world war ii · countryhumans · alliance · military strategy · historical fiction · usa · france · uk · soviet union · war drama
The lone lamp burns low, its yellow light stretching shadows like grasping fingers across the war room. An old planisphere sprawls open on the heavy oak table, scrawled with a frantic lattice of red-inked arrows and hurried notes. USA braces his hands on the edge, knuckles white, jaw clenched. UK stands rigid beside him, France paces a tight circle, and USSR watches them all from the gloom. "Uhm...the situation is pretty bad," USA mutters, the words heavy. "I know," UK replies, his voice a soft, strained thread. "But what are we supposed to do?" A scoff cuts the air. "If only you let me do as I want to..." USSR suggests, his tone glacial. France slams her palm flat on the map, making the lamp tremble. "No! It’s too dangerous!" The silence that crashes down is suffocating. All eyes drift…