Disclaimer: Neither Now You See Me, the characters, or the lyrics that appear at the beginning of each chapter belong to me.

The World Turned Upside Down

Saw that dark cloud coming from a million miles away.
Oh how I've dreaded this God forsaken day.
Daddy can you hear the devil drawing near?
Like a bullet from a gun, run daddy run.
~Run Daddy Run by The Pistol Annies

"What's this about, Dylan?" Agent Fuller asked, arms folded across his chest as he studied his friend.

They were back in the FBI building, standings outside the interrogation room where Thaddeus Bradley was being held. Fuller had done as Dylan had asked and brought Bradley in within an hour. He had filled Dylan in as soon as the other man had swept into the office, shirt half untucked in his hurry. Bradley had been in the middle of filming his segment on the Horsemen when the agents arrested him, to which the man had gone along quite willingly. That worried Dylan. The man shouldn't have been calm. His stomach had twisted itself until he felt he was going to be physically sick as he had made his way to the office. His only consolation was that Bradley would only get him if Dylan's plan failed. He was the only one who knew where the Horsemen currently were—even they didn't know where the others had been sent. Even if he couldn't get himself out of this, his Horsemen were safe.

"Bradley knows who the mastermind is." Dylan finally answered as he finished straightening himself out. "He admitted to that on national television."

"So he must have known the whole time." Fuller finished, nodded even as his facial expression remained blank. "Why didn't he say anything?"

"Protecting them? Trying to drive me crazy?" Dylan guessed, hiding his nervousness behind anger. "What does it matter why? All that matters is that he withheld evidence that could have been used for the investigation."

Fuller nodded and opened the door, motioning for Dylan to go first. "After you."

Dylan took a breath, forcing his face into one of anger. The slight shaking of his hands was all that betrayed his nervousness and panic, but that could be easily disguised as fury. He knew this was dangerous, a voice in the back of his head was telling him that he was being completely stupid. He should have run the second he had Fuller bring the debunker in. It was only a matter of time before Bradley revealed his identity and his connection with the Horsemen. And the man had a whole lot more evidence against him and without the Eye's protection, Dylan knew he was up the creek without a paddle.

But he stormed through the door just as he had so many times before in his years with the FBI. Thaddeus Bradley was leaning back in his chair as casual as if being handcuffed to a desk was an everyday occurrence.

"Agent Fuller, Agent…Rhodes." He greeted calmly, pausing slightly before saying Rhodes. "Nice to see you again."

"I'd wipe that grin off your face if I was you, Bradley." Dylan sneered, falling back into his bad cop act. "Unless you missed that cell of yours so much that you can't wait to get back to it."

"And what makes you think that, Agent?" Bradley asked calmly.

"We have you on the charges of…" Fuller started to supply, but Bradley cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Yes, yes. Obstruction of justice and withholding evidence. Minor inconveniences. My lawyers are already on their way with bail."

"There won't be any bail if you don't tell us what we want to know." Dylan snarled, smashing his hand against the table.

Calm down. He reminded himself. He wants you to lose control. You have to keep calm.

As if sensing the panic that Dylan was struggling to control, Bradley met Dylan's eyes and smiled.

"Are you sure you want me to do that, Agent Rhodes?" Dylan stiffened, but kept silent as Bradley shrugged. "Of course, you could always have simply waited for the show to air. Then everything would be brought to light."

"Cut the crap, Bradley," Fuller spoke up, glancing between the man and his partner. "Just tell us who the fifth Horseman is and we'll see about dropping the charges."

Bradley reclined, looking at Fuller, but making sure to keep Dylan in his sights. The grin remained in place as he gave an exaggerated nod.

"Of course, Agent Fuller." He responded and Dylan froze, fighting to keep his breathing under control. "You know him quite well. After all, you've worked quite closely with him."

"The mastermind is in the FBI?" Fuller scoffed, but there was a questioning in his voice.

"Think about it," Bradley explained. "The Horsemen were constantly two steps ahead of you, as if they knew exactly what you were planning the moment you planned it. Now tell me, how could they know what you were planning as you were doing it if they didn't have a man on the inside?"

"You're just trying to cover for yourself." Dylan interrupted, remarkably composed despite the turmoil inside. Time was running short, but if he could just stop this here. "You're just trying to save your own skin. What better way to clear yourself then to throw the blame?"

"He has a point, Dylan." Fuller said thoughtfully, studying his friend. "They always knew what we were planning almost before we did."

"So did he!" Dylan exclaimed a little too quickly, his voice hitching slightly. "He was always there right when we arrived!"

"It isn't hard to follow the Horsemen." Bradley commented casually, almost throwing the sentence away, but his eyes were locked onto Dylan.

Dylan's shoulders tensed, his breath catching before he forced himself to breathe. He hadn't missed the coded message. Bradley hadn't spoken in the past tense as he had previously; he had said it isn't, present tense. Bradley knew were the Horsemen were and they both knew that the man didn't need to be in the same place as the magicians to hurt them. He had money and men that could do that for him. Dylan shook his head slightly, not wanting to believe, but knowing by the smirk that spread across the other man's face that he hadn't misread the sentence. The Horsemen were in grave danger.

"Dylan," Fuller spoke slowly, as if not wanting to say what he was about to. "Are you the fifth Horseman?"

"What?" Dylan exploded, trying one last vain attempt to hide his full blown terror behind a façade of anger. "Have you lost it, Fuller?"

"Answer me, Agent Rhodes." Fuller met his eyes and Dylan could see the betrayal written across his face. "If you have any respect for our friendship, Dylan, answer me honestly."

Dylan deflated momentarily at the pain in Fuller's voice. He had come to consider the man a friend, and he knew what would come next would hurt him more than the others, and for that he was sorry. A plan was forming in the back of his mind, but he needed to stall, he needed more time.

"How can you even think that?" He asked, throwing his shock into his voice. "You know me, Sam."

"All the evidence points directly to you, Mr. Rhodes. Or, should I say, Mr. Shrike?" Bradley leaned forward.

"What are you talking about?" He tried to keep his voice angry, but he knew the gig was up and the terror he felt was beginning to break through his mask. "What evidence? Probably more of your made up crap, Bradley."

"Mr. Bradley showed us undeniable proof, Dylan." Fuller had backed away to stand on the other side of the table by the still sitting Bradley. "Video tape of you meeting with him when he was first arrested, and paperwork that prove you've been sending agents on false leads in order to protect the Horsemen."

"You're really going to buy this?" He tried—he had to try—one final time. "It's absurd!"

"I'm sorry, Dylan." Fuller said quietly, genuine sorrow in his eyes as he raised his hand.

The door opened and three agents walked in with guns drawn. Dylan started to move, the plan he had been forming lost in the panic that overtook his mind, but the agents had been expecting this. They moved quickly, surrounding him and grabbing his arms before he could move. One of the men removed his gun from its holster Dylan struggled to slip from their grasp. He started to slip from their grip, but the man on his right simply twisted his arm behind his back, bending it almost beyond its capacity. Dylan stopped struggling, knowing he had better chances once the men released their grip.

Knowing that panicking would not help him, Dylan took a deep breath to calm himself and turned to look back at Bradley as we was led from the room. The man remained seated, the seat spun to offer a better view of his enemy being led away. The last thing Dylan was able to see before he was forced out of the room was Bradley's hands, unshackled and folded across his chest. The cuffs lay forgotten on the table, the key nowhere in sight.