The older officer woke his partner with a poke to the ribs.

"Wa'? I wan't asleep."

"Sure you weren't. We've got a hot one."

Officer Charles pointed to the car that was driving down the side if the road.

"He's not weaving. Why do you think he's hot?"

"He's driving too slow and right on the edge of the pavement. He'll be on the shoulder in a second. That's one of the signs."

The younger partner wasn't a rookie, exactly. But he was still a probationer and that was why he was partnered with an older, more experienced officer.

"Ok. He's drunk, or on some drug. Now what?"

Officer Charles flipped the switch on the light bar and the siren. "Well, Proby, now we stop them and take a look."

The car pulled over and stopped at the verge. The driver poked his girlfriend and then shook her. She must have either fallen asleep or passed out.

"Ok, Proby, I'll get them out while you run the plates. And don't get out of the car until you've got the jacket. Unless I scream like a girl or something."

Officer Charles grinned at the partner he insisted on calling Proby, short for probationer. He opened the door and got out, ringing his baton and putting on his Smoky Bear hat.

The driver was short, Asian, but with blue eyes and messy brown hair. He was stocky in the way of a martial artist or wrestler. He looked exhausted, or very drunk. He was weaving on his feet.

His girlfriend turned out to be a boy, a nearly unconscious one. He was in even worse condition than the driver. He was nearly asleep, leaning on the car, eyes closed, long cinnamon braid draped over his shoulder.

"Ok, guys, it's wake up time. Whatever you've been up to, I'll find out. Now, first thing, have you been drinking or using drugs? Better admit it now rather than have me figure it out for myself."

The long haired young man rubbed his face, trying to wake up. "Sorry. I'm really tired. I don't do drugs and I haven't been drinking. We just got off work."

"And just where do you work? And don't tell me Preventers, those costume uniforms are good but they don't fool me. You're both much too young to be Preventers."

The Asian boy glanced at Officer Charles then farther back, at his partner. "Your partner doesn't look happy. Maybe you should see what he's having fits about. We'll be right here when you get back. If we don't fall asleep, we'll be standing by."

Officer Jackson was just completing his search and he didn't like what he was seeing. The car was a Preventers car, issued to one Yuy, Heero, Major. Neither of the young men standing by the car looked old enough to be in Preventers, much less a major.

"Ok, Proby, what's got your shorts in a knot?"

"This." Officer Jackson turned the display around so that his partner could see it. "It looks like we've got a stolen car, joy riders. This car is issued to Preventers Officer Major Heero Yuy. So what do we do?"

"We call for backup. We need someone to drive the car back to the station, it's going to take both of us to handle two drunk, or whatever, young wanna be's. So, let's do this."

The two boys watched the officers as they returned to tell them, "Ok, guys, you're under arrest."

The Asian boy just looked at his friend. "Arrest?"

"Don't look at me. I'm so tired I really don't care. Is there a bed in my near future?"

"Probably. In a drunk tank."

"Don't care. All I want is flat. Une's an idiot."


Both boys turned to watch the officers as they prepared to make their arrest. Neither one of them seemed unduly upset by the fact that they were the arrestees. They even smiled at the backup that arrived, two more officers and a supervisor.

"Ok, guys, here's the deal. You're in possession of a car that's obviously stolen. You're drunk or on drugs and you're impersonating officers of Preventers. The party must have been a dilly. Now, we're going to arrest you, take you to the station and sort this all out."

The supervisor was inclined to take it easy on the two boys because they weren't cocky or smart mouthed. He motioned to Officer Charles to search the long-haired boy while one of the back up officers searched the Asian one.

"Ok, son, got any knives, guns, drugs, hand grenades, rocket launchers, needles or anything that'll stick me?"

The boy snickered. "Yes."

Officer Charles froze for a second. "What the hell? Look, smart ass, don't get mouthy with me."

"You asked a question, I answered. Guns, two. Shoulder holster, ankle holster. Knives, eight, two each forearm, four on belt, two each side. Plastic explosive and prima cord in braid. Also, lockpicks."

The officer searched quickly and found that the boy was telling the truth.

"Jesus Christ! What are you? Some kind of junior terrorist?"

"No, I'm a senior terrorist. Maxwell, Duo. 467-89-3342-P-02." The kid gave a huge yawn and then shrugged.

The supervisor interrupted before Officer Charles had a stroke. "Ok, let's just get the cuffs on and log all this ... stuff."

The officer searching the other boy didn't have any better luck. He found two huge semi-auto's, a handful of throwing pins and a garrote. He managed to remain calm only because there were five officers and two juveniles.

"This isn't good. We're going to have to cuff them, run them in, and find their parents. People who are not going to be happy. At all. Damn." The supervisor, Officer Andrews, was a worried man. These kids were obviously pampered, rich boys; with no idea how much trouble they were in. They were much too calm, almost like they'd done all this before, several times.

The two young men were duly cuffed and 'stuffed', helped into the cars, and transported to the HQ. They were taken in two different cars, to keep them from working up a story between them.

They arrived at the station and had to wake their prisoners up, both boys had fallen asleep the second they were seated in a car.

When they walked in the door, the booking Sargent glanced up then sighed. He didn't like having kids this young in a drunk tank but that was where they were going. Scared straight did work, most of the time.

Neither one of the boys seemed inclined to cause a disturbance in the booking office but two extra officers stood by anyway.

"Well, boys, I need your citizen ID. I hope you weren't stupid enough to leave it home." The boys looked at each other and started snickering. "Not funny. Hand it over."

The Asian boy spoke first, over riding his friend. "And how are we supposed to do that with our hands cuffed?"

The desk Sargent just sighed. "Uncuff them." The cuffs were removed and the Sargent had both boys empty their pockets, handing over wallets, change and an assortment of nuts, bolts, and unrecognizable oddments.

"Stick them in the small tank. Give them some blankets and a couple of pillows. I don't think we'll have any antics." He gave both boys a stern look. "Will we?"

Both boys shook their heads with vaguely amused expressions.

"No, no antics. I'm too tired. Come on, 'Ro. Let's be good little boys and let the nice officers lock us up."

No one was amused by this, not even the Asian boy.

"Shut up, you want to piss them off? I'd really like a blanket, you know."

"Sorry. You know me, open mouth insert foot. Especially when I'm tired."

They followed the officer to the tank without further comment, taking the blankets and pillows with nods.

The officer locked the door then watched through the peephole while they made a nest of the blankets and settled in in each other's arms. He went back to the desk.

"Well, what did you find out?"

The desk Sargent sighed. "Shit. They've got fake ID that says they're Preventer officers. Majors, if you can believe that. We're going to have to make a call I'd rather not make. This is a major crime. Impersonating a Preventer is big stuff. We need to find out where they got the papers. They look really good."

The Sargent made his call while another officer ran the plates again. They also ran computerized pictures of the boys against a data base of wanted criminals. This was procedure and no one expected the results they got.

"Ok, now I'm officially scared. Those two boys are actually Gundam Pilots. The real deal. They've still got wants and warrants in the system. Not that anyone will do anything about them. Christ! Murder, mayhem, terrorist activities, counterfeiting, grand theft auto, grand theft ... get this! The stole a fucking shuttle. Between the two of them they've got approximately forty felony counts, all of them dismissed but still in the system."

All the officers looked suitably impressed. One finally thought to ask, "Ok, so what the hell are they doing driving around half drunk or whatever?"

"I'll check with Preventers and see if I can't get some info. Just give me a sec." The booking officer tapped at his keyboard for a moment then leaned back to drink some coffee while he waited for results. The whole room waited impatiently.

"Well, shit. Someone's a real idiot. They've just gotten off a mission. One of those super secret things. There's only a note of what time they left and what time they got back. Seems they were out for 72 hours straight. I bet they didn't get a seconds sleep during all that time. I bet they were supposed to go straight home, but we got in the way."

The desk Sargent stood up with a sigh. "Ok. I'll go get them and ... where's the car?"

"In the parking lot, waiting for Preventers to come claim it. Keys are right here." The officer, who had brought the car to the station, held up the keys.

"I'll get them, then, and we'll apologize politely and send them on their way."

"You think that's a good idea? They both look done in. Maybe we should ... um." No one seemed able to finish the thought. They really weren't sure what to do with the two.

The desk Sargent decided their best bet was to go get the pilots and let them make their own decisions.

So he and two other officers went to the tank to get their prisoners and find out what they wanted to do. The men took one look at the two boys, wrapped in each other's arms and snuggled into the nest of blankets and decided that they needed sleep more than anything else.

"Man, they look so damn young. And cute. Like two puppies."

"Rottweiler puppies. Wake them the wrong way and you're toast."

"Not waking them. Forget it. Anyone who's tired enough to sleep on that concrete floor with one thin blanket and that excuse for a pillow is too tired to wake up for anything short of the end of the world."

The desk Sargent just laughed softly and sent one of the other men for more blankets.