Author's Note: I know you people have been wondering for the longest time when I am going to introduce Quatre into this story. Well, look no further. Pilot 04 finally gets involved but whose side is he really on? Also, introduce a new OC that belongs to my good pal Archsage Soren. When I first made the call for OCs back in The Maxwell Project, he offered his very first creation. After thinking about it some, I decided, eh, why not include her somewhere? Long story short, I ask AS if his offer still stood, he said yes, and voila. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Archsage Soren's Kisari.

Warning: language

Relieving Boredom: Rich Kid Style

Quatre Winner, age 19, son of the wealthiest billionaire to have ever lived with the looks of an angel and the mean streak of a devil was indulging himself in a favorite past time of his: race car driving.

Of course, the word race didn't really apply at all since the word itself implies others being involved and a competition the center of it. No, he was really just driving extremely fast on a closed off race track owned by his father, his foot on the pedal and constantly pushing against and withdrawing from it with every turn he made. He loved the feeling of something rushing by him and the sense of speed as he sped his car of more satisfied his addiction to it. However, because there was a danger in it, he had on the best protection and equipment that money could buy, all guaranteed to keep his safe and alive in the case of an accident. In essence, he was in a deathproof car, a spoof off of his favorite parts in the Grindhouse movie that had come out some time ago.

Master Quatre, it is almost time for you to stop, a deep voice intoned over his intercom. Your father wants to have lunch for you, if you remember?

"I hear and remember just fine," the handsome blond man chirped back. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at recalling his scheduled lunch appointment with his father, something that had been planned for a few weeks ago in advanced. Hey, when you run one of the largest corporations on the planet, you have to schedule everything, including your private life. Because he was in his element, though, he wouldn't take his own frustrations on his own staff just because his dick of a father couldn't time manage himself to save his life.

Making one last run around the track, he hit the brakes without warning, reveling in the screeching sound that his tires made against the pavement as he skidded to a stop, turning towards a side to take off more momentum but not turning sharply enough to send him and the car into a flip and roll. Finally coming to a stop, gray-white smoke catching up with the car, Quatre got out of the car and removed his helmet, re-exposing the world to his wild golden locks once more.

The grace with which he moved in, the way his eyes gleamed in the sunlight, the overall strength that his body broadcasted had won over and adored him to many of the opposite gender and it was something that he took full advantage of. If you could afford to be a playboy, why not do so? He had had numerous conquests in bed and he enjoyed the sense of power that they all gave to him.

It was something he had grown up not having for most of his life and he took whatever he could get whenever he could.

It didn't take long for him to approach a large, dark haired, bearded man who handed him a bottled water of the finest kind which he guzzled down, his throat muscles contracting and relaxing as the delicious liquid ran down his esophagus, providing a cooling relief to the blond heir. Despite what some people thought, it could get really hot inside the car since the car engine itself created a lot of it just so it could power the car to move. Plus the air conditioning in this particular car sucked.

It was his favorite car, so sue him.

"So where does my father want to meet, Rashid?" Quatre asked, not pausing once in his steady walk as he headed towards the showers to clean up. It wouldn't due to show up to lunch sweaty and stinking up to high heaven.

"He requests your presence at the north wing patio at the usual time," Rashid answered in his deep rumbling voice.

Quatre rolled his eyes at that and replied, "By God that man has no sense of adventure! It's always the same patio on the same wing every single time! It's almost hard to believe he's in charge of a multi-billion dollar company!"

"Now Master Quatre," Rashid admonished gently, "your father is a very smart man. If Allah intended him not to be 'adventurous' then you mustn't begrudge him that. It matters not if he is lacking in some areas as long as remains competitive with his two main rivals, is it not?"

"True," Quatre agreed, "but it doesn't mean he has to be a stick in the mud all of the time!"

Rashid chuckled in reply but said nothing more to his employer, preferring to remain silent as he attended the young man. That suited Quatre just fine since there was nothing else to say on the matter. The friendly silence reigned over the two, even as they took a golf cart the rest of the way to the main estate where Quatre quickly headed towards his quarters to clean up.

The feeling of warm, nearly hot water running down his muscled body, one that he took great pains to keep in fit, physical condition so as to attract the fairer of the sexes and keep them coming, he sighed in pleasure at the sensation covering his whole body. Letting the stream of water spray his head and wet his hair, he fingered a necklace that he hadn't removed, one in which a cross hung.

It was a common mistake that people made, assuming that the Winner family was Islamic or Muslim. Just because they made a lot of dealings and did a lot of business in the Middle East had no bearing on who exactly the Winners were. The truth was that the Winners were a prominent European family that were devoted Christians and would never dare to think about converting from their religion. Still, if the perception helped them in negotiations, who were the Winners to correct them? Whatever was good for business was good for business and they weren't going to do anything to mess with it.

Pleasant scents filled his bathroom as he shampooed and conditioned his hair; top of the line brands were, needless to say, the best and Quatre refused to use anything less. That included bodywash as well along with the best kind of loofah that was available on the market. Hey, he had to keep his skin soft and smooth and it helped to upkeep his natural angelic appearance. If people thought you were weak looking by your appearance, it was easy to take hold of the direction and turn everything up on its side. A cheap illusion, sure, but as long as people kept falling for it…

Once he was finished, he entered his bedroom, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, another smaller one being used to dry his hair. Tossing the small towel onto his head, he picked up a folder that had been placed on his bed some time during his shower. He opened it an scanned the contents of it intently, closing it up a minute later. He pondered on the report within the folder, even as he took out the suit he would wear to the luncheon, trying to figure an angle to it.

Recently, there had been some freakish and odd weather phenomenon in Central Arizona, something he had been keeping tabs on out of personal interest. What most people didn't know that while his father dealt with the public face of Winner Enterprises, he, Quatre, had been delegated tasks that dealt with its more darker side, one that would appall the public should they ever know of it. It was through his more "illegal" contacts that he had been hearing rumors of some government project, one that was meant to produce "living weapons," all of them having unique abilities.

Normally, he wouldn't put much stock into something that sounded like it came from a cheesy fiction book. Who in their right mind would want to read such crap?

However, peculiar recent incidents made his reconsider his previous beliefs. Specifically, there was a town in the middle of nowhere becoming a charred patch of land and a circus looking as if a bomb had detonated in the middle of it. Unprecedented storms of such an intensity that no one living could recall others and a weather anomaly occurring in the middle of nowhere, again, was really heightening his suspicions. What if such a program existed? If it was possible to create "living weapons" then why wasn't WEI doing the same thing? Much of the products that the public consumed today had military origins from GPS's to M&M's. One just had to have imagination and be able to twist such things into everyday consumer products. If only there was a way to get his hands on more information if not an actual specimen!

He would have to keep an eye out for anything else, that's all there was to it. Picking up a phone, he made a quick call to some "unsavory" characters that Winner Enterprises didn't acknowledge existed but kept on their private paybooks, even as he had difficulty trying to zip up his pants.

---

Sylvia Noventa was the kind of girl who had it all: wealth, youth, all the clothes she could ever want, a big house, no need or wants…

Then again, she was just sixteen going on seventeen so that would explain the youth factor but as a young teenager these days, she was bored. Bored out of her mind as she tossed aside the latest edition of Teen Magazine and huff her annoyance as nothing else came up to distract her. Sure, she was blonde, had the clearest blue eyes a guy could ever see, beauty that could contest with a model's any day of the week, but she wasn't stupid. She had quite the brain to tell the truth and was pretty smart. However, that brilliance wasn't helping her at all when it came to relieving herself of her boredom.

"So bored…" she groaned out, getting a response from her fellow female companion.

A fellow blonde, one with black and light blue highlights streaking her naturally straight hair (at least she thought they were highlights) and dress in a long, dark, gothic dress complete with lacy frills on it, replied, "Don't you have a boyfriend to entertain you or something?" Her green eyes flash upwards to look at the other blonde quizzically, pausing from painting her fingernails with black nail polish. Sylvia could never understand why her friend never went the whole way and dyed her hair black to complete her look, even when she was told that she "didn't want to conform with all those goth wannabes."

"No, I don't," she answered. "You should know that Kisari."

"Forgive me for not knowing ever single detail of your life," Kisari shrugged, going back to painting her fingernails. "Shouldn't your grandfather be back by now or something?"

"He is," Sylvia replied as she rolled onto her back to stare up at her bedroom's ceiling. "He came in last night but I haven't seen him all morning yet. I guess he's busy or something."

"Why don't you go bother him instead of me?" Kisari asked, sounding as if she putted up with morons all the time.

Letting her head hang off the edge of her bed so she could glare at the other girl upside down, she said, "I might just do that, oh wise one."

"About time you figured that one out," Kisari smirked, referring to the "wise one" comment.

"As soon as you're done with your nails," Sylvia continued, this time being the one to smirk as Kisari jerked in surprise, getting black nail polish on her finger.

"Can't do anything without me, can you?" Kisari grumbled as she shot a glare at Sylvia before working to wipe her finger clean with a small hand cloth. "Fine, I'll hold your hand like a child since you want me so much."

"Yeah, and that's the day I become a lesbian," Sylvia retorted, rolling back onto her stomach.

"Be careful what you wish for," Kisari warned.

"I'm not wishing, it's a statement of fact," Sylvia replied smugly, finally mustering the energy to get off her bed. "Come on, we'll go to the bathroom and wash that stuff off."

"But I'm not finished!" Kisari exclaimed.

"So? You can finish up later," Sylvia stated as she hauled the other girl up and out of her room.

---

Noventa smiled fondly down at the braided boy who remained curled up on his office couch, fast asleep and showing no signs of waking up anytime soon. It had been quite a relief when his private doctor had just diagnosed the boy's injuries as superfluous and needing only the barest of medical treatment with no need for any other medical practitioner to take a look.

Hearing that, Noventa determined to keep the strange boy here until he woke up and answered some questions so that the Admiral could be sure the boy would get back to where he belonged. Also, he was very curious about all those cuts and scraps the boy had. How had it been possible he hadn't gotten any infections from them, especially since he didn't know how long the boy had been out in the wilderness.

Still, if he had had a grandson, he could imagine watching the child sleep just like this boy was. It was amusing, despite the Band-Aids on him, as the boy snuggled further into the couch, wrapping the blanket around him tighter to keep more warmth. He hadn't seen a sight like that in years, not since Sylvia was a little girl…

…and especially not after his granddaughter made the acquaintance and friendship of that friend of hers, Kisari…

He didn't like that other girl; for some reason she rubbed him wrong. He didn't think she was a good influence on his only granddaughter and the last of his living relatives but she had become a near fixture in the estate as Sylvia seemed to enjoy her company so much.

A small knock on his office's door interrupted his musings. Not wanting to disturb the boy's sleep, he quickly made his way to the door and cracked the door open, smiling as he saw the sight of Sylvia on the other side. It was always a pleasure to see the girl who was growing up to be a fine young woman and this time was no exception as he opened the door fully to allow her in. He successfully fought against frowning at the sight of Kisari who followed her granddaughter in; while he didn't like the girl, he would tolerate her if just for Sylvia's sake.

"Who's this grandfather?"

Turning away from Kisari, Noventa noticed Sylvia looking down at the form on his couch and he smiled slightly at the sight. He had guessed it would have been a matter of time before Sylvia found out about their guest so what was the point in playing games now?

With a small smile growing on his face as he gaze fondly at Sylvia and the boy, he answered, "A guest I picked up last night while on the way home. If I hadn't been looking, I would have missed him and left him on the side of the road. Lucky for him, that didn't happen and the doctor told me his injuries just looked worse than they actually do. So, until he wakes up and tells me where he's from, he'll be staying here for a while."

Normally, he would've added "if that's okay with you," but its absence was more than enough to catch his granddaughter's attention. She cast a look up at him, silently asking him to finish his sentence, not knowing that he already had.

He just smiled kindly at her and pretended not to understand what she was trying to convey, adverting his eyes to the sight of the sleeping boy once more as he shifted in his sleep to a more comfortable position.

"He is kinda cute," Kisari spoke up, looking over the back of the couch and down at the boy. "I wonder what his name is…"

With a long-nailed hand, she reached down to the boy's hair, attempting to stroke the chestnut locks like a mother would but just as her fingers were about to make contact, the boy's eyes snapped open. The transition from unconsciousness to awareness had been smooth and quick, almost unnoticeable except to those like the Admiral, and strangely violet eyes roamed over them with fright, the boy pushing himself to an arm of the couch and attempting to shrink himself in his fear. Kisari's hand remained outstretched and the girl made no attempt to retract it as she scrutinized the boy, curious about his startled reaction.

Violet eyes studied her for a minute before the boy spoke up with a childish voice, "You're not Sister Helen! You're too ugly!"

Noventa had to restrain himself from barking out loud in laughter, settling for chuckling in good humor to let his amusement out. Sylvia looked scandalized by the boy's words, much to his further amusement, and Kisari could only stare in shock at the boy's declaration. His chuckling captured the attention of the violet eyed boy who snapped his head towards him, frowning at him after a few seconds of looking at him.

"You're not Father Maxwell…are ya?" he asked, his uncertainty loud and clear in his voice.

"No, I'm not this Father Maxwell," he asked with honesty. "Never heard of such a man before but I take it you know someone by that name, am I right?" The boy nodded his head hesitantly, affirming the Admiral's guess. "You need not be so nervous here, no one is going to bring you any harm. But, I do believe you owe Kisari an apology; it's not nice to say such things to a lady's face."

Tilting his head in the direction of said girl, the boy looked towards the shell-shocked girl, still reeling from his earlier comment. "But it's true," he said, "she is uglier than Sister Helen."

That snapped the slighted girl out of her daze quick enough. "Well, you're not the looker yourself!" she snapped.

Not offended, the boy shrugged. "Truth's truth and I don't lie. Lyin' is the worst thing ya can ever do."

"True enough," Noventa acknowledged, "but it's not polite to say such things to a lady's face."

"It isn't?" the boy asked, tilting his head to a side in confusion.

"Most certainly," the Admiral assured as he took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, letting the boy know where he was at all times. "So, to do the polite thing now would be to apologize. You don't want to let her have hurt feelings over this, do you?"

"Guess not," the boy answered, slightly sullen. "Sorry," he said to Kisari though he didn't look her in the eyes, Noventa noticed. Still, it was a start and he wouldn't press for more now, not until he knew more about the boy.

"Atta' boy," he praised, smiling warmly at the boy who smiled hesitantly back at him. "So what name do you go by?" he asked. "Don't think you'd appreciated it much if I just called you 'boy' all the time, eh?"

"It's Duo," the boy answered, shifting in his seat and uncurling slightly.

"And I'm Nathaniel Novanta," Noventa continued. "You may call me Nathan, if you want to, and over there is my granddaughter, Sylvia."

Looking in the direction that the Admiral gestured in, Duo's eyebrows rose up as he caught a look of the still shocked Sylvia Noventa, violet eyes taking in the girl who seemed to notice just now that she was the subject of a boy's scrutiny.

"What?" she asked, getting a little uncomfortable over the boy's examination of her as the boy continued to stare.

"Ya not bad lookin'," the boy finally said after an anxious silence, for the girl. "You're better than her," he continued, gesturing towards Kisari who glared at the back of his head, "but you're not as pretty as Sister Helen either. Sorry," he shrugged, looking back at Noventa for approval.

Noventa was really liking this child, this Duo. Despite insulting the two girls, no matter how blunt or subtle the insult was, he had this charm about him, the kind usually associated with that of a child. He was caught in Duo's spell, he was sure of it, but he didn't think he would want to escape from it anytime soon. It had been a long time since he had had to deal with someone like this, ever since Sylvia first started becoming a rebel he hadn't had the ability to surround himself with children like he hope he would have had this late into his life. Instinct was shouting at him to do what he originally planned but he couldn't seem to force himself to heed such calls.

And how could he not? Just look at that little innocence Duo was radiating from every pore of his body. It was almost as if he had another grandchild again.

Meanwhile, Sylvia could clearly read the emotions going through her grandfather's mind by watching his face. She could tell that he was becoming enraptured by this strange boy with the weird name but she didn't know what she could do about it. As she glanced back at said boy, she couldn't help but notice the features that had caused Kisari to call him "cute." His face was cherubic and he seemed to act like a kid. How old was he anyway? And what was that? That looked like a braid…a braid of hair…of his hair! Holy cow, how long had he been growing that thing?! Pretty long, telling by its length.

Noticing the scowl on Kisari's face, she knew automatically that her best friend was holding a grudge against this kid for calling her ugly not once, but twice. However, she couldn't seem to muster up the willpower to join her friend on this one as his charm was starting to affect her.

And none of them noticed the streaks of crimson that quietly flashed in Duo's eyes before vanishing away just as quickly as they showed up.