Disclaimer: Shin Kidousenki New Mobile War Chronicle Gundam Wing and all
affiliated characters are property of Bandai, Setsu Agency.

Title: Maximum Pulse
Authors: Switchblade003 Sanyu-Kumiko (Collaboration)
Chapter 1: Order Up No.1 Egg Roll, Fried Rice
Pairing: TBA
Warning: Violence, Language, Religious Themes
Rating: R
Archive: AFF, Gravity Zero
Status: Incomplete, but active.

Sanyu Says: Maximum Pulse is a collaborative work between Sanyu-kun and Switchblade003. Switchblade003 wrote it, and I simply played muse, "rationalized", aided in plot making and whipped Switchy occasionally to FORCE the updates.

Summary: Yaoi AU Gundam Wing fic. Hot boys on crotch rockets! Heero finds that he can't keep away from racing his bike. Drama will ensue. Duo (the cute, baka mechanic) becomes Heero's best friend, and Trowa their rival and/or nemisis. Oh, what will happen when Police Officer Zechs shows up? READ READ READ.

To say the place was cliche would have been an understatement.

Hiirou glanced around at the oriental dragons glaring at him from tackey pastel wallpaper and the low, chipped black lacquer furniture that might have been older than some of his college professors, and he gave a mental sigh. He supposed that the setting didn't really matter so long as the food was up to par, and he tried to convince himself of that as he sulked inside, all the while ignoring the tone-deaf squaking of what he guessed was chinese pop music.

The place was deserted and that couldn't have been a good thing.

Shuffling past an oddly-placed booth, the Japanese youth made his way towards the main counter. He peered over suspiciously, squinting past the antiquated cash register, a set of beaded doorway curtains, and a thick layer of steam into the kitchen.

"Hello?"

A clatter of pots and pans was Hiirou's response, followed shortly by a shout. "One second, buddy..." There was a low muttering in a foreign language, and the situation was almost comical as a young man shoved his way through the curtains, raking a hand through his hair. "What can I get for you?"

Definately Chinese. Hiirou smirked at the accent-laced voice and the irritated tone. "I need food," he chuckled,"but you seem a little preoccupied."

The owner-he assumed- rolled his eyes, practically seething. "Look, guy; my delivery boy called out for the seventh time in as many days, we just fired our last cook and I have to pick up my kids from school in..." The frustrated youth-because he couldn't have been much older than Hiirou himself- glanced at his watch and groaned. "ten minutes ago. So if you need something, make it quick. Your stomach is of no consequence to me."

Hiirou arched an eyebrow, clasping his hands on the counter thoughtfully. "I've got a better idea. Why don't you give me that apron and I'll cover you while you get your kids."

The Chinese youth looked momentarily stunned, blinking owlishly before stuttering a response.

"Are you s-serious?" the taller of the two nodded, extending a hand. his counterpart smiled, a little too excitedly, and fumbled frantically with the ties to his apron, handing it over. "Excellent! You're hired!"

He began rushing to the door, patting himself down for car keys, and paused. "Hey, hang on a minute. Can you cook?"

Hiirou glared. "Would I have asked if I didn't?"

Point conceded, the darker-haired young man was out the door and Hiirou heard the distinct sound of tires screeching over gravel moments later.

As he shuffled into the kitchen, he absently hoped that the other youth didn't drive like that with the kids in the car.

1740EST20OCT04