The Incident on Oscar Street
At the edge of a quiet wood, the Commander stood watching a modest-sized town about half a mile away. A gentle breeze was sweeping the dead leaves around him, slightly chilly now that the late autumn afternoon was giving way to evening. Many of the trees had since lost their leaves, but a few still sported dazzling crowns of red and gold. The beauty of the moment, however, was lost on the Commander, who continued to watch the town, his stern face masking the anxiety gnawing at his heart. His mind had brought him back to the atrocity that had happened in that very town on a day not unlike this one. His clan had survived unscathed, but he had heard the reports, how his race had been decimated in one day. As he dwelt upon that nightmarish day, his resolve hardened and his face turn from stern to grim. Today, he told himself, today he would gain vengeance and send a message to those who would destroy his race.
Suddenly he was distracted by some movement near some bushes to his right. A moment later his lieutenant appeared and hastened over to meet him.
"Report!" barked the Commander.
"Sir, the scouts bring news of great fortune. On among their ranks has apparently separated himself from all others and is heading alone into a fairly isolated region. We should be able to intercept him without incident along his route. I have already given the men the order to move."
"Very good," the Commander said. "Remember, he is to be taken alive at all costs. He must make it to the base so that we can make an example of him."
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant replied and took off running toward the town. The Commander watched him until he was no longer visible, then looked back toward the town, a malevolent grin slowly creeping onto his face. Tonight, he told himself. Tonight.