Squad Alpha: A Caffè Americano Challenge Short

“Thomas is late,” A sighed as she took a sip from her glass. “I hope he knows that it means that he’ll be paying for the goddamn drinks.” Across her, Peters sniggered and raised his beer bottle.

“He’s always late. He’s always been late. Don’t get your panties in a twist, A.”

“But what if he bails on us–”

Peters rolled his blue eyes. “Not possible. He’s too honorable to even do that. Like Ned Stark.”

“Ned got his head cut off,” A grumbled, and beside her, Touta gave the partial Englishwoman a look of horror. “Because of his honor.”

“Why did you say that?!” the Japanese cried, covering his ears. “A, you know that I’m watching!” Peters then started laughing loudly, the lady’s eyes widening as an embarrassed flush crept up her neck. As she started to apologize profusely and attempted to pry the man’s hands off his ears, Peters smiled to himself and leaned back against the two-seater, comfortably drinking his beer.

He felt bad for leaving J behind at his apartment, but she insisted that he go out.

“Go, damn it.” She chuckled and leaned against the bedroom doorframe, “I’ll be okay. If you’re late, you’re going to pay for their drinks. And you know how A gets.”

“I can’t leave my Tiger alone,” he muttered, and J shook her head in disdain.

“I’ll be okay, Whiskers. Don’t be such a worry ass about it. Now,” she gave him a light shove, “Go.”

He was the third to arrive, and A had just started on her drink.

“Ah – there’s the lazy arse,” she remarked. A man with curly brown hair made his way to them, a visible grimace on his face. “Congratulations. Now prepare your wallet.”

 “I’m ready,” he muttered, sliding next to Peters. “God. You’re on your what, your eighth?”

“Fuck off. This is just my second.”

“Times ten,” Peters coughed, and A threw him a look. “Kidding, A. Kidding. How were you able to convince your lover to let you go?”

“He’s out with his friends and I’m out with mine.” She set her glass down and glanced shortly at her phone before looking back up, “Both of us agreed that a night out wouldn’t hurt too much.”

“A night out but a full day in. Cheers,” Thomas received a beer bottle and lifted it, the others lifting their own drinks as well. Peters had his beer, Touta with his scotch and A with her whiskey. “Let’s not get too hammered, folks.”

* * * * *

Peters remembered the first time all four of them had gone out as a group – not for an investigation or an interview with a potential suspect, no nothing. It was simply the four of them – Squad A – going out somewhere to eat and drink for the night.

He recalled how Thomas challenged A to a contest and the woman refusing to, stating that she wanted to drive back home with a clear mind. He then refuted that she could simply call Matt to take her home and she refused yet again, not wanting to come home drunk and wake home with a hangover that drove underneath the sheets for the next day or two.

Squad A, he thought to himself quietly. A was short for Alpha – so named because they were the first official squad designated by HQ itself. Other employees had formed groups of their own, but Squad A was the very first one to be recognized. It was on that day that the implementation of teams would occur. Some argued that it fostered union; others knew that it was just so that everyone had an eye on the other and make sure that no one was fucking up.

With that, Squad A was formed with Touta Matsuda leading them for the first few months.

Eventually, the task was passed on to Arianne Maxwell.

When she had asked Touta why he had passed it to her, he simply smiled and answered that she was more deserving of it than he was. He swore A had shot him a glance of her own, but he personally didn’t mind. Peters wasn’t the kind of person who wanted to lead.

…and neither was A, actually.

With the implementation of teams came many others.

Team O – Team Omega with Jean Onix, Olsen Sawyer and Dee Jones, was another well-known team. Jean or Jinx or J (Tiger to him) had led them herself, not passing it on unlike how Touta did.

From 2011 to 2013, they were a three-man squad.

Touta had the experience.

A had the logic.

And Peters brought on the guns.

Eventually in the fall of 2013, Squad A was supplied with a new member, bringing them to four.

It was the last person Peters expected, to be honest.

Macmillan Thomas, an American who had lived in Japan since 2009, had decided to ally himself with a Squad at his own request. He was a forensic scientist who worked closely with the service that helped HQ, and decided to lend himself to them as a fourth member rather than be ‘that-guy-who-does-our-forensic-shit’.

He recalled A eyeing him with furrowed brows. Macmillan merely stared back, fishing for something in his pocket and eventually pulling out a lighter, the cigarette fiddling idly in his mouth.

“Thomas? Macmillan Thomas?”

“That I am.” He lit the cigarette and put the lighter back into his pocket, taking a drag, “Miss Maxwell. Or as they call, Ice Queen.”

He had never seen her redder than she was on that day.

Touta nearly had to restrain A from punching the guy in the face.

* * * * *

“I hope you plan on staying sober, Peters.”

“What? I do,” he defended. “This is just my third bottle.” He cast a wary look at A, “How many drinks did you let her have? She’s about to send a drunk call.”

“H-Hey, I thought Thomas was watching her!”

Both men turned towards the curly-haired brunette, who cocked a brow lazily as he stirred his drink with a toothpick.

“She really needs to let loose.”

“He’s gonna kill you.”

“Who–”

“Her boyfriend,” Peters hissed. “Touta, call Matt for her.”

“Right,” the Japanese muttered, gently prying the phone out of the trembling woman’s hands and starting to dial. A merely had her eyes closed, leaning against the seat and humming idly under her breath, not protesting as Touta called someone with her phone.

Peters turned to Thomas, who chuckled and sent him a catty smirk.

“I didn’t do anything. She just…kept ordering. After all,” he gestured to his leather wallet, “I’m paying.”