A tall teenage boy stood alone in the middle of the town square, a sullen and unreadable expression on his face. His teeth were clenched tightly, angrily working the muscles of his jaw. His fist was also clenched, around his only pokeball, which he held rigidly by his side. His long, messy red hair hid his eyes from the people that passed him by, and he smirked only slightly when those who tried to make eye contact hurriedly rushed away, scared by his disagreeable aura.

Peter Farscape had never thought that it would end like this. Not with all of these people around him – innocents, really – and not with this… feeling inside him. It was the feeling that made him ignore the crowd, that caused him to ignore his conscience. The people's innocence mattered little to him; he was only aware of the feeling consuming him.

He couldn't even think of a word to describe the feeling. It gnawed at him, yet seemed to fill him at the same time. A drug was the closest thing Peter could compare it to; it filled and emptied him at the same time. He knew that this feeling was all he would ever need, but it left him in need of more.

Peter knew what he had to do to satisfy the feeling. Still, for a moment, it made him contemplate his past, to question what had brought him to this pivotal point. The end leads you to the beginning, he had once heard, and the saying seemed to prove true even now. He thought of his life growing up, with his mother, father, and two siblings. They had been dysfunctional, yes, but what family isn't? All in all, he remembered a happy childhood. They had raised him to be what he was today, and he smirked, wondering if that was a damning statement or a compliment. Family life aside, though, he had always had his dreams. He remembered them now as clearly as when they had first cemented themselves into his heart. The dream to one day be a coordinator, to usher a pokemon of his own into the glory of the world of contests. It had driven him, once upon a time, the desire to make a name for himself, to experience even a moment of the life of a coordinator.

But none of that mattered now, did it?

---

The world had suddenly become silent for Peter Farscape. With a flash of light, he released his pokemon. The Infernape let out an intimidating cry, but Peter didn't hear it. The only sound that existed in Peter's reality right now was the pounding of blood in his ears. All of the pent-up emotion inside of him threatened to rise, to spill out of him, but Peter fought to keep his expression cold. He would show these people.

Everyone stopped immediately, ceased everything they were doing, and stared at the pokemon. It was out of place, everyone knew that, and it scared them. The fire monkey screeched and they all jumped; Peter knew from that second that they were his.

He smirked malevolently and ordered his first attack, a moment that was sure to etch itself into all of the people's brains. Flames spread across the ground, missing the closest people by only a few inches. They gasped and tried in vain to move, but it was pointless. Infernape raised its arms into the air menacingly, and with another cry from the pokemon, the flames rushed towards the monkey and flew into the air, creating a blazing pillar of fire. The people gasped again, full of both fear and awe. Only Peter knew which feeling dominated, and that was why the crowd of people was his. He knew them better than even they knew themselves, and for that reason he could do to them as he pleased.

The first attempt to stop him was pathetic. A young trainer sent out a Wingull, ordering a Water Sport. The bird pokemon was quick to comply, but its efforts were futile. With one swift Thunderpunch, Infernape eliminated any hope of the girl getting in his way.

Another trainer sent out an Oddish, but the pokemon couldn't even finish her attack before she was incinerated before the eyes of the crowd. The people were frozen as they watched the Infernape unleash fire attacks wildly, and despite their numbing fear, they couldn't bring themselves to run away.

Infernape had always been Peter's favorite, and the feeling never left him even as he watched his pokemon slaughter his opponents mercilessly. He was the only one who could see the beauty of his pokemon, the way its snow-white fur rippled as it jumped in the air, blasting fire at the people below. Only he seemed to notice the artful, graceful way the Infernape's tail swayed as it delivered punches. It didn't matter, though; he would show these terrified people the full extent of his pokemon's perfection whether they liked it or not.

Peter's face was hard and expressionless, though only those who could tear their eyes from the flaming pokemon noticed. He was unreadable, and his victims could never know if he enjoyed the flagrant display of power, or if somewhere deep inside he was cringing at his own ruthlessness. No one stood a chance, and Peter Farscape didn't seem to care at all.

He laughed, a short, cruel laugh, as his pokemon delivered the final blow. As Peter's vision of anything but flames vanished, he knew that he had accomplished what he had desired.

---

"You did a great job back there," announced a deep voice.

Peter tore his gaze from the nothingness he had been numbly staring at and looked at the man addressing him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so," he muttered through clenched teeth. His jaw worked, his muscles clenched, trying to hold back the feeling inside of him. He didn't want to let the feeling get out of control, even though everything inside of him told him that it was all right.

"Seriously kid. We didn't think you had it in ya," continued the man, clutching Peter's shoulder. "You wiped the floor with everybody. They didn't stand a chance."

Peter gulped. "I know."

The man didn't seem to be listening to him, though. Instead he was wrapped up in his own recounting of the event. "None of them saw it coming – mark my words, none of them. The way your pokemon moved, that power…"

Peter looked down at his Infernape's pokeball, ignoring the man's voice. Everything would change now, for both him and his pokemon. The feeling bubbled up again as Peter thought about it, so he quickly tried to think of something else. However, his actions were the only thing that his brain seemed to allow him to think of, and Peter was forced to replay the scene in his mind again.

"Anyways, kid, great show," laughed the man, clapping Peter's shoulder. "Never in my life – mark my words, never in my life have I seen a pokemon sweep straight to Master rank in one performance. And from an Infernape, too!" He chuckled. "You'll go far boy, mark my words. You'll go far."

Still chuckling, the man ambled off into the crowds of people, leaving Peter standing alone once again. The man's words had an effect on Peter, and he could feel it, the feeling, rising inside him like a tidal wave. For absolutely no reason at all, Peter let out a laugh, and the dams opened. The feeling poured out of him, from every pore, flowing out of him and filling him endlessly. Finally, he could recognize what the feeling was: it was joy.

Peter laughed again and attached his pokeball to his belt, next to the large ribbon, labeled Beauty, Master Rank. An uncontrollable smile was plastered on his face as Peter turned around and began walking. He had no particular destination as he joined the throngs of people perusing the city –

But that didn't matter much right now, did it?

---

I tired to make this as Peyton Farquar-esque as I could, and I suppose you will be the judge of my success. Cookies for anyone who knows who Farquar is, and I'll throw in candy or something if anyone noticed the allusion to it with Peter's name. I am a self-proclaimed comma addict. And a colon addict. Hell, I just like run-ons. Admitting the problem is the first step to recovery, though, and if any of you can point out any other mistakes and how to fix them, I'll be well on my way to recovery. Thanks!