Like a mallet tenderising a slab of meat, Alexandra's diamond knuckled fists slammed down into the face of the disorentiated psychic over and over. First beating him black and blue, then simply beating him red with how much blood was pouring from his growing wounds as her sharp knuckles tore up his face.
If he was worried that this beating, or the acid shower he had received earlier, was going to ruin his good looks, then all of his worries were quickly resolved. Firstly, because he really wasn't all that good looking to begin with, more just painfully average.
Secondly, because that painfully average face was beaten into mince meat as his brains splattered across the ground. It was generally hard for you to worry when such things happened.
His head became as flat as the ground as Alexandra still continued to pummel, her fists slamming down with wet squelches after every punch.
