Warnings: None yet.. I think.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me
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Web of Lies - Prologue
"Today, the new chief representative, Quatre Winner of the Winner corporation, has been awarded with a gold medal for the funding he has generously supplied to charity."
The scene shifted to a young man with blond hair, dressed in a formal white suite looking into the camera. He smiled politely, but his eyelids were lowered, hiding most of his azure eyes in an expression of boredom and annoyance. A voice of one of the journalists spoke up, "Mr. Winner! It is not often that a man as rich and well-traveled as yourself, simply gives away 25% of what he owns! What has brought you to this conclusion?"
The man on the screen seemed to consider for a moment, then opened his mouth, "I have always been a great believer in--" He was cut off mid-sentence, as the mute button was pressed, filling the room with sudden silence.
A lone figure slowly walked up to the door of her trailer. Pressing her ear against the door, she heard the soft tapping of impatient feet.
Hesitantly, she asked, "Who's there?"
"It's me, Triton," a deep voice sounded from the outside. The figure heaved a sigh of relief, and tugged a brown strand of hair behind her ear.
"Just a second," she called back, and started fiddling with the security locks. Finally, a 'click' sounded, and the door swung open.
"G'mornin'," the man outside grinned. "I've a letter for you. It came all the way from London." He handed her a beige envelope with her neatly printed address at the front.
"London?" the woman repeated, and turned her attention to the letter. Murmuring a small 'thank you', she waved Triton away again, and returned to her trailer.
Fingering the beige envelope nervously, she wondered if this was it. A letter from her brother, Trowa. She hadn't seen her sibling since their parents had died a year ago, and she had felt a huge gap in her life, ever since.
Taking a deep breath, she quickly ripped the letter open, and revealed a neatly folded piece of paper. Sitting down at her desk, she opened it, and let her eyes glide from one side to the other, as she silently read it. Her expression quickly changed into a mixture of fear, shock, then horror.
Letting her hand holding the letter drop to her side, she weakly let go of the piece of paper. Warm crystal pearls of sorrow and despair escaped from her closed eyes, and rolled down her cheeks, staining her tanned skin with spilled emotions.
"Trowa..." the name softly escaped her lips, "Oh, Trowa."
Suddenly, she felt weak; helpless. In a state of shock, she laid her head on the hard surface of her desk. Sobbing, and calling her brother's name over and over again, she drifted off into a dreamless state of unconsciousness.
On the floor, the letter lay still and innocent. The black, emotionlessly printed words conveying the worst possible news.
"We are sorry to inform you that your brother, Trowa Barton, is dead."
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