"And how am I going to die?" a blindfolded Atlanta asked the soldiers as they, predictably, dragged her backwards. (I don't think they're very original.) "I think I have a right to know."

The soldiers said nothing and proceeded with their dragging. An infuriated Atlanta decided to kick one of them to demonstrate just how infuriated she was, but this ended up with her losing her balance and a little discomfort as most of her fell down while her arms were held forcefully high.

"All right, all right, I get it," Atlanta complained. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me anyway, of course. I gather it's to be a surprise."

Yet more silence. Atlanta wondered if they had no sense of speech.

The group rounded several more corners before Atlanta felt herself pushed into a chair. Or at least, it felt like a chair, but Atlanta wasn't sure how many things felt like chairs when they weren't. Atlanta felt both arms strapped firmly to both armrests. She cursed herself for not wearing a long-sleeved top that morning. She'd never liked injections, never would like injections, and didn't imagine she'd like them any better while blindfolded and with the prospect of death on the other side. In fact, that pretty much swerved her opinions on the matter in the complete opposite direction.

"Atlanta Johnston," a loud booming voice called out. Atlanta looked around wildly.

"I can't see you," she moaned. The loud, booming voice ignored this protest and continued with its premeditated speech.

"You have been found guilty of causing needless trouble to the American Empire, and conspiring against our almighty President. You will very soon die of a fatal injection. You may repent your sins now, if you wish."

"Do I live?" Atlanta asked.

"No," the booming voice answered in a bemused tone, "but you do go to heaven."

Even with her eyes hidden, Atlanta clearly made a disgusted face. "No," she answered. "I will not."

"Then you are a sinner!"

"Coming from someone who is about to murder a teenager for boarding a train at six in the morning, I think that's a little harsh."

"SILENCE!" the booming voice yelled. Atlanta started trying to squirm her left arm away from the bindings, but given that she couldn't see them, she wasn't quite sure how much progress she was making and so gave up. Atlanta fancied she heard the booming voice – or rather, the man behind the booming voice – pick up a nearby syringe and fill it with a poison. Her face quite visibly tensed and she started shaking her left arm around wildly again, in the hope that would deter her unseen executioner.

Unfortunately for Atlanta, she felt a very painful prick in her right arm. She started to curse herself for not thinking of that, but soon held off as she realised that should she be about to die, she didn't want to spend her last few minutes cursing herself for not preventing it.

"NO!" another booming voice suddenly sounded. There was a dull thud and then a louder thud.

"Who's that?" a panicked Atlanta whimpered. "Save me! Poison..." Atlanta flinched as she felt hands remove her restraints over her arms. "Don't hurt me," she muttered quietly.

"Don't worry," the reassuring voice returned. "You'll be all right. I'm not American. I'm the Doctor. You remember me."

Atlanta nodded as she felt herself picked up. Suddenly she felt air rushing past her face, and she gathered that the Doctor must be running...

...at that point Atlanta blacked out completely, and started to convulse horribly. The Doctor was very uncertain about saving Atlanta now, but if he could get back to the TARDIS in time, she would be protected by Temporal Grace, and that would give K-9 and him some time to find an antidote.

Only trouble was, of course, his resident expert on the city's public transport systems happened to be the person he needed to save. The Doctor ran to the local train station, the dying girl in his arms, but then he realised he had to wait for a train. Two agonised minutes later, one came, and then it went much too slowly for the Doctor's liking. At least the soldiers didn't bother them. Maybe that was because as Atlanta looked very nearly dead and the Doctor was not technically in breach of any law.

The Doctor was very grateful that Atlanta's home was so close to the nearest train station, but feared that twenty minutes was too long for the poison to do its damage. At least, by the time Atlanta and the Doctor finally dashed into the TARDIS, the girl was still alive, which meant that she'd stay alive for the time being.

"Warning, Master," K-9 warned in his mechanic voice. "The Young Mistress is gravely ill."

"Yes, I had rather gathered that, K-9," the Doctor told the robot contemptuously. "Can you work on an antidote to whatever poison she's been injected with?"

"Affirmative, Master."

K-9 probed the girl who had, at least, stopped jerking violently. He then trundled out of view, and the Doctor found her a nice enough guest room inside the TARDIS.

Instead of walking back to the control room, the Doctor stormed to a storage room somewhere. He'd cleverly hidden it from Leela during her time with him, as it contained all the things Leela would have loved to use, like dynamite and bombs. He wasn't quite sure why he had them, and didn't quite remember where he got them, but he at least did know when to use them, and now was the time.

These Americans – and he had to be careful to remember them as these Americans, as he was sure that the average American was quite friendly, not to mention oblivious – weren't like the impersonal alien invaders he'd defeated so many times before. Not the impersonal alien invaders who might inflict a small amount of pain or terror on an assistant, but they were usually more busy with the natives or – more likely – the Doctor. These Americans, they'd frightened Sarah out of her wits when they inflicted those burns on her. They'd very, very – within a millionth the width of a hair if a hair could measure time – nearly murdered Atlanta for no apparent reason other than that she'd called a soldier 'typical'. This meant war.

However, he had to take into consideration Atlanta's remarks in the 2090s. Defeating the American army in Australia certainly didn't work – he doubted that would keep them at bay for the month Atlanta had said it did. He had to be more clever than that, which was a good thing because the Doctor, as a Time Lord, was exceedingly clever.

So that was why, while K-9 dutifully worked on an antidote for Atlanta, the Doctor materialised the TARDIS in Washington. Before stepping outside, the Doctor carefully located a gun without any bullets. Using a gun would make him as bad as the Americans. But threatening them with a gun would be perfectly in-character – and after Sarah and Atlanta, the last thing he needed was a loaded gun to threaten them with. He could start actually shooting.