Meeting the Shelby's

In the sweltering heat of the Maltese afternoon, Lorenzo and his platoon were taking a well-deserved break from their rigorous training. They had set up camp under the scant shade of some palm trees, trying to escape the relentless Mediterranean sun. As usual, Lorenzo was surrounded by his closest comrades, Max, Patrick, and Richard, as they shared rations and exchanged stories.

As the men laughed and joked, Lorenzo's attention was drawn to three figures in the distance, making their way towards their encampment. Squinting against the harsh glare, he did a double-take when he recognized the man in the middle. "Cillian Murphy?" he thought in disbelief. The resemblance was uncanny—the same piercing blue eyes, the same strong jawline, and even the same rakish grin he'd seen on the silver screen back home. But this Cillian Murphy lookalike was wearing the uniform of the British Army.

As the trio approached, the others in Lorenzo's platoon took notice, sensing the air of importance that seemed to surround the newcomers. The man in the center of the group locked eyes with Lorenzo and addressed him directly, "You are Lorenzo, correct?"

Hearing the Cillian Murphy lookalike address him, Lorenzo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He quickly regained his composure and nodded, "Yes, I'm Lorenzo. How can I be of assistance?"

The man extended his hand, a warm smile on his face. "Pleased to meet you, mate. Name's Thomas Shelby."

Lorenzo's grip was firm as he shook Thomas's hand, but his mind was reeling. 'Thomas Sh-Shelby? As in the one from Peaky Blinders?' he thought, dumbfounded. 'Blimey, even my favorite shows are real in this world.'

As they broke the handshake, Thomas motioned to the two men flanking him. "These are my brothers, Arthur and John."

Lorenzo's eyes flickered to Arthur and John, noting their uncanny resemblance to the characters from the show. His mind wandered for a brief moment, wondering if the Shelby sister were just as beautiful in this reality as they were on-screen.

Thomas cleared his throat, drawing Lorenzo's attention back to the matter at hand. "Mind if we have a word, just the four of us?"

Lorenzo's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly regained his composure. "Of course, whatever you need."

However, the request didn't sit well with the rest of his platoon. Max narrowed his eyes at Thomas, a protective edge creeping into his voice. "What do you want with our platoon leader, eh?"

Richard chimed in, his frown deepening. "You got some kind of ulterior motives?"

The sudden protectiveness of his men caught Thomas and his brothers off guard, but they remained unfazed. "Easy, lads," Thomas said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "We just need to discuss a delicate matter. Nothing to worry yourselves about."

The platoon members weren't backing down so easily. "It's still our job to look out for our lieutenant," one of them retorted.

Thomas's eyes narrowed, but he quickly regained his composure. "We mean no harm, I swear. We just want to treat your man here to a proper meal at our cookhouse. We've got better grub than the slop they serve at the Allied mess hall."

Patrick, Max, and Richard exchanged skeptical glances, but it was Lorenzo who broke the tension. "Men, the Shelby brothers are from the British Army, our allies. I doubt they mean any harm. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

Reluctantly, the platoon members relented, though their suspicious glares never wavered.

"Thanks, lads," Thomas said with a grateful smile. "Lieutenant Lupo, if you'd join us?"

Lorenzo stood up, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Lead the way, Shelby."

As they walked away from the encampment, Thomas and his brothers exchanged amused glances.

"Feisty bunch you've got there, Yank," Arthur chuckled as they walked away from the encampment.

Lorenzo couldn't help but smile. "Well, you lot did have that 'up to no good' look about you. Can't blame them for being cautious."

"What? We looked presentable in our uniforms, didn't we?" Arthur retorted, feigning offense.

John couldn't help but chuckle. "He's got a point."

Thomas shot them both a warning glance before turning back to Lorenzo. "So, you think we're criminals, eh?"

Lorenzo held up his hands defensively. "I never said that. I'm just saying it's not unheard of for desperate times to call for desperate measures. Besides, my men are just looking out for me."

Thomas chuckled, "Fair enough. But I assure you, we're on the up and up. War has a way of changing a man, eh?"

Lorenzo nodded, his expression thoughtful. "True enough. Plenty of men here are just trying to atone for their sins."

"So, you're one of us, eh? Forced into this war as a criminal?" Thomas asked, genuinely curious.

Lorenzo chuckled. "Hardly. Joined up willingly, I did. Even though I can be called a criminal before the war, I do my work clean. Joined with a clear record."

Thomas and his brothers exchanged knowing glances.

Thomas chuckled wistfully. "Well, that's refreshing to hear. As for us, we Shelbys, we dabbled in some… less than legal ventures back home. When the coppers caught wind, we had a choice: rot in a cell or fight for King and Country. Here we are."

Lorenzo nodded in understanding. "Can't say I blame you lot."

As they entered the British mess hall, the other soldiers took notice of the American intruding on their turf, but no one made a fuss. After all, allied forces were free to choose where they ate, even if it was more comfortable to stick with their own due to language barriers and familiarity.

Lorenzo loaded his plate with food and joined the Shelby brothers at their table. As they dug in, he couldn't help but ask, "So, what's this about?"

Thomas looked around to ensure no one was eavesdropping before leaning in. "We've heard… rumors about you, Yank. They say you've got… endless stamina and always come out on top and perfect in every training."

Lorenzo's cheeks flushed, but he brushed it off. "Well, I wouldn't say 'endless' or 'perfect,' but I do my best."

The Shelby brothers exchanged knowing glances. "Come on, mate. What's your secret?" John prodded.

"Secret?" Lorenzo chuckled. "There's no secret."

"Don't bullshit us, Yank," Arthur growled. "You must be on something, right?"

Thomas frowned. "You're not gonna tell us you're on the good stuff, are you? Come on, Yank. We won't tell."

Lorenzo chuckled, "Drugs? No thanks. That stuff will only weaken me in the long run. Besides, it won't help me here." He flexed his bicep, showing off his muscle.

"Then spill it, Yank!" Arthur demanded, growing impatient. "What's your secret?"

Thomas and John also leaned in, just as curious.

"Alright, alright," Lorenzo relented, deciding to have some fun with them. "It's all in the training."

He then rattled off a list of exercises straight out of an an anime series he used to watch back home in his previous life. "100 push-ups, 100

sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10-kilometer run. Every. Single. Day."

The Shelby brothers exchanged skeptical glances. "That's it?"

Lorenzo's smile didn't falter. "No, seriously. That's it."

Arthur slammed his fist on the table, standing up to tower over the seated Yank. "Don't mess with us, Yank. You don't know who you're dealing with!"

John joined in, spitting out, "You think you're so high and mighty just because you defended some scrapped-together ship?"

Just as the tension reached its boiling point, a superior officer from the British side of the mess hall barked, "Oi! You over there! Pipe down or I'll have you lot scrubbing latrines for a month!"

Grumbling, the Shelby brothers reluctantly sat down, shooting daggers at Lorenzo.

Lorenzo's smile didn't falter. "Nobody's scared of you lot, Shelby brothers." He may have been a fan of Peaky Blinders in his previous life, but he wasn't about to back down from a fight now.

Thomas narrowed his eyes, sensing something off about the Yank. There was an air of danger about him, one that even his hot-headed brothers hadn't noticed.

"You really won't tell us?" Thomas pressed, trying to keep the situation under control.

Arthur, however, couldn't let it go. "You don't know who you're messing with, 'Iron Wolf.'"

Lorenzo's expression darkened, his eyes turning icy cold. "I know exactly what you're made of. But you lot? You have no idea what I'm made of."

Thomas could see the coldness in Lorenzo's eyes, as if he were looking at them as nothing more than corpses waiting to happen. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Oi, we're just askin' a simple question," John said, undeterred by the chilling glare directed at them.

Arthur, always the hot-headed one, chimed in, "Yeah, Yank. What's the big secret?"

Thomas shot them both a warning glance,

"Don't force him. If he doesn't want to tell us, we can't do anything about it." He turned back to Lorenzo, his voice level and firm. "Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant Lupo."

Lorenzo's icy gaze softened ever so slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "No trouble, Shelby. Just… be careful out there." With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving the three brothers to stew in their thoughts.

"You know, if we'd managed to get our hands on that stuff Lupo's using, we'd have a better chance at surviving this mission," Arthur muttered under his breath, his eyes following the American officer's retreating back.

John frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, Tommy. We missed our chance."

Thomas sighed, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth. "There's nothing we can do about it now. Besides, if the high's that good, the crash must be bloody awful. He might be kicking and tough now, but who's to say he'll even be able to stand up straight once the comedown hits?"

Arthur and John exchanged glances, their smug expressions faltering. Thomas had a point. The thought of the cocky Yank suffered from the very drug he relied on brought a grim smile to their faces. They knew all too well the dangers of relying on substances to get through the war.