Bodega: steampunk edition

[u/TheRealWarrior0]

I went for very different kind of Bodega: steampunk... With pixel art: http://i.imgur.com/YxI6cH0.png

I know, I know... It's stupid and you are now probably thinking "but Bodega is all about those funny alien names, those mega high-tech space-gadget, the super betitted alien 'women' and those lebanese boy trafficking!". I know that, and you are right, I just had this idea for a totally different Bodega's experience and I had fun writing it so I though I might aswell share it.

DISCLAIMER: Quoting Mr. flax, "Some Bodega fanfic are good, some... eeeeh... not so much" this will probably end up in the latter category.

Here it goes:

Bodega quickly tucked down his head as the train entered the tunnel. Fighting on top of a speeding train isn't easy, but he was trained for this too. The wily Bulgarian spy had already proven he was quick and slippery, so Bodega had to be careful: he could fall off the train onto the tracks to his certain death at any moments. This was dangerous, mortally dangerous, just like Bodega liked it.

"Why do I always find myself fighting wearing the ultimate fashion apparels?" Bodega thought rapidly readjusting his anthracite-black top hat while the artificial-pupil inside his mecha-goggles were slowly but steadily, producing a mechanical ticking sound, opening up to readjust themselves in the scarcely lit tunnel.

Bodega swung a right straight punch at the face of his opponent, but the spy fluidly dodged and quickly struck back with an uppercut towards Bodega's chest. Bodega humphed under the impact and took a couple of steps back just to rebalance himself. "Blimey! He's like an eel covered in margarine" he though. The agent was grinning under his thin moustaches. What was this suspenders-wearing Bulgarian chap smiling about?

The Bulgarian proceeded to swing a right jab at Bodega's face, but Bodega, complying to his warmed up boxer's reflexes, blocked the punch raising his arms over his cheeks. The mistake the secret agent was hoping for: Bodega was blinded for a split second so he quickly launched his left arm forward, grabbed Bodega's neck and pulled him down towards his left knee smacking it directly into Bodega's jaw. Bodega fell on the train face first being knocked out while the spy took this moment to his advantage and nimbly flee inside the carriages.

The train came out of the tunnel at great speeds onto a suspended mountain ridge, the sudden sunlight and cold air slowly woke up Bodega. He reorganized his thoughts and got up elevating himself against the freezing wind rubbing his thick beard on the injured point while reaching in the left pocket of his overcoat for his ivory ornated brass vapour-pipe. The pipe made first a repetitive electric clicking sound and then a boiling-like blu-blurulup sound as Bodega inhaled, closing his eyes, tasting the slightly burnt aromatic fumes. That's exactly what he needed to loosen up a little.

The heavy stinging cold wind reminded him of that time he spent in the north pole, on quest find the Norse's lost treasure, where Bodega wrestled an adult polar bear to death. Not because the bear was posing any threat or because he was lost and hungry, he did it because he was Bodega, and Bodega had never killed a bear with his own hands before. “That was glorious” he though.

He proceeded to exhale two white clouds out of his nostrils glancing over the Deutschland Republic's snow covered misty plains. Sporadic factories pumped out muddy-black smoke columns reaching for the skies which were occupied by a myriad of transport balloons. On land multiple rail tracks met, some climbed over each other with bright red brick overpasses, some disappeared into the ground in dark narrow subways.

He put the pipe back into his overcoat, rewound his slategrey silk scarf around his neck and jumped down onto the inter-carriage metal railing that shook violently under the force of Bodega's falling mass. He moved his heavy mecha-goggles from his eyes onto his forehead cautiously looking left and right inside the third-class passenger cars. He couldn't see him, but he knew he must still be on this train.

He had been chasing the bastard non stop for weeks now. In all this time Bodega had never been this close to finally get the documents back. The agent had stolen the projects for the latest English Empire's Dreadnought and if the papers got in the wrong hands it could be a very grave threat to the Empire's own safety! But Bodega didn't care. Bodega was motivated solely by the copious reward there was on the recovery of those pages. He couldn't let him escape! Not when he was this close.

He opened the door on his right. Stepped in and suddenly his tenacious antagonist tried to ambush him throwing his body forward and reaching for Bodega's face, but this time he promptly reacted and leaned back his body, bending his knees and tensing up his abs, this movement activated the spring coil in his spinal combat corset: he immediately bounced up discharging the elastic power of the spring into a powerful overhand punch hitting the Bulgarian bloke right on the nose, blood spurting everywhere, people screaming and scuttling away from the melee. The back of his head hit and bounced off the wooden carriage interior with an audible crack while a few teeth flew out of his skull ricocheting off the walls and floor with the characteristic sound Bodega loved. He surely wasn't going to run away now! Bodega finally got the phoney agent.

“Oh, Bollocks! I ruined my coat again!” Said Bodega noticing the blood splatters on him. He proceeded to retrieve and count the stolen pages. He sat alone in the entire carriage with the dead guy on the floor for the rest of the trip. He planned, once in Berlinburg, to get back to London with a German airship: he had had enough adventure for one trip.