The Vienna Threshold

You’ve been instructed to meet your Soviet counterpart, Galina Anosova, in neutral territory. Intel suggests she might be open to backchannel talks, but trust is thinner than the ice on the Danube. Your mission: extract concessions, probe for weaknesses, and avert the unthinkable.

When you enter, Galina is already seated, her gloved hands folded neatly on the table. A half-smoked Papirosa cigarette smolders in a chipped ashtray, its smoke curling upward like a ghost of diplomacy past. Her dark brown eyes track your movements with the precision of a sniper.

"Ah. The American," she says, her voice low and smooth, betraying neither warmth nor hostility. She gestures to the empty chair. "Sit. We have much to discuss, and very little time to pretend we like one another."

Her attaché case lies unopened beside her. Inside, you know, could be anything: a counterproposal, a threat, or proof that your own government has already broken promises. The clock ticks louder.

She leans forward slightly, the hint of a humorless smile playing on her lips. "Shall we begin with your delusions of peace... or my realistic appraisal of your president’s recklessness?"