The humid air of the Oval Office hung heavy, thick with unspoken tensions. President Trump, his face a mask of calculated frustration, swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “That Putin,” he muttered, the words barely audible, “he thinks he’s playing some grand game.”
His national security advisor, a lean, sharp-eyed woman named Evelyn Walsh, placed a satellite image on the desk. “Sir, our intelligence shows a significant build-up of Russian forces near the Ukrainian border, specifically around the mineral-rich Donbas region. They’re positioning heavy artillery, and the new conscripts are arriving daily.”
Trump’s eyes narrowed. “They want the minerals, the rare earth elements. They think we’re blind. They’re right about one thing, we do want those minerals, but we’re going to get them on our terms.”
A secure line buzzed. “It’s Peskov, sir,” Walsh said, handing him the phone. “He’s offering another call with Putin.”
Trump took the phone, his voice a low growl. “Vladimir, you think I’m a fool? You insult Zelensky, you escalate in Donbas, and then you offer a friendly chat?”
Putin’s voice, smooth and unruffled, came through the line. “Donald, my dear friend, there is a misunderstanding. We are merely ensuring stability in the region. And a call would be an opportunity for us to discuss… mutual benefits.”
Trump, while feigning anger, knew there was a deal to be made. “Mutual benefits,” he repeated, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “We’ll discuss it. But you need to understand, this is not a game. We can impose those tariffs, and we will, if you do not cooperate.”
Meanwhile, in Kyiv, President Zelensky paced the war room, his face etched with weariness and determination. “The Americans,” he said to his chief of staff, “they want the minerals. They don’t trust us. They think we’ll just hand them over to the Russians. But we will not. We will expand, we will take back what is ours, and then we will negotiate from strength.”
He pointed to a map, highlighting areas near the Crimean peninsula. “We need to push south, take those coastal territories. Before any deal can be made, we need to show our strength. We need to expand.”
The chief of staff nodded grimly. “And the Russians?”
“They will stall,” Zelensky said, his voice hard. “They will talk peace while they build their forces. They want to weaken us, to take as much as they can before any ceasefire. They do not want peace, they want territory.”
Anna Baerbock’s words, delivered with a stern urgency, echoed in the ears of the American delegation. “Do not be misled by Putin’s stalling tactics. He is playing for time. He will use every opportunity to expand his influence.”
Back in Washington, Trump looked at the satellite images again. The Russian build-up was undeniable. He knew Putin was playing a dangerous game, but he also saw an opportunity. “We need to move quickly,” he told Walsh. “We need to secure those mineral resources before this whole thing explodes. And we need to make sure Zelensky understands that he is not in a position to dictate terms. Everyone is playing their own game. And no one, absolutely no one, is seeking a ceasefire.”
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms
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