[@LeeRoy]

[i]There was a problem with LeeRoy's leverage, one that he'd not likely realize until his head began to feel like a ham hock in a trash compactor. LeeRoy's arms were far shorter than Gonad's. By holding on, as his head was forced back by the blow, the damaging momentum wouldn't be as easily dispersed had he simply allowed his body to tumble away. Gonad might have been striking from a higher angle, but he still had reach to spare. As a result, the futuristic fighter might find himself on the fringes of losing consciousness. Furthermore, as LeeRoy's vision was obscured by the mongoloid fist of Gonad, he'd fail to see how Gonad himself liked to work leverage. The barbarian's free right hand would have clamped down upon the inner left edge of the fractured spaceman's helmet, a mere moment before Gonad's heavily wounded legs were taken out and he crashed onto his back, left fist retreating from LeeRoy's mug in the process. 

Surprisingly, LeeRoy would find himself jerked along for the ride, hauled forwards by the raw strength and the falling weight of the barbarian who had seized upon his helmet. He would surely be able to release Gonad's knees and start to grab other vitals, but he probably wouldn't be able to bring them up in time to handle the very next thing his trained eyes would see. After all, Gonad's left fist was already set on course, and in the following seconds it would be brought back and forth several times in succession, even though one was enough for most enemies. The power in a punch primarily comes from the legs. When one is on their back, the force of their strikes are considerably weaker. Gonad, though, had three factors that when added up, equaled the bone-flecked mess that the spaceman's face was about to become.

The first was that Gonad was pulling LeeRoy into the punch by his helmet, and would hold him in place so that he took the full, unleavened force of the impacts, each one a potential end to the brawl. 

The second was that LeeRoy's visor was no longer there to reduce the amount of damage he took.

The third was that Gonad was Gonad, and whatever Gonad struck multiple times wept for the golden days of yore, when there still existed kind and just gods whom could restore that which a plastic surgeon never could. [/i]

[b]A set of hairy, calloused knuckles blocked out the sun, blocked out the wincing face of Emily the bartender, blocked out the inauspicious eye of Gonad in slow motion. Somewhere distant, "Also Sprach Zarathustra" could be heard in the midst of its grand fanfare. Like the waves of the ocean, leagues of scarred muscle rippled across the barbarian's extending arm, cascading down the vein-webbed tide of his bulging bicep and rolling over the tarnished pillar of striated, charnel strength that was his forearm. Here it comes! It is coming! It is-[/b]




[color=ed145b]The following scene is age restricted on account of graphic violence. Please enjoy this picture of a kitten until further notice.[/color]
[img]http://www.magic4walls.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/kitten-playing-on-grass-field-under-the-sunshine.jpg[/img]