Chapter Text
"I still think that you shouldn't go to this fight," She said worriedly while washing the dishes. "That Phillips guy sounds like pure trouble."
Pete sighed, having heard the same concerns over and over again. "I'm doing this for us Kat." Trying to reassure her, all the way from the dinner table. "Besides, I haven't lost a fight yet." He got up and did a quick fight motion to further prove his point. He hoped the action would bring Kat a smile more than anything.
Katrina turns the faucet off and faces him. The kitchen light illuminating most of her. A mix of concern and a bit amusement in her face at his actions. "That guy hasn't lost fight either Pete." Pete shook his head has he grabbed his now empty plate.
"Well that changes tonight, you can count on it." He puts the plate in the sink. "And, if I win I'll get my biggest cash out yet!" He said enthusiastically. Nearly two thousand dollars! And they could really put that to good use.
She pinched her brow. "That's only if you win. If." She repeats for emphasis. "You're goin' to get yourself seriously hurt in that arena at some point. And-"
"And I'll be fine. I promise." He cuts off, placing his hands on her shoulders to comfort her. "Once I get us enough money we'll get out of here, okay? Any place you want, we'll go to." He says with a smile, letting her go.
Katrina gives a sigh, a sign of defeat. She returns the smile after a second. "We could go to someplace cold." She says. Thinking some more she goes on, "Like Maine." She chuckles, already knowing his potential reaction.
Pete gives her a small shove at her answer. "Man, you would live in an Antarctic if you could." Her chuckles are infectious though, and he finds himself chuckling too. "I guess we could move to Maine after all this. If you really want that." Pete says, pretending to hate her answer. Maine would be a good place for Kat, he thinks. He could deal with cold after the fact. Now it's just a matter of saving enough to make that happen. Winning tonights' fight would be a good start.
Hours pass and the apartment is dark now, the only light coming from the city lights outside. It's close to midnight now, and time for Pete to go the fight. He has all he needs, a change of clothes and a small med kit should anything happen. He just hopes he won't need it for tonight. With his bag in hand, he makes his way out. Before he can leave though, Katrina stops him giving him a hug, one that Pete returns easily. One can tell she doesn't want to let go, "Just," Another sigh escapes her. "Just be careful. Come back in one piece at least, yeah?" She says, leaving the hug. He gives her another quick squeeze, "Will do. Love ya' Kat."
"Love you too Pete. Good luck." She says closing the door behind him. He gives a thanks through the door and off he goes. He has to win this fight, for Kat. For a better life for both of them. He makes his way down the stairs and gets hit with the night air and the sound of the occasional car. It's a nice, calm night Pete noticed. The walk there isn't longest, but it still takes him a while. The city isn't too busy at night, passing minimal people along the way.
The building that waits for him is dirty at best. It's small, only having one floor, and made of brick. Inside he's greeted by the dingy and dim room with a weird smell that you never get used too. There are a few desks, all having varying levels of messes. He also gets greeted by Mike.
Mike is a pretty sketchy guy, Mike also runs the whole thing, at least that what Pete thinks. Mike's the one that pays him so Pete doesn't care that much. Mike is sitting in his old leather chair, smoking a cigar, his tie loosen around his neck. The desk lamp makes him look overly bright. "McVries! Came to win the match?" Smoke blowing in Pete's face as he talks. He just has to fight a few more times and he doesn't have to deal with this guy again, he thinks.
Pete does the best polite smile that he can when he responds, "I'll certainly try too." Mikes' ears perk up hearing this. He puts out the cigar and inches closer to Pete, his chair squeaking in the process. "Look McVries, there's 'try' here." His voice stern and sharp. "You either win or lose, and it'd be to your benefit if you win." Pete nods, and Mike pats him on the shoulder. "Good. Now hit to the lockers."
He didn't need to be told twice. Getting to the lockers Pete could hear the influx a few rooms over. The lockers are nothing special, they don't even have showers that work. There's a matte look to the whole place, walls with odd stains here and there. It's better than nothing at least Pete thinks. He gets out of his clothes and changes, wrapping the bandages around his hands like he's done before. The crackle of the announcer is enough to let Pete know that it's time. He's done this before a few times, shouldn't be any different.
Pete has done this enough times that he knows what the people are probably doing. Around the ring, nearly all were making bets. The round hasn't started, not that it mattered, but tonight's match was one you couldn't miss. One that could win you some real cash.
McVries vs. Philips
Both were newer fighters on the scene, and both have yet to lose a fight. Tonight, that was going to change.
He leaves the lockers and Pete can tell that Phillips has done the same. He can see him on the opposite side of the arena. The arena itself is on the smaller side, caged in a wire fence so the audience doesn't interfere. The only light in the room is a hanging light fixture, one desperately needed a new light bulb. From where he stands, he can still see Phillips, and he does look like trouble.
He's taller, a bit broader, and possibly stronger than Pete. He shouldn't think like that, he's beaten guys that were taller and stronger than him before. This is no different he thinks to himself, trying to calm himself. Just pre-fight nerves, nothing new. He just has to beat him like the guys before him and get home to Katrina.
"On the left, we have McVries!" The announcer yells into the microphone. Parts of the spectators roar in cheers, some even yelling about how much they have riding on him. "And on the right, we have Phillips!" And the same deals happens as the guy enters the arena. Now that they're both in, the arena gets locked from the outside. It would only open when a winner gets announced. If all goes right, that winner will be Pete.
The bell rings and the match starts. The audience cheers fill the rather cramped room. Pete quickly wipes the sweat off his brow and goes for a punch. He connects, but not has good as he wanted.
More and more punches get thrown, the heat of the room feeling more intense. His next punch gets blocked, and in the next second Pete's down. Phillips waste no time, lunging on top of Pete to continue his beating. By now Pete's tired and weaken, feeling unable to fight back any longer. Bruised, Pete pats Phillips back. A forfeit. Pete had, unfortunately, lost.
The Phillips guy was decent enough to stop at least. Phillips stands up, and pumps both fist in triumph. A mix of cheers and boos fill the room at this. Pete hears the cage unlock on both sides, with Phillips just walking out in a somewhat celebratory manner. Who can blame him? He won the money afterall.
From Pete's side, one of the announcers sits him up, and slaps him twice across the face. "Wake up kid, hit the lockers. You're out." He practically yells in his face over the roar of the audience.
Pete winced and was able to get up, albeit very slowly. He was really going to feel this tomorrow. As he walks his way to the lockers he can see from the corner of his eye the audience begin to leave. He shuffles his way to the locker room and with pained groan he sits in one of the wooden benches. The silence of the room is nice, he needs a breather before even attempting to change back. He might just go back in his current clothes. He starts to undo his bandages when the door barges open.
"What the fuck was McVries." Mike yelled full with anger. His hair was disheveled, sticking out like he had ran his hand through it. He probably did when watching the fight. "You cost me a lot of money you absolute fuck." He barked at him, speeding closer to where Pete was sat.
He looked over Pete, being the one standing and all. "He's a tough guy to beat," Pete responds, a similar anger and annoyance rising in him. "I'd like to see you try and fight him. I did my very best in that match Mike." He stood up, now being face to face to one another.
"Oh yeah? Well, your very best ain't cuttin' it. You're poor attempt of a fight cost me more money than you probably have saved up." Mike went on, yelling his frustrations at Pete. Pete didn't care, this just means he doesn't get paid until his next match. If he wins that one of course. Mike just went on, and on, and on about his goddamn money. Pete just wanted to get home to Katrina, and this one sided conversation was really testing his patience. So he just turned around and gathered his things, he can tend to his injuries at home, peacefully.
He goes to grab his bag, only for Mike grab before him. "We're not done yet, McVries." He spits out at him. Now, this was Pete's final straw. Before Mike even has the chance to say something else that would only anger him more, Pete punched him square in the face. It hit right in the jaw, to shut him up finally. The force knocked him back into the lockers, blood now spilling from his lips. He snatched his bag from his hand. His back now turned, he started to walk back to the door to make his way home. Has he hears Mike yell out has he walks away, "Watch your fucking back McVries. This isn't over, you bitch!"
He slammed the door, not caring anymore. Pete made his way through the hallway and through the entrance. The cool night air was soothing, something he clearly needed after that confrontation. He hurriedly made his way home, doing his best to go up the apartment stairs quietly. He struggles with the lock for a moment before being able to open it. It's just as dark as when he left. He lets a little sigh of relief as he closes the door, he didn’t wake up Kat at least.
He heads into the bathroom as quickly and as quietly as he can. He leaves the door slightly ajar and turns on the light to see the damage. Parts of his face and arms had started to bruise and a cut lip that's not too deep. His hands carry most of the damage but it's nothing he hasn't seen before. It's not has bad as he thought, thankfully, but it'll definitely take a while to heal properly. Taking out the little med kit is when he hears it.
"Pete?" Katrina said, her voice laced with sleep still.
Fuck. He thought with a grimace. Her steps to the bathroom got closer until she was opening the door. She peaked through the door, letting her eyes adjust to the light. "I didn't mean to wake you." Pete said quietly.
She gave him a small grin, " I couldn't sleep much anyways." Her eyes scan him, assessing the damage herself. Concern is clear in her eyes, "Did you win?" The unavoidable question he was hopping to not answer yet. He glances at her and looks down defeated. "No Kat, I didn't."
Silence stretched between them in the bathroom and Pete hears her sigh. There's a little thud as she leans on the wall next to the door. Pete wants to speak, say that he'll just win next time. But he doesn't have in him after tonights' match. He catches her fixing the yellow bonnet he gifted her years ago. "Here," she sticks her hand to the medical kit he's holding. "Let me clean you up."
"You don't have to Kat," Pete says, pulling away the kit only for her to take it. She pushes him so he sits on the toilet lid. "But I want to. And, it's the least I could do for you." She opens the kit to see what's she working with. He wants to protest, only to be interrupted as a piece of cotton with rubbing alcohol reaches to his cut lip. He puts space between them. "Ow, warn a guy will yeah?" He's never been a fan of this, but who is really.
Katrina winced slightly, "Sorry." She redirects her focus on his hands. Cleaning and banging up the knuckles. He didn't break much skin, luckily, so it doesn't sting has hard this time around. The silence is more comfortable as she cleans up the other hand. "I don't like seeing you like this." She says suddenly.
"You should see the other guy." Pete tries to joke. She finishes with the bandages and closes the kit. "I'm serious Pete," there's a wavering in her voice. "Tonight may just be few bruises, but what about next time? Next time you could, could." But she's unable to finish, tears stopping her speaking.
Pete snaps at attention fully, getting close and hugging her. She buries her face on his shirt, clinging to him as hard as she can. He lets her, and his heart breaks at the sound. "I don't want to lose you too." She says, most of it muffled by his shirt.
The words hit him hard, harder than any punch. He sees Kat's face in the bathroom lights, eyes red with tears. He wipes them with his thumb, trying to control his own tears from spilling. "Katrina, I promise you, that I'll never leave you. Understand?" He says, in an attempt to comfort her. It seems to work with her nodding along in agreement. "Good," he smiles at her, "Now wash your face yeah? You should've gone to bed ages ago." She gives a little chuckles and head into the sink to splash some water in her face.
As she finishes up, she notices from the corner of her eye a black spot on the wall. But then the spot moved, indicating that it's clearly, not a spot. "Gah!" She yells panicked, rushing towards Pete.
"What is it?" He asked startled by her reaction. She points to the wall, "I think there's a spider there." She said in a low voice, almost like it would hear her. He steps a bit forward to take a look. Yep, that's a spider alright. It's about the size of a dime and so black it looks almost blue. "We could keep it as a pet." He says jokingly.
"No, don't say that. Just get it out of here!" She says from the hallway, he hadn't even see her escape there. "Okay okay! I'll flush down the toilet." As soon as he says that, Katrina speaks out again. "No don't kill it." She says quickly. "I'll get you a cup and you can release it. Don't let it escape." He heard the quick steps into the kitchen. He just stared down the spider wondering how it even got here, or for how long since it's so noticeable.
A moment later he's getting handed a small cup with a piece paper. Katrina watches as he captures the spider, sliding the paper the cup. She sighs in relief. "Now, where do you want it?" He asks holding the captured spider.
Katrina gives him a somewhat confused look. "Just, far away from me. Like the window, throw it out the window." She says inching away from the cup. He agrees, but not before pretending like he'd throw the spider at her.
After a few scared shrieks from her, Pete heads into the kitchen. The light had been turned on when Katrina had went to get the cup. He sets the cup and paper down on the small counter so he can open the window. There's an uptick in life outside since he's gotten back. The fresh air is nice.
He carefully picks up the cup and takes it to the window. Taking the paper trapping it out, the spider takes the opportunity to bite Pete's hand. "Ow, fuck." He yells outs. He finished taking the spider out and close the window. He looks at the bite, signs of swelling and redness start to appear. Great, just what he needed, hopefully it's not venomous.
"Everything alright over here?" Katrina asks as she makes her way to the kitchen. She stops for a second, "Is the spider gone?" She asked. "Yeah it's gone, it bit me though." He answers.
He lets her take a look at his hand wincing at the bite. "Let be get you a bandaid. You can get it checked out in the morning." She said dropping his hand. "Sounds like a plan." He says, 'cause what else can he do right now. Before she can get that bandaid, a relentless knocking at the door fills the apartment.
"Who could be knocking at this hour?" She asks. Pete just shakes his head also confused by the sudden visit. The knocking keeps going with no signs of stopping. Katrina rushes over to the door, hoping that it would quick. She opens the door and before she can get a word out, the masked visitor stabs her. He even made sure to twist and deepen the hunting knife he used on her. The intruder, upon seeing that his target wasn't Katrina, he pushed her to the ground and make his way to the kitchen where Pete stands.
Pete for a moment doesn't know what to do, frozen in place. The smell of blood started to fill the room, a sense of dread to go along with it. The intruder gets closer and Pete snaps out of it, but not fast enough. The intruder corners Pete, punching him once, twice. Pete fights back but he's not doing too hot having already fought earlier tonight. Amongst the struggle he gets a rather deep slash across his collarbone. But he's also able to get the guy on the ground, Pete laying down on him to keep him from moving.
By this point Pete was able to get rid of the mask having revealed the intruder as none other than Phillips. "Why are you here!? Did someone send you!?" He's able to say, adrenaline still running high. Phillips spits on his face and gets another deep cut, across Pete's face this time.
Phillips uses this time to try and stab him on his stomach. He misses, stabbing closer to hip, but doesn't take the time to check. He would likely die from blood loss anyway. While Pete's on the floor he kicks him again for good measure. "Mike sends his regards." He says as he hastily makes his way out the door. And just like that he's gone.
There's a metallic taste in his mouth and he's slowly losing consciousness, but he forces himself to ignore it. He struggles his way to Katrina, still laying on the floor near the entrance clutching at her side. The blood had seeped through her clothes, pooling on hand and floor. She's still breathing, thank God. He brings her close, placing her practically on his lap.
"Kat? You still with me?" But she's struggles to answer. She so cold, so young still. He doesn't stop the tears that flood his face. "Pete, you're here." She says a little dazed tears forming in her own eyes not yet spilling, there's a little smile as she sees him. He cries harder, "Yes, Kat I'm right here. I promised remember?" He chokes in between tears. "I'll make sure you get help alright? Don't leave me please." He begs. She gives him a weak smile and closes her eyes, her breathing weakening more.
The next thing Pete remembers is waking up in a hospital bed. A neighbor had called an ambulance for them both he later learned. He was bandaged up real good, though he knows that his injuries will scar. The doctors tell him he's lucky to still be here. Once he's lucid enough he ask the first thing that comes to mind, one thing that matters.
"And Katrina? What about my sister?"
She didn't make it. She had died on the way to the hospital from blood loss. He learns that the killer was caught that same night not far from the apartment.
The days go by and he's discharged from the hospital. He can't go back, not to the apartment. Her blood would probably still be there at the door. He would have to move, a fresh place to start over like they had planned together. Where was it that she said? That's right Maine. Maine would be a good place to live. He could start a new life, try to see the good at his second chance at life. Live for the both of them, in a way.
He would also have to learn how to deal with the fact that he can now stick to walls.