"Uuunhhh... "

Slowly, Americana's eyes struggled to open.

Her head... she couldn't move her head...

There was some kind of...

Uhh. She couldn't move her arms or legs, either...

Americana blinked her eyes, then closed them tightly as painful shards of light stabbed into her brain.

W-wow, she breathed. She'd gotten... pounded.

Oh, for the good old days when she had faced off with crumbs like Powerbolt and Jack O'Diamonds.

She struggled to turn her head, straining hard against the weight pressing down upon her.

"Wh-wha - ?"

Her arm was held, straight out, encased in what appeared to be a series of thick discs - maybe a foot and a half deep, and four feet across. The holes in the centers, through which her arm had been placed, was barely large enough for her arm to fit.

The discs were numerous enough to cover her entire arm, from her fingertips almost to her shoulder. She could feel their pressure on her other arm, as well.

She couldn't bend her elbows or her wrists. Not good.

And her legs, spread apart, were similarly ensnared.

F-funny... she was put in the form -

"Awake yet, witch?"

Her eyes came to focus on a huge form of steel and flesh. His body was peppered with armor shielding and cables, and what was left of his face was only half-human. A red circle glowed ominously where his right eye had been.

"Iron... American, right? You've... changed."

"More than you know. My brother still rots in prison."

Americana struggled to turn her head, the better to face him. "Your... brother?"

"You put him in jail, remember?" he growled. "For trying to blow up the Holocaust Museum last year?"

The heroine blinked. How could she have forgotten? That was her first true fight as Americana. But -

"Had to be put in solitary - for his own protection," the man snarled, his face just inches away from Americana's. "Imagine, a man like my brother - threatened by criminals!"

Imagine that, the heroine thought, as she quickly bit her lip so as not to voice it.

The man withdrew his face from hers.

"I knew then what a threat you'd pose. I've spent the past year... dozens of surgeries... getting augmented, upgraded... until I'm far stronger, more powerful than even you!"

"Sure," she said sarcastically, "Once you softened me up with a few missiles and had your lieutenants pound on me - "

"Whoooogghh!" she gasped as he threw a roundhouse into her stomach.

"Big... man," she grimaced. "Hitting a... woman while she's... tied up... "

"Ohh, I plan to do a lot more than simply hit you," he smiled unpleasantly.

Americana shifted slightly. She could see that they were in some kind of wooden room - no, more like... a cabin?

"Like your accomodations? Your body is encased in high-carbon steel. Your arms, your legs - immobilized. And there are more of those steel wheels atop your head."

The heroine glared at him.

"To break your neck."

He smiled. "Should you change back."

Americana's jaw dropped.

"Wh-what - ?"

"I know your power has limits - and when they are reached, you become mortal. Krrrkkkk!" he said, drawing his finger across his neck.

"H-how... could you - "

"Of course, if you decide you cannot endure the humiliation, you have been mounted in the form of a star... you can surrender to death's embrace at any time. And believe me, we will make you want to surrender."

Americana's jaw hung open, her eyes wide. Oh, my God, he knew how her powers worked! Somehow, he knew!

"Oh," he said, an unsettling grin spreading across his face.

"We're going to attack Washington."

The heroine stared.

"... what?"

"Oh yes. The 76 - the core of the new Steel Nation - outfitted with the very best armor and weapons money can buy. Better, even, than the military's elite squads - not that we're planning to give them a chance to respond."

He leaned forward, clearly enjoying this.

"We are going to drive into downtown Washington, emerge from our vans, and fire shoulder-launched missiles at Congress.

"The Supreme Court.

"And the White House."

The heroine's eyes widened in horror.

"Elapsed time? Thirty seconds. So fast that no-one will be able to stop us."

He stepped back, letting it sink in.

"But... you can't... " she said, her voice fading even as she spoke the words.

They probably could. Oh, my -

"Why? In heaven's name, why?! You always claimed to be patriots - "

"We are patriots, missy. This country's strayed from greatness for too long. Immigrants take our jobs, refuse to speak English - breeding discontent, even terrorism, on American soil! We provide foreigners with troops and munitions, only to have them stab us in the back. Send good-paying jobs overseas, while our trade imbalance skyrockets - and the rest of the world laughs at us. Well, no longer - no sir."

"B-but... freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of assembly? Those are basic rights!"

"You would say that," he spat. "Well, you and your left-wing cronies can go to hell."

He spat. "We can't have America's hero being black... or a woman, for that matter."

Americana stared.

"Tell me you're joking... this - this is the twenty-first century! We've voted for generations - you can't set that back!"

"We'll see.

"Oh, that's right - you won't see."

"W-why? When are you going to - ?"

The Iron American leered. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?

"We've been planning this for a long time. To take action against a government gone soft - the next American Revolution. But we're not taking any chances. We're not leaving until you change back, and those weights crush your skull."

He calmly walked over to the door and threw it wide.

"You are about to meet the 76. Each of them has two minures with you. That comes out to... about two and a half hours."

He smirked.

"I doubt you'll last one."

Some of them merely slapped her.

Others punched and kicked her.

In the stomach.

The face.

The chest.

The groin.

Some molested her, squeezing, rubbing their filthy hands over her while she strained against her bonds.

Some extinguished cigarettes or cigars on her body.

Others spat on her.

Some broke bottles of beer or liquor across her face. Some poured beer or urine on her. Three actually relieved themselves on her.

All the while laughing, mocking her.

Through gritted teeth, Americana refused to cry out. Their blows couldn't hurt her - physically, at least; where they were aimed was another story.

Even when urine was being poured on her, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

She thought of Job, of Abraham, of their trials and tribulations, and she mentally recited Psalm after Psalm.

"Now see here!" she heard a familiar voice say. "Is this neccessary?"

"Yeah, Prof. It is."

Americana lifted her eyes to see -

"Professor... Grayson?!"

Earl Grayson?! The history professor?!

Her head swam. He was a guest... when they first found the wheel, at Monticello. He was... one of her favorite authors. What was he doing here?

"Hello, Astrea," he said as he approached. "I'm so sorry they did this to you."

"Professor... "

"Yes, I'm afraid so. You're a brave girl - you lasted through the entire 76."

"I don't - "

"Please. You're Astrea Starr. And, well, I'm afraid it was I who's responsible for having you bound in this manner. But this," he shook his head. "Believe me, I never wanted it to go this far."

"B-but - " Americana stammered.

"You have to be in the form of a star to change. It's time. Change back, Astrea. Let go."

The heroine stared. "How - how do you... know this?"

He opened his jacket - and seven pieces of crystal clattered to the cabin floor.

"You.

"You took it?"

She blinked and stared at him. "It was you! I saw you in restaurants - in the Smithsonian!"

"Well, yes, all those places and more," Grayson sighed, wiping his dark melancholy eyes. "I figured rather quickly what had happened to you. I had the wheel - "

He looked directly at Americana. "But you had the power.

"I'm sorry, Astrea, but I want that power.

"I did figure out how to arrange the wheels, to make the device work - eventually - but something was missing. And when I snuck a look at your medical records, after you had saved the Lincoln Memorial? They had no idea what it was, but I knew - the silver star-metal that you absorbed into your body."

Astrea violently shook her head. "Never mind me," she choked. "They're going to kill Congress! The Supreme Court! Those people are going to die!

"Professor, you've got to warn them!"

The professor shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "No, I'm afraid not."

Americana's eyes grew wide. "Oh, no. No... "

"Not when I am so close. You see... when you die, the star-metal will flow back... here."

He carefully arranged the pieces, one inside the other. "Once the wheel is restored, I will be the new recipient of your - "

Blam blam!

Americana screamed as Professor Grayson's blood spattered on her!

She looked up - to see the Iron American, a smoking gun in his hand.

"Like I really want to deal with someone else getting your powers," he smirked.

"No, babe... you are the last."

He grinned and walked out the door.

And looking down at the body of the professor, Americana began to sob.

She finally broke.