Denim really doesn't keep out the cold--oh, hey. How long have you been standing there staring? It doesn't matter, so never you mind. I guess you can call me Triad, because it's just one of those deals that if I tell you my real name I have to kill you and stuff. More likely they'd kill me, but whatever. I still don't know how I got wrangled up in this mess... So there I was, staring down the windpipe of some hothead General, as he told us about who-knows-what, I really wasn't paying attention because it was so damn cold! Anywho, turns out we're heading to London, and by we I mean myself and two other people. Not like I like traveling alone or anything, it's just having to put up with talking to some kinds of people that make me want to scream. Inside my head of course, I wouldn't want to be a nuisance to those around me. They'd be hounding me saying "What's wrong with you girl? You hearing voices or something?" and that would be enough to send me to the crazy house. I'm not anti-social; I'm anti-conversational. Then General Hothead started handing out Nintendo Wii's or so I thought. It would've been cool to sit down and play with a Wii the whole time and get paid--wait are we getting paid? Damn. But yeah, get paid to play some video games, but turns out it's some wonky device that was a mini-multitasker with the ability to be a camera, computer, radio, and other junk. I wonder if it's compatible with my iPod... So like I was saying before, we're off to London, and the damn toy is telling me I can't drink. Is that some kind of joke? I'm nineteen for God sakes. I can't drink yet... oh the rules are different in Europe? Ah okay, still it doesn't matter I don't drink anyway. Well, not anymore and I don't wanna talk anymore about it. Then some dude scared the everlovin' outta me when he started talking about French fries to himself and then asked me if I liked my Wii. I couldn't be too rude to him, but I guess it was a bit late for that when I told him "Just... don't talk to me, 'kay?" I turned and pulled up the collar on my denim jacket and stuffed my hands in my jean pockets, struggling to get warm. Damn, why so cold?!
Trip grinned. Really, once you got to know the lad, this wasn't an odd thing to see. In fact, a grin fit Trip's face quite nicely. Certain notes in Trip's diary even claimed that his smile was shapely. These notes were well squiggled and from a simple glance Trip knew their authenticity to be in question — as there was no reason for him to write such things. However, and this he did not tell a living soul, when he read this particular note in his diary, he liked to think that his cheeks must have nice curves. The difference that this grin had to most other grins was the obvious nature of it. The look of his head — from the squinting of his green eyes to the short crop of blonde hair nervously flying towards the ceiling — had a distinct appearance of sheepishness. A quick look towards the ground revealed why. Trip had dropped his Wii. This wasn't a significant event all by itself. Trip dropped many things. But on this occasion when the small earpiece unit had tumbled to the ground, it directly followed the loud announcement by the man in charge that all personnel would thereupon receive their assignments. The funny thing about chairs is that when they're all lined up, the legs undoubtedly always act as conveniently placed deflectors. Trip had been sitting down in silence until this very moment, intent on taking in the information that General Grill — he had even read up on what his name was — was going to say. The young man figured that it would be vital to know every detail in order to lead his team. As, by default, he also figured that he would be the one to call the shots. Since when did people argue with the sniper who always had you between his cross-hairs? By the time Trip had fumbled his way underneath the seat in front of him, bashfully apologised to some legs beside him, and finally acquired the fleeing mechanical earpiece, he was almost positive he had missed something important. The last thing he had heard was something about a casino. Attempting to casually prop himself up onto the chair he was now in front of, he came to the conclusion that the assignment which had been read out must have been for the Beta Squad. As, after all, casinos and demolitions go hand in hand, undoubtedly. So when the briefing had officially ended and Trip found himself distinctly aware that he had no clue what his team's assignment was — since he had then heard both of the other Squads' missions, but not his own — he decided that he must not let that deter him. He had heard casinos mentioned; that was enough to proceed, he reckoned. Now finding himself nearby a man who's laughter (was that slobber? Trip thought) and good-natured ribbing of a bear-man was disturbing to say the least, Trip quickly rounded the chair he had been leaning against and picked up his shoulder bag and walked briskly away. It looked like he walked with a mission — but in reality he didn't know where he was headed. He didn't want to look even more embarrassed by asking the General what Alpha Squad's assignment was — especially not after the glance he had noticed aimed in his direction during his adventurous crawl underneath the chair. As he walked, he scanned the room, taking in all the details. He noticed a reclusive man in the corner with his arms crossed. He saw the quick flick of a pack of cigarettes appear in a different man's hand; the annoyed shove of hands into the jean pockets by another. The drawl of a younger looking girl's voice went unheeded at first — that is, until he recognised that she was part of his Alpha team. I mean the Alpha Reconnaissance Squad, said a thought in his mind. It finished with a firm Sir! for added inward amusement. The previously noticed arms-crossed man approached before Trip covered the distance himself. As he made his way up to them, the Wii startled Trip by talking into his ear. He jumped, tried to cover his tracks, and ended up dropping the device once more. He grinned amiably, as if this happened all the time. To tell the truth, it did happen all the time. Quickly retrieving the earpiece, he spoke up in response to the girl's comment. "You bet it will, I say," he said, trying to offer an excuse for why he had unexplainably dropped it onto the floor. What he didn't realise was that he was probably still too far away for the girl to realise that he was talking to her, even if she had noticed the clumsy blonde-haired lad. Fiddling with his bag, the Wii, and his spiked hair as if to make sure it still existed, Trip followed the girl and arms-crossed man into the armoury, since the voice had interrupted them solely to inform them of the armoury's existence. Trip hadn't caught the last part of the message. "This casino sounds adventurous, don't you think? I definitely think so," Trip commented as he caught up to them and they all came upon the weapons having walked through a large metal door. "I say," he continued, noticing some enjoyment being shown from the girl at the weapons. "I wonder what sort of weapons we'll be needing to rig a poker game, aye?" A new grin appeared on Trip's face, one full of life and jokes gone old. "I'm Trip," he said, sticking his hand out a little too far forward for either of the people in front of him to comfortably shake. "This casino will definitely be fun and I'm sure we'll work well together," he added, still trying to assert that he knew what and where their goal was and that they should definitely look to him for guidance.
Trip responded to Viewt's firm handshake with one full of gusto and enthusiasm. As the man let go of his hand, Trip kicked his legs out from under him and fell face-first towards the ground. To anybody who happened to be watching, it probably looked like the man beside Trip must have somehow knocked him over with his handshake. How, exactly, he would have done such a thing when not a single flick of the wrist was detected was another question entirely. Probably a question Kung Fu masters could ponder over while in their contemplating states of meditation. But Trip didn't know if there were an martial artists in the room. And he knew that he certainly wasn't one. Arms flailing for a brief moment at his sides as his body fell, he then brought them together in front of his chest. Hitting the ground with his hands first, Trip landed in what could be viewed as a very odd push-up. His elbows cushioned his fall enough that his young body didn't even touch the floor. Immediately pushing off with his hands, Trip bounced back onto his feet, his face flushed. He then started laughing. "I say sorry, Viewt," he managed to utter with a cheeky chuckle. "It's my own welcoming gesture. I tripped." There was a pause as the one-man comedian offered a fake laugh at a joke he'd obviously told himself one too many times. "Tripped, geddit? You won't forget my name now I tell myself!" The quick fall and exchange might have been a little weird to some, but Trip never tired of it. He was quickly composed though, his temperament and mannerism one could guess to be as fleeting as a humming bird's wings. He hadn't even noticed if the girl with them had reacted. It didn't bother him either way. Adjusting his shoulder bag, Trip was the enthusiastic but calm young man Viewt had originally shaken hands with. "It's good to see an Alpha Squad member, I must say, Viewt. Great to meet you," he said. Following the smiling man's gaze towards a different area of the armoury, Trip nodded. "I've never seen anything as advanced as that before! Do we really need to train with guns before our mission in the casinos, though? I can't deny that I'm just excited to get underway!" As he finished, Trip had raised his hand again in a high-five gesture, pumped up about the mission. It hadn't even dawned on him that Viewt and the girl might not be so inclined to grasp his hand a second time.
