The Shelby Mustang roared down the freeway, picking up speed gradually, gliding smoothly and with ease past slower vehicles, leaving their drivers looking on jealously as the GT 500 sped away. She was finally finished, a well-oiled machine, perfectly tuned and cleaned to a shine.

The driver sat comfortably in the left hand side of the car, his hands rested casually on the steering wheel, watching the road unfold ahead of him as he steered his Mustang to his destination. He had had a lot of practise in this particular car, and he was pretty sure there was nothing he couldn't do in 'Eleanor'. The incident a little over a year ago had proven that. Of course, 'Eleanor' had looked a little worse for wear after that particular boost, but his younger brother had bought her for him, and now she was all his... perfectly legal. 'Eleanor' was finally his, and in perfect working order.

Sighing a sigh of content, Randall 'Memphis' Raines turned off the freeway, and reduced speed, heading on his way to the garage to lend a hand to his old friend. He had promised to try and held restore an old Ford.

Memphis had been helping out at Otto Halliwell's garage since the big boost last year, and felt better for helping out, after all the older man had done to help. He and his wife were good people, decent people working a solid honest life. Junie and Otto appreciated Memphis helping out, even though they had tried a couple of times to insist it wasn't necessary.

As he pulled into the yard outside the large building, he smiled, looking out at the old cars in need of restoration, new parts, or just salvaging. Memphis wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all Otto, but he actually loved coming here to help out five days a week. Otto gave him some money for his services, and that was all Memphis really needed.

That and 'Eleanor'.

Memphis parked the Mustang carefully, pulled out the key, and climbed free of the car, running his hand down the smooth exterior as he closed the door, locking it after him. Last thing he wanted was for some amateur to try and boost her, or even just damage her.

He walked the short distance to the wooden door, and pulled it open, stepping inside, and welcoming the large mastiff that greeted him with lolling tongue and wagging tail.

Memphis laughed, and was too busy petting the dog to notice someone approach.

"Morning," they said to him, causing him to start a little. He looked up to them, and smiled. It was Otto, a rag in his greasy hands, and tools hanging in his work belt. His overalls had seen better -if not cleaner- days, and his glasses hung on a chain around his neck. His receding hairline gave him an air of experience and wisdom, and the gentle eyes looked down welcomingly.

"Hey, Otto," Memphis returned, standing from petting the dog, and patting it on the head a couple of times to send it away. It padded off to its grubby blankets, and locked its teeth around an old license plate.

"You ready to start on that Ford?" Otto inquired, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to the classic vehicle, sitting patiently, and waiting for restoration. It looked like it had been through a bit of a battle, but seemed worth saving. It was doable.

"Sure."

Junie poked her head out of the office, smiling pleasantly, and holding out a mug. "Coffee, Memphis?"

He grinned in response, and nodded. He watched the woman disappear, and heard her fish out the necessary items to make him his drink.

"I'll just go change," Memphis told Otto, seeing his acknowledging nod, and paced off to don a pair of overalls. As he walked, he whistled a light tune to himself, listening to the sounds of tools in cars, and the revving of motors as other workers tested engines.

It didn't take Memphis long to change, coming out from the small room with a pair of overalls, white T-shirt exposed, the top half of his coveralls hanging around his waist, the arms tied in a knot. It was warm day in Long Beach, and apparently Otto had realised, as he opened the large main doors to the garage.

Memphis smiled, and jogged back over to help with the car.

* * *

Sara 'Sway' Wayland finally managed to drag herself out of bed at around nine o'clock, yawning exaggeratedly, and stretching refreshingly, her blonde locks of hair hanging in a mess around her head and face. She groaned lazily, and brushed them aside with a hand, shaking her head to clear her vision.

Memphis was already gone, she surmised, glancing over at the empty half of the bed he always slept on. It was tidy and neat, and screamed Randall Raines in its organisation. There were no sounds in the rest of the apartment. He had gone to the garage.

Sway stood from the mattress, glancing out of the window, with its partially opened blinds, and saw the rush and bustle of Long Beach as it started to wake. She admired a few vehicles as they passed, and crossed from the bedroom into the lounge-come-kitchen.

Her feet carried her to the percolator at once, where Memphis had kindly and considerately decided to leave her some coffee. She smiled sleepily, rubbed her tired eyes, and poured herself a mug, adding some sugar.

This was just what she needed, she realised as she walked across to the couch. A good cup of fresh coffee. She curled up on the couch, and turned on the TV, bringing up her sock-covered feet onto the soft cushions, and sighing.

There wasn't a lot on the TV at this time of morning, she soon noticed, as she flicked through the channels, still waking. There were the usual daytime soaps, a few game shows, and an old movie. She hung about on the movie for a while, before realising it was of no interest to her. She turned off the television, activating the stereo instead, hearing the blaring of rock music soon begin.

Another smile. Her favourite. Not really ideal early-morning listening, but it was doing a good job of waking her up. That, on top of the coffee, did the trick.

After drinking her coffee, and managing to eat a slice of toast, she dressed herself in sleeveless short top, and tight jeans, slipping on her boots afterwards, tidying her hair presentably.

Nodding her head along to the beat, she thought about what to do with herself. It was Saturday. She didn't have to work at the bar tonight, and she had long since quit her job at that car place downtown. If she wanted to work with cars, she knew exactly where to go.

Well, it's not like there's much else to do, she mused, nabbing her leather jacket off of its hook on the wall, and slipping it on comfortably, shutting off the stereo, knowing the neighbours would be relieved she was going out.

Snatching her keys out of the dish by the door, she left the apartment, and made her way immediately down to the parking lot where her Yamaha was parked safely.

* * *

Lyle Shepherd was a man who demanded the best, and always got what he wanted. He was a tough man, a daunting man, and when he was disappointed, a violent man. He had only been in Long Beach for three months, but was already growing quite attached to it. He had gathered quite a few connections in his time at Long Beach, but it still wasn't enough for him.

His crew were scarce, few and far between. It wasn't what he wanted. He needed to build himself up here, let people know what he was all about. Lyle Shepherd wanted his reputation known.

He sat behind his ratty desk, staring at the lone picture that sat framed on his desk, and the smile on the face of his late wife was almost enough to make him forget who he was. He was no longer the loving husband and devoted father he had once been. No. Now he was a changed man. Some would say for the better, and some would say for the worst.

He stood from his desk, crossed the room to the door, and stared out over the balcony at the work going on below. Cars and motorbikes sat below, some old, some new, all valuable and desirable.

There were Fords, Yamahas, a couple of Porsches, and even a few Mercedes, as well as a couple of old Volvos, and a Ferrari.

Lyle Shepherd sighed, and groaned, rubbing his eyes. Why were his people having so much trouble with this? He had told them to collect these vehicles over a week ago, and they only had about thirteen at most. He needed a considerable amount more.

For many years, since the death of his wife, the loss of his daughter, and the disbanding of his fortune and reputation, Lyle Shepherd had been dealing in whatever he could get his hands on. He had managed to amass quite a few respectable clients, but he was after the big buck. He wanted the big deals.

And this was one of them.

It was just taking too long. He had mentioned this to his boys the previous day, and they had gone out in search of information, names of people they could use to help them. By help, he meant do the work that his crew obviously couldn't do themselves, whether said people really wanted to help or not.

Local police and detectives had already arrested two of his boys, and they were sniffing close. He couldn't afford to lose this deal. It was worth too much money.

The opening of the door caught his eye, and he turned his head in the direction of two of his boys entering, conversing quietly, and holding a few items in their hands. From his position up on the balcony, Lyle Shepherd couldn't make out what they were.

They moved up to him immediately, two men similar in skills, and both very capable. They had been the only successful workers in Lyle Shepherd's crew so far. One of them was taller than the other, a shock of bleached hair his most striking feature, on top of the almost ice blue eyes and wry smile. His name was Lennox.

The second was slightly rounder than the first, but a big built man, strong and sly. His darker skin hid dark eyes, and was topped off with gelled black hair. He was somewhat an emotionless man, never quite comfortable with showing others how he felt about whatever was going on. He was known as Ox.

That bothered Lyle Shepherd very little. He just wanted to know what they had managed to dig up.

He led the way back into his office, and sat back down, the two men standing before the desk, and looking to him.

"What have you got for me?" he asked of them in a smooth voice, his tone curious and insistent.

Ox held out a thin file to Lyle Shepherd, one he took instantly and started to peruse.

He thumbed through the papers, and unclipped the Polaroids attached to the top of the pages. He glanced through them with mild interest.

"We managed to get the names of some car thieves... good ones too," Lennox told him, arms crossed over his broad chest, the leather jacket done up tightly.

Ox took up his cue to speak almost immediately, and continued, "What we managed to find out is that there are, from what we can gather, two crews, not just one. A little over a year ago, they joined together, and pulled off a fifty car boost in one night."

Lyle Shepherd's eyes rose instantly, and he considered Ox seriously, as if waiting for the joke to reach a pinnacle. Ox was deadly sincere. The look in his dark eyes confirmed it. Ox was not a joker, as opposed to Lennox.

"And they didn't get caught?" Lyle Shepherd inquired, intrigued now, as he inspected the photos again, taking in the faces of the people in the images.

"Nope," Lennox replied simply. "They came close on the last car, a Shelby GT 500."

"We did manage to find out that the cars never made it out of Long Beach though," Ox interjected. "Someone tipped off the cops, and they were impounded, and then returned to their owners."

Lyle Shepherd leaned back in the leather chair pensively; the photos set out in a line before him. "And this is all of them?"

"From what we could tell," Ox confirmed, nodding once, and moving forward. "We couldn't manage to find two of them, a man and a woman. The man is the big one, the brains you could say. He pulled off the last boost, organised it all, and everything. But we couldn't find him. Known as Memphis Raines."

"A woman?" Lyle Shepherd was confused. He rarely heard of female car- thieves. It was interesting to him.

"Yeah," Lennox said to him, "known as Sway. She's pretty good."

Lyle Shepherd nodded, and pointed to the photos. "So who do we have here?"

"We've got Otto Halliwell and Atley Jackson," Ox informed him, pointing to the first photo, showing two men in conversation outside of what seemed to be a garage of some sort. "Halliwell owns his own chop shop, and Jackson was the intermediary for the last boost between the crew and the dealer. These guys are pros, but from what I hear, they don't actually do the stealing themselves."

Lyle Shepherd nodded, and indicated for Ox to move on to the next photo. It showed a large black man climbing out of what appeared to be a student driver car.

"This here is Donny Astricky," Ox continued matter-of-factly. "Teaches new drivers over at the DMV. Old friends with Halliwell and Jackson. Old school, and a expert with the tricky work."

Ox moved on to the third picture, a tall imposing man with a grave look on his face, narrowed eyes, and hard lines. His short, close-cut hair gave him a military air.

"This guy is known as 'The Sphinx'. Doesn't speak a word, but quite a handful. Not the most gentle creature, if you understand what I'm saying, but damn good at what he does."

The fourth photo was of three young men. The first was clearly younger, with a full head of tousled blonde hair, and an innocent expression. He carried a backpack over one shoulder, and wore a jacket that seemed a size too big. The second looked as though he had lived on the streets for a number of years, a young man with longer black hair and a streetwise smile. His leather jacket and dark garments suggested he knew how to dress to ward others away. The third and final young man was black, with sunglasses completely covering his eyes. He wore baggy brand name clothing, and had a bandana tied around his head. He appeared carefree, and was grinning like an idiot.

"These three are part of the other crew, the younger crew, led by the brother of the head honcho. This here is Toby, a computer genius. He got shot on the last boost when he got in over his head. Not too good with the stealing, but a whiz with the complicated computer stuff. Here we have a guy called Freb, known to tag along with a boost, but never really heard of him actually doing one solo. Finally, there's the little one, 'Mirror Man', who has actually stolen a car himself. Known as somewhat of a technical know-it-all, he can break into quite a few locked garages with the right equipment."

Lyle Shepherd was growing interested, and he rested his elbows on the armrests of his expensive chair, pointing to the last photo. Two young men were standing outside what seemed to be a bar at night. They stood beside a classic red and black car, and seemed to be talking. The first was a tough- looking kid, shorter than the other, if only slightly, with spiky blonde hair and large sideburns. He was fiddling with a set of keys, and appeared as though he had consumed a certain amount of alcohol at the time. The second was trying to take the keys off of the first, clean-shaven face and gelled hair making him presentable yet carrying an air of streetwise knowledge. His casual appearance contrasted somewhat to the jacket and shirt of his companion.

"And who are these two?" Lyle Shepherd inquired curiously, jabbing at the photo.

"Ah." Ox almost showed a smile. "Now here are two kids who know how to boost cars, if you know what I'm saying." Ox leaned forward on the table on his knuckles, and spoke confidently, "The one playing with the keys is known as Tumbler, a rough kid who is fond of his cars. Quite violent if provoked, but can pretty much drive anything with an engine." Ox paused, seeing the nod from his employer. Lyle Shepherd was impressed. "And the other kid is the leader of the younger crew. His name is Kip Raines. Very good with a boost, but somewhat spontaneous."

Ox stood to his full height, and looked to Lennox. "These younger ones will take risks to pull off a boost, but the older crew are sly, tricky. Working together, they could bring in your deal and close it before the cops even knew what was going on."

Lyle Shepherd smiled, nodding to himself. "This is good... nice work."

Ox and Lennox simply nodded.

"Bring me these two," Lyle Shepherd ordered with a wry smile, seeing Ox and Lennox acknowledge, before leaving. As they closed the door, he leaned back in his chair. "Let's see if we can wet their appetites."