Sweet Revenge

By Kracken

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing; I admit it. I also don't own a car, house, or anything of value.

You can have my computer if you have a fetish for overlarge paperweights.

Other than that, it's not worth suing me for anything.

Prologue: Somewhere in the depths of the Winner mansion. . .

"I can't take it anymore! Far be it from me to criticize my master's guests, but this is the last straw. I QUIT!"

Rashid sighed and wondered if just this once he should have let the young Pilot fend for himself. After all, he faced much worse things than irate chefs every time he entered Sandrock. However, if he did not want to eat his own cooking, he was going to have to do the impossible. Find a cook who would put up with Duo Maxwell.

Two days later:

"You!" Rashid immediately leapt to his feet. His visitor merely smiled. "Now, now, Rashid. There's no reason to be hostile. I promise I'm not here to do anything other than cook." He dropped heavily into his chair, debating whether or not he should summarily dismiss her from his office without even a trial period. On the one hand, he knew she was dangerous, with capabilities he probably didn't know about; and, come to think of it, probably didn't want to know about. On the other hand, she could be very useful for preventing unwanted contaminants in the kitchen. Trying to poison the Winner heir was still a favorite past time for some people in these parts… He sighed, after all, the worst she could do was kill them all, right?

"State your qualifications please." She smiled again and began her list. "Two years of private tutoring by Chef Jean-Claude Demarrie, four years at the Masters of International Cuisine private university on the Mediterranean, and another two years as senior apprentice to the head caterer of the Carrera Catering Co. You know the other one." It was all Rashid could do not to stare in utter astonishment. "You have proof of your credentials?" She raised an eyebrow and handed him a sheaf of papers. Every thing was in order. He didn't bother to ask for a background check. It was no good, because other than what she'd just told him and what he already knew, they'd never find anything. Still, he could not help but admire the excellence of her culinary education. From what he'd read just now, She'd been first in her class at MICU, the most renowned university of the culinary arts anywhere, on earth or the colonies. Not to mention the fact that Monsieur Demarrie was well known for his refusal to teach any but the best. His name was still spoken of with awe even though he'd been dead now for five years.

Which brought up another question, how old was she? Best to find out now, for while child slavery was still a common problem in this part of the world, Winner policy stated that no one under age sixteen was to be hired in any position. Either to the family or the corporation. "One last little formality if you please, before you can begin your trial period. What is your current age and occupation?" She grinned. "Horticulturist, and as to my age…17" She laughed at his shocked expression. "That's right, Rashid. My training began at the tender age of seven and a half." Complete silence filled the room for the space of several heartbeats as Rashid assimilated what he'd just been told. Perhaps it was a good thing the old cook had walked out. Never mind her alternate occupation; he knew for a fact that there were only perhaps three more people on earth with training like hers, maybe two more in the colonies, but none of them had all of her achievements. They might very well be about to acquire the most talented chef in the known universe. There was just one little problem… "How do you feel about pests in the kitchen?"

(A/n: this is one of my first stories, it's been taken down for some severe revamping, and ratings may go up do to changes in some of the pranks. I will be reposting the changed chapters as I have the time.)

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