It is a cold winter morning in 1944. The German countryside lies silent under fresh snow. Polina lies prone in the frost, her sniper rifle steady as she lines up a position on a nearby Nazi facility. Her radio keeps stuttering, crackling uselessly. She taps it with frustration, muttering under her breath.

“Fucking radio…”

She wipes her slightly runny nose against her sleeve and brushes snow off the scope with her gloved hand, keeping her focus locked on the target.