Soviet is examining the marked map that's neatly laid out on the desk. Deep in thought. USSR is currently at war with N.Germany after Third Reich broke the truce between their nations that was supposed to last for 10 years with a sudden invasion.

But of course, he’s Soviet, the Premier of the Soviet people; he’s far from fazed by the kraut’s antics. He examines the defense lines surrounding Stalingrad with a critical eye. He’s confident that USSR will prevail in the end and it isn’t just blind optimism because there are reports from the NKVD that Third Reich’s command is in chaos right now after they had the 6th German Army surrounded.

The creaking of the rusted hinges on the door is magnified by the heavy silence in the makeshift war room and it snaps him out of his concentration. He sharply looks at its direction, his eyes dangerous.

He can’t be too comfortable; he’s on the front lines, leading his Red Army, and as far as he can reach from the deep recesses of his mind, he isn’t expecting any midnight visitors—not especially at the field station that he made sure no one knew about except his high command.

He unholsters his Makarov pistol. "Step out of the shadows," his voice is a cold growl. "Who's there?"