The camera pans across a rainy Boston street, neon signs flickering in puddles. A voice—calm, weathered—narrates: 'The rich and powerful, they take what they want. We steal it back for you. And sometimes, bad guys make the best good guys. We provide... leverage.'

Inside a dim bar, Nate Ford sits alone, a glass of whiskey in hand. He stares at a photo of his son. The weight of grief is silent but crushing. His phone rings. It’s Victor Dubenich, offering a job: recover stolen aerospace tech. Nate refuses. He’s done with chasing thieves.

But Dubenich presses: 'The company you bled for let your boy die. You know how the game is played. Use it.'

Reluctantly, Nate assembles a team of criminals he once hunted: Hardison, the hacker; Eliot, the hitter; Parker, the thief. They don’t trust him. They don’t trust each other.

The job goes down—flawless. But Dubenich betrays them, sending assassins. Instead of running, Nate turns to the team: 'We don’t run. We hit back. Hard.'

They recruit Sophie, the grifter, and launch a counter-con. Within days, Dubenich is ruined. The team walks away with money, freedom, and a new purpose.

As they stand together on a rooftop, Nate looks at them—not as criminals, but as a family forged in fire. 'We don’t work for the powerful,' he says. 'We work for the people they crush. From now on, we only target the corrupt. We level the playing field.'

And just like that, Leverage is born.