Boss FightMature

Not on my watch, you...you uncouth, Scottish...”

Betty wasn't used to insulting people.

...yob!”.

However, she tried her best to make an effort for those who were trying to kill her. She hissed.

Pete chuckled. "Looks like the Lady is a vamp, Robert." 

Robert sat on the floor, a little dumbstruck. Betty shifted her weight between her feet, waiting for his next move.

"Pete...you're a vampire too?,” he queried, the confusion in his voice defined by a Scooby-Doo-esque change of pitch.

"Yep, fangs and all," he replied, grinning again.

At this point, Betty chose to lunge at him, hissing as she flew threw the air. Pete dodged her easily, and slid across the floor to the abandoned stake. Years of bar fights had trained his reflexes and dumb strength. Now, Betty had inadvertently bestowed upon him the gift of immortality; he was Neo-like in fluidity in a fight.

Robert was as puzzled as ever. He didn't seem to notice what was going on in front of him. Creasing his brow, he asked, as if to thin air:

"But I...you...,” he stumbled.

“Is this not a...," he searched for the right word. "Problem?".

Pete had snagged the stake in one hand. Betty snarled, furious, and spun on one heel, making to jump again. He was on his feet in an instant, ready for her.

"Robert you fecking idiot, how long have you known me?”

His eyes didn't leave Betty as he spoke. His ability to maintain his level of sarcasm in combat was commendable.

"Urm...since...high school?,” Robert offered.

The Scotsman hit Betty square in the face as she flew at him. He didn't need to work at all, she literally leapt into it.

"And what do I hate most?," he asked, his tone reminiscent of an exasperated supply teacher.

"...everyone else"

Betty sprawled on the floor as she landed on her back. It was a little like watching a reluctant Doberman fight a kitten. She snatched one of the dining chairs from her right, and proceeded to raise it high and fling it, with all her force, at Pete.

"And?," he prompted, before the impact.

Robert sat on the floor, covered in blood. There was shattered glass everywhere and his wife kept kicking it up in her onslaught. Robert tilted his head, and realised the answer.

"Daylight. Huh."

"Right," said Pete, sturdy as ever as a chair splintered over his head. He paused a moment, brushed some fractured wood-and-varnish from his shoulder. Then, he ran at Betty, yanked her up by the wool of her jumper, and flung her out of the opposite window looking onto the back garden.

As coolly as ever he walked over to the second broken window.

"This isn't exactly a bad lifestyle change for me,” he stated, his boots crunching on the glass as he tread over it. “Gets me off the drinking, at least."

Betty was smouldering a little under the sunlight on the lawn, starting to whimper. She still jumped at him, attempting to dig her claws in his arm. He shook her off with ease, and she ended up slumped against the a mini-BBQ central of the grass.

"I was in a right state when I realised I'd never have a pint again. But," he shrugged, shielding his face with his arm and he started to emit smoke, "It's probably healthier".

Healthier to be undead. Only in Pete's sake. 

Robert followed him, as if in a dream. Two broken windows now.

She was weak and writhing, bent over backwards on the BBQ grill. Small flames sprouted from all over anywhere there was skin on show, and she was hissing incessantly, saying something that could've been “help” or “Please”. Pete shut his eyes for a moment, blinking in the fading sunlight, and grimaced.

Betty's attention turned to her husband. She looked at him pleadingly, her expression hurt.

Robert...,” she mumbled, a ghost of her old self. These were the words of the woman he'd fallen in love with.

Finally, he snapped out of it. His wife was going to die.

Hope you like your stake well done, Robert,” Pete called to him. Then he drove the stake through her heart.

Betty didn't react, she just went limp. 

Pete lit a match from a match book in his pockets, got out a cigarette, and started to smoke. As an afterthought, he tossed the remainder of the match onto the BBQ.

Then he nonchalantly walked back inside the flat and watched Betty burn.

The End

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