Assassin's Creed: Prestige Chapter Three

Chapter 3: Lady Luck

Date: 2 April 1907 (16 years old)

“Ladies and gentlemen! Step right up and witness unbelievable magic right before your eyes courtesy of New York's very own, Arman Adler!” Arman shouted among the crowded street corner. He stood behind a make shift table fabricated out of two grungy trash cans and a large plank of dried out wood. His tattered flat cap lay upside down next to a deck of worn out playing cards, a few coins dotted the inside. He wore a clean white shirt tucked into his dark brown trousers. A pair of black suspenders sat tightly over his shoulders.

“I promise you won't leave unsatisfied! Entertainment is my specialty!” he boasted into the crowd.
A tall suited man stepped up to the table. He clenched the handle of a small black briefcase.

“Magic? What kind?”, asked the curious man.

“Only the best you'll ever have the pleasure of viewing!”, Arman cockily replied. “But first, whom do I have the honor of performing for today?”, he asked.

“Samuel, nice to meet you.”, he said, offering his hand for a shake.

“Arman, likewise.”, Arman said as he accepted the respectful gesture. He reached for his box of old playing cards and spread them out evenly across the table in a perfect flourish.

“Pick a card, any card.”, he said loudly. Two more men approached the bench, peering over Samuel's shoulder. He reached for the eight of clubs and gripped it between two fingers.

“The eight of clubs! Perfect! Would you kindly show it to these lovely people to prove that it is indeed a real playing card?”. Arman instructed. Samuel did as asked and turned back to the performer. Three more people joined the growing group around the table.

“Now, what I'm about to do is incredible, but I want you to remember the most important thing. It's just a trick.”, Arman assured. “Would you please put the card in your hand, face down with your palm up?”, Arman politely asked. Samuel again did as he was told. Arman softly placed his hand over Samuel's, covering up the card completely.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully now, okay, Samuel?” Arman said as he looked him in the eye.

“Yeah, sure. I'm listening.”, he said, his voice growing a bit nervous.

“I need you to think of any card in the deck. Any at all, it doesn't matter. Don't say it out loud please.”, Arman ordered. Samuel cocked his head slightly as he decided on a card. A dense crowd now congregated around the two.

“Okay, I've got one.”, he answered after a brief pause.

“Look into my eyes and send it to me. Focus on that card.”, Arman urged quietly. Moments passed as the two traded thoughts silently on the busy sidewalk. Suddenly, a woman in the front gasped loudly.

“His hand! It's smoking!”, she exclaimed. Samuel glanced at his outstretched hand. To his surprise, a thick puff of white smoke plumed from in between the two's fingers. His jaw dropped. The crowd murmured loudly. Arman removed his hand from Samuel's, never breaking eye contact.

“Is that your card?”, He asked as he cracked a cheeky grin. The suited man removed the still face down card and slowly turned it over. The spectators clapped wildly. A red ace of diamonds had taken the eight of clubs place!

“How... How did you do that?”, Samuel asked in complete shock. Arman laughed.

“Magic.”, he replied as he retrieved his cards and returned them to their dirty box. Without another word, the tall gentleman plopped a few coins in Arman's hat and gave a stuttered goodbye before disappearing into the foot traffic. Arman took notice of the clumps of gray clouds that had quickly taken over the blue sky. Thunder began to rumble.

“Aw, damn.” Arman muttered as drops of cool rain began to hit the ground. The large gathering he had created had scattered. People hurried along as the rain moved in. Arman packed up his belongings in his shoulder bag and dismantled the table, storing it safely in a nearby alley.

“I guess that'll have to do it for today.” he disappointingly muttered to himself while slinging his pack over his shoulder. He dumped the coins from his hat into his palm and began to count. The change equaled up to just over a dollar. Arman let out a loud sigh and dropped the coins in his pocket.
He kicked a stone along as he sluggishly made his way home. The streets were almost entirely clear of pedestrians aside from a couple running men holding news papers over their heads. Thunder lightly growled in the distance. The beautiful storm set Arman's troubled mind at ease. His thoughts trailed off as they normally would. If only he had enough money for better illusions. Then he could perform at various functions, astounding people with his glorious talent. Then mother wouldn't have to work in a sweat shop anymore. It had been just over a year since the last time he had seen the hallways of his school house. The choice to leave school so early was not an easy one, but it had to happen. Frankly, Arman wasn't particularly bothered with his decision. He could read and write just fine. His math skills were above average as well. Besides, it was the last time he'd ever see those damn bullies again. His surroundings became more familiar as he came closer to home. Arman sighed. Street performances alone would never be able to produce enough coin to purchase any new effects. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew it was the truth. He needed help, and he knew exactly where he could get it. Arman strutted down a dirty alley. Rats scuttled behind filled trash cans as he passed. Cold rain drops pattered at his shoulders, sending a shiver through his body. He turned right out of the alley. There it was. The same sign sat above the entrance. 'Martinka & Company' it read in too familiar brown letters while noisily swaying in the wet breeze. Arman grew nervous goosebumps along his arms as he watched the store from across the street. He began to remember that fateful day in vivid detail.

Avoiding the store altogether since that day had become second nature to him, but he couldn't stay away from it forever. He swallowed hard and headed inside. The same small bell jingled as the door opened. Everything remained as Arman remembered. The smell, the products, the posters all brought back intense memories. Arman shook them off.

“Can I help you find anything?”, a familiar voice asked. The mustached man stood at the counter in the back appearing much older than Arman had recalled.

“Is Mr. Houdini around?”, Arman shyly asked as he approached the register.

“He might be. Depends who's asking.”, the man answered.

“I-”, before Arman could get a word in, the bell jingled. To Arman's surprise, Harry stood in the door way, folding up a soaked umbrella.

“Well speak of the devil.”, mustache man said with a snort.

“How are you, Harry?”, he asked with a more familiar tone of voice.
“Good, Francis. I see you have a customer.”, Harry said as he greeted Arman.

“Actually, this young gentleman was just asking about you.”, said Francis.
Arman turned to Harry.

“We met once, a long time ago right here in this store. You showed me an illusion with your ring. You made it float in my hand.”, he explained.
Harry raised an eyebrow.

“I perform that particular trick dozens of times a day and I see hundreds of faces a week. I don't recall you, I'm terribly sorry.”, Harry said with honesty. “Is there anything I can do for you?”, he asked nicely. Arman felt a little hurt for being forgotten.  

“Well, I've taken an interest in performing magic myself since then and I was wondering if you could help me out, maybe give me some pointers?”, asked Arman.
Harry paused before letting out a laugh.

“I don't give magic classes.”, he said. Arman's heart sank.

“But...”, he went on.

“If you are as serious as you say you are, I think we might be able to work something out.”, he said.
He reached for a pencil and a small slip of paper that lay next to the register.

“Here. Met me at this address at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon. I'll teach you what you want to know.”, Harry quickly scribbled on the paper and handed it to Arman. His face lit up like a jack-o-lantern.

“Oh thank you so much, Mr. Houdini! I promise you I will be there.”, he said happily. He shook Houdini's hand and thanked Francis before leaving the shop. The rain continued to pour outside. Arman had never felt more relieved.
The walk home seemed endless. Tomorrow couldn't come any faster. Arman knew he would have to keep his mind occupied until then if he had any chance of catching some sleep. He climbed up the complex stairs two at a time until he reached his door. He peeled back the welcome mat revealing a silver key and made his way inside. The lonely apartment sat in still darkness, glowing with each flash of lightning. Arman lit a few candles and placed a kettle of tea on the stove before helping himself to a glass of water from the sink. Just as he entered the living room, Sylvia opened the door. She coughed violently as Arman rushed to her side.

“Are you okay, Mother?  Here, sit.”, he asked as he helped her into her chair. Her coughing settled as she caught her breath.

“I'm alright, Darling. I just can't rid myself of this damned cold is all.”, she said and patted her chest.

“A rather long cold, don't you think?”, Arman worriedly asked as he pulled Sylvia's favorite crocheted  blanket out of the hallway closet. “You worry me, Mother. I think these past seven years in the sweatshop has finally caught up with you.”, he draped the sky blue blanket over Sylvia's lap and plopped down on the old worn out sofa next to her.

“Well there aren't many choices for a woman out there. Maybe some day there will be, but unfortunately for me, this is all I have. How did your magic stand work out?” she quickly changed the subject.

“It went great! For a while anyway, until the rain came.”, Arman reached into his pocket and pulled out the change. “Some people were even kind enough to give tips!”, he proudly displayed his coins to his mother.

“Oh! Good for you, Sweetie. I'm glad people enjoy your talent. You keep it, you've earned it.”, she said, kindly refusing his offer. She began coughing again as the kettle whistled loudly on the stove. Arman hustled over to it and filled a cup to the brim.

“Drink this. It'll help your throat.”, he softly said as he handed Sylvia the steaming cup. She lightly sipped the tea and her wheezing subsided.

“I almost forgot! I stopped at this magic shop on the way home. A man there said he'd help me improve my act!”, he excitedly said.

“What man?” Sylvia curiously asked as she took another sip from the piping cup.

“A magician. His name is Harry Houdini. I've seen him do incredible things.”, Arman revealed.

“And when are you supposed to meet him?”, she inquired.

“Tomorrow. He gave me his address.”, Arman replied. Sylvia looked up at him and gave a smile.

“Then you better get some sleep, shouldn't you?”, she asked with a chuckle. “Go on, I'll be fine here for the night.”, she said and waved her hand for him to go. Arman kissed her forehead and bid her goodnight and closed his bedroom door behind him. He sat at the edge of his bed, removing his shoes. He laid back and recounted the days events. A relaxed sigh worked it's way out of his chest. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

A sliver of sunlight rested over the walls of Arman's room. A flock of birds congregated in a tree just outside of the room's window, chirping loudly. Arman groggily opened his eyes and stretched himself awake. He sat up in his bed and yawned. The young man laced up his shoes and quietly entered the living room. Sylvia still sat in her chair, snoring deeply. Arman adjusted her blanket before retrieving his shoulder bag and left the building. As usual, the street was bustling with people going about their lives. Arman pulled the folded slip of paper from his pocket.
'278 West 113th Street' it read. Arman knew the street name well, having passed through a few times a month when he would perform for crowds in the summer. He began his trek across town, knowing he had a long walk ahead of him.
The sun now sat directly over head, hugging Arman with it's warmth in the chilly spring air. Finally reaching his destination, he became a bit nervous. He approached the wooden door of the large brown building. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitantly withdrew. The boy paused before putting an ear against the door and closed his eyes. Instantly, his surroundings became much more audible. He could selectively and clearly hear chatter from a few blocks away, able to coherently understand each word. Every sound had become amplified. Behind the door he could hear Harry's characteristic accent. He spoke with a woman who sounded angered. A strange humming buzzed around the interior. Arman opened his eyes and his hearing reduced back to it's normal state. He gave three light knocks on the door.

“Just a minute!”, Harry yelled from the inside. A latch clicked open and Houdini peeked from behind the door.

“Yes? Can I help you?”, He asked cautiously.

“Mr. Houdini? I met you yesterday in the magic shop. You gave me your address.”, Arman explained.

“Ah! I did not believe that you would show up! Please, come inside.”, Harry said and opened the door wide. Arman was greeted by a comforting feeling of warmth from a fireplace that burned against a wall. Hundreds of books filled many shelves that hung around the room. To Arman's surprise, there was not a woman in sight and the eerie humming he heard had stopped. 'What could that have been about?' he thought to himself. Harry shut the door behind him and gestured for Arman to sit in an elegant chair. He removed his shoulder bag and placed it beside the chair as he took a seat.

“Is there anything I can get you?”, he courteously asked.

“No thank you, Sir.” Arman answered. Houdini sat adjacent to him in another ornate chair. A short, round table fit between them. A half full glass of some kind of golden liquid was placed in the center. A tall bottle containing the rest of the liquid stood next to it.

“So what exactly is it that you want to do?”, Harry questioned as he sipped from the glass.

Arman fidgeted anxiously with his hands.

“Well, I would like to have my own show. You know, like on stage, I mean.”, he timidly said, afraid of being denied of his only chance to fully realize his dream.

Houdini fell silent. His hands were clasped together, his index fingers up to his mouth, unblinking. He studied Arman providently. His heart skipped a beat.

“Do you understand what you're asking for?”, Harry solemnly asked. In fact, Arman did know exactly what he asked. Had he acquired the knowledge, resources, and proper training to educate himself with, he would have started years ago, but with so little to work with, he knew it would never happen, not without help from a real, experienced Illusionist.

“This is more than simple card tricks, what I do is dangerous, some may call it insane. It takes years of diligent exorcizes to master this discipline. What makes you believe you have the necessary skill to attempt such a unique art form?”, he pried at Arman.

“I know it's hard work, but I'm willing to do anything to get me going. Please, Mr. Houdini, I'll do whatever it takes. I've dreamed of an opportunity like this my whole life.”, Arman begged. Harry leaned back in his chair, again growing silent while twiddling his thumbs. He could see the honest desperation in Arman's dark brown eyes.

“Alright. I will do it. Show up here three times a week starting tomorrow, we've got much work to do.”, he ordered as he stood up. Arman's face lit up with joy. How exciting! Finally, a true chance at becoming a real magician; standing in the freezing rain outside would be a thing of the past! Harry reached for a short lock box off a shelf above his chair. He opened it and handed a small wad of money to Arman.

“Here, take this and get a suit. If you're going to act like a magician, you'll have to look like one as well.”, he said with a grin.

Arman profusely thanked him for his generosity and headed for the door.

“Oh, one more thing before I forget.”, Houdini said gesturing for Arman to stop. He quickly retrieved a white hat box adorned with a blue ribbon from a tight closet and handed it to Arman.

“What's this?”, he asked holding the box in his hands.

“A gift to me from my brother. His tastes are not the same as mine.”, Houdini laughed as he shook his head. “You'll look much better in it that I ever will. Enjoy it.”, he patted Arman roughly on his back and escorted him out of his home. After exchanging farewells, Arman stood on the porch, recollecting the events that had just occurred. He couldn't believe it. His wildest dreams, finally closer to becoming a reality. It was too good to be true. Elated, he tugged at the blue ribbon and removed the lid of the mysterious white box. A beautiful black fedora hat fit snugly inside. A white ribbon featuring a deep red bow accented the crown. Smitten with his new hat, he swapped his fathers flat cap and stored it safely in the box. Feeling incredibly jubilant, Arman pridefully strutted home.