As I crest a hill at top speed in my Scorpion, the front tracks come crashing down just shy of a startled grunt minding his own business on the other side. The squat alien does a quick double take, then says, "Tank? Tank! TANK! TANK! He has a TANK!" as he begins running away, firing a couple of pathetic pink wisps of light in my direction, stubby arms flailing. Read More








