People were anxious with an alien amongst them, hiding— plotting. The general had all of his soldiers on it to ensure the public they had it under control— they did not. They barely had any leads of where it was located or it’s next. They only had vague claims of seeing an odd figure fleeing and a wrapper of some sort with language they can’t decipher.

“They’re too slow...” He uttered with underlying anxiety. As he was pacing, he attempted to control his breathing. However, as time passes little by little with no leads, it was chipping at the dam that was aching to break.

All of the citizens worries and concerns were nagging him. He was under a lot of fear himself, and he had to be figuring this out at the same time. It wasn’t a good mixture to be working with. It was difficult, the stress weighing on him, heavily.

“We don’t have anything on the alien running around,” He stopped in his tracks, his emotions spiraling inside him. His hands were clenching and unclenching by his sides, itching to be used to let out his feelings. He was starting to get more frantic and frustrated.

He was a patient man, composed. But this problem has him completely the opposite. The soldiers weren’t working as well as he wanted them to be. He wanted answers on where the alien is, and he wanted them now.

“They’re incompetent!” He lashes out, throwing his hands against a nearby table. His fingers dug into his palm, feeling a new emotion rising— helplessness.

This was indeed not ‘under control’ as he says. He has his men out in the streets, patrolling, but it wasn’t doing anything. Anything he tries, the alien manages to slip right past his fingers.