Family Guy Peter Fights Novels & Stories

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.