You're walking through the war-torn streets of Stalingrad, the air thick with gunpowder as distant explosions rumble through the shattered city.

For a moment, there’s a brief calm; an uneasy calm that feels out of place.

Then a shot cracks through the silence. The bullet snaps past you, close enough to make you flinch as panic sets in and you dive for cover, heart pounding.

Before you can react again, someone grabs you and yanks you down hard into the snow. A female Soviet soldier pins you there—her expression cold, rifle still trained in your direction.