Now You See Me (One Shots)

{7}

One Shot #7:

The One With The Flying Cards.

****

It was a breezy autumn's day, when the foursome group had been experiencing one of the rare occasions in which they had found themselves all bored with either nothing - or simply not having the energy to do what they were supposed to do.

Henley would perch herself on her bed in her room painting her nails waiting for the time to go by. Atlas' controlling need and never ending belief in "practice makes perfect" even though he claims to have already reached that goal a long time ago, prompts him to take a deck of cards and practice all of his old and simple tricks and flourishes, even with the knowledge that he'd already perfected all by the age of fifteen. As for the mentalist, well, he would simply lounge around their newly bought and rather extravagant - bought by Tressler himself - apartment, a beer in hand, with a movie he clearly wasn't paying attention to playing. The sleight hated these days the most, for he had nothing to do. He simply lay on his bed, staring at the white, blank ceiling wall with nothing but his thoughts playing and floating around in his mind. While the thought of food and consuming it had played around his head for a while, he was, as he claimed "too lazy" for that as well. Suddenly, as Daniel's door opened and the illusionist walked out of his room, clearly heading towards the kitchen, an idea popped into Jack's mind as he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his deck of cards before following suit with Daniel, making sure to keep a small distance so that the illusionist never saw him.

On the way to the kitchen, they had passed the living room where Merritt sat on the couch with an empty beer bottle next to him. Deciding that revenge was in order for all those times Merritt had hypnotised the young magician to do God knows what given that he couldn't remember, he took out the deck and picked out a card. Taking that card in between both his pointer and middle finger of his left hand, he retracted and let it fly with the flick of his wrist making sure that the card hit the back of Merritt's head. With Daniel unaware of his presence and oblivious as to what was going on, it was the perfect set up. And much to Jack's amusement, the illusionist seemed to carry that deck wherever he went. So, when Merritt turned around not to find Jack who had hid behind a wall, all assumptions had led to Daniel – who still clutched that deck in his right hand – being the one that hit Merritt.

"What the hell was that for Atlas?" He asked rubbing his neck, because God dammit for a card that light in weight it sure could leave a scratch.

Turning around when his surname was mentioned, his eyebrows raised in confusion, left hand clutching a glass cup, he looked in confusion at the rather annoyed mentalist.

"What the hell was what?"

"That card you threw at me," he spoke dryly, turning to look – well glare - at the magician leaning against the kitchen counter.

"What card?" he asked with the same confused tone. Rolling his eyes at Daniel's expected reaction, he continued to elucidate, "Number fifty-two of the deck you're holding."

"I only have fifty-two cards, I have no idea what you're talking about," Atlas concluded before turning around to the cupboards and taking out a Mars bar to fill his growing appetite.

Peering through the wall, Jack had stifled a laugh or two, trying not to reveal that it was he who had thrown the card. Seeing as this was too much fun, he'd decided to keep it up. He'd thrown yet another two cards at Merritt, who seemed to be trying not to react, while finally starting to watch the movie – Die Hard 2 – that was still playing. Given that the mentalist wasn't planning on reacting anytime soon, and Jack praised him for his patience, he decided he'll for sure get a kick out of Atlas. And so he strategically hit him with the card making sure that it looked like it was tossed from where Merritt was seated.

Once the playing card lightly scratched his elbow, Daniel turned around with the chocolate bar still in hand with an exasperated expression on his face.

"I already told you, I didn't throw that card!" Looking back Merritt smirked amusedly at the controlling showman's expression before frowning in confusion.

"I don't know how Jesus did it. But I'm grateful either way," He joked earning a fed up and unamused stare back.

"Don't look at me like that, you know any time I even attempt to throw a card it just ends up boomeranging back to my face," His expression softening to realization, Daniel smirked before nodding and picking up the card that hit him.

"True, true. I mean you can't throw for shit," he commented earning a confused look from Merritt once he positioned the card into a throwing position.

"What ar-"Merritt tried to let out before stopping mid-sentence as Atlas brought his forefinger to his lips in a 'be quite' gesture.

"But, you know who's really good – almost impeccable - at throwing these cards," Daniel asked as he retracted his hand causing Merritt to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Leaving the answer blank he flicked his wrist and let go of the card watching it whiz across the room and hit the hiding sleight right in the neck.

When a mumbled curse was heard, all was made clear to the confused mentalist, "Ah, Mr. Jack Wilder. But, of course."

Once his name left Merritt's lips, Jack walked into the room a sheepish grin on his face as both of his fellow horsemen stared at him with a mixture of anger, amusement, and although barely visible pride.