Family Guy Peter Fights Novels & Stories

Seeing Peter sped walking towards them with a murderous look, Keith stands up in alert. “You son of a bitch!” Peter leapt towards Keith and landed a hard punch on Keith’s face. Keith stumbled on the glass table, sending the glass and vase on it fall onto the floor with a crash. “What the hell?!” Keith got up, wiping the blood on his lips. He looks towards Peter with the same intensity of murderous look. Without warning, he landed a hard punch towards Peter. Peter cursed before he and Keith started landing punch after punch towards each other. “Peter, what the hell are you doing?!” Mason yelled.

one of the thugs sneered. "Leave her alone, and I am still going to f*cking hurt you." My eyes went wide at Peter's dark, threatening tone. I had known Peter for an entire year, and this was the very first time I had ever heard such raw, lethal danger in his voice. The men lunged at him all at once. To my absolute shock, Peter fought them off with ruthless efficiency, throwing brutal punches and dodging blows like he was incredibly used to street fights. Right now, he didn't look like a gentle doctor; he looked exactly like a man who worked directly for a Mafia family.

My hand flies to my mouth as I giggle. “You’re joking.” I say but Derek shakes his head. “I wish I was.” Derek says, wiping at his eyes. “Peter actually drew his blade. He was ready to fight it. I told him if he killed it, I was making him skin it and wear the fur as a hat.” Everyone erupts into laughter, and I can’t stop my own from bubbling out. “Oh my God..” I say, and Jake grins at me. “Hey, you should have seen Peter’s face. He is never going to live it down.”

Justice for the death of Flynn. I quickly sighted Peter trying to get away in a van but I shot the the tyres of the van and pulled him out. He elbowed me in the face, punching me in the face then I kicked him, punching him in the face as well. I tried aiming him but he flopped my gun away kicking me and pushing me in the process. "You think you're some sort of warrior?! And you can defeat me?! But you're wrong. I killed Flynn and now I'll kill you too." He sneered and bent to pick the gun but I pushed him and hit him hard on his stomach.

When I saw the other one marching forward, I just lifted my left leg and slammed into his jaw, sending him flying backward with a mouthful of fresh blood. Grandpa opened his eyes and asked, "What's going on here?" He yelled at Peter, "Stop it!" and "What are you doing?" Do you intend to murder them? Grandpa, I'm sorry they took the honey and then spoiled the gallon, and when I questioned their human manners, they summoned their inner might and charged at me, resulting in the fight. You don't have to fight, but you have to sign a contract agreeing to aid each other. Peter offered you some of his oil to help them recover from their injuries. Grandpa, you are correct. Tell them your name and wh

Peter did not give up after that. The next day, he came again. Deborah was in a wheelchair. Peter pushed her and stopped downstairs from my apartment. She had lost a lot of weight. Her face had very little color, and her hair had turned gray. She looked completely different from the person who used to wear a bright red coat and curse at people smugly. Peter looked up at my balcony and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Riley! Get out of here!”

“Oh, come on. Show me the muscles you built in that gym of yours.” “I said, get the fuck off.” “Oh yeah, I just remembered! That gym is owned by me, so technically your muscles are mine. Funny, right?” Peter laughed while still lightly punching Alan's arm at a fast pace. Without warning, Alan swung his fist at Peter's cheek. My breath caught for an instant. I immediately cupped my mouth with both hands. My mouth gaped as I saw the two men begin to fist-fight at a rapid pace. Alan punched Peter. Peter punched Alan back. Then they took turns trying to knock each other down. When Peter finally fell to the ground from Alan's furious onslaught, he hurriedly took for an opening to run away from Al

Even if the bastard deserved it. Peter, however, had other ideas. “Maybe you’re not that person,” he muttered, his eyes blazing as he rolled up his sleeves, “but I’ll gladly be that person today.” Before either of us could stop him, Peter’s fist flew and connected with the driver’s face. Hard. The sickening crunch of bone and cartilage filled the air, and blood sprayed across Peter’s hand as the driver’s nose broke under the force of the punch.

Did these people really think a few guns would intimidate Marcus Murphy? Peter stepped forward, his tone dropping to something menacing and primordial. "Tell that piece of garbage Doyle to show himself. Everyone else who doesn't want to die, get out of the way." No one moved. The air seemed to solidify, pressing against my skin. I could feel my heartbeat quicken but maintained my glacial expression. This was a battle of wills-whoever showed weakness first would lose. I nodded slightly. Peter understood immediately and signaled with his hand. One of our men promptly threw a travel bag onto the floor. It landed with a dull thud that echoed through the silent bar.