FicWad

Pete's coffin seemed to burst open almost immediately at sundown. Dirty didn't even dare look at him as he left with his cell phone on hand. He knew that tonight he would be needed more than ever, and not just for his ridiculously awesome comedic timing.

Patrick was busy scribbling away in that huge dusty book of his, but even if he was free, Pete didn't feel like talking at the moment. He just wanted to cause himself the most pain possible. How could he let Beckett take Gwen? Who knew what he was doing to her.
Beckett wasn’t known for being a merciful killer. The last time a vampire crossed him it was so horrible that none of the other vampire factions so much as cast a shadow on the Dandies for six months. Pete only told Gwen what she needed to know. Which may end up killing her.

He viciously grabbed the blender and threw everything in. Without another thought, Pete quickly unscrewed the clear bottle of holy water and poured in a lot more than the Priest had suggested. Beckett, off all the vampires! If he laid so much of a finger on her--

He stopped the blender and drank the blood shake, not even bothering to clean off the blood dripping of the sides of his face. Pete sank his fingernails into his palms, the pain of both the shake of his memories of that night tearing at him.

Beckett enjoyed taking his humanity from him, and for that Pete would make him pay. Beckett loved taking the most important person of his life from him, and for that Pete would make him regret every second.

"Andy, throw me one," he called out, walking over to Andy and the walled targets.

Andy stood ready to throw some stakes at the targets, but instead tossed one right at Pete. Pete expertly caught one, twirled, and sent the stake deep into the middle of a target.

"Damnit, I never get it that close," Andy muttered.

"It's all in the wrist," Pete said humorlessly.

"So, uh, when are we meeting the Dandies?" Joe asked cautiously from the couch.

Pete grabbed another stake and lobbed it at the same target.

"Not until Dirty gives Patrick information. We're not walking into another trap."

Right on cue, Patrick pushed a gun away and kicked a stool over.

"Damn thing isn't working," he said in frustration, turning to face the wall.

"Patrick, we don't have time to fuck around," Pete growled.

"Don't you think I know that? I--"

Patrick's beeping cell phone interrupted him.

"What is it?" Joe asked.

Patrick plugged it in the T.V. with a cord. Groups of pissed off vampires sat in the cars, glaring at Dirty as he passed. Without any warning, a tall, angry vampire shoved a Warrior, starting a huge brawl between the Warriors and the other vampires.

"Fucking animals," Pete spat out.

Suddenly, the camera slipped and showed the cement street.

"Get to the car, now!" Andy shouted.

They grabbed their weapons and sprinted out the door. Pete's mind raced as Joe speeded down the road, almost crashing into parked cars. Joe pulled up to a curb once Patrick pinpointed Dirty's locating device somewhere nearby.

Pete inhaled deeply. Standing in the middle of the street and the brawl was Beckett, who was busy slapping some poor soul he managed to catch. With a growl, Pete quickly climbed out of the car and stood in the street with the guys behind him.

Just as Beckett went to slap his victim again, he looked up to see Pete. What did I say about being properly dressed? Beckett asked Pete, using his telepathic powers to talk to him in his mind.

Beckett smiled cheekily at Pete and Pete glared ferociously back. Both were remembering that night, but while Beckett happily recalled, Pete felt nothing short of undying hatred for Beckett.

Pete whipped off his gray hoodie, lifting his fists as Beckett's henchmen predictably grouped together and let Beckett disappear. The guys nodded at each other before arming themselves with swords and guns.

Pete easily demolished the small group of Dandies and surged forward. He spotted Beckett lazily sitting on top of a car, his legs propped up on a dead victim hanging out the window. What a morbid prick, Pete thought. But he was surprised to note that Urie was nowhere to be found. He was probably off luring in more beautiful victims.

Before he could even so much as yell an insult at Beckett, one of his goons snarled and punched him. Pete punched back, but the goon brought them both to the ground with a scissors kick.

What an idiot. Pete easily punched him out on the ground.
This was Beckett's best? For a gentleman, his standards were low. Well, that's what Pete believed until the last guard flipped off the car with a few sparks on hand. Beckett sat sipping tea as the guard struck Pete with more electric blows.

It seemed as though the guard would win until Pete landed a few blows and threw him to the ground. He smirked as he spun around and pounded his palm on the guard's chest, leaving a handprint.

Pete growled as he charged the top of the car--yet he only managed to grab Beckett's cape. Where the hell was that slippery bastard?

He had no time to think. A few pairs of arms dragged him off the hood and onto the cement. Pete saw the moonlight bounce of pieces of metal until the darkness swallowed him.