No Sacrifice Too Great | COD WW2 Story

A New Beginning

It's our lunch break here at basic, and once I grab my grub, I pace around the mess hall, looking like a lost puppy, oblivious on where to sit. I've been too focused on training that I haven't gathered the time to make any friends. Being the only female in the platoon, it's not easy making friends without having their eyes redirecting to your breasts. So, I kept to myself.

All the seats are full, with messy eaters taking up too much of the space.

As I continue my search, I suddenly feel the palm of a hand on my ass, and I flinch, elbowing the arm off of me.

"Watch it!" I yell, the room starting to grow silent. I look at the man deep in his dark-brown eyes, as he scans the room, embarrassed.

"What? It's not like I did it on purpose." He lies, obvious in his expression that he's embarrassed.

"Like hell! Keep your nasty hands to yourself." I demand, causing him to laugh.

"And what will you do if I don't, woman?" He fights. He begins to constantly push me lightly on my shoulders, attempting to anger me. Like a strong woman should, I kept my cool.

He continued for a few more seconds, before another guy pushes past him and holds back his wrist.

"Let her alone, Terrance. Don't be such a shit." He says, and my eyes widen to the size of the sun.

"What did you say to me, four-eyes?" Terrance interrogates, grabbing the guy with the glasses by the bicep. Another guy with neat, black hair shoves Terrance's arm off, and pushes him onto the floor.

"Enough, Terrance. Best believe if my Nonna was her, she'd beat you in a heartbeat." He growls, turning back to me and glasses. Terrance stands up, brushes his backside off and walks away, shaking his disobedient head.

"You alright, College?" The guy with the black hair asks. Glasses just nods in response, and turns his attention to me.

"Are you alright, (l/n)?" He asks. I stare at him and furrow my eyebrows.

"How do you know my-"

"He knows everybody. Sadly, he ain't too good at saying hi to anybody." The other guy says.

"Come on, we got a spare seat at our table." He offers, and leads the way, with me and glasses following behind him.

We stop at a medium-table in the corner of hall, with two other guys there. I start to feel slightly uncomfortable, and as I watch glasses and Black-hair sit down, I stand alone, frozen.

"Don't worry. Our hands are by our side, we promise." Black-hair reassures, so I sit down next to him, and dig into my lunch.

"I'm Frank, by the way, but you can call me Aiello." He says, giving me a small smile. He clocks his head to the right, and I see Glasses sitting there, turning a knob on his camera.

"This here is Stiles." He introduces, and he, too, gives me a smile, but turns back to his camera a split-second later.

"Hey. I'm Zussman." I follow the voice to a young-looking face sitting across from me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm Daniels." The blondie to his left says.

Aiello, Stiles, Zussman, Daniels. Shit. That's a lot of names.

"We'd introduce you to Turner and Pierson but, being the Lieutenant, Turner is running around the camp. It seems he never has any free time, to be honest." Zussman explains.

"As for Pierson, he's too busy figuring out a way to kill us in his sleep." He jokes, Daniels giving him a nudge with a smile on his face.

"Pierson's not one for hellos. If you say 'hi' to him, he'll walk straight through you like a ghost." Aiello says.

This Pierson doesn't sound like pleasure.

"What do they call you, sweetheart?" Zussman asks politely.

"They call me (f/n) (l/n), but ya'll can just call me (l/n). Makes things easier." I present.

"Pretty name for a pretty dame." Zussman compliments, and I smile with content.

"Anyone up for another cup o' joe?" I ask. Daniels and Stiles both hand me their cups and in the corner of my eye, I see Zussman's head bolt up straight.

"You from Brooklyn?" He asks, and I nod, laughing.

"Aye! I have a Brooklyn buddy!" He exclaims, holding out a fist, and I collide mine with his. I laugh whole-heartedly, and as I turn around, I bump straight into a tall, blonde male with annoyance written all over his face. We didn't exchange words, but from what the boys told me, I'm taking a guess that this grumpy geezer is Pierson.

"Watch where your going, Private." He growls, making me feel smaller than I already am.

"Calm it, Pierson. How's things, Private?" The guy next to him asks. I don't know who he is, but he looks important.

"Fine and dandy, sir." I respond, and he returns a smirk.

"I'm Lieutenant Joseph Turner." He introduces.

Lieutenant?

I fix my body language and salute with a handful of metal mugs, the bottom of one of them hitting me in the eyes.

"Ah!" I wince, Pierson scoffing at my clumsiness.

"Apologies, Lieutenant. I'll be more formal next time." I apologise, but Turner just chuckles.

"Ain't a problem, Private. I'll see you outside." He greets, and he and Pierson walk off.

Once I refilled the mugs, I walk back to the table to see Aiello and Zussman arm wrestling.

"What's going on here?" I ask Stiles, who is meters away from the 'fight'. I hand him his mug and he takes a swig from it.

"Getting themselves into trouble." He replies, and I giggle.

After a few minutes , I hear Aiello grunt and watch Zussman swing Aiello's hand to one side, and throws a fist in the air, Daniels patting his back, laughing. I walk over to the chaos and give Daniels his mug, nudging Zussman's shoulder slightly.

"Good job!" I say.

"Kicking my shin ain't something to be celebrating for. I say, rematch!" Aiello's thick, Italian-American accent filling the room.

"You just jealous cuz you from Queens, ain't that right, (l/n)?" Zussman asks, and I just shrug, laughing at the immaturity they are filled with.

"Come on, city boy. Best 2 outta 3!" Aiello demands, laying his elbow back onto the table. Zussman cocks his head to the side and takes Aiello's hand into his once more.

"One, two, three!" Daniels counts, and the boys break a sweat to beat each other once again.

And from that moment on, I have just met the 4 biggest mooks...

and a family.