Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Shadows at Midnight ❯ Unveiled Secret ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: This is the direct result of having read too much Sidney Sheldon books, being addicted to Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing, and watching Formula One at the same time. The story contains YAOI or homosexual relationships. Don't like YAOI? SCRAM. It is my first attempt in writing a LONG story, so pardon my mistakes. Any kind of comment will be most welcomed.

This chappie is for my friend Koushu, my Formula One guru. She stayed up late at night just to tell me about Formula One. And also to Katie, hope you'd enjoy UK, and good luck on this journey. Keep in touch!

Disclaimer: Don't own Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing. Didn't create the characters. Same goes to the cars, the paintings, and the other valuable things that will be mentioned. Although I want a black-and-gold Ferrari, a silver Porsche, a black Jaguar or a Bentley Azure. *drools*

Ratings: Er… PG-13 for now? ^_^; I'll probably rate it an R in later chapters, or maybe in the next chapter…

Pairings: 1x2 (main), 3x4 (eventual), 1xR (just in this chapter, don't worry!). Other pairs will emerge as the story goes on; I'm still thinking about it.

Warnings: Alternate Universe. YAOI. Bastardized Odin Lowe.

Feed backs: It will hasten the chapters if my ego will be satisfied by your reviews… ^o^ Jodan! But it will please me to hear from you!

Enjoy…

SHADOWS AT MIDNIGHT

Chapter One

Monte Carlo, Monaco

The Monte Carlo circuit on the vicinity of Monaco's capital city was crammed with twenty five thousand spectators who had come to watch the championship classic. It was an 80-lap race over the three-mile course. The race had been running for more than three hours, under the harsh glare of the sun, and out of the starting twenty cars only a handful remained. The crowd was seeing history being made. There had never been such a race before. All the famous names around the world were on the track this day: Jack Kramer from Great Britain and Christian Brent in an Alfa Romeo, and the award-winning Rafe Carlton in a BMW. Also present was the youngest driver in all racing history, and people eagerly watched on to see how the young man was faring.

The track looked like a rainbow gone crazy, filled with the multitude colors of the BMW's and Ferraris and Renaults. But as lap after grueling lap went by, the giants began to fall. Kramer was in fourth place when his throttles jammed open. He sideswiped a blue-and-white Ferrari before he brought his own car under control by cutting the ignition, but both cars were finished. Rafe Carlton was in first place, with Christian Brent behind him. On a far turn, the BMW's gearbox disintegrated and the car started spinning, and Brent's car was caught in the vortex.

The crowd was in a frenzy.

Three cars were outpacing the rest of the group. The Dutch Seth Nissen, driving a Renault; Jacques Grangier from France in a Cooper; and a black-and-gold Ferrari by, to the unbelieving surprise of the crowd, youngest driver in the field. They were driving brilliantly, daring every straight and curved tracks.

Nissen was in the lead, with Grangier close behind him. And behind the two cars was the Ferrari.

The black-and-gold car had gone almost unnoticed until the last five minutes, when it had started gaining on the field. It had reached tenth position, then sixth, then fourth, and was still coming on strong. The breathless crowd was watching it now as the young driver started moving up on number two, driven by Grangier. The three cars were traveling at speeds in excess of 150 miles an hour, which was dangerous enough on the circuit. A referee stood and held up a sign: FIVE LAPS.

The Ferrari attempted to pass Grangier's Cooper on the outside, and Grangier inched over to block the other car's way. They were lapping a Brazilian car on the inside track, moving up on it fast. Now it was opposite Grangier's car. The Ferrari dropped back and edged over so that it was positioned in the tight spot behind the Brazilian and French cars. With a quick burst of acceleration the young driver rushed through the narrow space, forcing the two cars out of the way and shooting ahead into the number two spot. The crowd went wild; it had been an excellent and dangerous maneuver.

Still, it was Nissen in the lead, followed by the young driver and then Grangier in the third place, with three laps remaining. Nissen had seen the move. The kid is good, Nissen thought, but not good enough to beat me. Ahead, he saw the sign TWO LAPS. The race was almost over, and it was his. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Ferrari trying to pull up alongside him. He got a glimpsed of the other driver's helmeted face: sweat-streaked cheeks, tight lips, and determined eyes. He didn't like what he was about to do, but he had no choice. Racing was a game for men, not children.

The two cars were approaching the north end of the oval, where there was a small sharp turn, the most risky in the track. Nissen glanced at the boy once more and then gripped his wheel tightly. As the two cars started to approach the curve, Nissen just barely lifted his foot from the accelerator, so that the Ferrari began to pull ahead. He saw the boy shot him a quick, speculative look, then the driver was abreast of him, falling for his trap. The crowd was screaming. Nissen waited until the black-and-gold car was fully committed to pass him on the outside. At that moment Nissen opened his throttles wide and started to move toward the right, cutting off the young driver's path to the straightway, so the only choice was to head off course.

Nissen saw the sudden frown on the boy's face and said silently, Sorry kid. But at that instant the 'kid' turned the car directly into Nissen's Renault. Nissen couldn't believe it. The Ferrari was on a crash course with him; they were only three feet apart and at that speed Nissen had to make a spilt-second decision. The boy has gone crazy! In a swift, reflex motion, Nissen swung the wheel sharply to the left, trying to avoid the thousand pounds metal hurtling at him, so that the Ferrari missed him by a fraction of an inch, and shot past him toward the finish line. The Renault kept spinning until it stopped in the middle of the road, the tires and engine smoking from overuse.

But the crowd's attention was riveted on the Ferrari that was roaring across the finish line to victory. There were frenzied screams from the spectators as they ran toward the car, surrounding it, cheering. A young blond teen detached himself from the crowd and stood next to the car as the driver slowly stood up and took off his black helmet.

Long, chestnut braided hair cascaded down his back. An elfin nose, red lips, flushed cheeks, flashing violet eyes and a feral grin adorned his handsome face. There was a classic beauty about him that lured at the crowd. His lean body was shaking, not with exhaustion, but with excitement at beating the 'giants'. Over the loudspeaker the announcer was ecstatically yelling, "The winner is Duo Maxwell, from America, driving a Ferrari!"

Duo Maxwell's grin widened, if that was even possible, at the announcement, looking at his blond best friend who was standing beside him. "Heh, how was I? Told you I could beat them!" Duo exclaimed, crossing his arms on his chest and giving the other teen a superior smirk.

Quatre Raberba Winner patted him on his shoulder, his mouth quirked in a huge smile. "You know you were great, Duo."

"Nope, I AM great!"

While the crowd cheered again for the American, several older racers seethed. Coming out from his car, Seth Nissen raised his closed fist at the seventeen-year-old teen. "Alstublieft! How can a mere kid like you beat me?"

Duo heard the shouted question and wiggled his index finger at the irate man. "Talent, Mr. Nissen. Sheer talent."

"Talent, my ass." Grangier retorted, glaring daggers at the braided boy. He had also left his car, leaving it to his team of mechanics to repair the minor damages from the race.

As the two drivers went back to their respective teams, Duo shrugged and smiled impishly. Sore losers, he thought, pulling Quatre aside away from the still cheering people. When they were safe from prying ears of the crowd, he turned to his friend eagerly. "So, how much did we win?"

Quatre nodded, looking very much pleased. "It seemed the people didn't trust your ability to win, Duo, which was their loss and our gain. Thousands-to-one odds, against your favor. You're $50,000 richer, Duo. I'll deposit it on your account later."

"Thank you! You're the greatest when it comes to cons, Kitty-Cat!"

Quatre blushed despite himself and sniggered at the nickname. "Oh, and by the way, I got a message from Uncle Treize during the race. He has another 'mission' for Shinigami," he informed the young racer, his tone lowering to a whisper.

At the word 'mission', Duo perked up, a strange gleam lightening Duo's violet eyes. "Really…?"

"It's a painting in San Francisco…"

<<<< >>>>

San Francisco, California

Four days later

An attractive blond girl lifted up on an elbow and pulled a sheet to her breast. Frowning slightly, she studied the dark-haired young man who was standing at window of his room, his shoulder propped up against the window frame, looking out across the back lawns, where a party in honor of his father's birthday was in progress. "Heero, what are you doing?" Relena Peacecraft asked as she wrapped the sheet around herself and walked over to the window.

Heero Yuy seemed not to hear her as he looked out across the grounds of the palatial estate that would, upon the death of his father, become his. As he gazed at the hedge maze below, he saw his father emerge from the shrubbery. Casting a brief, furtive glance about him, he straightened his tie and ran his hand to his light brown hair. A moment later a voluptuous, raven-haired woman emerged, rearranging her long gown in some semblance of order. Their laughter drifted up through Heero's open window as they linked arms.

He grunted, mild cynicism marring the youthful beauty of his lean features as Heero watched his father and his newest conquest cross the lawns and saunter into the arbor. Behind him, Relena inclined her head to on side, not knowing if the grunt was meant to answer her question or not. "Heero?" she asked again.

Heero turned to look at her now with one brow raised, as if to say, 'Isn't it obvious?' At the look of surprise on her pretty face, Heero rolled his eyes and turned to the window once more. "Apparently, my father has acquired a new lover," Heero drawled bitingly.

Relena's blue eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, peering out the window. "Who?"

Heero shrugged, crossing his arms at his chest. "Just some random slut, if my guess is right. Nobody important." But knowing his father, he wouldn't choose a woman of low class. Turning fully toward her, Heero studied her seemingly innocent face, searching for some sign of surprise. When he saw none, his own features smoothed into a blank mask. "See yourself in her, Relena?"

Her mouth formed a perfect O, her blue eyes wide to compliment the shock on her face. "H-Heero? What do you mean?" She felt uneasy under those cool dark blue eyes, as if those bottomless twin orbs could see her soul. "Are you pertaining… that I am a sl-"

"Well, are you?"

"Of course not!" Came the indignant reply.

Heero snorted. "Only a slut would take advantage of my drunken state earlier," he retorted, smirking at the embarrassed and guilty expression on her face. Although his brows raised when she put her hands to his chest and smiled enticingly at him.

"Heero, why don't we forget this and return to the bed? Then we can continue…" she let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, her meaning as obvious as the moon in the velvet night.

At the luring note in her voice, humor softened his features and his firm, sensual lips quirked in a derisive smile. "Poor little Relena," he said dryly, reaching out and brushing his knuckles against her cheek. "You're so miserable, huh? From the day you're born, anything you want is yours for the asking, and now you're after me with an instinct of a bitch in heat just because of the prestige and wealth you'll gain by marrying me. No wonder you're so amoral and frivolous," he finished mockingly. "Kawaisou ne…"

Relena hesitated, struck by his words, not certain whether he was ridiculing her, then she frowned. "Heero, why are you acting like this? Is it because of what you saw about your father?" she asked worriedly as she searched his inscrutable features.

"Hardly," he replied. "I've known about my father's affairs since I was eight years old. My mother had known even longer than that. I doubt I could be shocked by what he does." He looked at her curiously. "Are you shocked?"

Relena bit her lower lip, unable to look at Heero's hard gaze. "Quite."

He smirked. "Don't be. You're doing exactly the same thing."

"But I'm not married!" she exclaimed.

Heero shrugged again, saying without words that they were still the same for him. Although he was only eighteen, Heero Yuy's potent attraction for women and girls was already a topic of much scintillating feminine gossip inside and out of school, and as Relena gazed into those beautiful cobalt eyes, she suddenly felt herself drawn to him as if by some overwhelming magnetic force. His stoic nature had the girls view him as a challenge, and his eyes spelled danger and a hard knowledge far beyond his years. It was all these things, even more than his dark good looks and blatant virility, that impelled girls toward him. And then there was the fact the he was the heir to the big fortune of the business tycoon Odin Lowe.

"Are you coming to bed, Heero?"

"No," he said mildly.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not bored enough to want to sleep with you." He looked at her beneath his thick lashes. "Get dressed and leave me. I'm sure you'll still be able to find something interesting downstairs."

Relena studied his broad, muscular shoulders, deep chest, and narrow waist, then her gaze lifted to his handsome face. In a black shirt and tight-fitting jeans, every inch of Heero Yuy's tall frame positively radiated raw power and leashed sensuality. She pouted petulantly. "I doubt that." But one look at his threatening glare changed her mind instantly.

While she dressed, Heero turned back to the windows and gazed impassively at the elegant guests who gathered on the lawns of his father's estate. To an outsider on that day, the estate would doubtlessly looked like a fascinating wonderland populated by beautiful, carefree, tropical birds parading in all their gorgeous finery. To him, the scene held no beauty at all; he knew too well what went on within the walls of this house when the guests were gone.

Heero shook his head, wanting to dispel the building headache that threatened to swallow him whole. Casting a last glance at the scene, he left the window and went out of the room, gathering his jacket and the keys to his car from a side table, and escaping his father and the disgusting legacy he would one day inherit.

<<<< >>>>

Miles away from the Lowe estate, atop one of the tall buildings in the area, a young man with long chestnut hair dressed in black overalls stared at the targeted building in front of him through high-powered binoculars, his vivid violet eyes flashing with restrained excitement. Shinigami's target this time was a painting by Gainsborough. It was owned by one James Morgan, the owner of an exclusive art gallery who, to quote Quatre, 'enjoys ripping off his customers'. The Gainsborough was to be the highlight of his gallery, which was why it was hidden in the safe on the tenth floor of the building. He was already given all the schematics; the design of the targeted floor of the building, the shifts of the guards, and the security system installed currently.

All he had to do now was to steal it.

Shinigami is out to hunt again.

He grinned, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline starting to course through his body. An indescribable thrill filled his senses at the thought of another difficult 'mission' to overcome once again. He waited for the right time to start, his patience infinite as always. A moment later, a series of beeps went off from his black wristwatch. The glowing numbers told him the time.

3 A.M.

Showtime.

<<<< >>>>

Heero stepped forcefully on the gas pedal of his silver Porsche after seeing the green light, his head spinning from the aftereffects of the bottle of brandy he drank in the party. He cursed himself silently, wanting to just go to his apartment and lie down on his bed. It was his father's fault in the first place. Odin Lowe ordered Heero to attend his party, despite the fact the he knew Heero detested social gatherings. The older Lowe had told Heero that he wanted his son to be there when he announce his intent on showing the Lowe collection of family heirlooms, and show parental support on his father's upcoming exhibition. Which was the reason why Heero got himself drunk in the first place. It was just like his father to flaunt his money flagrantly. Heero wouldn't have minded if his father chose to exhibit his prized possessions, but when his father told him that he was also going to show his mother's belongings, Heero had wanted to kill his own father for it.

Instead, he settled to getting himself drunk.

He cursed himself again for being a fool and not inviting Trowa to the party; at least then he would have a friend with him. But instead, he got Relena Peacecraft fawning all over him all night… which led to the inevitable happening in his room.

"Kuso…" Heero whispered softly, lifting his fingers to massage his throbbing temples. He was so drunk that he didn't even know what had happened inside the room. Everything was vague, and all he remembered was when he woke up, he saw a naked Relena sleeping peacefully beside him. He remembered being angry, wanting to hurl her out of the room. Then he had thought to escape her before she could wake up, but his eyes were immediately drawn to his father and his latest mistress making out in the maze. It had been the last blow combined with liquor, Relena's advances and his father's insensitivity for his mother that compelled Heero to prattle the way he did inside the room, taunting Relena and telling her things that he hadn't told anyone except his friend Trowa.

He turned to the left, driving the car pretty much smoothly since it was late and traffic had died down already. With his thoughts still on his father, Heero didn't notice a slender, black-clad figure crossed the street with cat-like grace from a high-rise building to his right. Only when his headlights emphasized the figure that had Heero stepping hard on the brake.

The figure stood frozen in front of Heero's car, its brilliant violet eyes gleaming with surprise despite the darkness of the night. Long, chestnut brown hair flowed down its back like a waterfall, swaying to the rhythm of the slight breeze. Heero stared quietly, fascinated by the ethereal creature that, he noticed, was holding in its arm a quite large rectangular object wrapped in white paper.

Painting, supplied his mind.

Heero was about to speak when a loud shrill of alarm sounded from a building to his right and frantic shouts were heard from security.

"IT'S SHINIGAMI! GET HIM!"

The elfin creature blinked, then its mouth quirked into a grin and it brought its index finger to its lips, telling Heero to be quiet. At Heero's somewhat dazed nod, it ran into a dimly lighted alley and disappeared from the blue eyed boy's view.

Heero sat back on the driver's seat, his heart beating loudly against his chest. After a few moments, he started his car again and proceeded to his apartment. His head continued to pound with increasing force, but thoughts of a violet-eyed creature persisted to remain in his mind.

Shinigami…

<<<< >>>>

Duo rubbed his eyes wearily as he opened the door to his hotel room and let himself in. He locked the door and dropped himself on an oversized chair after unwrapping the Gainsborough and propping it to the chair in front of his. Duo stared at the painting; a portrait of a boy wearing a white dress and holding a bunch of flowers in his left hand. The boy didn't even look like a boy… if Quatre hadn't told him what the painting's title was, he would've thought that the child was a little girl.

Looking intently at the boy/girl, he noticed that the kid in the portrait had blue eyes… eyes that reminded him of the person in the silver Porsche. For a professional thief like Shinigami, Duo knew his way around cars, and the silver Porsche 911 was one hot convertible that could've cost quite a penny to its driver. It was not in the same league as his Bentley Azure and black-and-gold Ferrari, but it was still a 'must have'. It was the car first drew him, but when he saw the driver…

Duo groaned, smacking his head hard. He didn't know what came over him, freezing like a cornered rabbit like he did in front of the blue-eyed boy. But he was instantly mesmerized by those blue orbs, and was struck hard by how stunning the driver was.

He also felt stripped, his mask as Shinigami the cat burglar falling away when he realized that someone had actually seen him. Him, the infamous thief who was wanted by Interpol, CIA, FBI and other agencies from around the world.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid…" he murmured again and again, standing up and catching his flowing hair in his one hand and taking an elastic band from a table with the other. It had been a habit for him to let his hair out of its braid when he had to steal something. It was a good disguise after all; and it had always led security to think that he was a girl. While expertly braiding his hair, Duo paced the carpeted floor in frustration. He wracked his brain for a way to silence the blue-eyed teen. Killing him was out of the question. It had been Duo's policy not to hurt people during a 'mission', and he wouldn't want to start now.

The least he could do was to find out what the boy knew about him.

Satisfied with his decision, he sat down, took out his cell phone and dialed Quatre's number. Two rings later, he was connected to his best friend in Europe.

"Duo! Did you get it?" asked the blond boy on the other line.

Duo grinned. "Got it, Q! When can I give it to you?"

Quatre laughed softly. "No, you don't have to come here in England. Uncle Treize and I will go there in California tomorrow."

Duo yelped in surprise. "What? You will? But why? Don't you have school? And your family! What would your father say? What would Iria say?"

"Oh, Duo, you don't have to worry. Uncle Treize has another mission for you and it so happens that the target is also in San Francisco, so we thought of going there, first to get the painting, then to brief you about the plan."

"Geez, another mission? You're spoiling me rotten, Quat. What's the target?"

"We knew you'd like it. It's a diamond called Black Royal, one of the very few remaining black diamonds, and the largest in the world. We'll tell you more about it when we get there. All that I can tell you is that it's currently in the possession of the business tycoon Odin Lowe, who specializes in buying small companies below its net worth, then selling them for more than its worth. Are you interested?" Quatre asked, although he knew his thrill-seeking friend would accept it immediately.

Thousands of miles away from the blond, Duo's eyes sparkled, the familiar tingling of excitement coursing through his body once again. "Hell, yeah! I'll take a look into Odin Lowe's background as soon as I can."

Quatre laughed again. "Okay, okay, I know a dismissal when I hear one," he cheerfully said. "See you, Duo!"

Duo placed the phone back on its cradle when the call was terminated. He went to the desk and sat in front of his laptop, opening the computer and beginning his search.

A few hours later, sunlight peeked through the closed curtains of the luxurious room. Duo yawned loudly as he leaned back on the black leather chair, but his tired eyes were twinkling despite his lack of sleep. He was staring at the screen of his laptop, which was showing an enlarged picture of a good-looking half-Japanese boy with blue eyes and dark hair, standing with a tall man with light brown hair beside him. Behind them was a huge, palatial house with manicured lawns. It was a picture taken by a photographer from a magazine that featured Odin Lowe once.

Odin Lowe and his son, Heero.

Heero Yuy.

Duo's lips stretched into his signature grin, a plan slowly forming in his head.

TBC…

* * *

The Black Royal is a figment of my imagination. There is no such diamond in the world; at least I think there isn't.

The Gainsborough painting was "Master John Heathcote". I saw it in an encyclopedia. ^_^ Since the picture I saw was in black-and-white, I had no idea if the little boy's eyes were blue, or what its dimensions were. I just assumed that it could be carried in one arm. Actually, at first I, too, thought that the boy was a girl in that painting.

My love for cars is so obvious. -_-; However, I only have limited knowledge about Car Racing, and racing circuits. The names of the drivers are fictional.

Hey, frankly speaking… do I need a beta reader? Anyone interested there?

Sorry for the brief OOC-ness of Heero and the 1xR. I have nothing against Relena, but there are times when I REALLY don't like her.

Well, that's all. Expect chapter two next week or the week after that… if my schedule will allow me.

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