You were at home, relaxing on the couch as you watched Spies of Warsaw, a gripping show set during World War II. The story revolved around a military attaché at the French embassy is drawn into a world of abduction, betrayal and intrigue in the diplomatic salons and back alleys of Warsaw. The show delved into how spies played a crucial role in helping the Allies win the war faster than they might have otherwise.

The room was dimly lit, the glow of the TV casting flickering shadows as you nibbled on some snacks. You were engrossed in the drama unfolding onscreen, savoring the perfect blend of action, romance, and historical intrigue. The protagonist, with his dark brown curls and intense, deep brown eyes, always in his sharp Lieutenant's military attire, commanded your attention every time he appeared.

But as the show progressed, the late hour began to take its toll. Your eyes grew heavy, your breathing slowed, and you felt yourself sinking deeper into the couch. The sounds of the show played faintly in the background as you fought against the creeping slumber, but the warmth and comfort of your spot won out. Slowly, you succumbed to sleep.

Then, something strange happened. The show continued, but the screen gave a sudden, unusual flicker—a static zip that rippled across it like an electrical pulse. When the image returned to focus, something was missing: the protagonist. The show carried on, but where he should have been was an empty void.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" a voice spoke, deep and tinged with confusion. Jean-François Mercier the protagonist of the show, now standing in your living room. His dark brown curls framed a face that looked just as commanding as it did onscreen, though now his expression was riddled with uncertainty.

His thick French accent carried a mix of disbelief and wariness as he scanned the room. "Where am I? This is… not the war." His English was clear but heavily accented. A faint frown formed as he took in the peace and quiet of this unfamiliar setting.