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

End of the Charade

The jig is up, the news is out,
They've finally found me!
The renegade who had it made,
Retrieved for a bounty!
Never more to go astray,
This will be the end today,
Of the wanted man.
~Renegade by Styx

The building had come to a stand-still. All work was stopped as agents turned to see what the commotion was. Only the few serving on the Horsemen case knew what had happened, so the majority of the floor remained in the dark. Eyes widened in surprise and confusion and people began whispering to one another as they saw one of their own being forcibly removed. No one said anything as Dylan was led down the hall to one of the other interrogation rooms. He held his head straight so that it wouldn't be obvious he was raking the room with his eyes. Now that the inevitable had happened, the panic had faded and already his mind was whirling with plans to get him out of this mess he had created.

He was taken to an interrogation room further down the hall and he bit back a grunt of pain as the men holding his arms shoved him into the chair and wrenched his hands forward. The handcuffs were cold as the men quickly snapped them shut and stepped back, faces blank of any emotion whatsoever. Dylan shrugged his shoulders, wincing from where they had twisted his right arm. As he got comfortable, his handlers left and a well-built redheaded man Dylan only vaguely knew entered. He ran into him at the coffee machine sometimes, but he'd never taken the time to say more than a greeting. Now he wished he had paid more attention to his colleagues. It would have been helpful to know this man's techniques and, more importantly, his weaknesses.

The man paced the room, his height and obvious muscle making the room feel twice as small as it really was. The man's eyes never left Dylan as he paced, and he could see the anger bubbling under the surface. Dylan refused to let that worry him, however. He knew what the man was doing. Heck, he had done it himself more times than he could count. It was one of the techniques taught in training: pace the room, blow yourself up to make the room small, be loud, and make the criminal uncomfortable enough to spill his secrets without a lot of work. He had seen it work time and time again, but it wouldn't this time. Not on him.

"Why did you do it, Rhodes?" the man finally asked, stopping his pacing to stand with his arms crossed so that he was staring down at Dylan.

Dylan remained silent. It would be futile to argue. They knew all that they needed to too lock him away for a long while, but that didn't mean he had to make it easy for him. So he kept his silence and waited.

"The silent routine? Really?" Disgust dripped from his voice as the interrogator sat down and stared at him from across the table. "You've been in my position before, Rhodes. Or would you prefer Shrike?"

Dylan said nothing.

"You know how this works, Rhodes. So just gives us the Horsemen and save all of us the headache."

Silence.

The interrogator leaned back in his chair, pulling the folder that had been on the table with him. He shuffled through a few papers, but his eyes never left Dylan. He held the papers in front of him as if to read from them, but when he spoke his gaze remained locked on Dylan.

"Lionel Shrike. A talented magician until his tricks were revealed and he lost all credibility he had."

Dylan's jaw tightened, but he forced his anger back. He knew this was coming. He had told Bradley who his father was, after all, and that would have been the first thing the debunker would have told the FBI.

"Then in a vain attempt to return to the spotlight, he drowns in the East River leaving behind a widow and a twelve year old son." The interrogator paused. "That couldn't have been easy. It says here you were at the front of the crowd when they called the attempt a failure."

He met the interrogator's gaze without flinching, but he couldn't hide the anger that burned through his eyes. The interrogator looked down at the papers and read for a few moments, the silence weighing heavy in the completely still room. Dylan waited for his opportunity.

"The bank and Tressler denied your family's insurance claims, Elkhorn made a crappy safe, and Bradley was the one who made your father jump into an act he wasn't ready for, thus contributing to his death. If that doesn't spell motive then I don't know what does."

The man placed the papers and the folder back on the table and leaned forward slightly, meeting Dylan's eyes once more.

"We have all the proof we need, Rhodes. You're done. You know this game as well as I do. Your best option is to save yourself and tell us where to find the Horsemen."

"And what will you do for me?" Dylan spoke for the first time.

The corner of the other man's lips flicked up in victory, but he schooled his face quickly.

"A reduced sentence," he began, "And the opportunity for parole and a better prison. You know the deal."

Dylan sighed and reached up to run a hand through his hair, but the cuffs clicked and stopped him. Letting his cuffed hands fall in front of him, he leaned forward, shoulders slumped in defeat. The interrogator fought to keep his face blank as he eagerly leaned forward as well, already picturing the nice boost this would give to his position. That little bit of movement was all Dylan needed. With a quick jerk of his wrists, his hands were freed from the handcuffs as they leaped across the table to lock into place around the interrogator's wrists. The man didn't even have time to yell before Dylan was at the door, ducking to the side as it swung open and two agents stormed in. He was on them before they could pinpoint his location, and two solid hits on each was all he needed to leave them splayed out on the floor.

He left the room at a run, keeping low and dodging as best he could as more agents ran to confront him. He used his momentum to send any who got close enough to the ground and he grabbed at everything that was within reach and threw it behind him, leaving an obstacle course of confused government workers and office equipment behind him. He knew the building layout like the back of his hand, and he used that knowledge to his advantage as he dove over tables and ran down three separate halls where no one knew what was happening until he was gone. He skidded around the corner to the fire escape, slamming his already hurt shoulder into the wall before turning to the door and coming to a screeching halt. Fuller stood in front of his escape, gun aimed directly at his chest. Dylan felt his heart hit the bottom of his stomach as he raised his hands.

"Sam."

Fuller took a deep breath, his face a range of conflictions. Betrayal, anger, sorrow, Dylan could read all the emotions, but he didn't know what to say. For his part, Fuller still couldn't believe it had come to this. Only hours ago he and Dylan had been joking in his office and now he was pointing a gun at the man he had considered one of his closest friends. The agent squared his shoulders and lifted his head.

"I guess I didn't really know you, did I."

"I'm sorry."

Dylan had a lead on his pursuers, but not by much. Already he could hear the yelling and cursing that was growing closer. He clearly heard someone yelling to sound the alarm and he knew he only had two minutes, probably less, if he was to make it out to save his own skin and that of the Horsemen. He was calculating the likelihood of getting shot if he made a leap for it when Fuller lowered the gun and tossed it off to the side.

"Hit me."

"What?" Dylan stared blankly, not processing what his friend was saying.

"Hit me before I change my mind."

Dylan didn't hesitate. He pulled his arm back and pulled his punch as his fist connected with Fuller's jaw. He hoped the man would forgive him as he pushed past him and bolted out the door. Resisting the urge to look back, he hit the fire escape at full speed and the alarm went off instantly, drowning out the yells and curses that had followed him.

By the time the FBI reached the fire escape, the magician had disappeared into thin air.