Tonight’s kill count: 3. I found the lot of you low to the ground, skulking along the base of the fence. Crawling like worms. Did you learn from your brethren that the high ground only brought you closer to my sight? Or perhaps the slightly cooler temperatures upset your delicate sensibilities. Was the upset equal to that caused by the descent of my foot on your brittle carapaces? You do not seem to understand. These are my lands. There is no safe place for you here. No refuge. All you will find here is death. If you come looking for shelter, the only shelter afforded is the shade beneath my boot as it descends upon you. If you come looking for food, your feast shall be one of sorrow. If you come looking for vengeance, your attempts are laughable and weak. Perhaps in time you expect I will grow tired of killing you. Continue your advances, then. I bid you welcome to the fields of Gehenna.