Striker staggered in the door, mumbling something nasty under his breath as he had burn marks from fire all over his back and on his tail. His little ranch outfit he usually wore was torn and dirty in some places.

He groaned as he took off his hat and made his way to the rather bare kitchen as he opened up the fridge and grabbed a beer and a ice pack.

He sat down on the couch and put the ice on the burns on his tail as he winced a little. He took a swig from his beer, still mumbling to himself. "Fucking Blitz..."