Number 06 │ A Leverage Fanfiction

The First David Job│ Part 1

Founder's Reception

The cab pulled up to the curb in front of the grand museum, its glowing lights spilling onto the street. The driver glanced in the rearview mirror as Nate stumbled out. His tie was askew, and he carried the faint, weary aura of a man who had seen too much.

"You okay, buddy?" the driver asked.

Nate waved him off without a word, shutting the door and heading toward the museum's entrance. His steps were uneven, his gaze fixed on the sign by the door: Ian Blackpool's Founder's Night Reception.

Inside, the reception area gleamed with opulence. The woman at the front desk looked up with a polished smile.

"Evening, sir. Your name?" she asked.

Before Nate could respond, a uniformed guard approached, his tone firm. "Sir, this is a private function—"

Nate's fist shot out without warning, sinking into the guard's stomach. The man doubled over with a grunt, and the crowd gasped, the hum of polite chatter silenced.

Without hesitation, Nate grabbed the guard's gun, holding it steady as he aimed it across the room. His target: Ian Blackpool, who stood near a centerpiece of intricate floral arrangements.

Ian raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into an amused smile. "Are you here to kill me, Nate?"

Nate's voice was calm, almost detached. "Not tonight."

Ian chuckled, unfazed. "Well, in that case, come in. There's shrimp."

He turned and strolled away as if nothing had happened. Nate lowered the gun and shrugged. "I do love shrimp."

With a casual toss, he flung the gun over his shoulder, letting it clatter to the floor, and followed Ian into the grand outdoor gala.

Outdoor Gala

The garden was a spectacle of wealth and influence: glittering string lights, classical music, and servers gliding through the crowd with trays of champagne.

Ian gestured around. "My wing at the museum opens this week. Just a little celebration for the fundraisers."

Nate grabbed a glass from a passing server, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, blood money buys the best art." He took a sip, the sarcasm in his tone sharp enough to cut glass.

Ian smirked. "I heard a rumor that you'd—"

"I'm here to sell you something, Ian," Nate interrupted, his voice low but steady.

Ian raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't need anything, Nate."

Nate leaned in close, his breath brushing against Ian's ear as he whispered something inaudible to the crowd. Ian's expression froze, his amusement fading into a sharp, calculating look.

"You're lying," Ian said finally.

Nate's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Lying to you wouldn't be worth my time."

Ian straightened, signaling to someone nearby. "Portia?"

A stunning woman turned toward them, dressed elegantly, her presence commanding attention. She glided over, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

Ian smiled, his charm on full display. "Portia, this is Nathan Ford. He used to work for me."

He turned back to Nate, the edge of a challenge in his voice. "This is Portia Delduccio from the Vatican Museum."

Sophie—disguised as Portia—tilted her head, her voice smooth and accented. "Buona sera, Signore Ford."

Leverage HQ – Two Weeks Earlier