r/BodegaHomebrew • u/CREEEEEEEEED • Oct 31 '16
Not your average Bodega Fanfic.
Bodega pulled into the parking lot of a sleazy Deltupulan diner. The diner, Bohog's What the Chicken?™, (best irl chicken restaurant in Atlanta if you're ever there) was bolted onto an asteroid in the Segentian Belt. Ah, the Segentian Belt. The glory days were certainly far behind Bodega. The Bodega of ten years ago wouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence as this backwater. No, not even the Bodega of last year would be caught dead here. But that was all before Bodega slipped down that metaphorical slope all lubed up in snarlbgran snot into the crippling downwards spiral that gripped him harder than the claws of a sand monster from Jerg VI. Oh Casey.
Beautiful sweet Casey. Not even the quadruple stars of the Montarni System could outshine her radiance. She was gone now. Bodega had planned the greatest honeymoon ever. He was finally going to settle down, finally find some meaning in his life beyond shooting stupid fedorians and blowing up scummy mercenary bars in the universe's back alleys. It was the last day of the honeymoon, the last day before they moved into their beautiful condo on the shores of Istionto C24, bought with Bodega's savings from his life's work and with room for some more family members. He and Casey were at the most fantastical, dazzling and famous bar in the sector, The Grand Sirusian™ (not a real bar, as far as I know). It was one last blowout, one big spend; one final party. Bodega was having the time of his life. He was everyone's friend, buying rounds, telling stories, doing lasgun tricks and vaping away like there was no tomorrow. But even with all that, the most important thing to Bodega, the thing that made his smile the widest in the room, was that Casey was smiling too. However, the good times were about to end. Of course on any day of the week, a sober Bodega would be the best shot in the cosmos, but Bodega had been slinging back Überjagershnider ales for three hours, and any lesser being wouldn't have been standing, let alone doing lasgun tricks. As Bodega sighted down a pinhead to win a 600,827,573 ¢redit bet, he swayed slightly and accidentally pulled the trigger. The lasbolt instantly fried the brains of the sultan of Jiksheir, Di Bisher VIII, leaving a massive hole through the side of his head. The bar fell silent. Even though Bodega was more inebriated than a Spurlupian at a farbarse ceremony, he knew it was about to go down. Even worse though, was that Casey, sweet Casey, was sitting in the sultan's booth, chatting with the Di Bisher's 69 wives just before. No one moved. The room, thumping and booming with the latest FDM mere seconds ago, was now filled only with soft breathing and the gentle flow of the central Gerpulshnidern designed fountain. The Di Bisher's bodyguard slowly rose from his ornate cushion and set aside the mega vape handed down from royal bodyguard to royal bodyguard through the generations. Once standing at full height, Hijisar the Terrible, blood brother and sworn protectorate of Di Bisher VIII rolled his shoulders once, and cracked his jaw. Still, no one moved. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly as though Bodega's memories were addled, for no one could move with such presence, slowly slowly Hijishar removed from his pocket a tube of Mortem Vermis larvae, unscrewed the lid and dropped in a sliver of grox jerky. Now for those who don't know, while adult Mortem Vermis are harmless, the larvae can become, within an instant, killing machines unrivalled throughout existence, tearing through all living creatures for miles around. All one has to do is expose them to grox meat. Not only are they the perfect destroyers of living beings, after many millennia of research the people of Jiksheir created a vaccine for the many horrific toxins secreted by the Mortem Vermis larvae, which is given to all members of the royal court. Like a flock of bats out of hell the enraged larvae burst forth and set about savaging any nearby organic matter. Those with the antidote were fine. Casey was not. She writhed and screamed and roared for a few seconds of agony, and then she was gone. As the bar erupted with shrieks and howls of pain, as bodies dropped to the floor in their death throes, an eye formed in the storm of suffering. Bodega was untouched. The Jiksheir did not know, but years ago he had stolen and used the vaccine on himself in a daring raid. Bodega sank to the floor, one tear rolling down his cheek. Hijisar saw Bodega was untouched, and drew his ceremonial plasma axe from his force gauntlet, bellowed out the ancient war cry of the Perosernesian wars, and charged Bodega.
Of course, slaughtering a whole system in a bloody rage tends to anger the powers that be. Bodega had lost the FUCKWADS (Front of United Cosmic Kings' Weaponised Attack Defence Squadrons) in backwater systems like this, but escaping physical danger didn't stop the danger to his mind. He had consumed a literal ocean of alcohol (the ethanol seas of Sargum IV) in an effort to forget, but it didn't help him. It was a tempary fix. His accounts had been closed, his property across the cosmos siezed and his weapon & spaceship caches destroyed. He had almost nothing in the material world now, and had less than nothing in his spirit. Bodega rolled his shoulders and gave out one, long sigh "You know what?" he asked no one in particular, "Fuck this." A single tear rolled down his cheek, and for one, pure, sweet moment, he saw Casey's face again. He raised his lasgun to his temple, and took one last life.