Act One, Scene Five
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Horsemen!"
The crowd went wild, cheering and yelling and screaming their names, and the team couldn't help but laugh back and collapse in a somewhat-dysfunctional group hug.
They had done it.
They had actually done it.
Walter appeared at the door cautiously, Tressler not too far behind.
Danny steeled himself for one last performance, brushed off Dylan's still-concerned look, and turned to face them.
"No, you should feel pretty good about yourself, man. You predicted it correctly. The Thames, stroke of midnight, New Year's Eve. Happy New Year!"
The awaiting police officers stopped them as they tried to escape.
"Wow! Thank you very much, London!" Danny continued, "We would like to acknowledge not just our old friend, Arthur Tressler, but his young and very brilliant son, Walter Mabry, who has performed one of the greatest feats of illusion even we have ever seen. He has, amazingly, brought himself back from the dead!"
The crowd all laughed and cheered.
"But before he did that, he revealed someone" Merritt said, "And we think it only right to give him a proper introduction".
"He is our friend and he is our leader" Danny finished, "Dylan Shrike!"
Jack teasingly shoved him to the front of the group, "Get over here!"
He wrapped an arm around Danny's waist briefly as he passed, and he told himself that his sudden lack of air was a result of blood loss and not because the older man was warm and inviting and oh so safe and-
"So, normally, only the magician, his assistant, and a few trusted stagehands know the secret of a trick" Dylan started, "But tonight, however, in this effect, it's all of you people around the Thames here. And since we're streaming live, everyone around the world already knows everything. And only these fellows here, are the ones left in the dark… So, let's see how closely you were watching our shows''.
Jack stepped forwards.
"Remember when we were playing 'Find the Lady', and I said that we used a Barry Trap, some classic switches and a few duplicates? Well, that's how we switched the driver of the truck. Which took us to a duplicate hangar where we used your need to rush, and your fear of being seen let you do the work for us".
"So, the airplane. How did we get it to fly?" Lula started, and Danny nodded, "Well, we used fans, and lights, and rain machines".
"Obviously, all of this was reliant on us getting caught. But we needed to make sure that you would do exactly what we needed you to do once you did catch us" Jack said.
"My brother Chase, who was technical adviser to the losing team" Merritt continued, "He taught us that it's all about blind spots. And, uh, surprises".
"Basically, we showed them everything. How you kidnapped us to steal the very thing that is in your pocket right now".
Walter quickly checked his coat but came up with nothing.
Danny smirked, and with a not-so-steady flourish, revealed the stick in his hand, trying not to lean too obviously to the left.
"Whoops!"
"You know, this thing here, which you said you could use to adjust markets, manipulate governments, and spy on whomever you choose".
"Also, you could, as you said, control the public from outside the grid".
"These men destroy people's lives. Spying on the world, robbing you of your right to privacy. And they do that by hiding in the dark" Dylan said, "So, in the Horsemen tradition, we're here to expose them. Tonight, they, like all of us, are finally stepping into the light".
"Thank you, everybody!" Danny finished, "We are the Horsemen and we will be back very soon!"
"Five, four, three, two, one!"
Happy New Year.
Lula immediately yanked Jack into a heated kiss, and they teasingly pulled them away from one other.
"Hey, we're on the clock. Get a move on!"
In the distance, they heard sirens.
Time to go.
Ducking beneath the wing of the plane, they split up, Jack and Lula to the left, Merritt straight ahead, and Dylan and Danny to the right.
They had barely gone ten meters before Rhodes grabbed his wrist and pulled him in behind a stack of crates.
"Dylan? What are you-"
"Why are you favouring your left side?"
"… What?"
He held his ground and gave him a strict no-nonsense look. Danny stared back and tried his best not to lean on his good side because apparently their all-seeing leader's bullshit-detector could see through appearances too.
"Do you trust me?" Dylan asked suddenly.
"What? No! I mean- Yes! I mean, I- I don't… Why- Why would you ask me that?"
"Because you've been acting strange since this whole thing started, but even more so since we got caught. I have to know, Danny. Do you trust me?"
He wondered, briefly, when it had gone from 'Atlas' to 'Danny' but found that it didn't matter either way.
"… I trust you to look out for us" he finally answered, "For the team. I know that- that you have our best interests at heart and- and I trust you to do the right thing… That's all I can give you right now".
Dylan slowly nodded.
"Okay. Alright, that's… that's fair enough. But if you trust me to look out for you guys, then why won't you tell me what's wrong?"
"I'm not lying, Rhodes".
"No, you're just not telling the truth. What happened between the motorbikes and the plane, Danny? Because you weren't acting like this before we reached London, so you don't dare say it's because of Macau".
"It won't affect the show-"
"Fuck the show!" he snapped, "Your health is more important than any damn show!"
Danny looked away from his righteous anger and clenched his jaw.
His shoulder was throbbing with hot bursts of pain, streaks of fire racing up and down his arm and across his chest. It would be so so easy to just shrug off his jacket and reveal the blood and the bruises and drop his masks and yell and cry and scream and-
It would be so easy to just curl up on the ground and never get up again.
He took a deep breath and turned back to him.
"... We have to do this. One more show, one more escape, and it's done. One more show and… and then we're safe".
Dylan studied him closely, even as they heard shoes on metal stairs and the sound of FBI agents above them.
"… One more show" he reluctantly agreed, "And then you tell me everything".
He nodded, hurriedly, and Dylan let him go.
Taking a moment to shove his worry to the back of his mind, Dylan tried to convince himself- it will all be over soon then he can make sure Danny's okay it will all be over soon then he can make sure Danny's okay it will all be over soon- before stepping out from the alcove to follow the younger man to their designated rendezvous point.
"Rhodes, hold it right there! Do not move!"
He stilled and slowly turned to face her, USB stick in hand.
Perfect timing as usual, boss.
"This contains everything. Not just Walter and Tressler, but all their dealings. All their contacts, the entire network".
"And why on earth would I believe you?"
Which, you know, fair.
"I told you. I'm the same man I've always been".
"… Ten minutes".
Yelling from above momentarily distracted them, but when he tossed her the memory stick, she caught it in one hand.
"Now you're playing the long game".
When she next looked up, he was gone.
Breathing heavily through his nose, Danny didn't dare stop for a split second as his feet hit the pavement. They were due to meet up at a place in Stockwell for the night, where they'd stay until all the hype calmed down. Only then would the team be moving to wherever it was that the Eye was based, although Li had assured him that they'd be in touch before too long.
His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears, his ankle throbbed with pain, and he found himself genuinely thankful that he hadn't eaten in the last twenty-four hours, because with the way he was feeling now, it would likely have made a reappearance.
The place they were staying at was less than an hour's walk from the part of the Thames they'd done the show in, but Danny had to make a few… diversions first.
He stuck to the river side, running across grass and pavement and tarmac roads until finally, finally, he found what he was looking for.
The petrol station came into sight like a mirage, its bright red neon sign flickering in and out of view as his own vision blurred and refocused whenever it liked. Pulling his hood up, he spent a minute catching his breath outside the dirt-streaked door, before putting on a semblance of calm and ducking inside.
It was a small station, tiny, really, and he briefly wondered how it even managed to survive with all the tax Londoner's were subjected to when it came to driving. Either way, he thanked whatever deity out there that he'd at least found some place that sold what he needed. Placing a travel-sized nail care set, a quarter pint of vodka, and a pack of Steri-Strips in front of the unimpressed teenager at the cash register, he kept his face hidden from the store camera and tried not to look too suspicious.
"This it?"
"Yeah. Please".
"… Alright".
With every beep of the scanner, he flinched, before tossing a twenty on the counter, grabbing his things, and high tailing it out of there.
The Horsemen would be on the FBI and Interpol most wanted lists for quite some time after their latest stunt, and he really didn't want to get caught less than an hour after they made their escape.
Inconvenience aside, Merritt would never let him live it down.
Ducking behind the station, he found an even grimier door than the one out front, with a half faded 'Staff Only' sign hanging loosely from one screw. Opening the nail kit, he pulled out the metal nail file with the hook at one end, and slipped it into the key slot.
Cheap as the rest of the building was, his makeshift pick slipped from his fingers twice before he managed to break through the secure lock. He left the file in place to lock the door again after himself, before hitting the light switch and ducking into the graffiti covered bathroom.
He shrugged out of his jacket and unzipped his hoodie with a wince before tugging up his right sleeve with an even worse grimace. The blood made the scratchy fabric stick to the wound, but likewise, once he had pulled it back far enough to actually see the wound, the blood kept his shirt in place for him.
It's the little things that count.
Standing in front of the grimy mirror, fluorescent yellow flickering above him, Danny did his best to examine the gunshot. His earlier assessment had been correct; there was no exit wound. On one hand, this meant that he had to remove the bullet himself or else risk infection, but on the other hand… well… he was sure that there was some benefit to not having two holes in his shoulder instead of an ounce of lead…
He just couldn't think of any right now.
Setting the nail kit on the sink, he uncapped the bottle of vodka, chugged it until his eyes burned, bit down on his jacket, and then poured the rest over the wound.
He didn't, exactly, not scream at the resulting pain, but the fabric stuffed in his mouth muffled most of the sound so he still felt sufficiently manly enough at the end of it.
Taking the tweezers from the nail set, he took a deep breath and started digging.
His shoulder positively throbbed, but he hadn't hit any major arteries or veins, or any bones either, and the bullet itself was relatively close to the surface, so all in all, he counted himself rather lucky.
Or, well, you know, as lucky as he could be while still getting shot.
Staring at the mangled 9mm now held between the tips of the tweezers, the only thing Danny could think of was huh, that's not even the size of a dime.
He tossed it, watching it rattle around and around in the sink before clattering down the drain pipe along with red-stained water and small pieces of fabric that he'd had to cut away from the wound with a bright pink nail scissors.
His hands were still shaking as he reached for the Steri-Strips, but mentally, at least, he felt somewhat calmer.
His shoulder was still bleeding, and not just a little bit either, so he washed out the wound as best he could before applying the butterfly stitches. The adhesive strips were no match to actual physical stitches, but as well as he was holding himself together right now, he knew that his momentary composure would be no match to a needle and thread.
Not without some major painkillers, at least, but the petrol station only sold Aspirin and a blood thinner was the last thing he needed right now.
Pulling his skin together with one hand was not fun, but after a lot of swearing, cursing and calming breathing exercises, he finally got the wound at least partially closed.
Downing the last inch of vodka, he trashed the bottle in the bin next to the sink and furiously washed his hands before staring at himself in the mirror.
He looked like shit.
Danny sighed and ran an exhausted hand over his face.
It was fine. This was fine. He was fine.
One more show, and then you tell me everything.
He just had to make it to the safe house, lie and pretend that everything was alright for a few hours, and then somehow get his hands on a solid first aid kit and some decent painkillers so he could stitch himself up properly.
Carefully pulling his sleeve back down over the ever-reddening plastic strips across his shoulder, he rezipped his hoodie, put his jacket back on, made sure that no blood remained in the bathroom, and then left, turning the nail file to lock the door behind him.
One more show…
Slowly walking up the gravelled path, he reached the white-wash door and knocked on it once, twice… three times.
A few seconds later, he heard movement inside, then voices, then laughter, and then finally, it was flung open and Jack and Lula stood in front of him.
"Welcome to our humble abode!"
He forced a smile, head pleasantly fuzzy from the quarter pint of vodka.
"Three kids and a picket fence life, huh?"
They both made a face and he laughed before stepping inside. The house was old, very old, Georgian perhaps, with hardwood floors and faded wallpaper and a decidedly homey feeling.
"There's only four bedrooms, but since Jack and I are sharing-"
"We are?"
"You'll have a place to yourself" Lula finished, shooting her sort-of-boyfriend a dirty look.
Danny nodded and put a hand on the scuffed teak banister.
"Dylan and Merritt?"
"Not here yet" Jack shrugged, "But I thought Rhodes was with you?"
Do you trust me?
"He was" Danny said, "We split up. His, uh, his old boss wanted a few words".
"Alright, cool… Hey, man, you sure you're okay?"
"Course" he turned back to them and smiled, "Why wouldn't I be?"
Lula raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.
"You mean asides from you literally dying?"
"I didn't-"
"You had no pulse and you weren't breathing. If that ain't dead, then I don't know what is".
He took a deep breath and tried to subtly shift from one foot to the other.
"Yeah, you're looking pretty pale, man" Jack added, uncharacteristically serious, "And then, when Tressler's guys threw you from the plane…"
"I'm just tired. That's all" Danny said, giving a one shouldered shrug and then immediately regretting even moving that much, "And, speaking of, I think I'm gonna take a nap before the others arrive".
The pair gave him matching suspicious looks before slowly nodding.
"Alright. We'll wake you when they get here. You know, I'm thinking pizza for dinner".
"Oh! With pineapple!" Lula chimed in, before immediately glaring at the disgusted look she got, "Hey! There is nothing wrong with putting pineapple on pizza!"
"Whatever you say, dear".
"Jack! I'm serious! It's just a fruit and guess what? So are tomatoes! Honestly, what the big deal is, I'll never-"
Danny quickly slipped upstairs as the heated debate began. Four of the five doors were open, so he assumed that the last was the room that Jack and Lula had chosen for themselves. The first door he tried turned out to be a bathroom, and he silently pulled open every press and cupboard he could find in the dim hall light in search of a first aid kit.
No such luck.
Frowning, he reluctantly left and tried the other doors.
Three bedrooms, as predicted, all of which looked more or less the same, and thankfully were more modern than the rest of the house.
After brief consideration, he decided to choose the room furthest away from the new lovebird's because there were some sounds that he didn't want to be hearing any time soon.
Kicking off his shoes, he didn't bother turning on the lights as he pushed out the door and then all but collapsed back on the double-sized bed shoved against the right wall. He had wanted to go for a shower first; no doubt that Merritt would steal all the hot water once he finally arrived, but now that Danny was here, head drowsy, eyes heavy, lying down on dry sheets and warm blankets and soft pillows…
Well.
Maybe he'd just stay here for a minute.
Only a moment.
Just long enough… to take… a… nap…