"I just don't get how you do it so quickly, Zuss!" I pry, sucking my bleeding finger. Zussman is stabbing the spaces between his fingers quicker than I can process.
"It's not that hard, (l/n). Watch and learn." He says, laying his hand down on the table and stabbing the spaces between. During the challenge, he carries on talking, which amazes me how he can do something as dangerous as this and focus on talking too.
"So he asks me for my watch and I'm thinking, what the hell do you want my watch for, you're the captain of the goddamn football team. But I turn around and I feel this punch. And it's cold as ice." He carries on, and my ears perk up, interested.
"Ah!" He exclaims, scanning his hand for the cut.
"I warned you!"Aiello says, standing up from his seat.
"I'm watching, and I'm not sure I'm learning." I joke, and Zussman gives me a roll of his eyes.
"Stiles, you give it a shot." Zussman says, offering the knife over to Stiles.
"I don't think so. Besides, I gotta keep all my fingers if I'm gonna take photo of the year." He brags.
"Aight, sorry, Mr Photographer!" Zussman apologises jokingly.
Stiles says he's gonna be a photographer for Life magazine. If you look close enough, he kinda looks like Clark Kent, 'cept when he takes off his glasses, the only thing that happens is that he can't see shit!
"Aye, Daniels, beat your best bud, will ya?" Zussman offers, sliding the knife over to him.
"Uh..." He hesitates, eyeing Aiello.
"Aye, don't look at me. I may be from Queens, but I do want to keep my fingers if I'm pulling the trigger tomorrow mornin." He explains, and I scoff at him.
"Okay, let's make this more interesting." He carries on, pulling a chain from his neck with a pendant attached to it.
"Saint Michael, Patron Saint of Soldiers. He's had my back since Kasserine. Zussman, three times in ten seconds, and he's all yours." Aiello bets, dropping the chain in front of him. Zussman holds his hands up, hesitating slightly.
-"I don't know."
-"Oh, you could always puss out."
The nerve between these two. Always betting when given the chance.
"My money's on Zussman." Daniels declares, handing his best friend the knife. Zussman stares at it briefly before retrieving it and taking on the challenge.
"Okay. I'm in." He says.
"I can't watch." Stiles whines, shaking his head.
"Always betting when given the chance, aye, Aiello?" I tease, and he throws me a wink.
"(L/n), time me when I tell you." Zussman orders, and I whip out my watch, holding it ready.
"Back to my story, me and my boys, we muscle our way into this poker game that the football team has going. We worked out a system where they can signal to me everybody's hands. You should'a seen the QB's face when I took that pot. You ready?" He asks, and I nod.
'That's what happens when you try to hustle a hustler." He carries on, then places his hand onto the table, and positions the knife.
"Now!" He says, and I start the timer on my watch. The speedy tap of the sharp knife draws a lot of attention, and within three seconds, Zussman throws the knife back onto the table, no pain, no blood. Impressive.
My eyes widen, and my eyebrows raise high.
"Not even 5 seconds in!" I exclaim.
"You get flushed!" He brags, and Aiello rises from his chair.
YOU ARE READING
No Sacrifice Too Great | COD WW2 Story
Action"No mission too difficult, no sacrifice too great." The words of wisdom and bravery. Being the only female in the platoon was no different from being another guy. Everyone treats me the same as they do with everyone else. I just...wish it stayed tha...
