[@Fallenreaper]

[i]Gonad had kicked the intestines out of tens of thousands of things, and had accumulated enough blood on his boots over the years to know when he had missed something before full impact. She wasn't where he had expected her to be. Gonad would not cease his attack, however. He was wide open, but such a thing was of entirely no consequence to a berserker. Perhaps this was where he differed from a demon. There was no self preservation here, only the near-suicidal desire to inflict harm at all costs, ignoring all injuries no matter how grievous. His offence was his defense, and of all people he knew that an opponent was at their most vulnerable when they attacked. For example, if a foe lowered a baton from their body to instinctively strike at a lower extremity. Trixi would probably not be knocked down by the kick, but she would be able to notice, very briefly, the huge frame of the monstrous barbarian rushing towards her. Gonad would have shoved himself backwards with his front leg, stepping far back onto his extended right to encompass the woman. If she stayed there to strike at his leg or body, that would be just fine. In the process though, she would be easily within his reach as he twisted fully around. The optimal place to strike his leg would be at the back of the knee. A very fine spot to attack any enemy. He'd fall backwards for sure if she did that, but... There would be little way of stopping him from dragging her down with him. Electric body or not, this man would be able to savage her as easily as a tiger. Some particularly tough NYPD are able to resist tasers during training, scrunching up with pain yet still maintaining enough of their faculties to stride up to the one shocking them. A mere NYPD is nothing compared to a Green Beret, and yet what was a Green Beret in comparison to the merry Gonad, whom not even the great dragons of old thought of challenging? His hands were his pride, and Gonad's very life flowed from them just as the lives of his enemies flowed out. If he so much as slapped her, regardless of how tight or smooth her skin or garments were, those massive mitts would dig in and then it would be over just as surely as the sun sets. His right arm would wheel around in a flash to smack against her lower back even if she tried to hop over his leg, the left darting right after. If she didn't attack his leg, then he would complete his full turn, but she would have time to escape those hands.

Except his hands would be the least of her worries if she moved away. If Gonad completed his step backwards without hindrance, he would turn much more slowly. No, not turn. It would be winding up. His face would have changed into the expression he bore whenever the inclination to use his full might struck. Hellfire trailing from a single eye narrowed to a gleaming slit, lips pursed in a grimace of raw emotion. Everything silent, the quiet before calamity. Then it would come. A low roundhouse kick delivered with the left leg, nothing held back, cast forth with the momentum gained from his 180. The walls of the arena would reverberate with Gonad's roar. The kick would come like thunder, like a bowling ball scattering pins with a resounding crash. The passion he put into this blow would be palpable in the air, shimmering and hot. His broad shin would be leveled at the side of her right leg just below the knee, Muay Thai style, but it would be both of her legs that felt the impact if she were unable to avoid this one. If this came to pass, the sky would invert itself as her head swapped places with her feet. Trixi would be plowed into a midair cartwheel, her legs contorted in gruesome ways. After two revolutions her head would smash into the ground hard enough to dole out a severe concussion. 
[/i]

[b][color=f6989d]BUT NONE OF THAT ROUNDHOUSE KICKING STUFF WOULD REALLY HAPPEN.[/color][/b]

[i]Gonad would not kick at Trixi again if he turned around. The ominous feeling would be there, the tension of something terrifying about to happen. It would be written all over the muscular contours of his back, in his every movement. If there was such a thing as being able to sense bloodlust, this would be it. Instead of attacking though, upon completing the turn he'd shout at her.[/i]

[b]"BOO!!"[/b]

[i]With an impossibly moronic look on his mug, Gonad would do nothing but try to surprise Trixi as if they were at a birthday party. The ridiculous intensity would have been an incredibly skilled and utterly pointless feint.[/i]