Watching from a standing position, Paul made no attempt to hide himself, simply watching with a keen interest as the two fought, the speedster slamming against the other man, who shot flames brighter than any he had seen before, these weren't flames, they were beautiful warm oranges wrapping through the air like ribbons, sticking to the ground almost magnetically before breaking and leaving paper-thin copies of themselves, and everywhere the German went the world seemed to warp, the flames billowing out into the sky before dying, consumed by the cone of pure speed. It was all too brilliant, too perfect, it almost disappointed him when another shot in, smacking the German across the face, in response, the speedster began to spin around and around, trapping the other two within. Listening when they began to talk, Paul noticed that they were speaking English, and without even hearing what they had to say, he came to the conclusion that they were Americans. Feeling very proud of his (Actually quite unimpressive) detective skills, Paul noticed the man with a torch on his chest gasping and coughing, obviously short of breath.

[i]The hell? Does this guy have the power to take people's air? That bastard![/i] Paul realized, growling and closing his hands into fists. Obviously, this Nazi was trying to murder good Americans, good Americans just trying to survive an unjust invasion, how dare he? Paul began dashing towards the fight, hovering an inch off the ground. It was his turn to add some of his own artistic vision to this fight.

The speedster was moving too fast to stop, Paul couldn't even see him, but Paul knew this fight wouldn't be about him stopping the speedster, it would have to be about the speedster stopping him.

[i]He can't kill me, nothing can, but I sure as hell can kill him, I just need one punch, one blast, he'll be in pieces, I just need to lure him in, deck the Nazi bastard and send what's left of his head back to Germany in a box. Now I just need his attention, draw him away from what he's doing in order to ensure he focuses on me.[/i]

Paul had a punch hard enough to stop a charging horse and send the rider over his head, even if he was unable to stop the speedster with a single strike, it would almost certainly be enough to deflect him at least somewhat, and that was if the rider's speed combined with Paul's own strength didn't smash the man's head like a melon. If he was deflected, it would certainly make Paul the most dangerous target, meaning he would be the target as he wanted, and if the German died, it was all the better. There was no reason not to try, it wasn't like his arm could be broken, his unique physiology (or lack thereof) prevented that. Paul knew there had to be more sophisticated ways to do this, but there were also more sophisticated ways than the wheel to move things, and Paul wasn't going to go and reinvent the wheel, so screw it, punch it was.

Floating down to ground level, continuing in his move towards the fight by running, he twisted just as he was about to reach the yellow blur that grew longer and longer with each moment, throwing his right fist leftwards in a powerful haymaker, hopefully it would work.

Who was he kidding, unless the man somehow managed to plant his feet six feet away from Paul, he was going to get clobbered, and Paul would be pleased.