Notes, disclaimers and other crap:
~Firstly and most importantly, neither Gundam Wing nor its characters belong to me. As much as I'd like them to, they don't. They are the property of Bandai, Sunrise etc. and all rights belong to them.
~Secondly, the story idea is in fact, MY idea. Came to me while I was reading le joueur généreux (The Generous Gambler) by Charles Baudelaire one night and I just couldn't shake it no matter how hard I tried. This story began as a One-Shot oh so long ago, then I realized how utterly and completely complicated I was making it and decided to continue it as a full-length story. It is a work in progress, and I am working on this as well as my much more lighthearted GW fic, The Pirate King. I go back and forth between the two, depending on my mood.
~Thirdly, this is an Alternate Universe fic. Not so AU as in I've taken the GW boys and dropped them in smack dab in the center of Middle Earth (oooh, idea), but AU enough that you'll notice blaringly obvious facts that don't quite follow up on what happened in the original canon (and that don't really exist in "real life" either). However, I have done my best to stay (somewhat) true to the timeline that EW left us with; I've just tweaked the events that could have transpired and placed the boys into a fantasy world that is interwoven with the canon world. I've also stayed almost entirely true to the storylines that Episode Zero set up for the young boys; I've just interpreted them in my own way to make them work for this story.
Please leave me constructive criticism if you so feel the need. I'm working on actual fiction in my "real-life" when I'm not in classes or working. Writing fanfiction is just a fun way for me to unwind and have fun, so any constructive criticism on my style etc is greatly appreciated. I will take it and use it wisely in future fanfics and fiction alike.
Now that all that is said, I promise to not put any more disclaimers at the beginnings of the rest of the chapters so read and enjoy!
With all my love,
Ash
The Greatest Trick
AC 201, October 9- Great Basin Desert, New Mexico, United States of America
The last rays of the sun were just beginning to fade over the mountains to the west. Night came swiftly in the desert, bringing with it a noticeable chill in the air.
The howl of a not too distant coyote echoed off eerie rock formations that rose high into the dark sky.
From the base of one grouping of rocks came a slight sound of rocks clattering against stone and dirt. Had anyone been standing in this desolate place they probably would have dismissed it as the scurrying of a desert creature, a small lizard or rodent perhaps, and moved on.
A pause in the silent night, then another barely discernable rustle, a slight crunch of what could only be rubber against rock and sand. A figure, barely visible against the dark crevices of the tall rocks, crouched motionless. After a few moments of silence the figure stood, covered in the dust of the desert. It breathed in deeply the rapidly cooling night air, brushed dust from its shoulders and pants, and crouched once again. Its hands groped for a moment, digging deep into a crevice at the base of the formation where it had apparently emerged. Another pause and then the figure pulled out an old military issued blanket and a worn backpack.
With practiced skill the figure quickly flapped dust off of the blanket and rolled it into a tight bundle. Slender, calloused fingers worked the buckles and straps of the military pack, pulling one bundle from it before securing the wrapped blanket inside and thoroughly cinching the pack closed once again. The figure unraveled the removed item and shrugged the long, black duster over its clothes. Using both hands it reached up and pulled a hood over its head. In a swift motion, it stood, slinging the heavy pack onto its back, before turning to look out over the desert expanse. Sharp, night-darkened eyes roved over every dip and rise on the horizon, the head tilted ever so slightly as if listening for the faint sound of something that did not belong in the desert night.
After a few moments of perfect stillness the cry of another coyote rang clear and mournfully into the night. As if the sound were its signal the figure stepped out from the safety of the towering rock and disappeared into the darkness, heading west.
