Hey all! New story I'm trying my hand at! I hope you all enjoy it. I'll be titling all of the chapters after Snow Patrol songs (for some reason it feels right). ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own any Sailor Moon characters or any products mentioned in this chapter

Chapter 1: Spitting Games

Darien sauntered up to the balcony with a glass of sparkling seltzer, lemon zest, and the best vodka money could buy. He had snagged the greatest treasure of them all; an heiress by name of Adrianna Simons. She was completely, fully, and one-hundred and twenty-five percent in love with him. He couldn't necessarily say the same for himself, but hey, you gotta retire sometime. He sipped his drink as he felt the brisk wind flutter across his bare chest. His said fiancée was out at some charity ball. Normally, this would be something that he would have gladly gone to, but not in the way that you're probably thinking. Yes he would wear black, but not a tuxedo. And he would smile, however it would not be at other attendees. He would be donned in all black so that no one could see him in the alley way, sneaking in through a small hole on the side. He would smile when he got a hold of sparkling jewels, a bag full of cash, or a famous painting. Don't get the wrong impression here; Darien is no thief. No, he's a mastermind. He gets paid thousands, millions even, to go into vaults of the rich and famous and steal thing back. He was once even paid by two elderly women to steal the same blue sapphire and diamond necklace back and forth between the two; he had turned into a ping pong ball, returning it to the "original" owner. He was only able justify all of this by determining that no true object belonged to anyone; everything was free, but it all had a price.

But that was the old Dairen. The new one … was bored.

"Honey!"

He sighed, put on a fake smile and turned around to find his drunk fiancée stumbling into the darkly lit bedroom. Before he could even say hello to her, she flopped down onto the Chanel bedspread, face first and immediately started snoring. He rolled his eyes at the disgusting sight in front of him; this was a normal occurrence, in case you were wondering. Downing the rest of his drink he started to stroll into the bedroom when he suddenly felt someone tap him on the back. He turned around to find a familiar face and body crouched on the thick cement railing.

"Hello Serena," he grinned.

She adjusted her black clothed body and sat down comfortably on the balcony rail, crossing her slender legs seductively in front of him. You didn't think he did all of this stealing on his own, did you? Well, he had a helping hand in every break in he had conducted in the past. Although he was considered a retired bandit, he was still in contact with some of his fellow burglars. Thus why Serena was sitting on the edge of his penthouse balcony.

"Who are you following tonight?" he asked her.

"You," she smiled.

"I don't have any money. I think you're looking for my future wife," Darien informed her, gesturing to the passed out drunk on the bed.

"No, no. It's you I'm after," she insisted.

With each new question he asked, he took a step toward her, closing the gap between them.

"Are you here to assassinate me?"

"Nope."

"Are you here to seduce me?"

"Maybe…"

"Do you miss me?"

"My job is harder now that you're gone."

"Well what do you want from me?"

By now, the space between them had completely disappeared and Serena was running her fingers through his silky hair. The two of them studied one another silently, both of them knowing that the sexual tension was rising faster and faster. Their history is a bit too much to explain right now, but it will all be unveiled soon enough. Let's watch what happens, shall we?

"I want you to come out of retirement," she said as she continued to play with his hair. "Jesus, your hair is so soft…. What do you use for shampoo? Liquid silk?"

"Stop," he breathed, removing her hand from his head and stepping back. He took a sip of the final drops of his drink. "I'm not going back. Why did you bother coming here?"

"I thought asking you face to face would work a lot better than a text or Facebook message," she winked.

"I'm not gonna do it!" he whispered loudly, trying not wake up his fiancée.

"Don't even try to be quiet. Ami drugged your girl before she came in," she waved off. "She's knocked out until the morning."

"You're crazy!"

"It's why were able to work together, no?" she replied coyly as she stood up to her feet on the railing, getting ready to climb back down to the sidewalk below. "Listen, there will be a package filled with all of the information needed tomorrow. You can decide then. Don't be so hasty to decline. I know you miss it. You've only been gone for a year."

"Serena—"

But he couldn't argue with her; she had leapt off the balcony, back flipping in the air and bouncing off of the building so that she could land on her feet on the grass like a cat. He looked over at her down below and waved goodbye as she went jogging along the street to the black SUV that was waiting for her. Darien shook his head in disbelief and then finally was able to turn around to make it into his bedroom. He flipped the lights off, stripped down to his boxer-briefs, and slid under the sheets. He glanced at his fiancée quickly, thought that maybe he should undress her, but then decided against it.

The next morning, he awoke to find his lover missing from his side. The woman had already gotten showered, dressed, and was off to tend to her business – yes she actually works! She was a fashion designer and sent most of her creations to the biggest, most expensive department stores such as Barney's, Bergdorff Goodman, Bloomingdale's, Saks, etc. Even if she was shit-faced drunk or drugged out of her mind, she would always get up at the ass-crack of dawn to get into the office and sew up some designs.

Darien moaned and groaned as he stretched himself out of bed and walked out to the kitchen. Sure enough right beside the coffee pot was the package that he had been informed about. Typical Serena. She had always been sneaky, leaving things right where he would find them. It often made him wonder – even to this day – whether or not he actually lost something or if she had secretly stolen it.

He unwrapped the parcel after pouring himself a black cup of cinnamon flavored coffee. He lifted the top off of the box and took out a DVD. He popped it into the player that was connected to the kitchen flat screen tv. They had one installed so Adrianna could cook and watch what the steps were on the Food Network.… Although the woman had never used the stove in her life, so it was an odd adornment to their kitchen.

On the screen popped up some flashy lettering that said, "Lifestyles of the Rich and Useless!" A narrator that sounded like Robin Leach – most likely was – started to explain the images that came to view with some pop background music to go along with it. Most of the objects he was talking about, Darien had already stolen once or twice during his career such as dress that Marie Antoinette had worn before her death, a golden Buddha sculpture that dated back to 12th century, and then of course a Picasso painting that had been famously reported as stolen recently (although that wasn't his work; he's more careful than that).

The finale turned out to be something that he hadn't stolen or even dreamed of stealing; the Kohinoor diamond. It was a famous jewel that was originally discovered in India, but the ownership has been fought over by many from Brits to Shahs. Currently, it was stationed in England at the London Tower; however people are still in uproar that it belongs back to India since the British forcefully took control over their land years ago. There was also a curse supposedly on the large diamond which stated that only women could posses the gem; men who have had it, have befallen many misfortunes … supposedly.

After learning about the diamond and all of its benefits and flaws, Darien grabbed hold of his phone and called Serena. She answered with a bubbly tone.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"I know we talked about doing this job before, but you can't be serious…"

"I am! I've been asked by high up officials from India to Afghanistan to steal it and return it to its rightful owner. It pays plenty!"

"Do you know what the repercussions are if we end up doing this?"

"Millions – no wait! Billions of dollars?"

"Seriously, someone is bound to notice! Plus, what about the high stakes security? I'm certain we can't get in there," he argued.

"You don't remember our last few heists together, do you?" she replied sarcastically.

"Serena, those were in miniscule galleries, easy access museums. The jewels weren't as upscale as this one."

"You know you want to do this."

"Sere—"

"This has to get you out of your retirement!" she whined. "If not for the fame and glory of it all, then for the challenge!"

"We could get killed."

"Fun to think about, isn't it?"

"I'm about to get married!" Darien yelled. "Why aren't you listening to me?"

"I am listening and all I'm hearing are excuses!" she screamed. "Look, you have a few months until you throw your whole life away and become the lap dog of whatever her name is."

"Adrianna."

"Whatever. She's just a giant dollar sign to you. Anyways, after this, I promise to never bother you again! I swear! But I can't do this without you…" There was a long pause and then she finished, "I want an answer by midnight."

With that said, she hung up without giving him a chance to ask for more details. Looking at the clock, he realized he had twelve hours to revel in his racing mind and make a decision. This could be the biggest heist known to mankind … it was tempting to say the least. So Darien thought about it in the shower, as he got dress, while taking the slow moving elevator down to the lobby, then out the door, around the corner, down a bunch of New York City blocks (so miles practically) and then he made it Central Park. He walked around that huge landmark for hours and hours until he realized he hadn't eaten and the sun was now going down. He bought a hot dog at a vendor and returned home as slowly as he could. He bought a bottle of Crown Royale on his way back to his penthouse, but didn't open it. Instead he just stared at it while listening to classical music. Strange, right? Why spend so much money on great booze and not even take a sip? He bought it in case he was going to accept the job. If he didn't end up taking it, he would just give it away to someone bum on the street. He took a deep breath, snatched his phone off of the table and at 11:59 pm, he texted this statement:

"I'm in."

At the stroke of midnight he popped open the bottle and started to pour himself a few shots, cheers-ing to the fireplace in front of him. What did this fool get himself into?

Please review! ^_^