Antivenom

Chapter I

"It's nothin' but History."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Story told entirely from first person view, save with a bit of necessary third person narration. Chapter names indicate the character in the story whose point of view is being followed. Thank you, and enjoy the story.

Who are you?

Actually, I don't care.

Go away.

I'll beat you up.

...

...

...

Fine. I'll talk. Just don't annoy me, or I'll beat you up.

My name is Canderack. Scolipede. And I'm going to tell you something, and you better keep this in mind.

I beat people up.

I beat 'em up for looking at me the wrong way.

I beat 'em up for calling me fat.

I beat 'em up for trying to make me pay back for having beaten those chumps up.

You got that? Good.

It all started a month or two ago. I was perfectly fine 'til I realized: Where the hell am I? This place doesn't feel like home. And it wasn't.

I was far from home.

Real far.

In fact, I don't think I could've gotten back home. I was somewhere else entirely, in some grassy clearing among a lot of trees. The best part about it, was it was quiet. Barely a sound, not even from those annoying things with wings that make stupid high-pitched sounds all day. I was so ready to call this place home within ten minutes time, I think.

'Til some bunch of kiddos come by. One of 'em was one of them midgety blue penguin things, and it had some kinda arm-slung bag or something. That one was tailed by one of those green lizard-y things with two tails with the ends kinda looking like fists ready to sock you in the face. After that one was another lizard, but kinda orangey red with a little fire on it's butt. They were gonna make a lot of noise, I thought.

Damn was I right about it, too. They started pointing at me and started sayin' I look weird and like they never saw "One of Those" before. They just mosied over to me like I was some kinda petting zoo exhibit. I growled, but they didn't care. Then they poked me in the gut and said I looked fat.

I beat them up two seconds after.

I made them cry for their mommies.

After I knew they were totally out cold, they just disappeared into nothing. Boy did I think that was trippy. Once I was satisfied that they were gone, they left that bag behind. I nudged it open with my nose, and out tumbled some stuff they had. Nothing really that neat, just some berries and a few coin-y objects with a "P" on them. Some kinda money, I thought.

I sat down, chilling out, getting used to the calm mellow of the world I just got into. I could deal with it, even if it threw annoying kiddies like that at me every now and then. I sat in the sun, taking in the heat. I liked the heat. It made me warm. I smiled for a change, at peace with myself. Life seemed so simple right there.

Of course, it was too good to last. I got snapped back to reality when some douchebag started shouting. I stood up, shaking my head, then looked in the direction of the sound. A couple of those floaty ball thingies with U things stuck to the sides and T thingies on their heads were busy spewing a bunch of crap at me. They were making noise. I didn't like noise.

They called me some kinda "criminal" or "outlaw" or some crap like that. Those stupid kids probably said something about me after I made them shut up, 's the only thing I could think of. They told me to "come quietly". As much as I liked the "quiet" part, they weren't making me go anywhere. I turned around, and dug my feet into the grass. I growled loudly, giving them a pret-ty good warning that they were gonna get beat up if they tried anything.

They responded by shooting electric bolts at me. I shrugged them off.

I curled up into a wheel, and sped at them. I took one of them out as quick as you could say "Wabbajack". Uncurling, I turned around. The other one was scared stiff. Then he tried running away to go get help.

I didn't let him. I ran him over, too.

They disappeared just like those kids, but they didn't have a bag with stuff with them. Pity. I wanted to know what they might've took with them. I took to the middle of the clearing again, letting myself bake in the sun. I already knew I'd have to deal with more of those douches sooner or later, but I wanted to sit around and enjoy what I had with me.

Boy did I hit the hammer right on the nail when I said there'd be more. I'm gonna spare you the agony of every little chump I had to beat up, and say I beat them up. Most of the day, really. The good part of it though, was that they kept having those bags of stuff. I decided to take the stuff out and pile it up so I could keep track of the stuff I managed to win out of all these fights.

It sort-of dawned on me that I might've been in some kinda huge tournament or colliseum or something, 'cause I was getting free stuff for all of my wins against these weaklings. But no, there wasn't any announcer or anything. Not that I was ever in a tournament, but my folks always told me they'd train me to be fit for one. If this was a tournament, these people suck. Or it's some kind of minor league.

So the days rolled by, and all the fighting I did was starting to show in the clearing. Some of the grass was torn, maybe a tree or two had fallen. On another note, a bunch of guys who were also "outlaws", or whatever the crap they wanted to call themselves, stopped by every now and then. Some woody-looking guy with white stuff on him and weird feet and a couple of his woody-looking-with-a-leaf-on-their-head guy goons, a big rocky guy that was green and had a blue belly, and that snake guy with an ugly face on his body that tried to look scary. I hated them as much as I hated all those other chumps, but they didn't try to make me do anything, so I left them alone. They tried to talk to me, but I didn't try to. They just try to butter me up by saying just how much of a name I'm making for myself.

I hated having a name for myself. That means people wouldn't stop bugging me.

But, without any amazement from me, I had to keep beating up random schmucks who wanted to "bring me to justice" or "get back what I stole". What a bunch of crap. I earned that stuff they left me, fair and square. Speaking of the stuff, I had started getting a good hoard going. Lots of berries and coins, but there were also some soft things that they wore around their necks sometimes, or maybe some kinda weird little thing I couldn't even hold. All that pile could keep doing was get bigger as the days passed.

What really annoyed me was that snake chump. He really kept coming to see me for Arceus knows why. Maybe he wanted to be chummy with me or something, but I sure wasn't buying it. 'Course, he couldn't tell if I wasn't buying it either, 'cause I never talk to people. I don't like talking to people. People annoy me.

The nice clearing I had started to look like some kind of warzone as I battled. The grass was torn up, burned, rocks might've been scattered around the place, too. Toppled trees ringed the area, like some kind of fake arena. I wanted to go somewhere else, but I didn't feel like it. The sun was too nice to leave alone. I liked the sun. It kept me warm.

Sometimes a whole bunch of those outlawsy types would stop by for a little get-together, and hail me as the "host" or something. I didn't care, so long as they didn't bug me to do anything for them specifically. I just want to be left alone. But no, they didn't want to. They wanted me to be their biggest, bestest friend in the whole damn world. They could go die in a hole or burn in a fire.

Without repeating myself, that's basically how about a month and a half passed by. "Outlaws" trying to be chummy, chumps trying to "bring me in", my goodie pile getting bigger and bigger, and me?

I was getting stronger and stronger.

That's pretty much how I got known as "The Venom Bandit", or whatever they called me. At least they decided to give me some kinda title that I sorta liked. Those punks at least know how to show a little respect to someone who could kick their sorry asses all the way home.

So what do you wanna do about it, huh? What?

Nothin'?

Good.

Tomorrow ain't gonna be any different, anyway. Beat 'em up, take the goods, deal with those annoying douches.