Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Everything felt wrong most of the time. It was painful, too much when it was harder on its paws and mildly uncomfortable when the surface had a carpet on it. A pebble-in-the-shoe that constantly dragged him. It made him hiss in his insides perpetually, unable to roam in the laboratory or stand in his paws for longer periods of time. It frustrated him, how many breaks he had to take just to finish one invention; if he could sit near the area of work, it's just a matter of bringing a step stool, but the size of them tended to be problematic. Too big. That even climbing them felt like a chore. 

Just those reminders alone are enough to make Petey want to destroy several buildings. But having unwillingly created the greatest cop ever? It boiled his blood so much he almost forgot about the pain he constantly went through entirely. But this vacuum? Oh it would take Dogman down once and for all! And with the greatest cop down, no one would be able to stop him from taking over the world; and from covering all the ground in soft carpet or better yet, the fluffiest bedding imaginable! His pain wouldn't disappear, but it'd be less of a problem that way. 

His assistant mocked the idea by bringing up the fact that firecrackers cost 5 dollars. Oh yeah sure, as if those things could ever beat the magnificent of his vacuum! Which took him quite the time to make, considering the height, and adding a seat to reach the highest peak of it and a release button if he needs a distraction. Not being able to move as much as you need sucks, actually, so it needs to be perfect. No possibility left unturned, he doesn't have the privilege to just focus on making this functional and serve its purpose, he needs to consider himself in the equation. 

And so, he enjoys having great fun seeing Dogman run away from the vacuum in such a display. Barking away from the giant invention. It makes him laugh. And so, he dedicates himself to chase the half-man and half-dog across the city as the vacuum wrecks havoc. “Go on and RUN! You haven't got a chance!!!” He declares, satisfied with the current events. “This vacuum has a 6000 H.P. Motor… An endless power supply… And the bag expands, so it can suck up almost anything!” He bragged, pushing his seat higher to see in front row the natural end of this encounter, confident in his victory. 

Until Dog man started running to the beach. His expression grew concerned as the body of water started to come nearer, sweat and panic rising just in that same beat, starting to come deeper into it. “Hey!... Let's get out of this water, ok!? I can't swim!!!!” He began to raise his voice. “Besides- this vacuum isn't even supposed to get wet!!! No fair!” The water level slowly began to rise, and Petey followed through with the same rhythm. Pushing with his whole force the up button to reach the highest point of the vacuum. The water barely touched his paws. 

Yet he was so scared of it. “I… I gotta get out of here before the bag bursts from sea water-” Pushing his way up with some handles he used to secure the bag, his foot accidentally stepped on the release button. He barely took some steps before the bag exploded on its own, the impact of the water sending him into the ocean. He coughed and his body began to move upwards, but no progress was made, and he began to get desperate. This can't be the end- He tried his best! He took into account all possibilities! How, how can this be!? Is this really how things are going to end? Petey closes his eyes in frustration. 

— × —

“Mommy? Why can't I use your scratch post?” Petey asked his mother, who stopped scratching as soon as he asked. “Mine is so different. Is just cardboard and it cost us extra money that we could have saved. So, why?” Grace sighed with a mix of pity and sadness as she made her way towards him and raised him in his arms. Carrying him. “I know my paws are sensible too, and I need to be taking those pills so they don't hurt as much, I know they are expensive too” Petey paused his rant as Grace licked his cheek, probably an apology, or trying to comfort him in his struggle that separated him from other cats. 

“Petey. Don't fret about that” her sweet voice filled their small room. “I spend the money on you because you need it; you need softer surfaces, and pain killers, I need to take you to the doctor too so you don't develop arthritis and be in even more pain, because I love you and want you to be well.” Petey purrs as his mom hugs him with so much affection, petting him gently yet comforting. His mood improves as he enjoys the maternal affection he receives with all the love he can muster for her. “It seems like a lot right now, but I assure you it's not”

His mother's eyes stare at him with so much affection as she massages his paw, helping him with the ache. It feels warm and loving. 

— × —

He's propped upwards and his paws land on a hard surface. It makes him whimper from the jolt of sudden pain it causes, supporting his weight into the person in front of him to relieve the pressure from it. He opens his eyes and… Stare at dog man? The mutt seemed confused. As if he didn't understand why Petey whimpered from the sudden pain and seemed uncomfortable while standing normally. It made one of his eyebrows rise too! And in turn, Petey raised his own before he realised he was saved. Listen, he's a bad guy, but he knows his manners alright?

“Hey. You saved me” He stated the obvious in a shaky voice. Still a bit out of it. “You're… Not such a bad guy after all” He smiled as he said those words. “I've got one word to say to you:” He closed his eyes as he supported his weight onto the frame of the canine, adjusting his balance as they slowly reached the beach. Any appreciation though, went out of the window as he felt a pair of handcuffs be placed on his wrists. “RATS!

Chapter Text

Petey hates the cat jail for a multitude of reasons; he can make an endless list about it if ever needed to do so, since he won't run out of examples for a long time either, like the hard floor and mattress the place had. Okay-ish for a normal cat, the scratching posts seem to be the fanciest thing there was with the embroidery in the wool, but for him? He whimpered as he was forced to walk, the handcuffs restraining his already limited mobility further, and his flat tail didn't help either as it couldn't balance his weight properly and was wobbling as he walked. He gripped the bars for support, pain shooting through him. 

The jail guard had something with him; since his first misdemeanour that had him landed in juvie, he had been focused on Petey specifically to try and ‘convert him’ into a good cat according to the law. Cooing him in a hug as soon as he saw him entering the jail, regardless of who was the cop bringing him in; Chief and Dog Man stared for a long time, perhaps confused on why Petey was screaming so loudly but making futile attempts to be let go of, but shrugged it off and went on their day as usual. It made him embarrassed and had him at the verge of crying, but the anger overturned it. 

He lost to a dog AND had to put up with the horrible care the prison had available for him. His lab lacks for some of it, sure, and he's sure there's more he could do if only he had the time and resources to make it as accessible as he could in order to make faster inventions; that being said, it's definitely better than the absolute non-existent resources. The bars ended their existence at the start of the cells, which left him walking without something to support his weight, that ended with his face meeting the floor and his paws meeting the ground just as equally. The miserable meow he let out would never leave his mind. 

“Aw, buddy- it's okay, I'll help you” The cat jail cop carries him in his arms; if shame and humiliation had to be described with a face, Petey is sure his own would show up in it. There's not much you can do to make him hate the average folk more than usual: You could frustrate his plans like Dog Man did, or instead, treat him as if he's made of crystal and can't take care of himself. Just like this guy does. It makes him feel emptier, useless, a waste of a cat that can't be with the other cats and needs to be looked after all day long without breaks. A bother, if you will. 

The man opens his cell and leaves him in the mattress, too trusting of his cellmate, which makes him hiss as soon as his body is in contact with the bed. It makes the guy smile at him sympathetically before closing the door, worsening Petey's hatred against him, motivating him to aim at him specifically once he escapes jail again. But he can't wonder about that, no, something else required his attention and his humour will be worsened. And the reason had a name he knew too well to the point it made him sick with a flurry of nausea accompanied by nostalgia, some regret on it along the way too. 

“Hi Roomate! I missed you” Big Jim said with a smile, making Petey recoil further in the hard mattress, his fur puffing out. The big in his name wasn't for show, the cat was a mass of muscle and strength that had some back up to it, no average cat would take their chances with him if they crossed paths or risk getting him worked up over anything. Petey doesn't share the sentiment, and is vocal about his dislike, but since he doesn't have claws… Well, none of the cats treat him as if he's a danger and rather see a moody inmate they need to keep an eye on if they would like a prize from the cop in charge. 

They may have known each other for a long time and maybe Petey thought of Jim, once in his life, akin to a friend he could rely on. But that was a while ago, times change just like people do, they have nothing to talk about that doesn't involve his recent criminal activity. At least, he likes to think so, he… has no idea what kind of apology he would have to give in the odd case Big Jim had wanted to speak about that one thing. The one that landed them in jail seriously the first time around, and made his anger issues more prominent afterwards. 

So he sulks, and keeps up the bad attitude until break time comes. He scoffs at the playground, Big Jim took the humanity to help him walk to it, but being smacked in the face with how none of the games was up for his condition always had him mad, not even the sandbox could fix the alienation he felt. So he sat on the seesaw, his arms crossed as his face was in a pout. He could probably escape jail if any of the big cats would ‘play’ with him, their weight working as a catapult and sending him flying over. The only problem is the landing, It'd be problematic to land still too close to the cat jail. 

But as he sees the cats getting along, the feeling of being excluded makes him angry enough to not give a damn. “Hey, Jim, want to play with me?” The happiness that crossed Big Jim had to have been greater than any solar planet for him to accept so happily and jump on the other side of the seesaw with all his weight. Petey barely heard a dramatic gasp from him as his body left the ground and was up in the air. It made him feel normal, no longer restrained to the ground or in pain, just in the sky for some moments before landing on a dumpster unceremoniously. 

Chapter Text

The harsh reality of being a wanted criminal is having little to no possibility to show up in public normally. Groceries? Shopping? Walk around? Only if you have a deathwish to be bombarded by civilians and them screaming in your ear for no reason at all other than your very own presence; which left him with the options of disguising himself in order to do those basic things, in this moment, he hides his face with newspapers while supporting his weight on metal pipes, acting as rustic crutches. He can't get picky with what he uses for mobility when he's fresh out of jail, if he wants to get to his laboratory before the end of the day, that is. 

He covers his face with a newspaper as soon as he hears the police siren sound, or when someone passes a little too close towards his personal space, it's a hassle anyways. He's going to wake up tomorrow with the worst pain in his joints, and call off thinking of inventions and have his assistant think of one for him, that doesn't involve fireworks. But those are worries he can get on about once he reaches his destination; it's late at night when he finally opens his laboratory, immediately aiming to get to his work wheelchair, exhaling in relief once he doesn't have to support his weight and stays briefly still like that. 

There's no lights on, that's good. Petey recovers his breath momentarily, closing his eyes in order to relax his muscles from the effort it took him to get back, the metal pipes hitting the ground unceremoniously as soon as they slipped from his paws. There's not many places he feels safe to not be alert to begin with, but his workplace is special to him, the first space he actively worked on when he found his horrible current day job to afford it. It was a cheap building with a bad rating due to its then awful living condition, but Petey made it work despite the effort it took from him to even make it habitable. 

There's a long way to go before it's a fully accessible house to stay in. The stairs to the upper floors are interminable, the bar for support he added last year is getting weaker and isn't as reliable as when he first started. Petey has considered scratching the bar altogether and instead implement an stair lift to make matters easier, but it's still an early idea. He has his personalised crutches too, at closets both down and upstairs; he needs to put on some paw supporters in order to grip them properly, or any kind of object that requires fine motor skills to be honest- they help, as uncomfortable as they are. 

There's an area for improvement, sure, but it's his. Better than jail anyway. 

He exhales slowly as he pushes the buttons on the wheelchair; he gets around in it to reach the garage controls and close it properly, he can't risk having it wide open, can he? He relaxes in the dark room for a brief moment, enjoying the silence before moving around once again, turning on the lights that dimly brightened the workspace. The cozy ambience was something he was proud of, the lighting soft enough to not hurt his eyes on insomniac nights but not faltering enough either to be unreliable or expect them to give out at any time of the day. 

Pushing the wheelchair to move by pressing the buttons on it with the softest of touch from his paws, he makes way to his work table and organises his blueprints for future inventions neatly, including his materials. Then he gives a look around the inventory of his belongings from metal scraps to crystals, falling into a rhythm of silence accompanied with the sound of paper sheets being moved around as he updates what he was missing and would have to order later on when he had the time. It's not like he sleeps during the night anyway, most of his sleep comes from resting long naps during the day. 

Which proved to be disastrous when he was working on big projects considering his work speed, but those are thoughts he only entertains when he's in the middle of those situations. Otherwise, they're a waste of space in his head that needs to be replaced with, space that could be filled with inventions to take down Dogman or merely cause chaos over the city to either take over or gain something out of it. He's not picky when it comes to taking decisions like that, it's either taking the leap of faith or falling into disappointment, and he's nothing short of (terco) when it comes down to it. 

Whatever. 

He moves to his stairs and leaves the wheelchair near the closet where he keeps his crutches, grabbing a pair and making his way to the support bar for the stairs, it's his least favourite part as far as accommodations went; to the bars credit, it reached above of the stairs enough he had space to accommodate the crutches in his arms once he reached upstairs. He leaves the pair of crutches in their designated closet, and opens the door of his room with ease. It's a sliding door that doesn't require much physical effort to move, one of his best investments if he was honest with himself. 

And once his paws touched the softness of the carpet, he allowed himself to relax. The carpet was expensive to buy and was horrible to install, but the pain of it was worth it as merely walking on it was akin to walking on a cloud. It didn't hurt his paws, nor was it uncomfortable, it was comforting and safe. As weird as it sounded. He messed around with his cardboard scratching post to his contentment until he felt tired, and fell into his mattress with a relaxed expression as the lightness and softness from the cushion enveloped him. It made some of his worst crimes worth it, to feel like this when everything felt like it was too much sometimes.