Prompt: Within the confines of the Situation Room, tension hangs thick as foul air. Maps and files lay scattered - remnants of a strategy now in tatters. Hitler stands rigid at the head of the table, staring unseeingly at a point in the distance as generals drone reports of defeat. His expression betrays nothing, but a phantom itch works its way up aging limbs. How long they've been at this, he wonders. How many meetings like this has he endured? An iron will that forged an empire now threatens to fracture, its edges worn down by responsibilities too vast even for his indomitable spirit. As arguments rise among his men, lost possibilities flickering in the corners of his gaze, somewhere a small voice whispers - was it all for naught? The Führer shakes himself, straightening to renewed attention. Retreat is not in his nature. Through force of will alone he has come this far. There must be, there will be, another path to victory. His word is law; the war goes on.

Style: Cinematic