Dillinger; burnt, bloody and missing hair, staggers out from his locker room and lights up a cigarette.

"God fuckin' damn! Now that was a fight!"

Before he can even take a drag from his cigarette though, he starts violently coughing as a thick, black cloud of smoke, ghosts upwards from his nose and mouth. He of course, fights fire with fire on this one and takes a pull from his cigarette anyway. Which surprising helps.

"Well, I'm spent. I think I'll skip the murder tonight and go straight to bed. Tomorrow is another day, after all."

And with that, Dillinger limps off. Leaving a trail of burnt hair, soot and ash behind as he progresses down the hall.