Astrea Starr sighed and stared at her computer screen. A half-dozen reports were all due at the end of the day, yet she was having a difficult time concentrating.

Someone, after all, had tried to kill her.

Sure, the bullet hadn't penetrated her skin, but it did hit with enough force to knock her cold in one shot. She hadn't thought that possible – after all, even the Ex-Patriot and Umbra had to hit her several times to do that.

Even more disturbing, it was the first time Astrea could recall a blow leaving a bruise. Not a big one, mind you, but enough to show that her defenses, no matter how high, could be overcome.

Maybe that's why she had such a headache, she decided as she put the finishing touches on a grant request. Or maybe it was just that filling out reports couldn't quite match the excitement of being Americana.

She carefully checked the grant request and then opened a field report summary – not to be confused with a field summary report, Astrea noted wryly, nor with a plain old field report.

She shook her head. Government.

"Astrea, have you gotten to the McMahon House yet?"

"Yeep!"

Astrea jumped, then recovered quickly. "Um, right here, Mr. Findlay," she said, handing him a sheaf of papers. "CD's on top."

"Good, good," the older gentleman murmured as he flipped through the pages. "Very thorough…"

Findlay paused, either carefully examining her work or drifting off, Astrea could never tell. She had gone over that document twice, but was still nervous he'd find a correction or two.

At last he nodded slightly and put the papers under his arm.

"Oh. Try and finish that Atlanta letter before you go to lunch, would you, hmm? I've got to get – "

"Ohh, WOW!" came a cry from the hall.

Both Astrea and her boss looked up as a tall, gangly man with big black spectacles dashed past in the hall.

"Something interesting in the mail today, Clem?" Findlay asked absently.

The building supervisor popped back. "Findlay! Oh! And – and – uh –"

"Astrea," she offered helpfully.

"I saw a flying man! Real, honest to gosh, flying! With wings and everything!"

"Calm down, Clem," Findlay said gently. "Where did this happen?"

Clem did not calm down.

"He had a black suit, and black wings… just swooshed right up and away," he said, swiping his hand upward. "Swoosh.

"Oh, and he robbed an armored car."

You would think, Astrea muttered to herself, that he could have mentioned that bit about the armored car a little earlier. Just a tad.

She munched on carrot sticks as she walked, thinking about the Raven - at least, that was what people were calling him.

How original, she noted dryly. It was better than being called the Oriole, she supposed.

From what she had gathered, the man wore some sort of wings that allowed him to fly. Or more likely, Astrea thought, to control his flight. After all, they would have to be enormous to get someone man-sized off the ground, even if he had the light bones that real birds did.

Or the wings might just be part of his costume, maybe just to fake people out –

"Oh my God!"

Astrea looked up as a shadow cruised over her head. Outlined against a clear sky was the shape of a man, all in black, with large black wings spread out as if he was gliding on air currents.

The Raven!

Everyone was staring, pointing at the strange figure in the sky.

Tourists, thought Astrea as she ducked into a nearby alley. Probably never seen a flying person before. Well, in a second, they were going to see two.

She stood with her arms and legs spread to take the form of a star. She concentrated, and a burst of energy appeared in the center of her chest. The burst flashed outward, enveloping her. And when it flashed back, it revealed a tall, powerfully-built woman in a star-spangled leotard…

For about two seconds.

A second, blinding flash ripped through Americana and lit up the alley!

She couldn't see! She couldn't – wait, she was beginning to regain her sight, though her vision was full of dancing, exploding color spots.

She grabbed a wall to steady herself, as best she could. All at once she realized, through her slowly-returning vision, that her arm was not clad in the familiar blue with white stars.

Heavens… she was… was…

"Hey, sweets!"

The face of the Raven popped down in front of her, upside-down.

She opened her mouth to scream, but only let out a tiny peep.

Oh, heavens – if he had seen her transform… and realized she was now helpless! Or… or… what if he caused this somehow? Or…

"You really have to take the lens cap off," he grinned, pointing at her camera, "To get a good shot of me!"

He winked at her, and flew off, laughing hysterically.

Astrea collapsed to her knees, spots still swirling in front of her. The camera… oh, thank heaven she had her camera.

But Americana… what had happened to Americana?

By the time work had ended that afternoon, she had already heard about the robbery three different times. Twice more on the bus.

It seemed Washington had a new topic of conversation, and that topic was the Raven.

Where did he come from? Where did he get his wings? Were they real or artificial? What did he want?

And where was Americana?

Astrea wasn't sure herself.

She knew she had recently been spending an inordinate amount of time as Americana, especially taking into account that business with the Polecat. A lot of flying, a lot of fighting – heavy drains on her powers.

Still. She hadn't gotten any warning signals, the waves of weakness that told her that her powers would soon run out.

Or, had she, when her attention was elsewhere?

"Honey?"

Astrea blinked.

"Pass the dressing?"

"Oh. Oh, right." She grabbed the bottle and handed it to her mother, wondering just how many times she had asked.

Good grief, even visiting her parents, she was thinking about Americana! Stop it!

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right, hon?"

"Fine, Mom," Astrea flashed a smile. "Just… a lot to think about, work and all. Sorry."

"Oh, I thought maybe you didn't like the lasagna. It's a new recipe, more healthy…"

"No, no, it's really good, Mom. I guess I'm just not that hungry tonight."

"I'm not too hungry tonight, either," her father said. "Not with that Raven guy on the loose."

Astrea took another mouthful and chewed slowly. On the one hand, this was the problem she had come here to avoid. On the other, her dad was a cop, a good one, and she was curious to know what he thought.

"Don't know what the world's comin' to, what with all these costumed nutcases coming out of the woodwork," he muttered, helping himself to another big slice of lasagna. "I mean, what's a cop supposed to do, besides fire off a few rounds in his general direction?"

"Well, Franklin, you'll just get him next time," his wife said matter-of-factly.

"Doubt it," her father said. "He was toying with us. He flies, he's faster than human, and he knows it."

"Wha – wait a minute." Astrea interrupted. "You… went up against this guy? For real?"

"Yep. If you consider just standing there while he flies off with the jewels, yep, I did."

Astrea opened her mouth to reply, then quickly shut it. She could hear the bitterness in his voice. She certainly was not about to mention her own experience with the Raven.

She took another bite of lasagna and chewed thoughtfully. He mentioned "jewels" - this was yet another job?

"I wish I coulda stopped him, Lord knows I do. But cops can't fly."

"Americana can."

Oh, heavens! The instant she said it she wanted to take it back, but it was too late!

Her father looked at her, then took another bite of lasagna. He chewed, thoughtfully.

"Look… Dad… I know you don't care for her all that much…"

"Not true. Not. True.

"Don't get me wrong. I still don't like the idea of somebody who's not a cop, doing a cop's job. But I been thinking. Americana, well, she's been involved a lot in FBI cases. And the way she acts and talks, she's no civilian. I'm starting to think she's a fed, or at least something close. Maybe a marshal."

Not as if her dad particularly liked federal agents, Astrea sighed inwardly. Well, it was something.

"Still. Fact remains," her father pronounced, "This guy's committed four high-profile crimes and Americana hasn't shown her face once."

"Maybe she's on another case…" Astrea said.

"Could be," her father said between bites. "Maybe there's more to it that."

"Like… what?" Astrea asked cautiously.

"Maybe she's afraid of him," her father offered.

"Afraid?!" Astrea exclaimed. "All he can do is fly! After all the jerks she's fought, she's – ooo-oooh!"

She tossed her napkin on the chair, wheeled around and marched out of the kitchen.

Her father spread his hands and looked, bewildered, at his wife.

Astrea plopped down on the porch and put her head in her hands.

After Umbra, Ex-Patriot, Glacia… her father actually thought she was afraid?

All right, deep breaths. Calm down, girl.

It wasn't even as if her father knew that his daughter and Americana were one and the same.

Thank. God.

She sighed. Oh, she was angry, all right. But the truth was, she was angry with herself.

Angry that, with all her running around, patrolling, looking for trouble, she may have squandered her great powers. What if she used the power all up? What if she'd never become Americana again?

Astrea froze.

That… was beginning to look like a very real possibility.

Life without powers.

Life without Americana.

It wasn't just that she craved excitement. It wasn't just helping people. It wasn't even meeting famous people, like the Vice-President.

It was as if Americana had awakened a part of her, given her more confidence. She was actually in control of her life now, in a way that she hadn't thought possible before gaining her powers.

Americana wasn't a third party, a suit she put on and took off at will. Americana was Astrea.

All right, she smiled, maybe a bit thinner in places and a whole lot tougher…

She suddenly leapt to her feet. Americana – heck, Astrea Starr! – did not sit around and feel sorry for herself! She was going to try one -

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hon? You all right?"

It was her father.

" - yeah. Yeah, Dad, I'm okay. I'm sorry I lost my temper."

"S'okay. Come on in, your mom's got pie for dessert."

Astrea hesitated.

Then, she smiled a little and nodded.

She didn't even ask what kind of pie.

Astrea walked along, absently peering into shop windows while she nibbled at her sandwich. It was almost one o'clock, she noted - time for her to be heading back to work.

She had taken lunch a little early Tuesday, a bit later on Wednesday, today later still. She had walked the Mall and its adjacent streets some five blocks out. And for the third day in a row, she had not sighted the Raven.

Not that it was too surprising, given that he had committed another robbery on Monday, when she was at work. Still, she was betting that the man's monstrous ego wouldn't let him go too long without another "score".

And, she had figured out why he liked to strike at midday – the crowds.

Even with her stopping to look in a window or two, Astrea was walking faster than traffic was moving. The combination of lunch hour with the construction on G Street slowed traffic to a crawl – perfect, if one wanted to evade pursuit… and could fly.

Flight. It was so breathtakingly simple, yet so effective. Swoop down, grab your prize, and zoom off, all in a matter of seconds.

By the time a policeman drew his gun you'd already be out of range – and that was assuming the officer was already on the scene in the first place.

No wonder her father had been frustrated.

Sudden screams shook Astrea from her reverie. Where -?

She dashed to the corner, dodging those people running the other way. When she turned she saw a man clad in what appeared to be a thick wetsuit, or perhaps some kind of body armor. His helmet was black as his suit, with a white eye painted on the side and a dark orange beak attached to the forehead.

But what truly caught her eye were the wings – huge black wings that truly gave him the appearance of a giant bird of prey.

He was holding a man by his shirtfront, some twenty feet off the ground! In his other hand was a black leather briefcase.

And he was laughing hysterically.

"Nice try, Mister Banker," he cackled as he dropped the man heavily to the ground. "But nothing can stop a man who flies!"

Wanna bet? Astrea thought, running into an alley. This was it - it was now or never.

She stood with her legs wide apart, and raised her outstretched hands to take the form of a star. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated… concentrated…

Suddenly the alleyway glowed with light as a star-shaped ball of energy flashed out, enveloping her. When the energy receded, standing in place of Astrea Starr was …

She held up her arms to see the star-spangled sleeves of her costume. Oh, thank you, God! Thank you!

Despite herself, she let out a whoop as she twirled in midair.

A sly smile spread across her face.

" ’Nothing can stop a man who flies’, huh?"

The Raven flew boldly up New York Avenue, weaving in between light posts and around flagpoles, causing dozens of bystanders to cry out in wonder. He swiftly turned off the main street and flew between some buildings, circling back on a less public route. Then he dipped through some trees and reappeared over the Potomac, laughing all the way.

The police were just now beginning to react, he knew. They were probably just finding out that he had stolen twelve million in untraceable bearer bonds. The banker had only to walk three blocks, but that was plenty of time for him! That would teach them to fool the -

"Hey, Raven."

"Whuh - ?!"

He stopped and looked up. Standing in midair over the Potomac was a tall, powerfully-built black woman in a patriotic costume. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her right eyebrow was raised.

"You aren't the only one who can fly in this town, mister."

"Americana!" the Raven spat.

He hesitated.

"Aren't you… afraid of me?"

"Are you kidding?" Americana smiled.

"But… the… " the Raven stammered. Oh my God, she had him out over the river. There were no buildings, no trees for him to lose her in.

"Yeah, you're catching on," Americana said as she flew, still standing with arms crossed, slowly around him, forcing him to turn in the air to keep her in sight.

Panic welled up in the Raven's eyes. "But, you… where were you?"

"I was taking a vacation," Americana said, her eyes narrowing over her smile. "Now we can do this the easy way…"

She put her hands on her hips. "Or the hard way. Your choice."

The Raven hesitated.

Then he turned and bolted down the river.

Americana sighed. The hard way, then.

The Raven careened frantically down the Potomac. Eventually he glanced over his shoulder to see how close Americana was – and was surprised not to see her at all.

Ha! He had outrun the heroine after –

WHAM!

He turned back just in time to see Americana's bright white star – before smashing straight into it.

The heroine, having braced herself for the impact, was for all purposes a brick wall. The Raven crumpled, unconscious, and fell toward the river.

Americana dove and caught first the Raven, then the briefcase - still some twenty feet above the water, she noted with some satisfaction. She had cut it a little close, but she had done it.

When she had circled around the Raven he had turned, too, facing northward on the river. When he bolted, as she knew he would, he naturally went directly opposite – directly into the waiting Americana's arms.

"Look, we'll keep an eye out for him, but…"

"You don't have to say it," the man sighed as the ambulance workers finished wrapping his knee. "I'm never going to see those bonds again."

"Oh, I doubt that very much," came a voice from overhead.

Americana dropped down next to him.

"Here you go." She handed the case, still locked, to the flabbergasted fellow.

"Aaaand, here you go," she said, handing the Raven to a startled policeman.

"And here I go!" she said cheerfully, rocketing off before anyone could so much as question her.

Americana laughed and zoomed around the Mall, dearly wishing she didn't have to return to work. Still, Astrea's job was another part of her life – a part she rather enjoyed. She would just have to work extra hard to balance her life's many facets.

After a couple of quick turns to make sure she hadn't been tracked, she landed in the Hirschorn Sculpture Garden, and quickly changed back to Astrea.

As she walked toward the Castle, she noted how slowly she moved compared to her star- spangled alter ego. Americana would already be at her desk.

Still, she smiled as she stopped at a sidewalk vendor's, she'd also be missing this.

Sometimes it was good to stop and smell the pretzels.