Disclaimer: Let's make this easy. If you recognize anyone/place/thing in this little piece of fantasy, you can bet I don't own it.
A/N: However, I will be SERIOUSLY pissed off if someone tries to steal my work.
The sun beat down on the earth as Nevada State Penitentiary released a single inhabitant that afternoon.
A young man of twenty-five with highly unusual hip length hair the colour of onyx stood inside the main entrance, waiting to collect his former possessions. He was handed a small brown envelope and his stormy coloured eyes revealed no emotion as he poured out a pair of cufflinks and fastened them in his sleeves. Tiger-eyes set in gold. The black silk tie on the table next to him was stuffed into a pants pocket and the matching dinner jacket hooked on one finger and was slung over a shoulder as he stepped out of the only place he had resided for the last three years.
There was no one waiting for him in the parking lot as he emerged from the main building. Not that he was expecting anyone. The only person who knew of is release was at least one thousand miles away and probably didn't give a damn if he rotted in prison or not.
Ringing warning bells and the rattling of moving chain fences echoed throughout the area as the gates were opened before the young man.
He nodded is goodbye to the gate guard as he stepped outside the fences while pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and stuck it in his mouth. He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a lighter, quickly lighting the tobacco stick, and returning the lighter back to the pocket. The young man took a deep drag the first smoke of his freedom fag, which had been a goodbye gift of sorts from one of the inmates there.
Lips pulled finally pulled back in a heart-melting grin, revealing unusually sharp canines and a dangerous glint came into the eyes. A chuckle turned into a disturbing laugh as the man took one last glance at the monitored walls. Turning left, he started headed towards town. There was nothing left for him back on the East Coast, it was time to head west.
Downtown Los Angeles
On the corner where Fifth met Flower sat the Café Pinot, one of the more metropolitan restaurants of the city. That gorgeous sunny afternoon, the café was playing host to a distinguished looking gentleman sat out on the patio.
He appeared to be both young and old at the same time, speculation of age ranging up and down the 30's scale. It must have been his looks that threw off the guess, as his features fell into the slightly exotic category. Lustrous silver hair was left free to hang to his posterior and the grey suit that he wore emphasized his creamy skin. Silver half moon spectacles framed sharp golden eyes. Said eyes were glued to the gentleman's copy of the Wall Street Journal and did not even bother to glance up when the table gained another occupant.
"You're late."
These words were spoken to a younger man similar in appearance; smoky grey and slightly damp hair was tied in a very low tail halfway down the young man's back. And amber eyes flashed in annoyance to match the scowl.
"It's not my fault. First there's an accident on Olive and I had to reroute and then the assholes up front accost me on my way in."
The first man finally brought his gaze from the paper to his companion for a once over.
Long sleeve white button up: top button undone and shirttails un-tucked, sleeves rolled back to elbows. Khaki pants: too baggy, too low, too many pockets. Burkenstock sandals on the feet and ridiculous yellow tinted rectangle glasses perched on top of the head.
"I can't imagine why," the first man answered sarcastically as he folded up his paper, thankful that the young man before him had at least stopped dyeing his hair.
"Fuck you," the second one snapped. He reached into his breast pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes and took on in his mouth. "'Least I'm here," he mumbled as he lit the fag.
"I thought you quit that disgusting habit."
"I though you didn't give a shit what I did."
The waiter approached to take their drink orders and the younger man ordered a full bottle of the most expensive red wine on the list, and a beer. Courtesy of his companion's wallet, of course.
"Three years of prison and you're still petty as ever, I see," the first man remarked.
"Fuck off."
The gentleman rolled his eyes and ordered a glass of white. Once the waiter disappeared, the gentleman leaned back in his chair and questioned his companion on his plans for the immediate future.
"I've got some stuff lined up…."
"I take it then, that your extended time in Nevada hasn't changed your mind. Might I remind you that this decision is the REASON you were in prison?"
"It's not like that! This is the last time and then I quit the business…. for real this time."
"You're still after the Shikon, then."
"Yeah."
"You know you aren't going to get it."
Amber eyes narrowed in disbelief. "What're you talking about?"
"As of now, it is owned and guarded by one of one of the more powerful businessmen in America. This thing has more protection than London's jewels. Not even you can get to it. Not on your own, anyway."
The gentleman withdrew a stack of plain manila folders from the briefcase beside his chair and casually tossed them on the table. They landed with a satisfying thwack. The younger man cast a suspicious glare at his table companion before regarding the folders before him in the same manner. Slowly, he grounded out his cigarette in the ashtray before reaching for the folders.
"… the hell are these?"
"Files, reports--the information I've gathered on it."
The younger man carefully slid the files closer to his side of the table. "You've been keeping tabs? Why?" he asked as he flipped through them.
"I've my own reasons," the first replied.
The waiter came by with the drinks and made a show of opening the wine. The younger man rolled his eyes behind his bottle of beer. Once he left, the older man placed another folder in the middle of the table and slid it slightly forward.
Taking the bait, the second opened it and glanced through it. "Who are they?" confusion laced his tone.
"My team," the first responded. "Best of the best; they can be under your command."
"Don't joke. You know I work alone."
"Then you will not win. You will either work with my team and I, or you will work against me. And I do not plan to lose."
"You asshole!" The second one seethed between clenched teeth. "I'll-!"
"Your petty attempts to threaten me will not work."
"What the hell do you want?" the younger man growled.
"I should think it is obvious what I want."
"Why?"
The gentleman lightly crossed his fingers in front of himself. "I've been interested in it for some time. I'd like to add it to my collection. In time, if the price is right, I may sell it."
The second man nearly choked. "You're shittin' me, right? You want the jewel for your fucking museum! And you think I'M petty? Fuck."
"At least I am not the one chasing after fairy-tales," the older man coolly tossed back.
"Fuck. You." The younger man ground out, slamming both hands on the tabletop, startling the drinks. "And fuck this." He rose from his seat and made to leave. "I didn't come all this way just to get degraded."
"This is your only chance, Inu-Yasha," the first man called to the retreating form. "I won't offer again."
Inu-Yasha's shoulders visibly sagged as he stopped and put his hands in his pockets. "Why?" he reiterated in a tired tone. "Tell me why you're doing this."
"Do I need to repeat myself?" the first answered boredly. "My team is only the best of the best. But even the best team can only be good unless they have the best leader. The fact is, I do not know how to pull off a perfect…. burglary."
"Heist," Inu-Yasha corrected automatically.
The first man frowned, but continued. "Loathe as I am to admit it, I am in need of your expertise."
The young man slowly turned to the gentleman still seated at the table. "What makes you think I'm the 'best of the best'?"
"Really," the older man drawled. "You are the offspring of our father. I would expect nothing less from you."
Inu-Yasha mulled this over for a moment. "True," he agreed. "But what makes you think I'm just going to help you pull this thing off and then fork over the jewel? You know I want it."
"I do, and I also know that I am going to make you a deal that you can't refuse." The older gentleman gestured to the chair that Inu-Yasha had vacated.
"I'm listening…."
The first man waited until his partner was situated again before speaking. "I am willing to let you have the jewel for forty-eight hours. Do whatever you wish with it. After that, I am willing to buy it from you."
"Assuming this thing is still in existence, how many zeroes are we talking about?"
"Five. The number in front of those zeroes is negotiable."
Inu-Yasha took a swig of his beer and took a second look at the folder of bios. "You'll need a better team," he pointed out.
"We have a deal, then."
Inu-Yasha smirked. "Yeah, Sessh, we got a deal," he agreed, clinking the beer bottle against Sesshoumaru's glass of white wine.
Kudos to those who understood who the first person was. Even my beta was confused.