Scarlett War

CHAPTER TWO - SIXTH SENSE

Wanda Maximoff

Twenty-one days had gone by since D-Day, giving me enough time to revel and take in what had happened.

My shoulder had healed some, with only part of the bullet lodged in it. Zussman, however, had it worse. I visited him in the medic bay as much as I could, but he was still to be held in there for a couple more weeks.

The casualties were thousands, last I heard. Sure, we ended in victory, but victory doesn't equal a clean win.

The beach was in process of being cleaned up, per se. The identifiable bodies were being named, honored, and sent to wherever needed. The ones burnt or blown up behind recognition had to go under more tests.

Blood soaked into the sand, dyeing it a pink color. The water still had remanets of blood floating at the surface, and I wondered if there were bodies at the floor.

The once beautiful beach was littered with bullets, bullet casings, just about everything. I wanted to help, we have shoved out of the area soon after.

Now, we were positioned deeper into France. I knew we would be for a good amount of time, probably another three weeks, so I let myself become comfortable with the surroundings.

I hadn't been to France before. I know we weren't in Paris yet, which was said to be a gorgeous sight, but even the lush forests were nice on the eyes. They weren't as dark as Sokovian ones, and less condensed.

"Heya, Maximoff." Stiles walked over, looking down at something in his hand. "Ya know where Daniels is?"

I shook my head. "He might be in a tent. Writing to Hazel," I enquired with a smirk.

"I don't understand why he writes to her so often," he replied with a sarcastic tone, "when the real beauty is right here."

"Shut up," I pushed his arm, a little flustered. Hazel was, from the pictures I was shown, quite a stunner. Definitely had that American Southern girl look and charm to her.

"I was talking about me."

I laughed, trying not to be too loud. He ran a hand through his hair, which was growing some from being shaved at the beginning of training, a smug look on his face.

Stiles had his moments when it came to cracking jokes, but he was mostly reserved for sarcastic remarks and quips that were equally as funny.

I felt as though Pierson could sense any sign of laughter or enjoyment, and immediately set to destroy it.

I was tucking my hair into my jacket, conversating with Stiles, a smile on my face from the stupidity of it all, when I felt someone come up to us, and then a hard stare on the back of my head.

"What the hell are you two doing?"

Not flinching the least bit, suspecting it from the moment I first laughed, I turned to face the sergeant, dropping my arm.

"Just talking, sir," Stiles replied cooly, forcing the grin off of his face. Pierson regarded him coldly, narrowing his eyes.

"We don't have time for talking, Stiles." He pointed at his chest. "You and Daniels are going to patrol the eastern border."

He sharply turned to me, finger still up. From my height, he was pointing at my throat. "You and Aiello, Western. Got that?"

"Yes, sir." I gripped my hold on my gun, raising my eyebrows the slightest bit. It was no surprise he separated us, but I was content with Aiello.

Pierson shoved off, giving us one last glare before doing so. I looked at Stiles, amused. "I think he likes us."

"You think? I think he's in love with me."