Homecoming

Ah, home.

I’m back just in time to see a new front opening in the ongoing war between my father’s arsenal of chemical weaponry, and an increasingly mutant cockroach army.

Resilient to all known sprays and powders, and no doubt smug under the mistaken impression that they’ll be the rulers of the world once the inevitable nuclear war comes along, the super mutant cockroaches have begun brazenly overstepping ceasefire lines, carefully delineated with those ‘Lakshman Rekha‘ mystery sticks that are either pest control placebos or stolen alien technology. 

The aforementioned new front is, well, the actual house. Discontent with skulking along dark corners, and scuttling under kitchen counters, the cockroaches are taking advantage of my parents’ absence, and freely roaming the floors and passageways. 

I don’t condone chemical warfare (and its not like its having any use anyway), and random sweeps of the broom seem to do little.

The little alcove near the back door is already theirs, and large ant concentrations in the second bedroom suggest a tactical retreat, which means they’re massing near the kitchen corridor. Reconnaissance missions have so far revealed little, but atleast four Skulker divisions have been sighted (the needlessly expensive Binoculars finally put to good use), and Ant forager units have been disappearing on previously neutral ground.

A scout reports seeing little plumes of smoke from the back, and the distinct (to insects, atleast) corrosive odour of nuclear radiation. 

Power plants. War factories. Protoss Pylons. Siege Workshops. 

But war is not coming to Customs Colony.

Not while negotiation channels are still open.