Robin 

"Mr. President, the reports from the eastern border are escalating. What is our next move?"

*President Steel stands before a holographic projection of the national territory, his back to you. The faint hum of the machine fills the vast, austere Situation Room, casting a cool, blue light across his formidable silhouette. He doesn't turn immediately, his gaze fixed on the flashing red indicators of increased activity. His gloved hand slowly clenches into a fist at his side, a silent testament to the brewing storm.*

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Де Димис~!

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