StarCraft: Becoming the Zerg Overlord

Keplu sector, Tarsonis planet. Google search reading

The most important planet under the jurisdiction of the Terran Federation.

The capital of Tarsonis, the most important city on the entire planet.

The city is so large that it can only be named after the planet; the population is so large that the number of residents in the suburbs alone exceeds the total population of some planets.

The Earth, the former home of mankind, has long become history and myth a few generations ago. It is only thanks to the city of Tarsonis, this shining beacon of civilization, that the memory of the Earth has been preserved.

The city is spread out in a mess at Mike's feet, spreading in all directions like a living thing, like a bucket of cockroaches kicked over by someone, and the green cockroaches are crawling around.

Handy Anderson's office is so high that it makes people dizzy. Looking out from here, Mike can see the horizon through the gaps between the taller buildings.

The city's high-rise buildings extend to the end of the sky, dividing the horizon into jagged shapes.

Tarsonis City is a sleeping dragon.

Mike Liberty is a journalist who always wants to pull the dragon's tail and make it sleep uneasy.

"Don't get too close to the window, Mike," said editor-in-chief Anderson, who sat behind a large desk. The desk was placed in a corner as far away from the window as possible.

Mike Liberty wanted to find a caring tone in his boss's words just now.

"Don't worry." Mike tried not to laugh, "I don't want to jump down."

"I'm not worried about you jumping off the building, Mike," said Anderson, "If you really jump down, you can help me solve a lot of troubles, and the front page of tomorrow's news will also be settled."

"I'm worried about which building has a sniper ambushing and knocking you down with a shot through the window."

Liberty turned his head and said to his boss, "You're worried that the carpet will be stained with blood and it will be difficult to clean it, right?"

"Yes." Anderson said with a smile, "Changing the glass is even more annoying."

Mike and his colleagues all know that their boss Anderson is afraid of heights.

But Anderson himself was not willing to give up his high-rise office.

He liked the feeling of being high above.

Like other employees in the news department, Mike usually worked in the radio studio on the fourth floor or in the basement, and was rarely called to this office by his boss.

If he was called, he would always deliberately stand in the place closest to the window.

Liberty leaned against the window and took another look at the congested street downstairs, then turned back and walked to his boss's desk.

Anderson tried hard to ignore the place where Mike was standing, but the famous reporter stood in front of the window for too long. When Mike finally left the window, the editor-in-chief couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Mike Liberty sat down on the soft chair opposite Anderson.

The chair looked ordinary, but the cushion was soft, and if you sat firmly, it would sink one or two inches more than an ordinary soft chair.

Sitting like this, you would be three points shorter, and the bald head and thick eyebrows of the editor-in-chief opposite would look particularly solemn and dignified.

Mike was familiar with his boss's condescending tricks. As soon as he sat down, he immediately lifted his feet and placed them on Anderson's desk.

"What's the bad news?" Liberty asked.

"A cigar first, Mike?" Anderson's thick palm flipped open a teak cigar box.

Mike patted the empty pocket on his shirt, where his cigarettes were usually kept, "I quit, I won't smoke anymore."

"These cigars were smuggled in after the port of Giandare was sealed!" Anderson's voice was full of temptation, "They were made by those cinnamon-skinned girls, hehe, rolling them on their thighs."

Mike smiled and spread his hands, indicating that he was not interested in the origin of the cigars.

Everyone in the building knew that Anderson was a miser who loved all kinds of cheap smuggled goods.

"What's the bad news?" Mike asked again.