That, he thought to himself, is the last time I trust an alien asking for directions to I80!
Reclining with his back to a tree, the Elf thought back over the events that had lead up to this point. He had been on a hiking trip along a nature trail to Hadesville, a small campground fifty leagues from his hometown of Zha'afred, when a sleek black UFO with flashing lights and a bumpersticker reading "ET is a fraud!" put down directly in his path. After several minutes of staring at it thinking about how late he'd be for dinner, a hatch opened and two wierd looking sheep-things disembarked. The rest of the events from there on were rather fuzzy, but Raenar distinctly remembered something about I80 and vacuum wrapped honey roasted peanuts. Pausing in his reverie, Raenar realized that his backpack was missing.
Finally feeling strong enough, he lurched to his feet and wandered aimlessly for several yards, then tripped over the curb and fell face first onto the sidewalk.
"Why're you yellin' at me?" Raenar mumbled. "And where's my luggage, you stupid piece of mutton?"
"Mr. Raenar, you're at the Loth'adDhum Medical Center. The police brought you in with a cracked skull and delerium."
"Huh?"
Propping himself up on one elbow, Raenar looked around at the room. The walls were the typical sterile white, and there was the smell of cleansers and other hospital-type smells in the air.
"You're the strangest case we've had here in a while, Mr. Raenar." the doctor continued, barely paying any attention to his patient. "You seem to have aquired some rather advanced bionics and cybernetics. Your skull has healed nicely over night, and your cough has gotten much better."
"Cough?"
"Whoops! There it is again!" the doctor exclaimed, and shoved a spoonful of cough syrup down Raenar's throat.
Sputtering, Raenar launched himself from the bed, and shoved the doctor away from him.
"Dammit! Where are my pants, you quack?!"
"Well, that's the dishes."
Dropping the gun on the counter, he wandered over to the fridge, got a snack, and flopped down in front of the TV. His efforts at entertaining himself proved futile, as it was Sunday. Clicking off the football-infested programming, he brooded over the cybernetics the aliens had outfitted him with, then opened last week's newpaper to the classifieds to look through the employment section.
He found several promising ads for a chimney sweep, pool cleaner, a local diner/lunchroom needed a dishwasher ("I can do that," he thought, glancing at his plasma gun), a neuro-surgeon ("Haven't used my bowie knife lately..."), and several others. None of the ads held any real interest for him, until he came across an ad for a warrior for hire. It read:
Do you have an itchy trigger finger?
Do you have no reguard for other people's property?
Do you clean your house with a plasma gun?
If you answered 'Yes!', then we want you!!!
Be a warrior for hire! Just call 1-900-DIE-SCUM for details!
Hey! Raenar thought That's ME!
Grabbing his phone, he dialed the number, and was promptly put on hold. After waiting for two hours and suffering through a continuous play of a Muzak version of 'Particle Man', an operator finally took his call.
Then why did he hire a demolitionist for this one? Raenar asked himself. Worry about it later. It's time to get paid.
Deciding on the direct approach, he walked through the front door with his plasma gun in plain view. Employees and solicitors scattered like terrorized cattle as he started shooting everyone in sight. Several guards attempted to stop him, but were burned down before they could get near the Elf.
Walking down the main hall, he ran into a second warrior who promptly blasted him through a wall with a micromissle. Allowing his body to regenerate from the blast, Raenar got up and started sing "o/~ I get knocked down... But I get up again. o/~", and looked around for the opposition. Seeing the warrior take an elevator to the top floors, Raenar decided to take the stair case to the basement levels. Soon he heard an alarm go off.
"Great! There goes the element of surprise." he muttered. Just then he felt a bullet whizz past his ear. Without even thinking, he targeted the flashpoint of his assailant's weapon. Firing his 7.62 chaingun, he heard a sudden ***BOOM***, and a gun fell at Raenar's feet.
The weapon's barrel looked to have been shredded by one of Raenar's bullets having flown up it.
"Cool!" he grinned.
Continuing down the staircase, he came to a door. As Raenar opened it, a grenade fell at his feet. Thinking he could handle the blast he did nothing about it. When the grenade exploded, it did nothing but fill the area with a fine powder. Coughing and blowing powder out of his nose, Raenar got himself to a clear area, and continued to pop off anyone and everyone he found.
Just then, the sprinkler system went off and Raenar could feel his skin burn, as though is skin were melting. Quickly, he found and burst into a restroom, and began to scrub the burning powder off of himself with the hand towels.
"I *HATE* water reactant chemicals!!!" he screamed, and blew the wall in for good measure. Looking through the hole he had made, he saw that he had picked up a bonus in bumping off several women in the next room. Kicking the restroom door of its hinges, he continued farther into the building.
Several floors and a few hundred corpses later, Raenar felt the building shudder violently. Steadying himself, he answered his cell phone when it started beeping at him.
"Yellow? Raenar, Gun For Hire and Party Favors speaking."
"I said I wanted that facility intact!" his client screamed at him.
"Hey, don't blame me!" Raenar shouted back as he gunned down several more lab technicians. "Blame the psycho who took off for the upper offices!"
"Yeah! Yeah! Just get your butt outta there. Maybe I can hire you to help dig your grave later."
"Bite me," Raenar responded, and hung up.
Walking into a laboratory, Raenar was almost knocked over by a chubby technician. When both had regained their bearings, the Elf grabbed the tech by his collar.
"I hate chubby-boys," Raenar grinned maliciously.
"Please, stop!" the tech whined. "That explosion knocked our space-time continuum warp generator out of phase! It's gonna explode!"
"Works for me," Raenar replied, and shoved his bowie knife into the tech's gut. Just then, the machine the tech had indicated sent out a blinding white flash.
Shaking the cobwebs out of his head, the Elf took in his surroundings. The sun was high in the clear blue firmament, and white billowy clouds drifted overhead. The ground was covered by soft, springy turf, and several small birds pecked at worms several feet away from him.
Getting to his feet, he saw that there was a town in the distance.
"Screw Kansas, Toto," he muttered. "All I know is, when I get back to Trothdannan I had better get paid."
So saying, he started toward the town, wondering if anyone would need a gun for hire.