbed one end and heaved it up to a vertical position, and from there onto her shoulder. Taylor started jogging around the room carrying the load, grinning like an idiot.
"Could you manage more?" he asked in shock.
She nodded, still grinning. "Sure. I think I could probably get four or five times this off the floor. But I can't pick another one up without dropping this one."
He pointed at the metal crates across the room. "Those must weigh at least three times what that thing does, the five on the end are full of old scrap cast iron of various sorts."
With a nod she returned the steel bar to where it had come from, lowering it to the floor then whipping her taloned fingers from under it, letting it drop the last half inch with a huge clang. Going over to the metal crates she looked at them, then picked one that was about half full. Grabbing it at the two points that seemed to be for connecting the crane that was silent on the ceiling, slowly decaying away, she heaved, leaning back.
Again, the impossibly large load came off the floor, although it certainly wasn't as easy this time. She lifted it against her chest, leaning far back to balance it, and turned around. "Where do you want it?" she asked with a grin. Danny shook his head in wonder.
"Put it over there on that big steel platform," he said, pointing. She did as requested, casting him a curious look. "It's a scale. I want to see how much it weighs." He went over to the large round dial she'd missed at first due to the way it was completely covered in dust and wiped it clean with a rag he picked up from an old workbench next to the scale. She saw it was reading nearly two and a half thousand pounds, the outer needle which read up to five hundred pounds having gone around several times and the inner one going up two divisions.
"Well over a ton," he whistled in awe.
"I'm going to try a heavier one," she said eagerly, grabbing the first crate and putting it back. He stayed well out of the way as she picked one that was nearly full. This was quite a strain but she managed to stagger over to the scale with it and dump it on the platform. When the needle stopped spinning around and settled down, they exchanged a glance of amazement.
"Four thousand eight hundred pounds. Shit. Over two tons."
"It was pretty heavy," she admitted. He stared at her, then laughed.
"I'm not surprised. That's more than a lot of cars weigh."
"I don't think I could manage much more than that, Dad," she said. "Not in this form."
"OK. The thing I'm wondering is how on earth you can be that strong and not simply tear everything to pieces without even trying," he replied, looking at her thoughtfully.
"I am managing your strength to prevent exactly that happening," the Varga interrupted, making her nod and pass on the information.
"Ah. That would explain it. Thank you." Danny smiled. "OK then, Taylor, why don't you try your other form and see how it compares."
She nodded with a smile and headed back to the rollers, changing between one step and the next, her clothes vanishing as she did. Reaching them she leaned over, putting her forelegs on the ground and adopting a quadrupedal stance for stability, then grabbed one of the rollers with her right hand. Squeezing she lifted, easily heaving it off the floor. Looking over her shoulder she snickered at her father's expression, which paled even further when she picked up another one with the other hand.
"That… is very scary," he said in a small voice.
"It's very easy as well," she laughed. "They feel about the same weight as if they were made of polystyrene." Hefting the rollers, she tapped them together, wincing a little as her sensitive hearing protested at the surprisingly loud metallic ringing sound.
"Ow. That was loud," Danny commented wryly, wiggling a finger in his ear. She would have blushed if she had the right physiology for it.
"Sorry, Dad," she apologized.
Putting one roller down again, she looked thoughtfully at the one still in her hand, then grabbed it with the other hand. Sliding them apart as far as she could, which was close to the ends, she heaved.
The six inch thick solid steel bar groaned in protest and slowly bent, smoking in the middle as it heated up. Danny went very still. She kept bending until it was a U shape, then put it down. Looking over at him she made the toothy smile she could manage in this form. "That's pretty impressive, right, Dad?"
He nodded jerkily.
Considering the bar, she picked it up then tried straightening it again. It resisted much more vigorously this time, making her mutter to herself. She performed the internal action the Varga had taught her to increase her size, growing larger while still heaving. When she reached about ten feet tall she found the bar bent back fairly easily. She wiggled it back and forth a couple of times, amused at the way the middle was beginning to glow dull red. "Wow. Why does it do that, do you think?"
"You are stressing the internal molecular structure of the steel and causing it to emit heat from friction," the Varga told her, somewhat to her surprise. He picked up on this, laughing slightly. "I am not a scientist but I am also not entirely without education in such matters."
'Fair enough,' she thought at him with amusement. Experimentally she gingerly moved her finger along the metal, trying to work out when it was hot enough to burn her. To her surprise she found that she could place her hand directly on the red-glowing part. It felt warm, but not uncomfortably hot.
Squeezing she watched as the metal flowed around her fingers like modeling clay, leaving deep impressions. At her current size she could wrap her fingers entirely around the bar with no problems. "Hey, Dad, look at this," she said in an amused tone, waving the glowing bar at him. She was a little puzzled by the way he was simply staring.
"Doesn't that hurt?" he finally managed to say.
She shook her head. "No, it's pleasantly warm, that's all," she replied. Cocking her head she listened to her internal voice, then added, "Varga says heat resistance is a required part of being a demon." She giggled at the comment, while Danny sighed again.
"Of course it is," he mumbled.
Putting the distorted bar down she shrank back to normal size, then went back to the scales, walking on all fours like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her body seemed at home on either two legs or four, the arms at her waist making good legs. Grasping the sides of the crate on the scales she easily lifted it off, shaking her head a little in the process.
"It's too light. I can lift a lot more than this." Returning it to the row of similar ones, she looked through them, not finding anything much more heavily loaded.
Suddenly having a thought, she snapped her fingers, the talons clicking together. "I'm an idiot," she exclaimed.
"What do you mean?" Danny asked from where he was now sitting on a pile of wooden pallets.
Instead of directly answering him, she said out loud, "Varga, can you make me some weights to test my strength with, please?"
"I was wondering when you'd think of that," the amused voice of her constant companion said in her head. A sparkle of energy preceded the formation of a cube about two feet on an edge with a handle on each side on the floor in front of her, made of the same gray slick metal as the sword he provided. The handles were loops and covered in something that looked like it would provide a decent grip. "There you go. Try that one."
"Thanks," she said, inspecting it curiously. Bending at the waist she grabbed the handles and lifted. "Ack. This is heavy!"
"That's what you asked for." The Varga laughed slightly.
Straining hard and leaning back, she managed to get the block of metal off the floor and over her forelegs, staggering in a weird four-legged manner over to the scales while leaving impressions in the concrete behind her. She put the block down carefully. The dial whizzed around, making Danny who was watching in awe whistle again. When it finally stopped he stared in shock, as did she.
"Thirty-three thousand pounds?" he squeaked.
"Holy crap," she managed. "That's over sixteen tons." They exchanged a glance, shocked even under the circumstances.
After a long moment, Danny got a thoughtful look on his face, inspecting the huge block of metal with a raised eyebrow. "Hold on. Something is wrong here."
"What, Dad?" she asked curiously, turning her head to him.
"It's too heavy. What the hell is it made of?"
"Good stuff, the Varga said," she replied. Her head voice wasn't much more informative than that.
Rooting around on the workbench Danny came up with an old steel yardstick, carefully measuring the block on each side. "OK. Just under two feet. Let's call it two feet. Close enough," he muttered, pulling a small notebook from his coat pocket and a pencil from another one. Scribbling he kept muttering. "Volume is then eight cubic feet. Let's see..." He glanced at her, thinking hard, apparently trying to remember something. "Ah. I remember. Iron is around four hundred and ninety pounds per cubic foot, which means it would weigh… four thousand pounds. So it isn't iron."
He thought some more, while in her head the Varga was chuckling as if he was having a wonderful time. "Copper is heavier. Five hundred and sixty pounds or so. But that only gives… just under four and a half thousand pounds. Ah. Gold. What's that..." He was obviously very curious and on the trail of something interesting. Taylor watched for a moment while his lips moved silently, then lowered herself to the ground, lying on her belly like a giant cat. She waited.
"Aha! No. Damn. Gold would still only be about ninety-six hundred pounds. Osmium maybe?" Danny shook his head in frustration. "I can't remember the density of osmium exactly but it's nowhere near high enough. This stuff has a density at least three times higher than anything I have ever heard of. "
He looked frustrated. "That's why your sword is so heavy. I wonder what the hell it really is?"
"He won't say, he just laughs when I ask," Taylor replied, shrugging. She stood up. "I'll find out sooner or later. At the moment it's a useful weight."
"I suppose," her father said doubtfully, still staring at the block with a puzzled expression.
"I'm going to try going bigger," she told him.
"The scales only go up to fifty thousand pounds," he warned.
"I don't think it matters. We know how much that one weighs, so we can work out the weight of a larger one just by measuring it." He nodded thoughtfully.
"Good point. OK, go ahead."
Pacing over to the middle of the floor, she looked around, then suggested, "Varga, can you make a big plate of that stuff to stop the floor getting dented any more? I left footprints in it the last time."
"Certainly, Brain," the demon replied, doing as she wanted. A flat covering of the gray metal grew across the floor from under her feet, coated with a thin transparent layer of something her feet could grip.
Curious, she asked, "Can you make that stuff anywhere?"
"Within a short distance, yes," he replied. "It needs to be in proximity to you, though, as you are basically the conduit through which I work the matter creation. I can't do it at arbitrary distances. Let's say, within about fifteen feet or so from you."
"OK. Cool. Right, then, make a block twice the volume of the last one."
"As you wish." The requested block of metal appeared in front of her. She experimentally tried picking it up, finding it impossible at her current size.
"Nope, too heavy," she reported to Danny, who was watching with interest. She increased in size, still heaving, until the block moved. "Got it," she grunted, finding that she was having trouble picking it up without tipping over. She was now about eight feet tall.
Putting it down, she then requested on twice the volume of the previous one. The block vanished, to be replaced with the bigger one. She repeated the process.
Eventually she worked up to a block nearly the size of a car, which by their calculations should weigh over a thousand tons. She was large enough that her head was level with the crane, forty feet in the air. "I think that's enough, Taylor," Danny called. He had been taking notes with an increasing air of disbelief.
"OK, Dad," she rumbled, her voice having become deeper and deeper as she grew. Flipping the internal switch she almost instantly shrank back to the normal size of her combat form, rising to her bipedal stance and walking over to peer over his shoulder at his notes. "Wow," she mumbled.
"Wow indeed. I wonder how strong that is compared to Alexandria," he asked, shaking his head in wonder. "And you seemed to be getting stronger faster as well. Each increase in size was smaller. At two hundred and fifty feet?" He let out a disbelieving breath. "You really would be picking skyscrapers up if you could get the leverage."
"I wonder how much I weighed at that size?" she mused out loud.
"Hop on the scales and we'll see if we can work it out," he suggested. She did exactly that, reading the result with interest. "Two hundred and ninety three pounds," she announced.
"OK. That's actually lighter than I expected," he replied. "Let's measure how tall you are." He used the yardstick while she stood next to the wall in quadrupedal mode. "Five feet six inches when you're standing like that."
"It's a little weird, I feel short like this," she told him. Looking over her shoulder, she added, "but long as well. The end of my tail is about ten feet away."
"All right, if you double in size your volume should go up by a factor of eight. Doubling in each of width, depth, and height. So, at forty feet, which is about where you were at the end, that's… roughly seven point three times as large as you are right now. So that makes it something like three hundred and eighty nine times heavier, which is… good grief, nearly a hundred and fourteen thousand pounds. Around fifty seven tons."
She stared in disbelief, then looked at his calculations. As far as she could see he was right.
"How is that even possible?"
"How are powers of any sort possible?" he retorted. She had no answer.
"What about if I go full Varga?"
"Never go full Varga," he quipped, but worked it out anyway. When he arrived at a final calculation he stared, then wordlessly handed her the notebook. She read the figure in complete shock.
"Thirteen… thousand… tons?" she whispered.
"Thirteen thousand seven hundred and fifty seven or so, actually," he said in a faint voice, groping for a seat again, finally slumping onto the pallet stack and staring at her. "Assuming you topped out at two hundred and fifty feet like you said, in that form, just bigger. If the Varga is actually more like that Godzilla from the movie, which from what I remember was more heavily built, it would be more. Probably a lot more. Twenty thousand plus?" He shook his head. "You'd certainly be able to leave footprints in the street. You'd probably leave them in solid rock."
They gaped at each other for quite a while.
"Please don't leave huge foot prints down the middle of the Boardwalk," Danny finally said, which made her start laughing helplessly. He joined her.
When they finally calmed down, he looked at his reptilian seeming daughter fondly. "So, if nothing else, you're probably the Brute to end all Brutes. Let's see something new."
With a nod she returned to her base form, requesting a sword as she did so. Walking to the middle of the room once more she felt for a stable stance, concentrating on the swordplay skills she seemed to have picked up from Princess Luna. Slowly, she began what she thought was a training exercise, going through the motions carefully with the ridiculously sharp blade. Danny watched with great interest as she moved through a stylized set of exercises, her speed growing as her confidence increased.
Fifteen minutes later she was moving at a blinding speed, alternating thrusts, parries, blocks, and cuts seamlessly, while moving around the still present metal floor covering in what was very close to a dance, her tail moving to keep her perfectly balanced even when she leaned forward in a thrust. Her repertoire of movements had steadily increased through the process.
He twitched in surprise when between one movement and another she resumed the combat form, stumbling a little as she got used to the different balance, then picking up speed again until she was back to the same level as before. She pushed it harder, the sword going from making tearing silk sounds to producing small whip-crack sounds when particularly rapidly swung. She attacked an invisible opponent, slicing at it, then spinning around and lashing out with her tail in one movement, which would clearly have decapitated a normal human. The appendage literally whistled through the air it was moving so fast.
"I think that's probably enough, Taylor," he finally called. She slowed down then stopped, turning to face him. Her glowing eyes in the gloom of the warehouse stood out in a way that was unnerving even knowing it was his daughter there in front of him. "You should probably also think about having the Varga come up with a form that's not so… terrifying," he commented. She tilted her head like a curious puppy, making him grin.
"I have no idea what you mean, Dad," she said, a laugh in her voice.
"I'm sure," he replied, getting up and walking over to her. She waited for him, flexing her shoulders. The exercise hadn't been particularly tiring although she felt like she'd had a good workout. It was fun if anything.
"I have to say that based on what I saw, I think you have some fairly serious skills in swordplay," he went on. "I don't know all that much about it but it looked pretty formidable."
She nodded, looking at the sword she was still holding, then out of curiosity went over to the wrecked roller she'd bent with her father following. Inspecting it, she raised the sword, then swung it down at the metal, gaping when it went nearly all the way through.
"Holy crap," she exclaimed. "I hardly put any effort into that."
Wrenching it free she examined the blade, seeing it was as perfect as before. Shrugging, she swung again, harder. This time she chopped a six inch chunk off the end of the bar and buried the blade deep into the floor.
"Hey, watch it, dear," Danny protested. "If you cause too much damage someone is going to notice. We're still going to have to get rid of that." He pointed at the bent roller. Taylor dipped her head in embarrassment.
"Sorry, Dad." She asked the Varga to get rid of her sword, then bent down and picked up both pieces of bar. Heading towards the doors facing the bay, she listened carefully, then used a secondary hand to slide one half of the doors open having lifted the locking bar that clamped them shut.
"What are you doing?" Danny asked, coming up behind her.
"Getting rid of the evidence," she said with a smile in her voice. Sticking her head out she looked both ways, using the heat vision to be sure. No one seemed to be anywhere in the area. Sliding the door further open she looked at the bay, fifty feet away on the other side of a decaying concrete dockyard, then heaved the smaller piece in her right hand with a hard overhand throw. Both of them watched with astonishment as the forty pound lump of steel disappeared into the distance, a very tiny splash barely visible in the dim moonlight from the partially overcast night sky several seconds later.
She glanced at her father, then transferred the larger piece to her right hand, repeating the feat. This piece went nearly as far. "That's impressive," Danny mumbled.
"I don't think anyone will find it now," she told him with satisfaction then slid the door closed again with a rumble from dry bearings, locking it with the bar once more.
"No, I don't think so either," he agreed.
"What else can we test here?" she asked, resuming her human form, the Varga without comment again producing suitable clothes in the process. She was becoming very used to that facility even after only a couple of days. She had the brief notion that she was more or less wearing a figment of her imagination then tried not to get embarrassed, her cheeks pinking a little.
Danny looked around, thinking. "I'm not sure," he finally admitted. "We have an idea of your strength, which is just ridiculous, your speed which is impressive, and we're pretty sure you can probably fight quite well, at least with a sword. What's left?"
"Speed running in combat form?" she suggested after thinking it over herself.
"In here? You'd run into the walls. It's big, but not that big."
"How about on the freeway?" Taylor grinned at his expression. "Using the cloak technique, of course. That should stop anyone reporting a dinosaur running in the overtaking lane."
"Assuming it works," he grumbled, but eventually nodded. "All right. We'll drive home, when I get to the freeway on ramp you jump out and run. Make sure you're cloaked. I don't want to have to explain to some nice police officer why my reptilian daughter is charging down the road with no clothes on."
She started laughing, shaking her head at the look on his face. "You can't see anything," she said, giggling. "My scales cover all the naughty bits."
"You're still nude. Don't make me insist you put a shirt on."
Snickering, she followed as he picked up the various things they'd used and put them back, requesting that the Varga get rid of the improvised floor cover in the process. Taking the phone he handed her she followed him out to the car, getting in when he unlocked it.
"At least it's dark now," she said, looking at the clock on the dash. It was nearly nine at night, they'd been experimenting for over three hours. "Even if anyone saw me the color of my scales should blend in with the night pretty well."
"Try not to be seen in the first place," he growled, driving through the darkened industrial wasteland. "I can't believe I'm letting you do this."
"Can you think of a better way to find out how fast I can run?" she asked. He shook his head.
"Unfortunately, no. Not without a very strange treadmill. I'm sure the PRT has something like that, but..."
She nodded, understanding his point. After another few minutes he slowed down, looking around. "OK. The on ramp is just down that way. Use that cloak technique, then get out of the car. I'll wait for you."
"Yes, Dad," she agreed. 'Varga?'
"You are cloaked from anyone but your father, Brain," the Varga told her calmly. "You may proceed." It seemed, as it often was, somewhat amused by their experiments. Taylor opened the door and got out quickly, shutting it again.
"You've definitely got your phone in case of trouble?" Danny asked suddenly through the open window.
"I have," she said. Then she frowned. "I'll have to hold it." Pulling it from her pocket she willed the change, then waited. Danny nodded, slipping the car into drive and accelerating, with her jogging along beside it. After a moment or two he sped up. She matched the pace effortlessly.
Half a minute later he indicated left, then pulled onto the freeway, heading home and slowly increasing speed. Within a short time he was matching the speed of the other cars, with her behind him following at the same velocity. She trailed him for several miles until he indicated and took the turning that eventually led to home. Half a mile further on he pulled into a dark alley, allowing her to stop next to him.
"Now, that was really impressive," he said, smiling up at her. She was breathing hard but steadily. "I hit over sixty along there for nearly five miles. You didn't seem to have much trouble keeping up."
"It was pretty easy, to be honest," she told him. "I think I could go faster. And of course I could get bigger, my legs would be longer so I'd run faster then as well."
"I'm not sure it's quite that simple, but I'd agree you're pretty quick. How tired are you?" He looked curious.
"I could easily do it again," she said after considering the question. "It feels like that sword exercise did. A good workout but not to the point I can't stand up. I think I'll sleep well, though."
"Interesting. OK, change back and get in. I need something to eat. How about spaghetti?"
"That sounds great, Dad," she told him, coming around to the passenger side and climbing in having gone back to human form.
When they were headed back home, he glanced at her where she was looking out the window, a small smile on her face. "I'm proud of you, Taylor. Always remember that."
"Thanks, Dad."
They sat in silence the rest of the way, but it was a comfortable one.