AN: Hi, peeps. This is my second story, and it's going to be a pretty long one… I think. I started it actually before my first one, "Can Talk". The story itself is very loosely based on the movie "Ocean's Eleven", and it was an idea I had about a year ago…

I'm currently having a little writer's block with that one, so I'll release new chapter's as the whole thing goes along…

Whatever…

Enjoy my latest attempt at writing.

PS: I had a thorough look at all the chapters I've written so far, and smoothed it out a bit, you know, cut away the fat, improved the flow. I hope it's better now.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Manga or the Anime Fairy Tail or the movie Ocean's Eleven.

"Please state your name and last name for the record."
-"Gerard Fernandes."
-"You confirm that you are participating in this project completely out of your free will, and are under no other outer influence, pressure, etc?
-"I do."
-"So…how did you end up where you are now?"
-"That's…not a question that is answered easily…"

Gerard had sat in jail more than once, he was slightly ashamed to admit. Sometimes he remembered his first time there, during which he had spent much time fantasizing about the day of his release. He had imagined it to be on a sunny, peaceful day, as if nature would celebrate his freedom along with him. Or, when he happened to be in a more dramatic mood, on a cold, dark night, preferably with a thunderstorm to add a nice, dramatic, touch.

So he had of course been a little disappointed when he had seen the scenery of the prison's parking place that day: grey, ordinary, a bit cool perhaps, but not cold, and no thunderstorm to be seen. The friend he had spoken to on the phone two hours ago had been waiting already, and though he had greeted him very enthusiastically, he had hardly been a welcome committee.

So, since he was already experienced in the not-so-tearful-and-dramatic way of being reunited with the world, he was hardly surprised by the casualness of the scenery. The weather was warm for once, but it was cloudy, and he could already taste the rain in the air. He quickly scanned the parking place and spotted a heavy-set, middle-aged man, leaning on a dark blue volkswagen, looking bored. When Gerard approached him, he looked up.

"I believe you are waiting for me. My name is Gerard Fernandes, I spoke to Network about an hour ago." The man just nodded, gave him the keys, and got in the car parking next to the volkswagen, in which a younger man sitting on the driver's seat was already turning on the engine. Then they were gone, without ever saying a word.
Gerard was not surprised. Network's employees always had this strange air of casualness around them, and never were very talkative. But they didn't have to be. Ned W. Oakland was maybe not the biggest dealer in 'The Business', as Gerard liked to call the profession of illegal redistribution of property, meaning stealing, but everyone knew that Network was certainly the biggest jack-of-the-trade you could find in it, and he only employed professionals. He dealt with a good deal of thieving good, true, but his main line of business was the trade in the things that made 'the business' the business: information, and, more importantly, favors. He knew everybody with had a reputation, but most people made the mistake of saying the same thing and not thinking it a big stunt, since 'The Business' was a lot smaller than outsiders thought it to be…

Which was true. In 'The Business', all active master thieves knew each other. But Network also had connections to the 'Outer Ring', meaning engineers, other information brokers and dealers that bought the fruits of the thieves' labour. If you were in 'The Business', you went to Network if you needed something. If he didn't have it, he knew at least two guys that had it, and he could give you direct advise concerning their trustworthiness.

Gerard knew him from his earlier days, when Network still had been a small dealer with big visions. Back then, he had helped him here and there a little, had sold his goods a little cheaper to him when times had been good. Since then, Network sometimes granted Gerard the odd free favor, but not too often. It was sort of a breach of etiquette to do favors without any kind of payment in 'The Business', even if it was between friends, as it was between Network and Gerard.

That didn't stop Gerard from reaching over to extract a small stack of papers and a CD from the glove compartment, once he had seated himself in the driver's seat. He had to smile while he threw a short look at it. Old Masterpieces from the 80's and everything else you might like was written on the label. That was another thing that made Network Gerard's favorite business partner: He always threw in something extra. "Well, let's see if you are still as good at your thing as you were back then, you old raccoon." Gerard muttered, while he put the CD aside and finally concentrated his attention on the stack of paper.

Eight hours and a long car drive later, Gerard was standing outside the "Monte Plata", one of the bigger casinos in Khatan City, the Capital of Khatanor, a neighboring kingdom to Fiore. Khatanor was known for its various forms of entertainment, and Khatan City was the country's prime example in that aspect: the city housed a number of forty-six casinos, not counting the several illegal poker rounds, various places of entertainment, such as theaters, horse races and many more, and any number of restaurants, hotels and inns.

Gerard knew it well. He had once stolen a complete set of old ducal jewelry from a museum there, six years ago. It had been a tricky job, and he had been forced to take some considerable risk in order to complete it, but the reward had been more than worth it. Of course, he only had little left of the money he had gotten for the stones from Network, but that was okay. It was how you did it in 'The Business'. You didn't save the money, since you knew just all too well how easily you could be relieved of it. You either spent it and then made some more, so you could spend it again, or invested it somewhere if you had to lie low. But you never just stopped after one particularly lucrative job. Because you soon found out that it wasn't the money that kept you on the dark side of law. The money was a nice bonus, of course, but the important thing was the thrill of the forbidden, of taking the risk. The feeling of being a wolf in a world of sheep.

And you often developed expensive habits. Habits that you couldn't shake off just like that, and that required the kind of money that couldn't be made with honest work. Which was the main reason for Gerard being here. The person he was looking for had always been drawn to casino's neon lights like a moth.

Gerard entered and just stood in the casinos main hall with closed eyes to take it all in: the loud buzzing atmosphere, the lights, the occasional scream of frustration…He had to fight a grin while he opened his eyes again. It had been too long.

After sitting down at the bar, tucked away in a corner of the hall, he had a first real look around. So far nothing out of the ordinary. The security staff was lurking around subtly between rows and rows of one-armed bandits and small islands of black-jack and poker tables. There was a small television screen located behind the counter on an upper shelf, showing some sort of news program. The anchorman, a middle-aged man with greying hair around the temples, was rambling on about some sort of event, involving some sort of foreign royalty. Gerard was just about to turn his attention back to the casino hall, when..

"…demolition is planned to take place in two weeks." Gerard whirled around to face the TV-screen, as the camera went into a long shot of a grand facade, over and over decorated with images of unicorns, elves, sprights and other mythical creatures. " As Tiran Regemunte," there was a zoom-in on a dark haired man with eerily bright eyes and a benevolent smile standing in a group together with other people, "new owner of of the'Oberon's Palace' and sole owner of another three Casinos on the Isle of Ventura, the 'La Serenissima', the 'Slumlord's' and the 'Island Queen', already promised the public four days ago for the new facility to be even grander than the old one. Makarov, former owner of the facility," the camera zoomed out until a very small, elderly man with striking features became visible, "expresses his enthusiasm and is looking forward to see his former workplace in new glory."

Gerard failed to fight a snort at this not-so-subtle PR-gag. Makarov was scowling deeply and looked anything abut happy. Gerard was just about to turn around to observe the casino hall, as another person joined the group on the screen.

Gerard froze. He kept staring at the TV, his face completely impassive. He continued doing so until the show switched back to the anchorman, and turned away to the bartender as the anchorman began to ramble about the stock-markets and the recent increase of the Fiorin Jewel.

Aaaaand… back to business. Gerard waited until the bartender had brought him his order, made a short scan of the personnel and got up from his seat to approach a Blackjack table. "Free here?" he greeted the two other people sitting at the table. One of them was an elderly man with retreating hair, wrinkled suit and a somewhat urgent air about him. A rookie. Gerard was good at sizing people up, a skill that had proven useful in his profession.

The other person was the compete opposite. Long dreadlocks, colorful clothing, dark shades, piercings in nose, ears and eyebrows, and obviously a gambling-expert, despite his young, even boyish appearance.

The younger of the two nodded, giving Gerard a curious, but not unfriendly, look. The older one barely took notice of him.

"'S looking good today" Gerard asked, but he was not actually paying any attention to his neighbors' reactions. Instead he regarded the dealer, who had been turning his back to the players and was now turning around as he heard Gerard's voice.

His most obvious feature was his incredibly deep tan and sun-bleached hair. He was a bit smaller than Gerard, and was looking at him with an expression void of any emotion. Then a slow grin started to spread over his face and he laughed a laugh that could only be described as 'provocative'. "Suddenly it does."

One and a half hours later, Gerard stepped out of the casino's backdoor. Here, behind all the glamour and the neon, the small alley in which he stood looked grey and miserable. The atmosphere awoke a distant memory: waking up one morning, with a nasty hangover, dark clouds suffocating the sky, the bed beside him cold and empty…

"Well, looky here," a voice behind him snapped him out of his depressing memories. "Here to enjoy some good old mortal pleasures after your quality-time with Brother Lawful, aren'tcha?"

"Nice seeing you, too, Sho." Gerard said as he turned around. Now that Sho had changed out of his working uniform, he looked exactly like Gerard remembered him: the impish grin and the half-long black coat, a fancy he had gotten from Gerard, were still his trademark features.
"Come on, I know a pub near here. The owner is an… acquaintance of mine."

He led Gerard to a small bar in the style of the 70's. Once they had ordered their drinks, they just sat there for a moment in silence, nursing their drinks.

Sho broke the silence first. "You look good. Healthy. You been working out?" Gerard grinned half-heartedly. "I happened to have a free minute every now and then…" That brought a grin to Sho's face as well. "You're out and about rather early. I thought your sentence was five years?" Gerard nodded. "Yeah, they let me out early because they thought I was just such a nice fellow. Can't say that it was always a pleasant stay, but one year out early is one year out early. So they let me out after I promised to be a nice, good boy." Sho leaned back, grinning impishly. "So, what are you planning now? You're not the kind of guy to come by here just to say 'Hello' to an old buddy." Gerard's expression turned serious. No sense in beating around the bush. "Right. There's a job. It's difficult, and I personally know of no one who ever managed to successfully pull it off. But the reward will be many times worth the effort." Gerard leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "We are going to rob a casino." He leaned back quickly, as his friend began to choke on his drink and spray his drink over the table. Finally, Sho looked up. "You serious?" he croaked. "Dude, prison must seriously have messed you up. There's a reason why there is no record anywhere of a successful job like this. That's because there ain't. That's because everyone who tried this before was a total nut job. That's because all the sane guys saw that the risks behind this kinda thing are too high."

"Chill. I heard the stories about these guys, too. None of them were professionals…" - "Well, guess why!" Gerard furrowed his brows. He couldn't remember a time when Sho had been this emotional. "What's wrong with you? You weren't so easily upset before." - "…Sorry." Sho fell together almost immediately. "Things have been… bad, to say the least, since Shimon's death…" His voice trailed off. Gerard suppressed a grimace.

Shimon had been an old colleague and close personal friend of him. A couple of years back, the three of them had relieved an eccentric rich millionaire, who had made his money officially with oil, and actually with weapons in foreign lands, of a few of his millions and a couple of very valuable old plundered artifacts. Somehow he had found them, and before they could react it had been too late for Shimon: Gerard and Sho had found him in his apartment, beaten and with a hole in his head. Gerard had called Network, who knew experts, who in turn "knew how to take care of this kind of mess". Gerard normally avoided inflicting unnecessary harm on others, and had always thought that wetwork was beneath him, but there were exceptions. Shimon had been dating a single mother with four children, and had been planning to marry her. Gerard had met them, once when Shimon had introduced him to them, and once at the funeral. He had stumbled something along the lines of "My condolences", and had rushed off. He had felt too ashamed. The children had called Shimon "Dad".

"Anyway," Sho's voice cut through the mist of Gerard's memories. "You want to rob a casino?" Gerard grinned. "Sorry, did I say one? I meant to say three." Sho choked on his drink again. Once he had managed to collect himself, he shot Gerard an incredulous look. "What? How do you want to pull that one off?" Gerard's grin widened. "Let me explain…"

AN: Fun fact: there actually is a Ventura Island, in California somewhere, I think (I absolutely suck at geography). I simply choose the name because ventura is spanish and means 'luck', which seemed fitting. I hope I didn't offend anyone.