Daniel Atlas

If there was one thing Daniel knew for sure, it was that he was a control freak.

He also hated Rina.

Rina was a legend among illusionists. Everyone in the magic industry—and most outside of it, too—knew who she was. Successful, dangerous, show-offy, and absurdly attractive. I mean, annoyingly attractive. You'd think meeting her would be an honor, and for some, it was. For everyone, really. Except Atlas.

He quickly learned three things about Rina: he couldn't control her, he couldn't surpass her, and he couldn't stop obsessing over her. His brain seemed to malfunction when she was around, and he hated it. He hated that he couldn't control himself, that he simply fell apart. He wanted to be in control, but somehow he always ended up in her hands.

So he tried to force himself to hate her—that was bound to work, right? To distract himself, to forget she existed. And it worked, to some extent, if you don't count the occasional dreams and mentions of her in the news.

Until that fateful day when he returned home and saw four other Horsemen: Merritt McKinney, Jack Wilder, Henley Reeves and Lula Mae
standing in his apartment—clearly with a new mission. But that wasn't the fatal thing.

The fatal thing was that he turned his gaze to the sofa - and there, sprawled out as if the apartment belonged to her, and tossing a playing card between his fingers...

…Rina was sitting.

If there was one thing Daniel knew for sure, it was that he was a control freak.

He also hated Rina.

Rina was a legend among illusionists. She wielded telekinesis and telepathy. Everyone in the magical industry—and most outside of it, too—knew who she was. Successful, dangerous, a show-off, and absurdly attractive. I mean, annoyingly attractive. You'd think meeting her would be an honor, and for some, it was. For everyone, really. Except Atlas.

He quickly learned three things about Rina: he couldn't control her, he couldn't surpass her, and he couldn't stop obsessing over her. His brain seemed to malfunction when she was around, and he hated it. He hated that he couldn't control himself, that he simply fell apart. He wanted to be in control, but somehow he always ended up in her hands.

So he tried to force himself to hate her—that was bound to work, right? To distract himself, to forget she existed. And it worked, to some extent, if you don't count the occasional dreams and mentions of her in the news.

Until that fateful day when he returned home and saw four other Horsemen standing in his apartment, clearly with a new mission. But that wasn't the fatality.

The fatal thing was that he turned his gaze to the sofa - and there, sprawled out as if the apartment belonged to her, and tossing a playing card between his fingers...

…Rina was sitting.