Every blow was as bittersweet as a shot of hard liquor, especially to one built as immovable as Industrial Warfare. A shock, taste of reality and a ghost-like feeling of pain that would usually double a man over with that kind of force. It was enough to make Karl grit his teeth, feel the air exit his body, and then breathe hard to get it back.
Dom's movements were too quick for Karl stop, get a grasp on his arm and wrench it out of its socket like he wanted to. It wasn't with dismay that he changed his strategy, although it pretty much was done without strategy to begin with.
All he wanted to do was to return the favor. In full force.
Words were unnecessary at this point. It was the timing that mattered. One, knock him off balance with a full-body shove to the side. Two, upper cut blow into the abdomen. Three, an elbow into the side of his face, but not enough to dislocate his entire jaw if Dom so choose to continue smirking.