White House, Situation Room.
This place has decided the direction of many world patterns.
Let's put it this way...
Center of the world!
Far more significant than those two towers.
Little Bush sat at the head of the long table, his face was ashen from a sleepless night, his eyes ringed with black shadows.
"So, not only did Victor not stop at Portland, but he also drove a nail between us and Canada."
"He wants an unsinkable aircraft carrier placed at our doorstep."
He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the core staff present, including the Minister of Defense, Chief of Staff, and National Security Advisor. "It seems our neighbor has grand ambitions."
Negotiations?
What the hell is there to negotiate now!
Does Little Bush not care about saving face? If Victor loves to fight, then fight until we can't stand it anymore, then we'll naturally sit down for proper talks.
