<strong>Name:  </strong>Emma Hawthorne<br/><strong>Affiliation:</strong>Hero<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Paris, France<br/><strong>Tagged:  </strong>Starman, The Iron General, The Eight<br/><br/>Her hair plastered to her face and rain soaking through her clothes, Emma stared at The Iron General, trying to see if there was an effect from her hit.  She wasn’t able to tell because as she watched, a woman dressed in all black with a scarf obscuring her face knelt down beside her, urging Emma to continue her attacks.<br/><br/>Emma nodded her agreement.  “That’s the idea.  Now if I can just figure out how I did this the first time…” she said, her voice an interesting mixture of accents –posh British from her London upbringing with a hint of a southern twang from living in Texas the last few years.<br/><br/>She was trying to focus her mind on building the electricity between her hands again, but it was difficult.  Usually, in her sparring matches, she was armed and armoured and there were rules for safety.  But here, she was in a real life or death situation with who knows how many people watching both in person and on the dozens of televisions where the battle was being broadcast live around the world.  Her hands shook and she cursed as her new-found power fizzled out.<br/><br/>“Fuck!”  She chanced a quick peek back at The Iron General just in time to see him hit with some sort of a weapon from a strangely dressed man who had just appeared out of nowhere.  Not a moment later, a man bathed in golden light rammed The Iron General, knocking him down.<br/><br/>Twirling back around, she looked at the woman before her.  “Dude is seriously overcompensating for something.”<br/><br/>Concentrating, Emma built another ball of electricity, feeding it power until it reached a reasonable mass, then stood and turned, tossing it at The Iron General just as he fired his weapons.