While he was happily collecting the blueberry liquid from the Pit's basin after having laboriously slaughtered the dozen snakes inside, his reward had vanished and the barren metal walls of the station had reappeared around him.
Still cursing his rotten luck several minutes later, a blazing machete coming out of nowhere had then ruthlessly drilled a hole right through his chest. What kind of crappy luck was that?
And if his memory wasn't failing him... that weapon was familiar. Although he was often in a daze from the drugs he was high on, it didn't take long for Peter to recall its owner.
"Why did Jake attack me? He seemed like a nice guy though..." The druggie muttered, scratching his chin with a look more bemused, than saddened.
The huge hole in his chest was already closing, but his muscles were also steadily shrinking.