So the last thing I should be doing is starting a new fic. Honestly, I don't know if I'll have time to update it from now until the end of the school year, but I'll try my best. As you're reading this, you'll probably notice the Ocean's Eleven undertones to the story. That's because I was watching the movie for the hundredth time. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Sporting squinting eyes covered by a pair of black Wayfarers, the blonde man took a quick drag from his cigarette and exhaled. It was his first in 5 years and it was a habit he swore he would kick one day.

5 years. 5 years of his life wasted in prison because a team of incompetent fools. He fell through with his original crew a few months before that. They cited "creative differences".

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? True, he got a little ambitious, but no one ever got far without taking a few risks. It was the plot of the century and tarnished. By what? Fear? The one thing he liked about himself was the fear was long removed from him. Too bad he couldn't say the same for the rest of them.

The game undoubtedly changed since he was jailed. Though, he was certain that his name still held weight. It didn't matter that he just got out; he was determined to plan the next biggest heist he could.

Nathan Scott took his seat in front of the monitor and sighed. His eyes caught the silver chip, as they often did, sitting on his desk.

He left the game and settled down. Got a house in the suburbs and married Haley James. He was the epitome of the American dream. Few years back, he was a deadbeat, moving from heist to heist, hoping to make a quick dollar. He was the most morally corrupt person he knew and at times, he wasn't sure he knew himself at all.

Sure he married the perfect woman. He had the perfect life; perfect house, perfect car. But perfect wasn't exciting. Not to say he didn't love Haley; he would move mountains for her. His life lacked the adrenaline that the game gave him.

"Mr. Scott, a package came for you." His secretary placed the navy blue box in front of him.

"Do you know who from?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "A messenger dropped it off at the front desk and the receptionist gave it to me. Sorry."

"No. It's fine. Thanks."

She promptly left and he promptly opened the box.

Nathan walked into the bar and surely enough the only person there was seated with a glass of scotch. He cleared his throat and approached.

"No one drinks this early in the day," he said as he took a seat.

The man turned his head to face him and spared but a glance before facing forward again. "It's never too early, Nate."

The bartender walked over. "Can I get you anything sir?"

Nathan replied, "No thank you. I won't be here long."

The bartender nodded and left.

"What do you want Lucas?"

"I have an offer."

Nathan scoffed. "And the last one landed you in prison. No offense, but I'm not dumb enough to risk my life like this."

"Last I heard, you became an architect. The rest of the world thinks you did good with your life, but I know it's not the life for you. Don't kid yourself, Nate. You need this."

"I don't need anything. Don't you think the money you have is enough? Maybe it's time you made something of yourself."

"FBI froze my assets and you know I don't do it for the money. Apparently, you do. Nate, I know the game isn't lost on you. Somewhere deep inside, you know you want to come back. I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want to do, but you want this," Lucas said as he took a black card and a hundred from the inside of jacket, "Call me when you come to your senses. Barkeep! Get the kid a shot of vodka, will you?"

As he exited the bar, Lucas pulled out a black ledger and crossed Nathan's name from the list. He got into his rental and hurried to the next location, a construction site near Chambers.

An unsuspecting construction worker walked in his general direction as he stopped him. "Excuse me, do you know where I can find a "Jake Jagielski"?"

"The pretty boy with a bad temper? The boss is in there chewing him out. He never learns to follow simple instructions. The boss' office is over there." He pointed toward the trailer at the end of the site.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Lucas ran in, keeping his distance from the trailer as he neared. He watched through the window as the two men engaged in what seemed to be a screaming match.

Moments later, Jake flung open the door and kicked the sand on the ground. "Fucking dumbass."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Lucas remarked, temporarily startling Jake.

"Goddamn. They finally let you out of prison?"

Lucas raised his arms as if to present himself. "Looks like they did and it's the dumbest thing they'll ever do. Listen Jake, I've got a job lined up and-"

"I'm in," Jake interrupted.

"You're in?" Lucas smirked.

"Yea I'm in."

"You're an impulsive shithead."

"At least I wasn't the one to get caught."

"Touche."

"You went to Nate first, didn't you?"

"Are you offended?"

"He's your brother, but he's not one of us anymore. He got a wife."

"I'm well aware, but men like him don't just forget where they come from."

"And you think he's going to take you up on your offer?"

He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not, but I'm not going to lose sleep over it. And honestly, it's great that I've got my demolitions expert back on my team." He pulled out his ledger and opened it to a page full of names. "You see this?" He crossed out Jake's name. "I've got a whole fucking list of names to go through and I've no idea where some of them have gone. You think you can help?"

The corners of Jake's mouth turned upward mischievously. "Let's get started Boss."

The two were standing at a nearby public telephone. Lucas refused to use his cell phone so as to avoid being traced.

"So I've got the location of Rachel and Mouth is off somewhere, but it shouldn't be too hard to find him. The rest we'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Then let's go."

They got into Lucas' car. "So what's Rachel been doing these past 5 years?"

"She became a stripper."

Lucas furrowed his brows. "Are you kidding me? That girl has more money than most of the people that go to those shady places. What the fuck is she doing at a strip club?"

"She's a loose cannon. You know her; she does whatever the fuck she wants. She tells me you're the best she's ever had. That no guy is going to live up to you and she's doing it for the attention."

"How the hell do you know about that?" he hissed.

"Got her drunk and she just let it spill."

"Jake, you didn't-" he raised his voice.

"Calm down chief. She slept it out on her own. Now you're out, you two can do whatever."

Lucas gave him a stern glare. "It was once Jake. We were both drunk out of our minds. She knows it's never going to happen again."

"It's a shame. She's hot."

Jake pulled into the parking lot for the club.

"She's more than that. Stay in the car. I'll go get her."

Lucas opened the door and walked into the club. There was nothing nice about the place. The bar was situated to the far left and was serving questionable drinks. There were a few businessmen seated in the front, looking the part of frat boys had it not been for the suits.

And there Rachel was, in an outfit that left nothing to the imagination. Front and center. He took a seat near the stage.

"How much is it going to cost me to take you off this stage?"

She stopped dancing and turned toward the voice. "Listen douche- Lucas?"

"Hey Red," he smiled, "Interested in a change of occupation?"

"Depends. What are you willing to offer?" she asked suggestively.

"There's money."

"We can never have it all."

"The excitement of the game."

"You're all the excitement I need."

He shrugged. "Then there's nothing else I can offer." He got up, preparing to leave.

"You give up easily, you know?" she shouted.

He ignored her and continued walking.

She hopped off the stage, ignoring the protests of the angry patrons. "You're an insolent asshole."

Still, he ignored her and headed toward the car, slowing down so to let her catch up. When she finally did, she found herself staring at a smiling Jake Jagielski seated in the driver's seat and Mouth who was in the back.

Realizing his intentions, Rachel chuckled. "You were serious about planning another job?"

"I don't know when to stop. So you want to blow this joint and join my team, or what?" He opened the car door for her, half expecting her to enter and that she did. He followed suit afterwards.

Rachel leaned forward as Jake revved up the engine. "So who else is on the team?"

"The people in this car. Some people not. We're going to continue this tomorrow." He crossed out the next two names on his ledger. "We're going to split up. Jake, you've got Skills and Clay Evans. Rachel, you take Owen Morello and Quinn James. I'm going to contact Richard and Whitey. Mouth, you're coming with me. That way you don't have to talk to anyone. How did you get here anyways?"

Mouth smiled and held up his iPhone. "This thing picks up any heat I may be getting. Pretty helpful with the cops on my tail, or were on my tail. This basically cross-references the-"

"Get to the point Mouth," they said in unison.

He shook his head. "Right. Word spread that you guys were looking for me so I came looking for you guys instead."

"Saved us the trouble. That's why you're my favorite," Lucas said, knowingly riling up the others.

Sure enough, Rachel and Jake started protesting. "I thought I was your favorite." "What are you talking about? I'm his favorite."

Lucas chuckled. Just then, his phone began ringing.

"Guys. GUYS! Can I get some fucking quiet?" They complied and stared at Lucas.

He let the phone ring a couple of times.

"Well? Who is it?" Jake asked for the others.

"It's Nate," he cleared his throat and finally answered, "Go for Lucas."

"I'm in."

"Good." He cut the line.

A long silence ensued.

That is, until Rachel decided to speak. "I'm still his favorite."