Summary: Striker recalls how he met Bombproof.
Those who know Striker well can tell that he shares a unique bomb with his horse Bombproof. The two were like two peas in a pod. They didn't need words to communicate; Striker's grip on the reins was firm and confident, but he also trusted Bombproof's judgment and lets him move on his own sometimes.
Striker liked to brag that Bombproof was the finest Hellhorse in the seven rings. So far, they were the unbeaten champions of the Nightmare Derby held every year in Wrath. The western sports in that event included racing, pole bending, barrel racing, trailing, amongst other things.
Striker sliced expertly through the wild boar meat, removing all signs of fat. Otherwise, Bombproof wouldn't eat it. He chuckled a bit. That horse was even fussier than Jake when he was a toddler. Speaking of Jake, what was taking him so long? He was only supposed to give Bombproof water. Striker was about to go check on him when Jake burst through the door, looking scared out of his wits.
"Whoa, whoa, calm down, kiddo! Where's the fire?" Striker noticed something was off with Jake. He looked nervous and worried. "What's wrong?"
"Dad, I think something's wrong with Bombproof."
Striker's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
"He's lyin' down and his flames are dim and week. He wouldn't even take the sugar cubes he likes so much!"
With no time to waste, Striker dashed outside and towards Bombproof's stall with Jake following suit. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw the state his horse was in. Bombproof was laying on the ground, his fiery mane and tail dim and faintly flickering, just like the fire in his body.
"Bombproof," Striker sat next to the stallion and stroked his neck. He was cold. "What happened to ya?" Bombproof perked up an ear and looked at his owner with tired eyes, nickering weakly. "Shh. It's okay, bud. I'm here."
Bombproof lifted his head and pointed at his stomach.
"What's wrong with him, dad?" Jake asked.
"Jake, go to the house and bring me blankets. Call Blitz and tell 'im we ain't goin' to work for a few days."
Jake nodded and ran off, returning a few minutes later with lots of blankets to help his father cover Bombproof. Striker instructed Jake to rub the horse with his hands to keep him warm. About an hour or so later, they heard a car screeching to a halt just outside. Blitzo appeared in the doorway, looking scared out of his wits.
"Sweet satan, is my favorite horse okay?! What does he need?! I got bandages, sugar cubes, puppets...!"
Striker rubbed his temple, murmuring under his breath.
Days went by. Striker would spend hours in Bombproof's stall, trying to rub warmth into the stallion's body and speaking soothing words to him. Jake and Blitzo helped (though the latter was more of a hindrance than any actual help). They either took turns in the house chores or stayed with Bombproof to let Striker take a break. Even Millie and Moxxie joined in (rather reluctantly in the latter's case).
"Come on, Bombproof. You have to eat somethin'." Striker tried and failed to feed some bacon to his horse. Bombproof, however, merely snorted and ignored the treat. Sighing, Striker put the raw bacon back on the bucket.
"Will he be alright, dad?" Jake asked worriedly.
"I hope so, my boy. I already gave him his medicine, we'll just have to wait."
Jake patted Bombproof's head. "You are quite attached to him, dad."
"Well, we've been together for a long time. I've had him since we were both very young."
"How did you get him, by the way? You've never told me."
Striker sighed. "It was a long time ago when I... lived in Dis."
"Dis? Isn't that the city that seems stuck in the middle ages?"
"That same one. You probably don't remember it, but I.M.P. once took a job there. Anyhow, I was eleven years old when I visited one of the famous faires held around the city. I was wanderin' around the livestock display when I came across a corral full of wild hellhorses brought straight from Wrath. There was a small, sickly-lookin' foal amongst all the horses."
"Bombproof?" Striker nodded.
"From what I could learn, he had been separated from his dam and wouldn't make it to his first year..." Striker sighed sadly. "...Maybe that's the reason I decided I couldn't let him be turned into glue. That same night, I snuck back into the fair grounds and released all the captive horses. You could say it was the first time I ever rode'im. He pushed me into his back and galloped away from the scene before anyone could find us." he shot Jake a quick frown. "Don't think of doin' such a thing yourself, kiddo.
"Afterward, I hid Bombproof in an unclaimed lot right behind the orphanage and fed him some of my food portions every night. I figured that he'd eventually leave once he was strong enough to fend for himself, but he never did. He stood by my side ever since..."
Bombproof twitched an ear and managed to lift his head off the ground to weakly nuzzle against his owner's waist. Striker smiled and stroked his neck.
"I'm glad to have met ya too, boy."