"You... don't want to go out?"

"I'm sorry, Jason."

Astrea Starr scrunched herself into her old couch.

"It's just... New Year's Eve's taken on a whole different meaning... since that Pantheon business, you know?"

She sighed.

"It was the first time... we all got together. To stop a foe no one of us could have beaten."

"But... that's good.

"... right?"

"Well... yes.

"We saved Los Angeles.

"But... "

She looked off into space.

"Oh, I don't know. That... day... seemed to raise the stakes to ridiculous levels."

She turned to Jason.

"When they robbed banks, it was more of a game. They weren't out to really hurt anyone.

"But since then, well... I've fought more than my share of guys who could wipe cities off the map.

"Pretty scary, if you think about it."

For a moment, no one spoke.

"New Year's Eve is... kind of a reminder. That there are threats out there, major threats.

"It just doesn't... feel right, celebrating."

Jason paused.

"Okay. Guess I can see that."

"Thank you, Jase," she smiled. "Really. I know it's kind of weird..."

Jason nodded.

Kind of a sobering reminder that his fiancee was one of the most powerful people on the planet. She was bound to see the world a little differently than most - in fact, he was sometimes amazed that she had seemingly changed so little.

He didn't quite understand her thoughts, but then, he didn't have to worry about costumed crazies threatening to wipe out Washington.

The television was rerunning video of the burning community center.

Again.

"Never found this 'King's' body, eh?"

"He was never there, Jase. A bit too smart for that."

Jason looked at the television, then back to Astrea.

"He really bugs you, huh?"

She paused.

"Well... yeah.

"It bothers me that he flew under my radar for so long. He played me... and Silverback, Skullfire, the Nighthawks - heaven knows who else.

"Kind of an unpleasant wake-up call, you know?"

"You did beat him."

Astrea inhaled.

"Yeah.

"I think."

She slowly walked over to a bowl of snacks on the counter.

"I mean... he seems to have had multiple plans all operating at once. The minute I beat Skullfire he moved Silverback into place.

"He said the final play was supposed to happen on Christmas - with me lying beaten and himself in complete control of the Nighthawks... and the area's drug trade.

"But who knows? Maybe he foresaw the Queens getting beat, maybe he'll just move in someone else."

She carefully picked the pretzels out of the Chex mix.

Jason frowned.

"There is a point, hon, where it all comes together. Even with unlimited funds, he can't keep planning for contingencies forever."

Astrea nodded and took a bite from a pretzel.

She paused.

"I sure hope so."

Americana slowly looped around the tower of the National Catherdral as its chimes rang out the hour - six o'clock - and headed back toward the Mall.

she had little fear of being seen. This being late December, it was already pitch-dark, and if one weren't specifically looking for a flying woman in a star-spangled leotard, chances are that they wouldn't find her.

This was a busy time in Washington. One would think the tourists would wait until the cherry blossoms came in, or later in the summer, when it was warm and bright, but the week between Christmas and New Year's Day brought overflow crowds into the city, to see the decorations, to tour, to shop.

And to catch a glimpse of America's Mightiest Gal.

Not that the heroine herself would think such a thing, but she did read the papers. A high number of those tourists interviewed, whether on TV or radio or in print, specifically mentioned that they hoped to see her.

Wow.

Sometimes she forgot just what an impact that she had on the population - of both the District and the nation.

She had heard that cable news shows regularly featured her exploits, because the ratings outdrew almost anything else that talking heads could mention. Magazines that featured her routinely sold out, and at least two of the local newspapers were fighting over who had come up with "AmericanaWatch", first.

Each of her battles was now relentlessly analyzed for days, the better to help circulation and ratings. Print and electronic media kept the drumbeat going even when there hadn't been a reporter within ten miles.

And nearly every African-American heart swelled with a little bit of pride that the Patriotic Powerhouse was one of their own.

Tonight, Americana didn't much care about any of that. Alone in the darkness, she could see the stars above with remarkable clarity; the low clouds reflected most of the city's light back, below her.

It had been five days since she had used her powers - more than enough time for them to recharge.

At least, she was pretty sure that it was enough time. Maybe she shouldn't be flying around, enjoying herself - especially since she had endured a pretty serious "twinge" last week; she barely had made it home.

That... bothered her, at least a little. Either the twinges - flashes of weakness that served to tell her her powers were running out - were growing weaker, or she couldn't feel them when she was in the middle of fighting.

Either way, she'd have to listen, harder.

Still, it had been a long time since she just went out and had fun with her powers.

And they could be fun, no doubt.

How many people drove motorcycles or jetskis or snowmobiles or airplanes? How may people rode rollercoasters and Ferris wheels and sky trams and ski lifts?

Flying was all of them put together, without rails, or water, or even vehicles.

It was just... Americana, zooming to her left or right, feeling that slight jerk in her stomach when she dove down and rapidly rose again. She could move in whatever direction she wanted, close to buildings or far above, and whatever speed she could manage.

If tomorrow she somehow lost her powers, at least she could say - she had flown.

She looped three times around the Washington Monument before dropping down to one of the few food stands that remained open along the darkened parkway.

"Hey, Abdul," she remarked. "Merry Christmas!"

Abdul Shaloub smiled and decided not to tell her he didn't exactly celebrate the holiday. It was the thought that counted, anyway.

"Happy New Year, Americana. Coke?"

"Please. And a falafel."

"Coming right up."

While she was waiting, an older man in a gray overcoat walked up to buy some coffee and fries.

He nodded to Americana.

"Nice outfit."

Americana took her falafel and Coke, and smiled.

"Thanks."

Then she rose off the ground and floated down the Mall.

"Holy... cow," the man stared. "That... that's really - ?"

Abdul just chuckled - he was getting used to that.

Americana pulled at her falafel; she had gotten quite fond of the peppery chickpea concoction, especially since Abdul had introduced her to a version drizzled with tahini sauce. It was a pretty tasty snack.

She flew straight down Mall, casually zooming about twenty feet over startled families' heads. She was rather amazed at how many people were still about, since all the museums had closed over an hour ago.

"Oh my - !"

"Holy crud! That's - "

"Americana! Daddy, Americana!"

" - big shot, fly around in tights! Can't wear normal clothes?"

Ouch.

If it hadn't been a young girl's voice, she would have let it go.

As it was...

"Actually, I can't."

"Eeeepp!" Two young teens and a woman that Americana assumed to be their mother jumped when she looped around and landed in front of them.

"Because of my powers."

"Wh-what?"

She knelt slightly, to be on the girls' level. Sheesh, they were probably eleven or twelve, at most.

"See, I'm nearly invulnerable," she said patiently. "But that doesn't help what I wear."

"H-huh?"

"Look - notice how my outfit fits? Boots, gloves... like one smooth piece?"

The girls nodded.

"That's because anything that doesn't fit real close to my skin - is just as vulnerable as 'normal' clothes. Wouldn't last five minutes."

"Oh-h-h."

She stood. "So - where are you ladies from?"

"Delaware," one said. "I - I'm sorry... "

"Ha! Don't be," Americana chuckled. "It's not like I haven't thought the same thing now and - "

Powpowpow!

Gunshots! And from a big weapon, by the sound of it!

"Gunfire - excuse me, ladies."

Three more shots echoed as she cleared the National Portrait Gallery.

A star on her lower left sleeve began beeping intensely.

She reached over and tapped the star's point to activate her radio.

"Americana."

"Americana!" the voice of Vice-President Rockwell said with some agitation. "The White House is apparently under attack! An unknown Kirby has just entered the White House lawn - "

"Oh, I wouldn't say he's unknown," the heroine said, dropping down next to amassed Secret Service agents.

"... what?"

"I was in the neighborhood," Americana said tersely.

Yeah. Like two blocks away.

She looked toward the man at which the Secret Service had been firing.

He stood casually, non-threateningly, even though he held a too-elaborate Flash Gordon-style gun in his hand. His lab coat was immaculatley tailored, as were his dark slacks.

He stood well over six feet tall, perhaps six foot six. His blond hair was combed just so, his blue eyes shone with intelligence and verve. And that smile - !

Americana shook her head - he was the bad guy, for crying out loud.

"Apollo Adonis."

"Americana," he beamed. "How good to see you again."

"At least you're not endangering girls on 'Opal', this time," she said - then, softer, "Let me have a crack at him, guys."

"No problem," a man in black whispered back. "President's at Camp David."

Americana nodded, and watched the handsome hunk of - villain! Villain! - carefully.

"They were never in any real danger," he said pleasantly. "I must say, this place is much better guarded."

He waved jauntily to the Secret Service. "Well done, fellows."

"They don't like it when people drop in on the President unannounced," Americana said tersely as she marched toward him.

"Which is why I haven't moved beyond the lawn.

"Yet."

Suddenly, he made a move to grab something from his coat!

"Ohh, no!"

Americana launched herself off the ground and zoomed toward him, fists extended in front of her! No way was she going to let this clown get the drop on -

"Uugghh!"

She slammed into an invisible wall!

Before the heroine could recover, a second wall crashed into her back, flattening her against the one in front of her!

She blinked.

She was... stuck, with her arms pinned at odd angles, upward, and her legs hanging down.

Stuck like a butterfly on a slide.

"You are truly magnificent," he said, spreading his arms magnanimously. "But I am perfection, in mind and body."

"Y-yeah?" Americana growled, struggling to move her arms. "You won't be once I... get... free!"

"With no leverage?" he smiled, placing a round metal ball beneath her.

"Wh - what are you - ? Aaaaacckkkkk!"

Americana gagged as a choking cloud of purple gas erupted beneath her and rose past her face!

"Ohhhh..." she shook her head, trying to clear her vision.

That - he had placed it underneath. The gas rose up past her.

"Hmm, you are resiliant, I'll give you that."

There were two walls of force she was trapped between... but they were distinct walls. They had a top, a bottom - dimensions!

"Good trait for a mother to have," he said cheerfully, removing another metal ball from his pocket.

"I don't want to be your 'consort'!" she seethed.

"This one should put you to sleep," he said, placing the ball on the ground beneath her legs. "Long enough for - eh?"

Americana couldn't move her arms or legs out of their vertical plane - the walls wouldn't allow her.

But they were no proof against flight.

She flew straight up, her chest, hips and butt burning from the dragging against walls of force - until she burst out of the top and into open air!

She was free!

"Now, Adonis - !"

"Oh, well played!" he smiled broadly.

"Well played indeed!"

A blazing white bolt cascaded down from the heavens into Americana's chest, blasting her back toward the Secret Service.

She thrust her arm out to catch herself, then flipped head over heels into a fighting stance.

"As intelligent as you are beautiful," he bowed with one arm extended. "I look forward to our next encounter."

With that, his entire body vanished inside a bolt of brilliant white!

"What the hell?!" an agent cried.

Americana jogged forward. Nuts!

What's this? she thought, bending down.

Tiny metallic spheres, or more accurately the remnants of same, crackling with tiny blue flames.

"Provided corners for that crazy wall," an agent said over her shoulder. "Damn, just... burned up."

Americana nodded, picking up one of the smouldering spheres.

"Do you mind if I take this?"

"No ma'am."

That's the second time that Apollo Adonis had tried to capture her - and the second time he had nearly succeeded.

Funny, when she was plastered between the two invisible walls - she had suddenly lost her... admiration, for his qualities. Her near-lust.

It could just have been her panicking... or it could be... something else.

She smiled grimly.

Tomorrow, she would see someone about that.