Title: Maximum Pulse
Author: Switchblade003 Sanyu-Kumiko (Collaboration)
Chapter 5 : Spark Plugs and Scanners
Status: Complete, open to revision

"Son of a bitch!"

Under normal circumstances Hiirou probably would have looked up from his work to ensure that his friend was all right, but instead he found himself praying that Maxwell had broken something and that said injury would require much sedation.

"Dammit, Hiirou! I could use some help!" The Japanese youth withheld a cackle at his comrade's expense. He was probably being an asshole, but for some reason all he could think about was the mechanic and animal tranquilizers. Duo had been running his damned mouth about the race for the past two days, and after forty-eight hours of nonstop bantering from the American, Hiirou was seeing red.

"I don't work here." The response was calm, but the conditional threat rested in the glare he threw at the other youth, and Duo--dumb as he could be on any other occassion--silenced himself by sucking on his injured finger. He turned back to the expensive white car he'd been working on with an air of one who has been routinely put off for an extended period of time, and peace had been restored to the garage.

"You know, Hiirou, I'd stop bein' so hostile if I were you," Duo stated, matter-of-factly, sticking his tongue out in a gesture of concentration as he tugged at a spark plug wire. "Now that you've had a run-in with the cops, you need all the friends you can get." From this statement he paused, and then lapsed into an enthousiatic, and yet quiet, rendition of the theme from "Cops".

"'...All suspects are innocent until proven guilty, in a court of law...'"

There was a discreet laugh disguised at the last minute as a cough, and Hiirou glanced up and across the garage, to the small, hastily-scribbled sign on one wall of the place that read "Lobby", and directly under that sign sat a young man and his laptop. Prussian met sky blue for a brief moment before the blonde's eyes turned back to his LCD display, and Hiirou was dangerously close to homicide. "You know, Duo, it would be a lot easier to steer clear of the damned cops if you'd keep your mouth shut in front of complete strangers!" he shouted, and the mechanic laughed.

"What, Q? He's not a stranger. I've known him for years." Duo's chestnut-colored braid snaked out from under the hood behind him as he stood and stretched. "Right, Quatre?" The boy in question smiled in a very innocent way that Hiirou immediately didn't trust, and he shook jagged bangs from his face.

"Unfortunately." The statement was presented with mock consternation, and the cheerful blonde turned to Hiirou. "Just ignore him. And your secret's safe with me. I can't tell you the number of times this idiot has had to spend the night in jail." He jerked a thumb at Duo, who gave a nervous chuckle and dived back under the hood of Quatre's car.

Somewhat reassured, Hiirou went back to primering down his bike, only to be interrupted again by Duo's ever-obnoxious voice. "That really was a close call with the cops the other night."

Hiirou snorted. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Well, I wasn't trying to play Captain Obvious, asshole, but we need to try to avoid that in the future, don't you think?"

As aggrivating as the American had been, as of late, he had a point. "Yes, but what can we do? It's virtually impossible to keep tabs on every cop in the city at any given time." He began sanding with renewed vigor wrought from distress. He wasn't about to quit racing again, but this matter of the police was really throwing a wrench in the works.

"Actually..." The blonde paused in his typing. "Their Dispatch officer keeps track of them all through radios and GPS."

Duo and Hiirou paused in their respective tasks and shot each other a look before turning to Quatre. "What?"

The fair-skinned youth in the 'lobby' shrugged, closing his laptop. "I take it that niether of you was aware of that?" At the mutual shake of dark heads, the blonde laughed. "Well, if you have a scanner, you can tune into their frequency and eventually they all have to report in. It's completely illegal to monitor them for criminal purposes, of course..."

"Hey, Q?" Hiirou and Quatre both looked to Duo, and from behind his bike, the Japanese youth decided that the expression on the mechanic's face was perhaps the most sinisterly charming and devious look that he'd ever seen. He could in turn understand and even sympathize with the plight Quatre now faced. Duo was eyeing him like a wild dog regards an injured rabbit. "What do you do for a living, again?"

The brunette's voice was as sweet as honey and his expression roguishly charismatic to boot. This wasn't looking good for Quatre. "I design sscanners and radio equipment for the local police departments..." He paused, his rosy lips forming a small 'o', and then Quatre's eyebrows drew into a frown. "No way, Duo!"

Duo suddenly seemed a lot less confident in his persuasive abilities. "Oh, c'mon Cat! We need some help, and I'm sure if you build these bad boys then you have to hold a license to operate them, right?"

Quatre was packing his laptop into its case, outraged. "Of course I have a license! And it will be revoked the very instant that the police suspect that I am using it for illegal enterprises!"

The blonde had a valid point, and under normal circumstances Hiirou would have been disinclined to convince someone else to put his neck on the line for his own purposes, but for some reason he really wanted Quatre's help. Maybe it was his own desire to keep racing, or maybe it had something to do with the almost pleading look that Duo gave him, but he stood up from where he'd been more or less hiding behind his Hayabasu and cleared his throat. "Technically speaking, if you were to test your scanners and someone was able to hack into your device to reroute the information for illegal purposes, you wouldn't be doing anything wrong."

Duo and Quatre were silent for a moment, and then the radio technician sighed. "I suppose that's true..."

Without a moment's hesitation, the mechanic jumped on the line of thought that Hiirou had provided. "Yeah, Quatre. This is a great opportunity for you to test your equipment in a real life situation, you know." As Duo threw a companionable arm around the blonde's shoulders, Hiirou wondered for a fleeting minute if perhaps the idiot was capable of making himself useful after all. "I'm sure you can't get into any trouble if a pair of criminals like us were to tap into your intelligence and use it for our own personal gain."

Quatre nodded, and then grinned, and Hiirou wanted to liken the expression to watching a guardian angel playing a game of strip poker, it seemed so downright evil. "Okay, you two. But what's in it for me?" Duo fumbled over words, and Quatre arched an elegant brow. "I can test my products from the relative comfort of my office. Why take them to the streets? Where's my real incentive?"

Hiirou could have laughed outright at the flustered expression on the brunette's handsome face. "Besides," the blonde continued, now levelling his commanding gaze on the Japanese youth. "I'd like to know just what you guys are up to before I agree to anything."

"Well," Duo frowned, gathering his senses. "Hiirou got chased by a cop a few nights back for racing."

Quatre rolled his eyes. "That's not very specific. Are we talking a casual testosterone-fueled match, or an organized, underground circuit race?" Hiirou smirked. The blonde might have seemed pretty naive and oblivious to the darker side of humanity, but he knew exactly what he was getting into.

"A little of both," he answered for Duo. "But if you want in, you're going to have to hold your own. If you provide the electronics and help us make it look like we're tapping information, we'll make you our honorary radio tech."

The blonde smiled, seemingly satisfied, and patted Duo's shoulder. "I'm in."

0904EST28Oct04

Hiirou had found out that their ref's name was Chad. From what they'd been able to find out, he was about their age, not affiliated with the uptown garage, and he might have been an ex-racer himself. Duo seemed to know him from somewhere, but wouldn't say. They weren't too concerned with his background though, because they'd learned to trust him to deliver unbiased results of each race. He'd sent out the latest 'Christmas Card', and they all met accordingly. On a side road in the middle of the metropolis, they stood aside their bikes.

Chad, unruly flame-red hair held back by a pair of yellow goggles, addressed the lot. "All right, listen up. My hawks from the last race determined the Hayabasu to be the winner of the previous race, because the Ninja veered off of the course first. That means that the thousand-dollar reward will be awarded to the downtown garage after tonight's festivities." He chuckled. "I see that our group is growin' on the downtown side?"

Duo was leaning against the tail-end of Hiirou's bike, puffing on a cigarette, and he spoke up. "The Chinese guy's our proprietor. He's just here to watch. And the blonde's our new canhead. He's here to keep an eye on the cops."

Chad arched an eyebrow, turning to Quatre. "Okay, kid. What've you got?"

The radio technician stepped forward, laying a heavy silver suitcase at his feet and kneeling down to open it. Inside lay a scanner, a compact laptop computer, a collapsible grid satellite, and any number of wires and chords. "Enough electronics to keep tabs on every cop in the city, help your decoy escape successfully, keep in touch with your racers, and scramble the police frequency if neccessary."

Chad's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and he whistled, impressed. The Irish youth turned to Duo and grinned, his Gaelic drawl heavy with approval. "Oh, he's a keeper." He turned back to the crowd of the dozen or so motorcyclists around him in the alley. "All right, here's the deal. From now on these meets have to be a tad bit more organized. Each garage needs a mechanic, a radio tech., and your own van. Meet these requirements by the next race, or you're out. Pretty soon you'll be racin' garages from other cities, so you'd best get yourselves established, now."

The redhead climbed up onto a fire escape, travelling a little ways up before perching. "Mechanics, let's get those checks started." Hiirou stood beside his bike as the greasy guy that he was beginning to recognize as Duo's counterpart slunk over and did a thorough examination of his vehicle. He tuned the other man out, choosing instead to let his gaze linger on the braided American squatting down beside the Katana he'd be racing later tonight. He was smoking still, cigarette held carelessly between perfect teeth as he squinted at his work. The man who owned the bike, a black youth with a decidedly nasty leer, was keeping a firm eye on Duo--or, from what Hiirou noticed with a possessive twitch, certain parts of the downtown mechanic. He tore his gaze away, angry at himself for caring, and turned instead to the fire escape, where Chad was helping Quatre to set up his mobile substation.

"Mechs, all clear?"

The sleazy mechanic and Duo both flashed thumbs ups, and Chad nodded. He pulled out his cell phone. Beside him, Quatre had donned a pair of headphones and was typing rapidly at the keys. Hiirou was shaken from his observations as Duo rapped the back of his helmet, the noise ringing in his ears. He turned to snap at the youth but found a pair of serious amethyst eyes regarding him. "Put this on before you go." A headset was thrust into his hands and the braided young man stalked off, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he disappeared into the shadows.

"We've got a problem, mates. We can't seem to locate our decoy."

The men fell silent, and Chad sighed in frustration. "Look, I either need a volunteer or I call this thing off right now!"

As the group exchanged looks, Hiirou heard a familiar voice speak up. "I'll do it." His eyes shot to the owner of the voice, and he found Wufei volunteering, his car keys in one hand.

Chad grinned, an easy gesture, and nodded. "Good man."

"All right, Quatre. Where the hell am I going?"

The Chinese youth sighed explosively as he handled his car with practiced ease through the deserted streets of the city. If Meiran found out that he was using their family car to lure police away from illegal street races starring their own delivery boy... It sounded like a page out of a new action script, but it was his life. "Check your On Star monitor. It should be integrated into your dashboard?"

Wufei nodded, tilting the monitor so that he could look at it while driving. "I've hacked into your global positioning system to highlight the course. Start at the southern end and work your way east. I'll be with you on headset the whole time, okay?"

He'd only known Quatre for a grand total of three hours, but somehow the knowledge that the boy was a cellular line away made him feel a little bit more confident. He turned a corner, came upon a straight-away, and floored his engine.

Yet another boring night on duty for Zechs Merquise.

His job was becoming intolerable, and while it was quite a thrill to carry around a loaded gun in crowded places, his sergeant was insufferable. This was the fourth time this month he'd been stuck on the graveyard shift, and it was completely ridiculous. He'd been cruising the city for almost two hours without incident when he finally caught a break. His keen eyes noticed the blown tail light on the beat up old station wagon without effort, and he turned his sirens and lights on instantly.

Maybe he could meet his ticket quota for the month and go home...

"Shit!"

Duo cursed, hands clutching the steering wheel white-knuckled. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd been doing wrong, but the police cruiser was flying up on his ass faster than he could think. He checked his rearview mirror quickly, then pulled over to the side of the road, cradling his cheek in one hand, elbow propped up on his lowered window as he waited for the ticket. His night was getting exponentially worse. After the incident with Hiirou's attitude at the garage, he'd decided to steer clear of the Japanese youth. He wasn't so comfortable with this racing thing, anyway, though he wasn't about to mention that to the guys.

"Some time before Christmas, buddy," he grumbled, and pondered over the many ways to extract his revenge upon Hiirou Yui, because somehow this was his fault, as well.

Zechs whistled to himself cheerfully as he plucked up his radio and called in to report his pull. "0136 to dispatch, over. I've got a Code Six on West gate Street. It's just a lady with a blown tail light." He opened his door, standing and patting himself down for his flashlight.

The mechanic was now practically hanging out of the driver's side window of his station wagon, frowning down at the solid white line that separated the shoulder from the main road. The cop who'd pulled him was definately taking his sweet-assed time for practically having run him off of the damned road. The man was tall, lanky, with long platinum-blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and he was fumbling around for something.

Duo scoffed. "Fuckin' rookie," he mumbled, tapping idle fingertips against his steering wheel.

He'd located his flashlight under his seat, and was just going to approach the station wagon, when a blur of red motion went roaring down the street, slamming on brakes hard enough to leave smoking tire tracks on the pavement before casually flipping its turn signal on. The Celica made the turn onto the adjacent street at a safe speed, and then jetted down the road once more. Zechs could have laughed in delight. He jumped back into his squad car, grabbing his radio and turning on his lights and sirens once more.

"0136 to dispatch, cancel last order. I'm now in pursuit of a red Toyota Celica on Park East Avenue."

He shifted into fourth gear with an easy motion, chuckling as the Celica in his sights made another cautious turn. "Amatuer," he muttered.

Duo couldn't believe his luck.

The officer had finally seemed done primping and was just about to make his way over when a car that looked suspiciously familiar came barreling down West Gate, past the cruiser and his station wagon, and he'd laughed out loud as the cop decided that he was the lesser threat, hopped into his squad car, and taken off after Wufei.

He hit a button on the side of the slender headset he wore, and Quatre's voice came across the link. "Q, how in God's name did you guys sucker Eggroll into decoying?"

"Duo says thanks."

Wufei rolled his eyes at Quatre's amused voice, taking this next turn a little harder than the last, and he balked when he saw that the intersection ahead actually had lights, and his was red. He came to a stop just before the crosswalk, waiting. "For what, Quatre?"

His answer presented itself rather abruptly in the form of blue lights and wailing sirens. "Son of a ..." He exclaimed, as the white Chevrolet Camaro came to a screeching halt beside him at the stop light.

Zechs rolled his passenger-side window down, grinning lazily at the youth driving the Celica. The guy couldn't have been older than twenty-one, and he certainly didn't seem like a criminal. "...Dispatch to 0136. Officer requesting backup?"

He held the radio to his mouth, and decided to play a little game with this amateur racer. "Negative." He waved at the boy, forcing back a laugh as the Asian's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. "Backup not necessary."

Wufei was freaking out. There was no other way to express his thoughts in that moment. Not only had the police officer caught up with him, but he had waved and smiled. This was decidedly not good, and when the man put his radio down and revved his engine, the Chinese youth had felt like melting into the leather interior of his seat and disappearing. Had everyone in the city lost their damned minds?!

"I've got a problem," he spoke into the headset as calmly as possible. "There's a cop staring directly at me, Quatre, and I think he's challenging me."

There was an annoyed sigh from the other end of the line, and seemingly innocent Quatre seemed more comfortable in this element than Wufei felt. "That's the idea, dummy. Now make him chase you! You have to get him clear of the course."

Wufei groaned softly, still holding eye contact with the cop. "Why me?"

Zechs pumped his accelerator, well aware that he was probably flooding his engine. The risk was worth it, if for nothing else than to watch the Chinese youth beside him squirm. The fact that he could prolong the red light only made it more fun for him. The kid was probably just out for a good time, and Zechs was getting bored with him, anyway.

"0136 to dispatch. The subject got away from me. I lost him on the highway," he lied, staring at the nervous young man. "Over and out." He hung up the radio and waved the Celica on its way, changing the traffic light, when out of the corner of his peripheral vision, he saw a pair of headlights come up on his tail, and then what seemed like a single car's lights split up and went around he and the Toyota, diverging again in the intersection and speeding off. The Celica followed suite, peeling out and disappearing down Park East.

Zechs chuckled to himself, nodding. He had seen that silver bike before. It was the cycle from the other night, the one that had beat him to the highway. He drove casually through the intersection and sighed. Those bikes were up to something, and that Toyota couldn't have been a coincidence.

"Something's rotten in Maybury," he murmured, and tuned his radio out.

Hiirou pulled up into the service alley behind their checkpoint, waiting for his adversary, and removed his helmet. He'd won, again, and now the night's troubles seemed worth the outcome. Running a hand through his hair, he activated his headset. "Quatre, tell Chad that I'm clear."

The blonde relayed the message and he could hear the Irishman's smart-assed retort of, "Well, of course he is! I'm starin' at him on the bloody computer!" Wufei checked in moments later from a gas station up the street, and the other racer relayed that he'd fallen back and was now en route to his garage.

"Congratulations, Hiirou," came Quatre's sweet voice. "You're two grand richer."

He smiled, taking the time to sit back atop his bike and stretch, and he tapped the reciever again. "Duo?"

Hiirou waited, but the braided youth's rich voice didn't break the monotonous white noise filtering through his connection. "Duo?"

The mechanic lay atop the roof of his station wagon, and he listened to the random status reports over his headset. He heard Hiirou's clear, and he groaned. The guys thought that this was all fun and games, but it was so much more serious than that...

Maybe Hiirou thought that street racing was a good way to get his rocks off, or maybe he just believed that he had something to prove, but whatever his motives were for participating in this whole scheme, they weren't justifiable. Duo had thought it exciting at first, a break from his rigorous routine of working and bugging his neighbors, but over the past few weeks since he'd met the Japanese young man, he'd noticed some striking similarities between him and his late brother.

Hiirou and Solo were so alike that it scared him at times--that same stand-offish attitude, their stubborn demeanor, their dangerous pride...

"Duo?" He heard the delivery boy's voice filter over the headset, and he listened reluctantly. Hiirou was going to hurt him, and of this he was certain. At this stage of the game, losing him would leave a permanent scar. He was rude, and arrogant, and antisocial, but Duo couldn't help but want to protect him. It was the reason that he'd recruited Quatre to keep the cops off of them, why he was still acting as the team's mechanic. Anything that he could do to keep Hiirou out of immediate danger was his responsibility, but he couldn't tell the youth not to race.

He isn't Solo. Just because you lost your brother doesn't necessarily mean that you'll lose Hiirou, too.

He wanted to listen to his common sense and rational mind, but fear was a powerful force in Duo's world. "Duo?" Why couldn't Hiirou just leave him out of this? Yeah, maybe it was his fault that all of this had started in the first place, but he wanted out. He couldn't sit by and watch another accident, another man that he loved sprawled across blood-stained asphalt...

"Fuck!"

The mechanic ripped his headset off, throwing it blindly to the ground, and curled up on his side atop the station wagon. "I don't love Hiirou." He was trying to convince himself of this even as the Japanese boy's voice called to him over the line, cutting through miles of static to greet only interference. As the rest of his team celebrated yet another victory under their belts, Duo pleaded with a higher force to make a retrospect switch that couldn't be made.

A hawk is a term that I made up for the guys they have on the roofs keeping track of each racer's progress. In later chapters these positions will be eliminated in favor of GPS and digital monitoring.

0335AMEST29Oct04