"Halt! Halt or we will fire!"

A thin smile spread across the hooded man's face as a barrage from the Blitz dropped the soldiers in their tracks.

"Bit of advice, there, mate... next time?" he intoned softly. "Fire first."

He stode forward, proudly, his thin form wrapped in a swirling cloak. At one side marched the dangerous desert beauty, Scirocco, and on his other, the supercharged Blitz. Floating slightly behind and above him was the skittish Scatter.

They were eighty-six feet below Liberty Street, in the very bowels of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York - the largest gold depository in the world.

"How much did you say dere was?" the Blitz asked, his words heavy with a Germanic accent.

"Five. Thousand. Metric tons," the hooded man replied. "More than one tenth of the world's supply."

A lopsided grin crossed his face.

"Don't worry, we're not going to take it all. Just enough to humiliate - "

He stopped and held up one hand as two guards, likely the last remaining, looked down the barrels of automatic weapons - straight at the foursome.

"Allow me," he said quietly - then boldly marched out into the hallway.

"Evenin', gents."

"Freeze! Freeze or we fire!"

"Go ahead, then," the hooded man shrugged pleasantly.

The stillness was broken by the staccato sounds of automatic weapons fire!

But the bullets simply bounched off a thin, almost invisible dome of pale yellow energy that emenated from the man's eyes.

"Ya see, gents, the name's Mindover.

"As in, mind over matter."

He continued walking toward them.

They continued firing.

"See, now, that's just being stubborn," Mindover said. He made a slight gesture, and the men threw down their guns.

"What the hell just - "

"Aht aht aht. I could just as easily had you shoot each other - but the girl in green might harp on about it, an' I don' think a murder rap is neccessary, now, do you?

"G'nite, then!"

The men fell over and lay still.

The man whirled dramatically, to look at his three amazed companions.

"A simple matter, to deflect their attacks," he smiled, looking directly at Scatter.

He paused, then whirled back to face the last remaining obstacle - a corridor inset into heavy steel, twenty-three feet long, blocked by "doors" just as thick.

The doors were raised by a six-foot iron wheel, inserted into the wall of the corridor.

When they were unlocked, that is.

"Scatter. If you please."

Scatter drew herself up to the gate controls, and looking at all the blinking lights and buttons, hesitated.

"Now, please," Mindover's voice echoed in her head.

Scatter's fingertips paused over the keys.

"If I do this... I'll never know a moment's rest," she thought.

"Gelya, Gelya," Mindover's voice took on a singsong edge in her mind. "Yasha screams your name, but - "

"All right!" Scatter barked aloud.

She immediately turned to the task at hand. "F-forgive me. This will take about four or five minutes."

"You have three," Mindover said casually.

Scatter did not reply, but placed her hands upon the keyboard. She concentrated, and miniscule black dots appeared at her fingertips, and slowly entered the system through the keys. She gulped, closed her eyes, and guided the stream of dots on their journey.

"I must confess, I am as nervous as she," the Blitz muttered. "She has made good point - we will be on the run for the rest of our lives."

"Ohhh, please! Not you too, Blitz!" Mindover sighed. "What, on the run from whom? The police? We certainly can handle them. Americana?

"By the time she manages to wake up it'll be far too late - we'll be enjoying our gold in Europe's finest cities."

"Budt... budt you told her - "

Mindover sighed audibly. "You ever see a picture called Goldfinger?" he asked, finally.

Blitz shook his head.

"Long story short - it featured an attack on Fort Knox. Ever since it's the first place Americans think of when they think "gold".

"If she woke up, Americana's out at Fort Knox, raising the alarm and trying to protect it from those mean, nasty villains - us!"

He chuckled luridly.

"Believe me, when it hits Fleet Street that we've knocked over this bank, while Miss Stars and Stripes was either still nappin' or out in Kentucky somewhere, she'll be humiliated...

"And we will be rich."

Blitz looked at Scirocco. They could easily have just killed Americana, but Mindover had said that they weren't getting paid to kill her, and that the Marauders did nothing for free. They had been paid, handsomely, to humiliate the patriotic powerhouse by pounding her into the dirt.

Yesterday.

The Blitz' fist crashed into the jaw of the unconscious Americana.

"You done?" Mindover said, sarcastically.

"She is," the German sneered as he held up the heroine's limp body by the front of her costume.

Form the other side of the ridge, a whistle sounded.

Mindover smiled.

"And they say the trains don't run on time in this country."

Scatter descended toward the assembled villains. "I've... done as you asked, Mindover. I've softened up the roof of a boxcar."

He hesitated - did she use the verb "asked" instead of "commanded" on purpose?

He decided to let it go.

This time.

"Then it's time we put Americana on the train," he said, lifting her chin off her chest. "I hear Florida is nice this time of year."

He chortled as Scirooco and Blitz dropped the heroine's body onto the train car Scatter had softened.

"I understand that that is to ensure she does not slide off the top of the car," Blitz said as the train headed off into the distance. "But why we could not just pound her into the side of car?"

"Other than she'd be spotted at the first grade crossing, revived before she left the city, let alone the state?"

Mindover shook his head.

"No reason."

Still, the Blitz bemoaned the lost opportunity.

Mindover jerked his head toward Scatter as she let loose an audible cry and withdrew from the machine. He watched her type in the code she had stolen from the machine.

"Fourteen letters and numbers," he commented, watching her fingers. "Good, good!"

"Eighteen," Scatter replied tersely. Billions of potential combinations, she knew - but she had read the digits last typed into the security computer inside the wall.

From within those steel walls came the dull booms of several steel bars unlocking.

The villains tensed.

Nothing.

Blitz and Scirocco glared at Scatter.

"It is the correct code," Scatter hissed.

"Evidently, the bars are withdrawn by the wheel," Mindover sighed.

Amateurs.

He stared at the wheel, and slowly it began to turn, clockwise. He had little doubt that this would work, given that a normal man opened the gate each morning - and his mind was far stronger than any normal man.

Sure enough, the government here had done its work well - the wheel had been as finely balanced as the propellers on the Queen Elizabeth II. After all, a man could turn those by hand, and they each weighed four tons!

Mindover looked up as the corridor stood empty, its cold metal sides gleaming in the dim light. At the far end the corridor evidently opened into a larger space. Located at the far end of that space was an enormous arched doorway, some two stories tall and proportionately wide, through which gleamed metal bars stacked high on heavy shelves.

"Oh. My. God," he breathed.

He walked slowly, reverently, through the corridor and into the room hewn of rough-cut granite and iron, followed by the Blitz, Scirocco and Scatter.

All four slowly walked into the chamber, staring in disbelief at the gleaming wall of gold. It was one thing to imagine such wealth, such beauty, but quite another to actually be in its presence!

"Scatter," whispered Mindover, frantically waving one hand to her. "Open that gate."

"Sorry, that's on the deluxe tour," a voice said.

A shining figure in red, white, and blue plummetted down between the gate and the villians, slowing at the last moment to land lightly on her feet.

"Americana?!" the four cried in astonishment.

"Gotta admit, I wasn't sure you knew the biggest gold depository in the country," she smiled, pounding her fist into her palm. "I was beginning to wonder whether you'd actually show."

"Glutton for punishment, are we?" Mindover smiled cruelly, holding his hand up as a signal to the others. "Perhaps you forgot, missy, but we've already shown we can take you."

His eyes began to glow with a pale yellow light.

"Like this."

Beams of pale yellow, about a foot long, fired from his eyes directly into Americana's head!

"Auuughhh!"

The heroine grabbed her head and fell to one knee, gritting her teeth as the blow struck her mind.

"G-get... out!" she hissed.

T-there.

That hadn't hurt... nearly as bad... as yesterday.

She allowed herself a thin smile. It was something she had learned fighting the Jacquot - she could resist the mindwarping guys if she knew the attack was coming.

Not to say that his attack didn't hurt like hell - but her resisting had kept her conscious, at least.

A fact which, she was delighted to see, struck Mindover.

"Doan know how you pulled that off, you witch, but - "

"Hey, bud!"

Mindover looked up over his shoulder just in time to see a masked man dressed in black studded leather come crashing down into him, feet first!

"Whugggh!"

Mindover was slammed to the stone floor!

"Thanks for turning - she'd get upset if I hit you blind," the masked man grunted, unleashing a powerful mailed fist on Mindover's jaw.

As the mental master collapsed to the floor, the man stood, muscles rippling under metal and leather. tall antlers, as a deer's, arose from his cowled head, and enormous black wings, resembling a bat's in shape if not in structure, unfurled behind him.

"Scheisse!" the Blitz breathed.

"Meet Samhain," Americana said, flashing a tight smile. "New York's superhero."

Crud.

Crud crud crud!

Americana winced as she soared across northern New Jersey skies. She had been beaten like an amateur - a rank amateur!

She had awakened in the middle of nowhere, embedded in the roof of a boxcar. Not nearly embedded enough to keep her trapped, but it had been enough to haul her ass into Georgia.

She had discovered it was Georgia by following the railroad tracks back to the last town, and simply looked at the state flag... flying next to the Confederate Stars and Bars.

Yep. Georgia, all right.

A glimpse at the newspaper's front page, thanks to a handy peper box at the train station, showed her she had been out for hours, but still had a chance at catching those crooks.

She had pretty much followed US 13, then US 9 north. New York was abot 225 miles from Washington, though she had never -

Good.... heavens!

She gasped as she crossed the bay and got her first view of Manhattan.

It was huge!

Washington had few buildings that rose above six stories - here was a city that spread out beyond her peripheral vision, with dozens - perhaps hundreds - of skyscrapers!

She paused... then ducked into the cover of the clouds. She didn't want to draw attention to herself - and a woman flying around those hundreds of windows was bound to make the news.

Slipping a disposable cell phone out of her glove, she hoped that the number she had for Samhain was still correct.

Samhain just grunted in reply. He didn't actually consider himself a "superhero", not in the way Americana seemed to see herself at any rate.

"Got the guy," Samhain said tersely, then leapt at the Blitz.

Americana, figuring that Scatter would be a lot harder to catch, bolted toward Scirocco.

The wind mistress raised her arms, and instantly a localized sandstorm pounded at Americana!

"Scatter! She's blind!" the stormstress yelled.

"Ohhhh, damn!" thought Americana - she was a sitting duck for the "living tokamek"!

In desperation she plunged through the swirling sands with her arms extended out to her sides, to better her chances of ramming the wind witch!

Samhain, meanwhile, was reeling from burst of blue lighting, courtesy of the Blitz.

"Dumkopf," he snarled. "Wearing all that metal, attacking me!"

"Yeah?" the winged wonder growled back as he inched his way closer. "What happens - if I grab - ?"

Samhain grabbed the Blitz's wrist with a metal-clawed fist.

"I admit I find you interesting," the German cracked. "But those batwinged boots have to go."

"You don't say."

With that, Samhain planted his metal-encased foot directly atop the Blitz' boot. Instantly the Blitz's blue lightning roared through the now-completed circuit.

"Ayie-yi-yi!"

Samhain held fast, teeth gritted, as the Blitz' electricity coursed through him. If he let go, but remained in contact with the Blitz, he'd be fried, too.

No, better to let the himbo... short himself... out.

The furious storm of blue bolts soon stopped, and Samhain jumped back off of Blitz' boot while releasing the grip on his wrist.

"Andererseits," peeped the Blitz , who collapsed onto the stone floor.

"Scatter! Nail her!" Scirocco cried - just seconds before Americana staggered out of her sandstorm.

"H-huh?" the heroine gasped, as the sandblasting suddenly stopped. She could breathe again!

She opened her eyes, to see that she was standing about a foot in front of Scirocco.

Stepping forward, she brought her outstretched arms together, one fist on each side of Scirocco's head!

Scirocco groaned, her arms dropping to her sides. She struggled to stand, lurching forward a few steps, while her head lolled from side to side.

Americana hauled off and popped her in the jaw, feeling vaguely guilty about hitting an opponent in such a helpless state.

Then, she had tried to sandblast her.

The desert beauty flew back ten feet and impacted the stone wall - then she flopped to the floor, unconscious.

Then she heard Samhain's grunt of pain.

Well, that explained why Scatter hadn't taken the opportunity to shoot her in the back.

But as she turned she was surprised to see Scatter just... floating there, wincing.

But if not her then - who - ?

"Aahhnnngh," Samhain moaned, holding his head in both hands.

Then, he went limp, and pitched forward.

"Mindover," snarled Americana.

She charged foward - slamming straight into that pale yellow dome of energy surrounding Mindover.

Much to her surprise, the dome held.

"Poor gurl," Mindover mocked. "All that strength but she can't get close enough to use it.

"'Course, I can just use my head."

He grinned as a foot-long bolt of mental energy shot from his forehead straight into Americana's brain.

"Whufffff!"

It was as if she had been punched... inside her head!

Gritting her teeth and steeling herself against another attack, she slammed her fists into the wall of mental energy - which seemed to absorb the full force of the damage she was dishing out.

"Poor."

Biff!

"Stupid."

Wham!

"Girl."

Pow!

That last shot drove Americana to her knees.

"Let's see... " the mentalist stroked his chin. "Yes - I know!"

"Strike yourself," he boomed in a commanding voice. "Knock yourself unconscious!"

Americana's right hand snapped into a fist. Her arm trembled as she desperately reached down for the strength to resist!

"No, damn you!" Scatter cried, unleashing a terrific blast of black dots at the villain's force dome. "Leave her be!"

"Unnnhh!"

He had to concentrate for a moment, to hold his protective wall up.

Then he glared at Scatter.

"So! Found some cajones, have ya?" he sneered. "I thought we already learned you can't best my phantasmic field!"

"Alone, no."

Suddenly she called out, "Americana! Strike his shield!"

The Patriotic Powerhouse blinked, freed of the compulsion to punch herself out.

He must have to keep up the concentration on that, she thought as she whaled on the pale yellow dome, while Scatter unleashed a beam of those crazy black dots against the opposite side.

But why was -

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, she decided. She'd worry about why Scatter was helping her later.

"J-jeez!" Sweat poured down Mindover's masked face as he exerted every iota of his mental prowess to defend himself from the powerful pounding from Americana and the simultaneous high-energy discharges from Scatter.

It wasn't enough.

Rather than shattering into a thousand shards, as Americana expected, the field simply... disappeared.

Americana ran forward, her arm already brought back to deliver a finishing blow.

Mindover looked up at her and grinned.

"Knock her out."

"Wh-what?" Americana blurted.

"You heard me. Knock the traitor out."

Scatter floated in shock. "Uh oh," she breathed.

Mindover whirled and pointed a thin finger at her. "Ho ho, you're about to learn, Missy, why nobody crosses - "

His thought went unfinished as Americana's fist slammed into his cheek, setting loose a spurt of teeth and blood! He spun around three times before he dropped to the stone floor, out cold.

Americana stood, panting, hands on her knees.

Thank heaven he had changed the wording.

Though she had to admit, it took some stretching to equate him with "traitor" - robbing a Federal institution helped.

"Are you... all okay?" Scatter asked as she bent down level with Americana.

"Yeah, I'll live," Samhain said, struggling to his feet.

He glanced over at Americana.

"Oh."

"I ask your pardon, but while his mental shields are down," Scatter said, striding over to Mindover's unconscious form, "I must determine where he has taken Yasha."

Samhain folded his arms. "Yasha?"

She placed her long fingers on his forehead.

"My son."

Miniscule black dots formed at her fingertips, and slowly flowed into the man's head.

Americana and Samhain watched in silence for a moment.

"He was holding your boy hostage - that was why you didn't want to fight," Americana said quietly. "Why you didn't ambush me - when Mindover was kayoed. When Mindover wasn't watching."

The Russian nodded, slowly.

Then, a moment later, she suddenly snapped back, jerking her hand from the man's forehead.

"F-forgive me. Retrieving such information is... difficult."

"Painful, too?" Samhain commented.

She hesitated, then looked down on Mindover's limp form with scorn. "If he was awake, yes."

She shook, then leaned against a wall for support as she scribbled an address out on a brochure.

She thrust the brochure into Americana's hand. Glancing down, Americana noted it was for an amusement park called Astroland at Coney Island.

"P-please. Promise me you will save my Yasha."

"Um, sure, but you - "

Scatter slid down the wall and landed with a thump on her rear.

"I admired you, you know?" she choked. "I thought... perhaps I could be like you.

"Hero.

"Pffft! Now... my life is ruin."

Americana looked at Samhain, who gave her her a "don't look at me" shrug.

She bent down on one knee beside the distraught woman.

"Hey, now," she said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong? We'll get your son back."

"What is wrong? His mother will be in prison!" Scatter cried.

Americana paused.

"For what?"

"F-for breaking in here! For attacking you yesterday!"

The heroine held up her hand.

"You were being coerced to break in - I didn't really see you acting all evil or anything. You, Sam?"

He sighed. He hated being addressed as "Sam".

"Can't say I did... Mary."

She glanced up at him.

He flashed her a quick grin.

"And yesterday, well, I'm willing to let that slide - you didn't hurt the reporter or the mayor, did you?"

Scatter just... shook her head.

"Well, then," Americana smiled, extending her hand.

She pulled the amazed woman to her feet.

Scatter's head turned back and forth, looking at Samhain and Americana in turn.

"You're... letting go? Oh! I-I can't tell you - !"

Samhain looked at Americana. "We are?"

"Look. Meet me in two hours at..." the heroine thought a moment. "The top of the Empire State Building. We'll go get your boy."

A tear ran down Scatter's cheek as she threw her arms around Americana's neck.

"Thank you. You are... good person."

She hesitated, then hugged Samhain as well. "You, too."

Then, she stood, stiffly, and nodded her head almost imperceptively.

Her body suddenly became a mass of black spots, which collapsed in on itself and vanished.

"The Empire State Building?"

"I can find it. I assume she can, too."

Samhain stood for a moment, looking at the downed villains.

"You're going to help her?"

Americana sighed. "Guess so. It's her son."

"Besides," she smiled, holding up the brochure.

"I've never been to England."