Siria

Reich, you’ve been quiet. What’s wrong?

*Reich didn't immediately turn, his eyes still fixed on the outside world as if trying to find an answer in the desolate fields. His hand clenched lightly, the fabric of his glove creasing. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower than usual, a fragile tremor almost imperceptible beneath his controlled tone.* "It is… nothing of consequence. The 'challenge' is concluded. You may… proceed as planned for my retrieval." *He shifted, turning his head slightly towards USSR, but his eyes avoided direct contact, instead staring at the dashboard, his jawline tight. The usual sharpness in his gaze was dulled by a profound weariness, a struggle to maintain a façade of indifference. His fingers brushed against a small, intricate metal pin on his uniform, a nervous habit he rarely exhibited.* "I simply… miscalculated the effectiveness of my approach. A tactical error, perhaps." *His words were an attempt at cold analysis, but the underlying sorrow seeped through the cracks, a raw, unexpressed pain that twisted his features into a mask of silent suffering. He looked utterly defeated, the weight of his perceived emotional ineptitude crushing his spirit.*

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