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Title of Fic: Driven by Hatred
Author Name: Eric "Psyke" Jeffus
Author E-mail Address:
Genre of Fic: POV
Description: A short fanfic that involves a Primeape named Deuce, owned 
by a cruel, uncaring trainer named Joseph Faust. Faust wants to enter 
Deuce into the P-1 Fighting Tournament, for his own selfish reasons, and 
doesn't care about his poor, unexperienced Pokemon at all.


The darkness faded, and I came to my senses. Pain wracked my broken 
body, arms and legs bruised and battered. I was completely exhausted, 
and couldn't even get up. I had been fighting for hours, and I just 
couldn't take any more brutality. With a defeated look in my eyes, I 
looked up at my trainer, Joseph, who had a disgusted look on his face, 
not trying to hide it. The man sneered at me, like he didn't even care, 
and spit on the floor, barely missing my face. In a cold, hate-filled 
voice, the cruel man mocked me, kicking me hard in the ribs.

"Come on, you lazy sack of bones. To think that the guy at the store 
said you're a fighter. Ha! You're useless, not worth training. If it 
weren't for the fact that I have to show that haughty bastard Paris that 
I'm a better trainer than he is, I wouldn't even bother." My master 
kicked me again, and I flew into a wall. God, the pain. I couldn't feel 
my body, and he wanted me to try again. My fur, soaked in sweat and 
matted with blood in places, was filthy. He raised his foot again, but 
this time, I was able to pick myself up, satisfying him temporarily. I 
hated my master, a heartless man that was only using me for his own 
selfish purposes. He was the bane of my existence, and all I could think 
about was orchestrating his slow and tortuous death. But, until I was 
strong enough, I was still at his mercy. He expected me to be ready for 
the P-1 in a week, and by God he would "train" me to be a master in the 
ring. Once I was strong enough, however, I would have my revenge.

Legs hardly able to support my weight, I wobbled momentarily, but soon 
regained by balance. I glared at the opponent with whom Joseph had me 
training, a Hitmonchan borrowed from a friend. His hard brown skin 
gleamed in the lights above us, and he raised his gloves. The pink 
garment he always wore fluttered in a slight breeze. I could see his 
eyes, glaring back at me. They were dark, but fire burned in them. He 
wanted to win, and I wanted to die. What a match, huh? His low voice 
rang out, putting chills down my spine.

"Hitmon ... CHAN!" He flew at me, gloves only a red blur as he pummeled 
me in the stomach, the chest, the face. I hit the ground, and didn't 
want to get back up. Everything was going dark, my vision narrowing to a 
tunnel of light surrounded by shadows. Then, I was embraced by darkness, 
pain melting away as I slipped into unconsciousness.

A cheerful voice was the first thing I heard when I woke up. The 
light hurt my eyes, but I opened them regardless and found myself gazing 
at a friendly face. I recognized that nice woman that always healed me 
after Joseph's brutal training sessions. What was her name? Joyce, 
Jane? Then, I realized she had been talking ever since I had returned to 
the land of the living.
"Hello, Deuce! Enjoy your little nap? I'm glad you're all healed now 
... you looked pretty tired when Joseph brought you to me." Then, I 
heard the voice, close-by, one that sounded very sincere, although I knew 
the truth.
"Nurse Joy, is Deuce all right? Oh, I was so worried about my poor 
Primeape. That Hitmonchan really beat him up." The act made me sick, 
because he had everyone tricked into thinking he actually cared for me. 
Of course, the nurse, who I then realized was Joy, handed me to him. He 
put me into a Pokeball, as expected of a Pokemon Trainer, and I didn't 
see what happened for a while. In fact, I was dozing peacefully until my 
rude awakening.

"You pitiful excuse for a Pokemon. You should have beaten that 
Hitmonchan, not taken a beating. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. 
I might as well get rid of you and buy a fighter worthy of the title. 
Now, I want you to fight, and I want you to win, or else." Those last 
two words were a warning of what would happen if I failed again. Oh, the 
agony of being treated like this! If only I had enough power to be rid 
of him, I thought. Across the small arena, I saw the Hitmonchan, with an 
evil grin on his face. He *enjoyed* destroying me, punching me with 
those deadly fists until I could fight no more. Well, there's only one 
way to get what I want, and that's becoming stronger. I raised my fists, 
focused on my opponent, and took a deep breath. I had to learn to obey 
my trainer, no matter how much I loathed him. I heard his first command, 
yelled imperiously.

"Deuce, Scratch attack, now!" He pointed at my adversary, and I ran 
at the Hitmonchan, leaping into the air. My claws made furrows on the 
Pokemon's eyes, making him blind for but a moment. Joseph, realizing the 
opportunity, immediately told me the next attack to use.
"Low Kick, while he's not paying attention!" Determined to finally 
progress, I executed the attack perfectly, my right foot crashing into 
the boxer's knee. Fortunately, a Hitmonchan's legs are much more 
vulnerable than his upper body. He crumpled, grimacing in pain, but was 
soon on his feet, just slightly limping. Now angry, he countered with a 
deadly Fire Punch, singing my chest. It was my turn to wince, but I 
couldn't let a little burn keep me from winning. I quickly jumped 
around, always a moving target, waiting for my next attack. Joseph 
wasn't far behind.

"All right, Deuce. You've got him now ... Mega Punch, but aim low! 
He's guarding his chest too well!" Good move, I thought. Even if he was 
cruel and unforgiving, he knew how to train fighters. To get myself into 
the right position, I slid on the cold wooden floor, preparing to deal 
the mighty blow. He hadn't expected me to do that, so I caught the 
Hitmonchan unaware, nearly taking off his kneecap with the Mega Punch. 
He groaned, and fell to the ground, grasping his shattered leg. He 
didn't get up. I was thrilled, as I had finally won against my more 
powerful opponent! A warm feeling came over me, which I suppose was the 
gaining of levels.

Joseph seemed happy enough, but not for my sake. He basically ignored 
me, and went babbling on about how he'd win against Paris. Then I 
reminded myself: this creep cares nothing for me. The only reason he's 
not abusing me any more is because I may be of some use to him now. I 
hated him, and that hatred was the only thing that kept me from giving 
up, the only thing that made all of this worth it. Once I was strong 
enough, I would pay him back for all he's done to me. Over the next few 
days, I was matched up against different fighting Pokemon, such as 
Machop, Machoke, and even a Machamp once. I defeated all of them without 
much of a problem. Beating the Hitmonchan was the best thing ever to 
happen to me, because it gave me the confidence I needed to become a 
great fighter. I simply gained more levels, learned more new attacks, 
and prepared for my revenge. I would be ready.

On the day of the P-1 Fighting Tournament, I was pumped. This is my 
chance. Today is the day that Joseph will feel my pain. These thoughts 
whizzed through my head as I jogged to warm up. Then, as I attacked the 
punching bag, it was his cruel face I saw, and beat it to a pulp. I was 
consumed with my hatred, but it was what kept me focused on the matter at 
hand. I watched a couple of matches before I had to fight my own first. 
There was a Machoke named Butch (poor guy), owned by an attractive female 
trainer, Mary. Unfortunately, they were out of the Tournament almost 
immediately, as their first fight was against Wraith, a Hitmonlee, and 
his trainer, Paris. Paris ... the "haughty bastard" that Joseph wanted 
to beat so badly. He actually seemed like a nice guy, not haughty at 
all, and an excellent Pokemon Trainer. Giving his Pokemon ideas, he 
basically let the fearsome Hitmonlee fight freely. This method proved 
effective, defeating Butch in about a minute. I trained some more, 
practicing my techniques, while Joseph ate a hot dog.

Soon enough, it was time for my first bout. I was ready to win, not 
for Joseph, but for myself. My opponent: a Poliwrath, a Water/Fighting 
type Pokemon. Its round, stout body was blue, with a white chest. A 
black swirl reminded me of one of those hypnotizing circles. His 
pure-white fists were at the position to begin fighting, and mine soon 
were as well. DING DING! The bell rang, and the match began. Joseph 
yelled out his first command.

"Deuce, Mega Kick!" I lashed out with my foot, aiming for his chest, 
and connected. The attack threw the Poliwrath off of his feet. It 
picked itself up, rubbing that swirl, where a bruise was forming, and 
obeyed his own master. The Pokemon's trainer was a tall, thin man with a 
high voice.
"Tsunami, do your Water Gun attack!" The Poliwrath, aptly named Tsunami, 
summoned some water from God knows where, and launched it at me. 
Luckily, I was much faster than the watery fighter, and deftly dodged the 
stream of liquid.
"Good job, now do your Thrash!" Thrash, a powerful attack that leaves 
the user confused, was my most effective. I ran at my opponent, and down 
he went under a flurry of hard punches. I was a bit dizzy afterwards, 
but I had won! The referee lifted my paw up in a show of victory, and I 
had a big smile on my face. Even Joseph seemed pleased, although it was 
probably because he was getting closer to his enemy.

More matches ensued, some them including me. I eventually beat two 
Machokes, a Machamp, and a Mankey. I was tired by the end, but I knew 
the most important fight was coming. This battle would also be the most 
difficult, perhaps fatal. Soon, I would be battling against the deadly 
Wraith, Paris' Hitmonlee. Over a period of hours, I had seen this living 
weapon destroy every opponent with bone-crushing kicks. Most of the 
defeated Pokemon were taken out in stretchers. I was actually quite 
frightened, because even though I was able to humiliate that Hitmonchan 
in my training, the Hitmonlee is known as the more dangerous of the two, 
and Wraith was an awesome Hitmonlee. Paris had named the monster well: 
the Pokemon fought like a ghost, his body a blur, lashing out with his 
sharp claws.

Then, the moment of truth came upon me, and I was ready for it. The 
walls echoed the announcers bass voice as he called out the contenders in 
the next match.
"In this corner, Joseph Faust, along with his Primeape, Deuce!" The 
crowd cheered, as I had become sort of the underdog that was winning all 
of his matches. Joseph waved, large smile plastered on his face. I 
simply stood there, taking deep breaths, concentrating on what I was 
about to do. Then, the man pointed at the opponents, revealing their 
names to the crowd.
"And in this corner, the returning champion, Paris Moira, fighting with 
Wraith, his deadly Hitmonlee!" The crowd roared as Paris thrust his fist 
into the air. Apparently, the crowd liked returning champions. Wraith 
might as well have been made of stone, his dark eyes holding no remorse. 
He was ready to decimate me just like any of the others. The metallic 
clang of the bell signaled the beginning of the fight.

In an instant, I was on the ground, writhing in pain. Wraith hadn't 
wasted any time in striking first. I saw a form leap backwards, and the 
Hitmonlee landed gracefully on one deadly foot. The "Kicking Fiend" had 
just given a demonstration of his Rolling Kick. Wraith was silent as he 
circled around my still prostrate body, closing in to finish me off. The 
brutal killer then did something unexpected ... he stood still. He 
closed his eyes, and his body glowed. Paris spoke with obvious pride in 
his voice, something Joseph had never done.
"Good job, Wraith. Boost your Attack with Meditate. Now, Jump Kick!" 
The Hitmonlee opened its cold eyes, and I blinked, unfortunately. He had 
disappeared by the time I opened them a split second later. What the 
Devil? Where'd he go? Then, Joseph's voice, with what sounded like 
genuine concern, screamed at me. Sadly, I later found the only thing he 
was concerned about was losing his only hope of defeating Paris. That 
"Look out, Deuce! He's behind you!" I turned, but had no time to react. 
Wraith's diamond-hard foot was aimed at my head, and in slow motion I 
watched it fly towards me, chitinous claws outstretched and about to rip 
my face to shreds.

BOOM! A sickening crunch was heard by the audience, and soon all was 
quiet. Excruciating pain took a hold of me, and wouldn't let go. My 
limp body hit the floor of the ring and bounced, making the crowd gasp. 
I could feel a warm sensation trickling down my nose. I gently rubbed a 
finger there, and it was covered in crimson, my blood. I ignored the 
pain, however, and replaced it with determination. I flipped off of the 
floor and landed in a fighting stance. Wraith's eyes held a mixture of 
admiration, respect, and even a little fear. I had taken a hit that 
would have put most opponents into the infirmary, or the morgue, but here 
I was, ready to fight.

Pure murder shone in my eyes, and I launched myself at the Hitmonlee. 
Of course, he was ready with a barrage of deadly kicks, but I was able to 
avoid them, and was soon too close for him to use his lower body. My 
fists brutally flew into Wraith's chest, beating him to a pulp. Punching 
with my left and my right, I remembered my training. When he stood 
still, dazed from the attack, I expertly used an uppercut. His head 
snapped back, and his body followed, hitting the ground with a thump. 
His eyes were focused on me at first, but they wavered and then closed. 
Three seconds passed, and the bell rang again. I was the winner! My 
last thought before I fell unconscious was that I had won this for 
myself, not for Joseph. He was unworthy of the victory.

A bright light woke me up, but I'm not sure how much time had passed 
during my doze. I felt refreshed, and happy. Apparently, I had been 
taken to a Pokemon Center to recover. I sat up, and looked around. 
Sitting in a nearby chair was Joseph, reading a magazine. He noticed 
that I was awake, and came over to me. His eyes were angry, and his face 
followed the example. He raised his hand, as if to strike me, and I 
"God, you can't even *lose* right! You should've died with that blow. 
You made me lose twenty grand, you stupid little chimp." His rage had 
evidently reached its threshold, and he decided to beat me to death. I 
whimpered as he flailed me with his fists, while he was screaming about 
how he would kill me. I tried to defend myself, but he simply continued 
to yell and rant, cruelly taking his anger out on his innocent pet.

Suddenly, a woman appeared from around a corner, drawn by the vulgar 
yelling. Her pretty eyes widened as she assessed the situation: a man 
abusing a Pokemon. She called out in an authoritative voice to Joseph, 
and raised her hand to try to stop him.
"Stop right there! What do you think you're doing? I'm going to call 
the cops on you, slimebag. Abusing a poor little Primeape ... how could 
you!" She beckoned to some unseen group, and two large Machamps came 
into the small room, rippling with muscles. These were security guards, 
trained for the sole purpose of holding abusers at bay until the police 
arrive. They smiled grimly, and took hold of Joseph.

The next few minutes were simply a blur. When I saw my trainer there, 
held fast by two immense Pokemon, head bowed, I felt pure, unadulterated 
hatred. I embraced the hate, and let it flow through my body like an 
adrenaline rush, making my blood boil. The same thought went through my 
mind over and over again, like some sort of broken record: Kill him, kill 
him. My body went taut, muscles flexing, readying themselves for an 
attack. I uttered a deep, throaty growl, and my brow furrowed with 
anger. A red haze swathed my vision, and I was caught in the blood lust. 
This was the time to avenge my abuse, the hell that this man had put me 
through. My growl turned to a scream as I flung myself at that pitiful 
man, taking advantage of his lack of resistance. My fists flew, 
bloodying his ugly face and bruising his body. I continued to scream as 
I savagely kicked and punched, allowing my rage to run rampant. Then I 
leapt for his throat, biting as hard as I could, sharp teeth digging into 
the soft flesh. A metallic taste filled my mouth, which I realized was 
his blood. Suddenly. as I was about to kill him, there was a sharp pain 
in my back, and all was quiet.

I awoke with a muzzle over my snout, preventing me from opening my 
mouth. My arms and legs were bound, and I struggled without success. 
Surrounding me were four walls of the purest white, nothing to tell me 
where I was, nothing to tell me if I were alive or not. I then realized 
that I was considered a danger to people, and put there to keep me from 
attacking again. I wept, salty tears flowing down my face. Why couldn't 
they understand that I did that for revenge? They thought I would attack 
anyone, perhaps because I had been abused. I would be kept there until 
they finally decided to put me to sleep. I wondered what had happened to 
Joseph. I didn't think I had killed him, so he was probably in the 
hospital, recovering. For hours I was left alone, left with my 

While I sat there, disconsolate, a nurse came into the room, dressed 
in an immaculate white gown. She walked over to me, and kneeled down 
beside me. Her mouth was obscured by a mask, but I could recognize the 
eyes ... they were Joy's. Her cheerful voice seemed so out of place in 
this desolate room.
"Are you all right, Deuce? You gave us quite a scare earlier." I tried 
to answer, but was muffled by the muzzle. She noticed this and removed 
it gently. I responded, telling her how he had treated me, and why I had 
done what I did. As I explained, her eyes became wider and wider, 
shocked at how badly I had been cared for. It's a good thing she could 
understand Pokemon, otherwise my monologue would have consisted of "Prime 
ape, pri ape ime...". Appalled at the behavior of Joseph, her voice 
showed her surprise.

"That's horrible! I can't believe he would do such a thing. He 
seemed like such a nice guy..." She trailed off, but started again after 
a few moments. "Well, that's of no matter now. He's at the hospital, 
recuperating. You hurt him pretty badly, you know." I nodded my head 
sadly. "Once he's out of the hospital, it's off to prison. We don't 
take very kindly to Pokemon abusers here. But don't worry, we're going 
to find you a new home, Deuce. A home complete with caring trainer, one 
that will never abuse you. In fact, he's here to pick you up." She 
glanced back to a silhouette in the doorway. A tall man appeared from 
the shadows and I studied his features carefully. With a lithe frame, 
the man was slightly muscular. His face was handsome and rugged, with 
striking clear blue eyes and short blond hair. He held in his hand a 
Pokeball, its red and white sides contrasting. His voice was very 
comforting to me, and I came to like him immediately.

"Hello there, Deuce. I'm Paris." His voice was so soothing, much 
more tender than Joseph's ever was. I nodded my head, just then 
realizing something: this was that nice trainer that Joseph hated so 
much! He continued in his soft voice, so as not to excite me, and I was 
enraptured. "I'm going to be your new trainer, Deuce, and I'll never 
abuse you." I gazed into his eyes, and from that moment on we were 
inseparable. I trained with him for the rest of my life, alongside 
Wraith and his other great fighters. There was never a moment when I 
wasn't deliriously happy with my new life, free from that horrible man, 
Joseph. What happened to Joseph? I don't know, and I don't imagine I 
ever will. That doesn't bother me, though. I'm with Paris now and 
forever. Me, Deuce the Primeape, champion of the P-1 Pokemon Fighting 
Tournament 2000.