Why complicate things? Sledge mused as he flipped the cardboard box over, providing him a flat surface. A tenner wasn’t going to go far in America, not with the current exchange rate anyways. Acting as though someone had stolen his wallet earlier he had managed to make a little bit of money already. It was time to build up a nice amount of funding, and the easiest way to do that was the quick money fix. People always knew that the dealer cheats at three card monte, yet that was what made people always try it. They always thought that they could win, especially since they would see someone win. What Sledge didn’t understand was why people never seemed to think that the people who won were in cahoots with the dealer. No conman ever wanted to let the mark win. The second you let a mark realize that you aren’t in control you won’t get what you are aiming for.

One by one Sledge cracked the knuckles of his fingers loosening them up. He hadn’t gone punch crazy today, so his fingers felt nimble and light. For added comfort he had on a pair of fingerless gloves. Today was one of those days in which he had dressed down, choosing a pair of his jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt. Most of his clothes that he had brought with him had gotten horribly wrinkled inside of his duffle bag and needed to be ironed. Already he was plotting out how to get that rectified. Stopping into a hotel and saying that he had an important business meeting perhaps? It would work best if he were to wear one of his dress shirts and a sharp pair of trousers, he decided, pulling out from his back pocket a deck of cards and shuffling them absentmindedly. His eyes roamed about the street, looking for a suitable mark. For now he was safe from police. Three card monte was only illegal if you were playing for money. Yes he was going to make some money from it, but what offense could he be causing by right now by simply sitting against a building and shuffling a deck of cards?

Someone approached his box and Sledge looked up. “Righ’ then,” he greeted them and set down three cards. “Fancy a game?”

Nate had spent the morning at the mall planning his Christmas shopping. Quin's birthday was still fresh, so he was looking for new ideas. He still had time, so he made no purchases for the day, but he escaped with some new ideas. If he could avoid any Christmas fights, this holiday could turn out even better than Thanksgiving.

On the way home, in the corner of his eye, Nate spotted a familiar sight. Another lanky young man standing near a cardboard box with a deck of cards. Nothing about this was good for Nate to be curious about, but what thief was not attributed with curiosity? He slipped a few cards he kept in his wallet out and exchanged them into his hoodie pocket.

He approached the box in his casual garb, a hoodie and jeans. The man's accent threw him off; he was certainly not a homegrown kid. The test was whether he was a pro or just some street rat who thought he had an idea of what he was doing. In a Bostonian accent, he answered, "Um, sure, why not? Could be fun." Play the confused tourist. Tourists suck at anything but being robbed.

"Simple game," Sledge said, tucking the rest of the deck into his back pocket. With a mark it was time to begin the carefully calculated dance. By purposefully showing where the rest of the deck was going he was giving the impression that he was to be trusted. Actions speak louder than words. Saying that he was trustworthy only roused suspicions. Minor acts like putting away the deck were what put people at ease. "Just follow the lady."

Sledge flipped the cards over, to show that the queen of hearts was nestled nicely between the seven of spades and the six of clubs. Yet another thing he had done to build up trust. Some folks back in Bradford used cards that, at a glance, were quickly mistaken for something else. Those folks didn't share the same level of success that Sledge's gangs had. Once he had shown what the cards were, Sledge flipped them over, one at a time, and started to shift them about.

"She starts in the middle and goes for a walk, keep your eyes on 'er." The secret to any game of three card monte was to draw the mark's attention to the cards as they were on the box. It is easy enough to follow the queen when you are paying attention to the movement of the cards. Problem was that most of the swapping didn't happen once the card hit the cardboard. "Matching bet? Ten gets you ten. Can double your money." What you thought was the queen could easily be the six or the seven, for it was in the hand that the queen changed positions. Sledge had years of practice at the basic tricks of the trade, and with his hands and arms unaffected by the downside of his mutation the cards moved effortlessly between his thin, nimble fingers. The queen no longer was in the middle, but now on the right for Graves. "Now where did she go?"

Normally you wouldn't pull such tricks out right away. The mark had to feel that they could win. Seeing as Sledge was flying solo there was nobody who could act as though they were winning. He just couldn't stand the thought of loosing any of the money he had.

So he went with the Queen of Hearts; a classic, thankfully. "Follow the lady" was pretty reliable in that sense. He kept four cards on him in a specific order at all times: four queens and four aces, ordered in hearts, spades, diamonds and clubs. While watching the card player's hands toss the cards around deftly, he took the top card from his pocket into his sweatshirt sleeve. He wanted to be ready for what would happen later, but for now, he was supposed to play along.

The quickness of the young man was impressive. Nate's eyes told him the right card was in the center, so it probably was not, if this guy was a con worth his salt. The left and right had a fifty-fifty chance of being correct. "How about... the center one?" he chose with an unsure air.

No need to bump the table, or to quick change the guessed card for the fake one. The mark had fallen for it, the way that they always do. Still for the sake of consistency, Sledge took the queen's card and used it to flip over the center option. "Sorry mate, but so close," he said, showing that the choice made had been the six, and the queen had been one over. Sledge pocketed the money. Ten dollars for thirty seconds of work. Was it any wonder that he had chosen this line of work over being a slave to a factory like his parents?

"Care to try again?" Sledge asked setting the cards back into their original positions. He flipped the cards back over. "Twenty gets you thirty." Once again Sledge started to shuffle the cards, letting them move more in his grip than on the box. The glossy finish allowed them to slip and slide. There was nothing better than the feeling of cards bringing him money.

Sure enough, he revealed Nate's mistake. Nate groaned at the sight of the black six. "Damn! I thought it might have been that one. Stupid..." He had placed his ten on the table before the shuffling began, and watched as it was pulled away. A small battle lost with a greater goal in sight.

As expected, the Brit offered a second chance. Nate looked at his wallet, "unsure" about whether or not to take the bet. "Well.. what the hell." He dropped a twenty on the box. "What's twenty dollars, right?" Now the choice was whether to play this fair for one more round or match his craftiness with a trick of his own.

What's twenty dollars? Well for one thing it was about two and a half hours work for his da. When people were so carefree about their money it was easy to ignore any moral senses. People who could spend their money so pointlessly didn't deserve it in the first place. There was only so much money in the world, and only so many jobs available. You had to take what was owed to you and more. If you were in a position like Sledge's he reasoned, no matter how hard you worked, no matter how honest your paycheck, you would never get ahead in life. Steven's casual bet of twenty dollars did more to encourage Sledge to step up his game than the prospect of making money did.

The queen of hearts was as traditional as you could get. No other queen card was known better, nor was as eye catching. She was the most powerful woman in the history of literature, and she was his Lady Luck. With each deft movement of his fingers the cards made the familiar pattering on the box. Lady Luck on the bottom, switch to the top to set her down to the right, make her go to the center. Really the pattern didn't matter as long as Sledge remembered what he was doing with his hands.

Three card monte had been one of his earliest scams. Hours that should have been spent on homework were poured into mastering the game. Failure hadn't been an option, and Sledge expected no less then perfection out of himself. "Now then, did you keep your eyes on her?" He flipped over the card that was the queen, just to show Graves before starting up the dance again. This time the queen really was in the center instead of on Graves's left, where it should have been.

It was actually nice to have a slow day for once where you could clear your mind and actually think without worrying about too much of anything. Something he never thought he'd wish for - when he had absolutely nothing exciting going on in his life. Maybe it was just all the goings on of the holidays that made everything feel out of proportion, like everything around him was starting to snowball out of control just looking for a gigantic brick wall to slam into. "That's an appropriate metaphor." he thought, bringing a smirk to himself as he walked on.

His head had been down for several blocks while his mind was on something other than where he might be going. Truth be told, he didn't have any destination in mind, he just wanted to be someplace other than where he had been. Too many nights spent in bars and days spent ducking people this month and now he just needed to be 'out' again. Sucking in a breath of cold air, filling his lungs until they ached from the chill. He liked it when it got cold like this, prefering it to being hot most of the year like it was back in LA. "Aaand that's enough of that." Putting an end to his thoughts on what had once been home to him. Nothing good ever came from looking back on things that were far from fond memories.

The smile still abssently playing on his face only seemed to brighten further when he finally became aware of his suroundings and found himself watching a man losing money to another at a card game. Now if that didn't sum up the Christmas spirit he didn't know what did. Someone getting bilked out of their money at the chance to feel like a champion; buy a better present than someone else and you win the holiday. It's a jaded view on the season but there were more than enough people who saw it that way to make it ring truer than all those other silly old expressions about giving rather than receiving, and the thought being what counted. Bullcrap.

Caught up in the show, never thinking of interfering in another making money in more honest a fashion than what other people in the city do, he observed from afar - afar being close enough where he could get a good look at what was happening and hear when the man baited in to losing money innevitably caught on and lost his temper, all without being too obtrusive to the pair. A casual glance was given up and down both sides of the street, just being courteous to keep an eye out for the cops or someone in general who has to come along and spoil things. Get a jump on crying havoc for the mayhem and running all about to begin.

Nate had fought to keep his eye on the lady, but the momentary introduction of a new man's presence beside him took Nate's attention for a moment, and that was all it took for doubt to set in. He was pretty sure he still had his eye on the right card, but now he could not be sure. This was assuming the queen would still even be on the table. The civilian life really had taken some of Nate's edge.

He could guess and take a shot in the dark; if he lost, he could just play one more hand. The onlooker gave him more incentive to wrap the activity up.

He scanned the table and blindly guessed the center. If he was right, then it worked out, if not, the dealer would thing he lost track of the cards. It was the beauty of the trick. "Um, I suppose the middle one?" He pointed close to the card then hesitated and asked, "May I?" Not that he was looking for permission. He reached for the card, and once he had it in his hand, he had to utilize a sleight of hand trick that was instant and stealthy.

In the transition from grabbing the card and lifting it off the table, Nate had already swapped whatever card he picked for the card in his sleeve. The dropping of the card face-up revealed the Queen of Hearts he had been saving. It was a trick Nate had been using and perfecting for ten years.

His eyes lit up like the lucky shmuck he was acting like. "My God! I just guessed!" He grabbed the winnings off the table quickly before the Brit could try to smooth-talk him into another round. "I'd stay and press my luck, but my wife'll kill me if I don't get back to the hotel soon. Have a nice day!"

With that farewell, he was already walking away. It was a small victory monetarily, but the thrill was always what made it worth it. Once he was a few yards from the cardboard box, he took out the card from his sleeve to look at it. Queen of Hearts; I really am a lucky prick. He turned over the card and frowned.

He reached for another card from his pocket. Sure enough, where the stolen Queen of Hearts was blue-backed, his Ace of Diamonds (and by relation, the Queen of Hearts he left behind,) was red-backed.

Well, that won't end well if I stick around.

He changed his course, taking the first right, into an alleyway unfortunately enough. It was not a dead-end at the very least, so he kept his normal pace entering the alley, avoiding suspiciously gathering attention.

Right about then Sledge was feeling pretty good. His game with Graves had attracted another person, which meant more business for him. When you saw one person fail it made you feel like you can win because you knew better than them. Even when Graves selected the correct card Sledge didn't worry much. In the last hand Sledge had used a card to flip Graves's choice, and it was easy enough to make the switch there.

What concerned him though was that before he could even go to flip the card Graves did it. There the queen was, proudly betraying him. This was wrong. Graves shouldn't be walking away after winning. Nobody was ever that smart. It was foolish. Who walks away when they're winning? "Righ' then," he grumbled, flipping the cards back over and ushering Brody towards him. A flash of red caught his eye, and he knew that he had been had.

"Daft apeth, he didn't 'ave a ring," he mumbled to himself, "Want to make some quick money?" The question was directed towards the newcomer. "'elp me catch the man who was 'ere before." Sledge went into his back pocket and flipped open his wallet. An English gym membership ID made for a good fake police ID in a pinch, if you were fast enough and confident enough. "Private investigation."

Something wasn't right here, on many levels. For a second or two it was clear on his face he was trying to work out what exactly had just happened here. Either these two were really bad at trying to draw in more 'investors' by playing against each other for show; in which case, Brody should be laughing in dismay. Or, somebody got cheated who hadn't counted on being taken for a ride. Then the man with the cards threw a third option into the ring - he just plain sucked? A private investigator trying to run a card scam? That could explain it.

"Who, me?" Looking wide-eyed and confused, even pointing at himself while looking around to the empty spaces to his left and right. That bright and cheery Californian accent still shone through, more so against the other mens heavier, more verbose accents. "Sure, Officer, I'll get him for you" Officer, ha! That's it, just play the helpful guy out doing what's right because somebody with a badge asked you too, P.I. or not. "Hey YOU! Stop!" And off the fool went at a jog after the man who cheated the cheater. It seemed the game was afoot, all for a handful of twenties - and pride, he supposes that's on the line for atleast one of these men.

Yep, that was about as well as he expected this to go. The new voice of the former observer shouted after him, coming after him. If this man was involved as well as the dealer, he had to evaluate the situation and his options.

He could keep running, despite not being the quickest of people, break into the sidewalk and try to disappear in the crowd. If they were determined, (and with there being two of them, the odds were in favor of that,) it could lead to a public scene, which he could not afford to be a part of.

He could turn and fight, but the odds of one of them being stronger than him were... well, they were good. He could use his shadows, but that might run the risk of exposing him openly as a mutant. This was not ideal, whether it was just to the street conman or curious onlookers.

Option three involved charm and tact, talents he had in spades. He might have to give up some money, but it was more ideal than becoming a public nuisance. The problem with this plan related to the willingness of the con and his helper to listen to him. If they were not in a talking mood, the situation would quickly devolve into scenario two. Who did not hate variables?

Reluctantly, he chose option three. He turned around and held his hands in the air. "Fellas, fellas, if there's an issue, we can resolve things here, right?" He said, preparing himself for a potential punch to the face.

It worked. Amazing. Sledge had doubted that his spectator would be willing to aid him in getting his revenge. That was why he had lied about there being a private investigation. It had pleased him to see another card man get taken into custody back in England. Simply put, less people setting up the game meant more quick money for him.

Money wasn’t even the issue here. New York City was just brimming with pigeons foolish enough to take him up on his bet, so thirty dollars could be earned effortlessly. Given the first bet had doubled the money and the second was only a ten dollar increase, it was really no big deal. What mattered was that someone had cheated him and expected to get away with it. He now was left with a card that didn’t match the rest of his deck, so he wouldn’t be able to run the con the same way. A new deck took time to break in properly, and this was his quick money fix. Quick means not time consuming.

The cheater’s choice to go into an alley was a poor one. Alley’s were nice, private, places where nobody paid attention to you. Really the perfect place for a confrontation. “Oh things will be resolved .” Sledge threatened and held up the red backed queen. “You’re ’ands might be fast but your brain isn’t.”

That wasn't as long of a chase as he was expecting, personally. The man he was sent after maybe realized the error of his ways and would plead the honor among thieves angle? When his hands went up in surrender Brody raised a hand of his own in greeting, smiling broadly."Hi, I'm helping." When a person can run up walls to escape flying fists and gunfire they can afford to be a little less than serious about somebody getting smacked for ruining another child's game. Hooking a thumb towards the man in the fedora he felt he should explain, catching on to the other mans implication that he and the P.I were together "Guy's a cop, and you are in sooo much trouble pal." That wasn't the best lie he'd ever told, but he was just having far too much fun with this to care. Looking back to the fedora wearing P.I. with an expression that said he absolutely believed in the authority the man wielded over law and order he dared to raise an important question. "So, is there some kind of finder's fee for helping out or..?"

>> “You’re ’ands might be fast but your brain isn’t.”

Ouch. Cheap shot... The man was right though. He had been caught red-handed. In fact, looking at the hands he was holding up in good will, he noticed his second mistake: he forgot to slip on the wedding band he used to keep on him. Well, he had pawned the piece off; after all, in a legal life, the only thing it could lead to was dangerous questioning from his lovely girlfriend. "So it seems, today. Good on ya, sir."

What was more interesting to him was the assistant, whose witty "I'm helping," almost made him laugh out loud. (Really, the comedic timing and inappropriateness of the comment was perfect.) It was his second comment that caught him off guard though.

>> "Guy's a cop, and you are in sooo much trouble pal."

His heart naturally jumped at the comment, but given any real thought, it did not add up. He almost countered with a clever retort about how he'd recognize a cop; after all, he was dating one. He held back, realizing it would be very unwise to involve Quin in a back-alley quarrel.

Instead, he focused on the main thing that disproved him. "I hate to break it to ya, but I don't think you're a cop. Let's call a spade a spade here." as two men of questionable talents, they both knew this to be true: "No cop has ever tossed the cards that well." It was usually the truth. He was gambling on the 9-1 odds, helping his case with an undeniable compliment.

"If I'm wrong, then you're free to fine me or take me in for participating in illicit activities." This was a good summary of his life; calling bluffs with bluffs and hoping they did not land him in prison.