Jan 17, 2026NewAdd bookmark#119The man left the counter and walked into the wider part of the store and she silently followed him as he seemingly went around to gather items that could hypothetically break a soul bind.
She paid half attention to him as he walked around while the other part of her mind was curiously studying some of the magical items that caught her attention. The old scholar inside of her that had been silent for a very long time found a couple of items that were playfully prodding her curiosity, but she knew better than to entertain such thoughts.
Demons loved to stoke the curiosity of the heart in a way that would make a lesser man seek them out eagerly, equally eager to pay obnoxiously. That was how they created a shield of innocence around them, after all the poor man sought them out on his own and paid out an inflated price by his own will. Demon or whatever thing Isaac was, she would give him no quarter in whatever deal he sought.
They passed by a shelf of books and an out of place golden chalice when she finally saw something that made her stop and do a double take.
There, peeping out its head from behind the chair was a beautifully decorated carpet of red, purple and gold.
"See something you li– oh. Hey there, bud." Isaac saw her staring at the clearly sentient carpet that was doing a poor job at hiding and shrugged. "Just ignore his antics."
She had her own experience with sentient artifacts, from prideful living swords to whimsical cloaks, and one thing that was common knowledge in regards to these kinds of artifacts was that they chose their own master, and not the other way around.
She wasn't naïve enough to be sentimental towards a magic carpet in the store of a suspicious Merchant just because it wanted to bond with her.
There was an uncanniness to how human it expressed itself, but then again she'd seen weirder.
She almost chuckled on seeing it discard its shyness when it saw her turning around to ignore it and slowly pushed itself out from behind the shelf and followed a few steps behind her by walking on its fringes.
Isaac turned towards the carpet, who comically froze in place, with a fed up expression. "Stop bothering the customer."
"Don't worry about it. It's personality is quite entertaining, so it's not a bother." She said offhandedly, ignoring the carpet's newly gained smugness, and stole a glance at the growing collection of items in Isaac's arms.
She followed after him, carpet following behind her, noting down some particular items that, while not magical in nature, were clearly of some powerful nature.
She saw him open a drawer to take out a rune-marked knife and once again found her attention being grabbed by something she never expected. Interestingly, she couldn't sense anything coming from the table until the drawers were pulled out.
"… What is that?" She couldn't quite hide the shock from her face or voice.
He looked at her and followed her line of sight to a transparent pouch that held three red glowing stones. One looked like red-tinted flames were trapped inside it, another looked like swirling liquids and stars were trapped in a stone, and the last one just glowed softly.
From the appearance, she had an inkling of what it was but clearly that couldn't be, except the pure magic wafting off of them forced her to stay her doubts.
"Oh right, those are Philosopher's Stones. For some reason every magic and alchemy community I've been to only have cautionary tales about them. Personally, I think they were overreacting."
She looked at him with a rigid stare, feeling both incredulous and flabbergasted at his airy attitude.
"You have three Philosopher's Stones?" She asked in utter disbelief, the carpet nodding behind her with shared sentiments.
He frowned and looked at the stones with a very open look of disappointment. "With all the hype around it you'll think that everyone would want to buy it, right? For some reason that's not the case. In fact it's the exact opposite"
He picked the pouch and poured the stones into his palms, clicking his tongue as they glowed in his face.
"At first every wizard and alchemist are all frantic to get their hands on it, which is good and all, but soon enough they start treating it like it killed their family or something." He brought one of them to his eyes as if to inspect it for a flaw he couldn't see. "And they change hands so fast. Everyone is eager to play hot potato with it, but give it a decade or two and suddenly they want nothing to do with it like it's some taboo or something. And then you start hearing all these bloated nightmarish tales about what the stones supposedly did."
She listened as he droned on about the quirky stones being stereotyped and exploited and then blamed and shunned by people, including their own creators, who never bothered to read their backstory summary or the disclaimer that followed their purchase.
"The last time I sold this guy," he picked up the one that had red liquids(which was definitely blood) swirling inside it, "the man told me, quite proudly at that, that he had robbed his entire magical community; heirlooms, artifacts, precious stones and a library worth of books that was as old as the magic community of his world."
He carelessly dropped the stone into the pouch, looking very unimpressed at the three stones. She strongly suspected that the pouch must've been filled with Philosopher's Stones at one point, which was a genuinely ludicrous thought.
He returned the pouch and closed the drawers, cutting off her senses to one of the conceptual relics of magic.
He finished his story in a very disinterested tone. "It took only 15 years before one of his grandsons came into my store to sell it back to me for a sizable collection of what his grandfather paid for it. I would have given him a gracious discount, since his grandfather apparently made me a household name, but he kept looking at me like I ended his entire bloodline so I didn't."
She didn't even know what she was supposed to say to that. She could hardly believe what she just heard so she turned to the carpet who was in a similar state of shock but opened its hands(hand-assigned fringes) as if to say 'can you believe this guy?'
She was still reeling from the horrifying tale when she heard him ask her something ridiculous.
"You seem to have a better head than the collective of those idiots, so how about it? Interested in buying these fancy stones?"
She drew in a deep breath, calmed herself, and gave him a stony reply. "No. I have absolutely zero interest in purchasing those stones."
She wasn't afraid of the stones, no, nor was she worried about the sea of painful curses those stones had swallowed. She wasn't about to bring one of the physical concepts of magic inside the Sanctum, not only because of the fate-thread surrounding those stones, but because of the things that would happen in the near future. She would not risk arming traitors with the Philosopher's Stone.
Isaac shrugged. "Well, I had to at least try." He picked up a bundle of thread from somewhere and turned to her. "Let's head back and look through the options we have."
He spread out the magical objects he'd collected and she could only blink as some of them. Now that they were directly in front of her, the things she could feel from some of them would have them be locked in the most warded room back in the Sanctum.
"These are some of the best options around with clear cut use and descriptions. Peruse to your content, dear customer."
She ignored the part where he called her a customer and instead raised her brows at him. "'Some' of the best options?"
He made a 'so-so' gesture with his hands. "If you are interested in becoming a Flayed Men or singing delights to the Under-Void for small graces then I can go into the backrooms and bring out the extensive list." His nonchalance was slightly unnerving.
"No need." She replied while the carpet emoted behind her.
… and then did a double take she couldn't because she was rooted in place.
—The Shard of the Un-Sworn Oath (Forgotten Realms) – A sliver of crystal from the plane of pure chaos. When pressed against a contract, it unravels the orderly magic of the agreement into meaningless noise.
—Dagger of the Broken Promise (Fable) – A blade that grows hotter the more binding the pact. Thrust into the parchment (or the entity who holds it), it burns the magical terms away, leaving only ashes and free will.
—Eraser of the Inevitable (SCP Foundation) – A mundane-looking pink eraser that can remove any written clause from reality. It doesn't tear the paper; it makes it so the clause never was. Limited uses before it vanishes.
A crystal, a dagger, and a pink eraser. She would have called it a distasteful prank if not for what her magical senses were picking up from these items, especially the eraser and the shard.
She looked up at him, her face deliberately void of emotions, and he gave her an encouraging look to continue. She continued.
—Grey Council's Medallion (The Dresden Files) – While not its primary function, its ability to negate magical energy directed at the wearer can, in theory, disrupt the active magical "pull" of a contract trying to enforce its terms.
Quite the powerful artifact, but not as outlandish in scale as the items before it. It also lacked the conceptual weight to accomplish the task in mind.
—Chrono-Loophole (Doctor Who) – A Gallifreyan legal device. If a contract has a time-based clause ("until the sun dies"), this can create a localized time bubble where, subjectively, the condition is met, freeing the signatory.
A device. Not entirely magic, but not far from it either. A casual glance at it and a read at its description clued her in on two certain possibilities. It was either from a very advanced galaxy—highly unlikely— or it was from an advanced time period far ahead of this universe's earth. But just like medallion, she felt it lacked substance.
There was also a very high chance of it being what she needed, especially if she used it in conjunction with the Eye.
—Wishbone of the Monkey's Paw (W. W. Jacobs) – The ultimate cautionary loophole tool. It can technically void a contract by granting a wish, but the resulting horror will make the original pact seem pleasant. A last, desperate resort.
She gave a satisfactory hum at the familiar warnings. Now this was a genuine magic artifact of great strength. Nothing said powerful, more believable and authentic than the crystal clear promise of maddening horrors that should obviously not make it worth it. Should.
She was also acutely aware of the fact that she was going through a list of powerful magical artefacts while a sentient carpet watched from over her shoulders and gave its expressive commentary.
—Sigil of a Dead God (Elder Scrolls) – The enforceable power of a contract often relies on cosmic principles. Bearing the sigil of a deceased deity introduces a "fault" in reality—their domain (e.g., Oaths, Commerce) is broken, so related magics fray.
A sacrificial pact. While she refrained from meddling with gods and their domains, she was not ignorant of the power their names carried, dead god or not. And dead or not, she wasn't interested in invoking a god's authority without being aware of the troubles that'll come with it.
—The Unwritten Law (The Library of Babel) – A blank page that, when placed atop a contract, absorbs its terms and declares them "unwritten." The magic and memory of the pact fade from all but the most powerful minds.
Ah, a memory spell similar to the Runes of Kof-Kol, but just like the Runes of Kof-Kol, it was incapable of manipulating the memories of cosmic beings. If only every solution was always that convenient.
—The "Get Out of Hell Free" Card (Monopoly, Occult Edition) – A one-time-use card. When played during the enforcement of an infernal contract, it compels a devil to immediately and permanently release your soul from the pact. Devils hate this card.
The card was possibly the weakest artifact on the list as what she was dealing with was no mere demon.
—Plague of Uncreation (High Fantasy) – A bottled, spreading void that unravels reality. The implied threat: "Void our contract, or I release this, and your entire plane of existence—along with your future acquisitions—ceases to be."
She looked at the bottle that supposedly could unravel reality and found herself at a rare loss where her thoughts just failed her.
Unfortunately, while outlandish, it wasn't strong enough as the party concerned sleeps in a realm of unreality.
She moved on to the last item on the list and read through it, and read through it again to be sure that those were the exact wordings.
—Orb of Annihilation (Dungeons & Dragons) – Not subtle. Threaten to drop it at your feet unless the contract is voided. If you cease to exist, the entity gets nothing, making annulment the preferable outcome. A dangerous bluff.
The list was certainly enlightening and there were three or four items that she was sure she could use, along with the Eye and one other magical artifact back at the Sanctum, to completely break the soul bind.
She looked up at him and just like always, he was smiling at her as he waited for her to make a decision.
"You're a sly one, Merchant. You showed me all these and yet haven't said a thing about the price."
His chuckle was a simple thing, one that could be heard from any man, yet it kept her on her toes as with everything else he did.
"It's nothing of the sort. You can ask for the price any time you want; if you want to compare prices or if you've decided. I've been in this trade for a long time and I've found that there are few limits a customer won't break to get what they want."
He brought out a small box and put it on the counter and prompted her to open it.
"While I want my customers to buy my goods, I never try to coerce a price from them."
—Ribbon of the Revered Ancient Six Paths and Ten Thousand Roads Venerable – With a single step he ascended the Heavens to the Heavens Above. With ten thousand steps he descended the Great Void to the unmade Sea of Nothingness.
Having walked the paths and crossed the branch roads, he preceded all and broke through the last tribulation. So revered is he that existence erased his name from the tapestry, for no one else is worthy to speak it or even hear it.
With this ribbon, the wearer has one chance to sever themselves from all Paths and all Roads. Karma, destiny, fate, time, death, life, potential, limits — the wearer has one chance to become truly unfettered as he.
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She stared and stared, hoping that someone had told reality a joke and she had arrived oblivious at the punchline and they've had their laugh at her expense and would now return everything back to normal.
No matter how much or how hard she looked at the ribbon, she could not sense anything from it. Not even a lick of energy came from it.
By every strata, the ribbon was just that, a ribbon. Some of its edges were even frayed and the colors had dulled. Even among other ribbons, it was lacking in quality, but just the way a crippled man would look up at the stars and see their magnificence even without understanding, so too could she.
This ordinary ribbon was so out of her scope of understanding that she would confidently call everything in the store a blatant fake and stand by it, except for the ribbon. The Philosopher's Stones were obviously luminous rocks and the carpet was on puppet strings. An amateur con being played in the face of the Sorcerer Supreme.
Everything else could be fake, even the changes in the tapestry of time could be a mere illusion cast on her by one of her students; everything else in the store could be fake, but not that ribbon. It alone was the exception.
There is a certain level of awareness and existence where lies completely lose their meaning as they are easily seen through. It was like telling a god of death that mortals don't die. The nature of the lie and the act of lying become so redundant that all you would do is succeed in making a fool of yourself.
The ribbon was the exception.
You could lie to any deity, demon or even a Celestial, and while completely useless in doing so, it is something you can do with your free will.
The ribbon was the exception.
It was impossible to defame it or call it something it wasn't. By existence alone, the ribbon was the same as a multiversal constant truth. The sun could be blue and the moon could be lavender pink, but the ribbon will always be the ribbon.
Because it is unfettered. Its existence is a sole truth and so no lie can be said against it.
She couldn't even begin to fathom just what sort of being wore the ribbon, just the understanding that he was so above the limits of her comprehension.
She looked up at him and briefly wondered how he even got something like that in the first place.
For example, if this ribbon was behind the Sanctum's wards, forget rogue sorcerers and demons, earth would have been razed to dust by every single pantheon of greedy gods. Celestials, Hell Lords, Cosmic Entities and Cosmic Concepts would readily slaughter themselves to get it.
There was no possible way he should have come in possession of such an item regardless of however strong he was. The beings that would be interested in getting that ribbon for themselves were beyond strength. She wouldn't even want such a relic on earth if she ever came in contact with it.
"… How?" Her voice shook as that single word forced itself out of her mouth.
How did he acquire it? How is he able to remain calm in the face of such an object? How is he able to hide it from the eyes of every entity out there?
"Hehe, trust me when I say that I went through Hell to get this. The things I had to trade to get my hands on it…" he shivered as he was drawn into an old memory before shaking his head.
"So have you made up your mind, or do you want me to dig deeper for more options?" He asked while she sighed in relief as he closed the box.
It took a huge conscious effort to draw her mind away from the memory of the ribbon and it helped when she remembered that she'd entertained the idea of a trade and now was time to talk about the price.
She, along with her order of sorcerers, were not material people and so they had very little want to possess any form of material wealth.
There was only one viable option for payment she could use but there was no way she could justify trading a chunk of Kamar-Taj's books for the selfish need to free herself from her own mistakes.
She laughed. When was the last time her curiosity and ambitions were stoked? When was the last time she fervently wanted something?
"You're a terrifying being, Isaac." He tilted his head in confusion at her words. "You so easily sell out people's heart desires. It's no wonder why you are so confident in your trade. But I guess to you all these are nothing more than trinkets for you to sell."
What had started as an interrogation had changed to a prospective trade and she was too stunned to put an end to it before it came this far. On the other hand, she now had an inkling of exactly what kind of being Isaac was.
"That's the entire reason for the store."
She nodded and looked through the list of items presented to her and debated on which one she would want if she could pay for it.
'Great, now I'm getting back into bad habits.' She always had a bit of a gambling streak, usually with cosmic stakes, and now it was rearing its head again.
"If I may, dear customer, how specific is this contract you want to break? Is it as strong as the one around your soul or less severe?"
"You can see it." She stated, unable to find the energy to even be surprised that he could see the nature of the bind around her soul. She decided to take a gamble. "The very one."
He nodded like he already suspected it was so then drew her attention back to items on the counter.
"I'll advise you not to underestimate the strength of these things. If you knew enough soul magic, you could even use that timepiece of yours to break the contract."
She frowned for a moment before shaking her head. "No one knows that much soul magic, except they read the very dark books. I can't do that."
"Understandable." He pushed the crystal towards her. "That should do it. Sometimes the descriptions fail to capture the full scope of their ability, that's why I make sure to explain to my customers about what they are buying."
"Are you certain?"
"Very." He replied. "The other party is fairly strong, I can tell that much." She snorted at that. Calling him strong was an oversimplification. "But you on the other hand are a mortal soul. Trust me, mortal souls aren't that complicated, and this," he tapped the Shard of the Un-Sworn Oath, "is more than enough to unravel the bindings on your soul."
Her first reaction was to doubt his words but she couldn't even do that as the memory of the ribbon was still clear in her mind. The box was still on the counter.
"And how much would this be?"
"In paper currency, $3.125M. You can pay in gold equivalent or in another form of payment available to you."
A daring idea came to mind as she was reminded that the Merchant accepted any form of payment, even souls.
"Am I right in assuming that you have a way of appraising the exact worth of things esoteric in nature?"
"You are." He replied, causing her to smile as she rolled another die in her gamble. "Do you have something you would like to have appraised?"
"Yes. My soul binds." She replied, smirking as she saw him let out an understanding 'Ah'. "How much would it be worth if I could isolate it?"
"May I?" He stretched out his hand to her and she took it, watching with rapt attention as a glow came to his eyes as he studied her hand. "Hmm, how fascinating. The Malicious Soul Bind of Dormammu, what an exotic piece. Ah yes, this will do well in my collection."
He released her hand and adopted a business air as a trade was put into discussion.
"I have identified the contract seal on your soul and have confirmed that it is both authentic and a vintage piece, as well as having the unmistakable malicious imprint of Hell Lord Dormammu. I'll give you a fair quotation of $4.75M. This is the write-up of your trade should you find the price acceptable."
—The Malicious Soul Bind of Dormammu – The workings of a Hell Lord is beyond the comprehension of mere mortals, and unfortunately for you, you have not only caught his attention but you also have his terrible imprint on your soul, thus you are now a servant of Dormammu both in life and death.
For his vice on your soul, your Master has deemed you worthy for some boons. Rejoice!
You have been granted an extended lifespan, a talent in the dark and infernal magics, increased magical prowess, necromantic essence, soul degradation and a very flexible moral compass. Continue to please your Master and he will see fit to bless you more.
"I'll preface that the reason for the price being this low is that you'll be selling the bind itself in its basic form, not the depth of it since that'll be something you'll be destroying should you use the Shard of the Un-Sworn Oath."
She read it over twice and found that she wasn't even surprised that he could so clearly see the details of her soul bind that he could put it in writing.
Seeing the nature of her chains written out somehow gave her a new sense of clarity. She was here and she really was doing this.
"I'm fine with it." She handed over the paper and didn't even bother to haggle the price. He had stressed the point of his business being simple and fair, and unbelievably, she was willing to trust it.
"Good. And thank you for the pleasurable trade." He said, all smiling face again. "Now, do you need anything else?"
"Yes, I do." She looked at the crystal shard of contained chaos. "I need a container that I can use to hold the curse after I sever it with the shard."
The smile grew on his face and she knew she had been right. He had given her a quotation for the price of the curse but the thing was that she was not the owner of the curse, Dormammu was. The narrative however would change the moment she used the shard to sever it, and for her to sell it she would have to capture the essence of the curse before it slithered back to Dormammu, being the connection of external influence that it was.
She had a feeling that he would have suggested it either way but the smile on his face said that he was happy with a smart customer.
She was proven right when he took out a pearl from his pocket and slid it towards her
—Cursed Pearl (Japanese Myth): A pearl formed in an oyster exposed to a drowned soul's bitterness. Can be used to absorb a new curse, growing darker and more iridescent. If cracked, releases all stored sorrows at once.
"The pearl comes at $625,000." She nodded easily at that, not really caring about the monetary aspect as her mind was on the hedged bets she'd taken to free herself.
"As for how to use them, well just hold them in both hands and use your magic to connect the shard to any part of your soul and it'll take care of the rest. As the curse unravels, it'll get sucked into the pearl— and you've already began."
He watched with practiced patience, while the carpet flew back a safe distance, as a complicated severance ritual took place in front of his counter. He ignored the sparks of energy and the faint enraged roar that shook his windows.
He ignored the rattling of smoky chains that appeared all over his customer and also remained unfazed when said chains turned red and green before being slowly absorbed into the unassuming pearl.
The light show of broken contracts and infernal rage continued for a full ten minutes before it pittered out into a light breeze and glowing reassurance.
She opened her eyes slowly, still doubtful of the reality that she couldn't feel his deadened grasp on her soul.
"… It worked?" She asked in disbelief. As a chronic gambler, none was more familiar than her about the slim chances of winning against impossible odds.
"It worked." She said again, this time more certain and confident. She looked at the modernly dressed shopkeeper. "Thank you."
He shook his head, professionalism still present in his regards. "No need. I'm just glad that your purchase was as helpful to you as advertised."
She chuckled, "Of course." He still remained adamant at appearing as a business-minded Merchant. She could respect it even. It made it easier to deal with him than probably every arcane entity out there.
"Here," she handed him the blackened pearl without even taking another glance at it. "One soul bind of a Hell Lord as promised."
"Wonderful." He easily accepted with a grin. "As promised, this trade is recorded at $4.75M of which $3.125M and $650,000 is used to offset the purchase of Shard of the Un-Sworn Oath and Cursed Pearl, which brings the total to $3.775M and your balance of $975,000. Would you like to purchase anything else?"
She didn't really care about the money, more than content with being free from Dormammu's clutches. She never would have made such a reckless decision to escape her predetermined death because of the disastrous consequences it would have on the timeline… but that was before Time decided to be more than extremely accommodating to any and all changes that were influenced by this tiny shop.
She still didn't know what type of being Isaac the Merchant was but she could content herself with not knowing.
As she casually thought of what to buy with the change from the sale — probably some magical teapot and a matching fan set — she felt a tap on her shoulders and saw the carpet giving her its equivalent of an imploring expression.
She was intending to spend every single coin that came from the trade, feeling it was only fair to Dormammu, so why not?
"I don't see why not." Her reply made the carpet do a happy spin in the air, making her chuckle, before stopping abruptly and gesturing towards the store. "Sure, my dear, go for it."
With her permission, she and Isaac watched in amusement as it rushed into the store and started frantically searching through the shelves.
"Check the clothes rack." Isaac said. The carpet paused its search and flew out of sight towards the clothes rack before returning a few seconds later with a golden ornately-designed lamp.
It dropped it on the counter and gestured something to its new hopeful master.
"A beautiful lamp," she said, only to be interrupted again as it gestured convincingly to which she nodded understandably. "I see. A multipurpose lamp that can also function as a teapot."
—A Genie's Lamp – A beautifully crafted lamp with a great sealing magic built into it. It once served as the gilded cage of a powerful, now freed, Genie.
—Magic Flying Carpet – A magic flying (beautifully decorated) carpet of frankly unimportant past. If its winning personality doesn't catch your fancy, then maybe the fact that it can fly faster than most modern craft will do. A very loyal piece of hardware too.
She drew in a breath of air as she left the shop, taking stock that, yes, Dormammu's influence was gone from her soul… and yes, Time was highly considerate towards any changes that came from the store. That was good.
She sat on her flying carpet with a golden lamp, a beautiful tea set and a jar of honey from some rare exotic bees. "Truly this has been a productive day."
She thought as she flew back to the Sanctum, planning to drink some tea and maybe check on Strange. What a filial student to help his master so greatly. Maybe she'll take it easy on him when he arrives at her doorstep.
"No. No, I don't think I will."
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The customer is always right.
All over the world, across and over every dimension, every trader, merchant and Merchant had one or two things to say about that accursed phrase and the sentiments shared were pretty much the same — to hell with it.
The phrase — those infernal words that followed them across every plane of existence — was no doubt spouted by weak-boned and dubious merchants who were desperate enough to adroitly fellate the ego of a customer just so they could sell their ill-gotten goods.
Every merchant knew to sell their goods at a profit – obviously – but a good merchant would sell his at a reasonable profit, and in doing so a boundary of respect sits between both parties and preserve their dignity and reputation.
Now if this basic etiquette was followed, such a phrase would have never been birthed and some greedy customers would have never gained the audacity to somersault their way into the face of an honest merchant and demand a lower price that was no doubt below profitable margins.
However, on the flip side of this coin, it helped both parties to filter out their target audience.
In this case, Isaac was a clear example. While he was still in the midst of raising up a reputation, the sheer quality of his services made the projected price seem fair and shielded him from ever making a desperate sale. If anything, it had the mirror effect of having some of his customers always being the ones in a position to make a desperate sale.
So no, the customers are not always right. If anything they were usually in the wrong.
The bell at the door clinked excitedly to welcome in a new customer and alerted Isaac who was wiping off the dust from his shelves to stop for a moment and return to his station.
"Good day, my friend. What can I help you with?"
The customer, a man wearing a beanie and a long worn coat with patched up fingerless gloves, looked up at Isaac suspiciously before hobbling over.
"What up pal?" The man said in almost a whisper as he gave the shop around a sharp eye. "This, uh, here a pawn shop?"
Isaac smiled and gave a nod of understanding. "We buy and sell junks, amongst other stuff, so if you're looking to pawn something off, you've come to the right place."
"Really?" The man looked up in surprise and smiled conspiratorially. "Sweet."
"I got some few trinkets to lob." He pawed his hands into the pockets of his coat to bring them out but stopped and asked, "say, I don't really got 'em receipts for these, hope that's cool?"
"As long as they don't need proof of ownership to function then it's fine."
"Alright then."
He dropped off some items on the counter; a couple earrings, a pearl necklace, a thumb-sized gold nugget, an inscribed ring and a watch.
He fidgeted slightly in place, cautiously looking back at the door and around the store. "So yeah, uh, how much can I get from these?"
Isaac picked up the earrings, the necklace and the ring and inspected them one after the other before setting them to the side. He paid no attention to the man's wary and distrustful gaze, and picked up the gold and watch and inspected them a bit more than the others.
"So how much?" The man asked the moment he dropped them, quite impatient and anxious but Isaac took it in stride.
"$4,780."
The man did a double take, clearly surprised by the amount, before a mask of anger and suspicion marred his face. "You trying to scam me or something, man? That's real gold right there. I ain't taking anything less than sixty-five hundred."
Having dealt with situations like this a million times, Isaac simply picked up the gold, held it up to the man's attention, and remarked in a matter-of-fact tone.
"$120, the purity isn't all that high." He dropped it and picked up the pearl and earrings. "$460. Polished and quality make, that's all."
He held up the ring and the watch, looking amused as the man's bloated temper had quickly evaporated. "A signature piece ring, no more than $500. A vintage collector item watch, not really from a big brand or a signature piece. It's just an old valuable watch. $3,700."
Yes, quite surprising that the gold was the least valuable thing among the items he was pawning off.
The man's eyes quickly zeroed on the watch with the clear eyes of someone who had unknowingly disrespected his golden goose.
"You probably wouldn't have gotten it past five hundred if you had pawned it off anywhere else, except through a legal appraisal." The man glanced between Isaac and the watch, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Is that an acceptable trade or will you be taking it somewhere else?"
"What? No, no no." He vehemently shook his head. "Yeah, I'll take it. $4,700, of course I'll take it." There was a smacking of lips and rubbing of hands that followed the statement.
Isaac had no problem buying junk like these, even of subpar quality, as this was also his way of contributing to the economy of Merchants. He usually sold most of his junk to smaller Merchants whenever he started emptying his inventory, and he wasn't the only one who did this as other Merchants too sold the lower quality items remaining in their inventory to their younger peers who preferred buying in bulk. It was a symbiotic system that reflected the essence of every Merchant.
The man took the money quite eagerly and counted it right there very slowly and only when he confirmed the price did he look up with a grin on his face and stretched his hand to Isaac who shook it in good faith.
"Thanks man. I'll, uh, look around the house to see if I got any other junk lying around."
"No problem." The man turned to leave, happy as a kite when Isaac called out to him. "Might I interest you in something you might need, like say, a new coat? Or maybe something more… exclusive?"
The man stopped, looked around the store more closely and leaned in over the counter and whispered.
"Say," he covered one part of his mouth with the back of his hands, "any chance you can deal me a piece and some rounds?"
Isaac nodded in understanding and reached under his desk.
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...…
[POV: With Peter Parker]
Peter was of the opinion that good things just happened. There was no rhyme or reason to it – it happened because it happened. Good and bad, it came in measures, equal or disproportionate, and he had learned very young to take in silence and thanks. Uncle Ben taught him that.
Life had been somewhat stable after he finally put himself into a semblance of balance between his ordinary life as Peter Parker and his unordinary activities as Spiderman.
And while he was in staunch support of the opinion that a high school kid, no matter their circumstances, had no business in the dangerous field of heroics, Peter had found that he was really bad in listening to what other people told him to do, even if that other person was his logical subconscious.
He had grasped desperately at his identity as Spiderman so quickly that it definitely wasn't healthy. Maybe he actually needed therapy? If not for his suicidal decisions then surely for the unbelievable things he'd seen in his growing tenure as Spiderman.
Now as Spiderman, he'd found himself easily coming into possession of things that had he not been brought up morally upright, he would have found himself dabbling in light criminal activities.
He would rather give up being Spiderman than ever dishonor Aunt May by being a criminal.
Now that the fact has been established that he hasn't dabbled his webbed fingers into petty thievery, that did not change the fact that sometimes things came into his possession that he most times couldn't just handover to the police. Things like data sticks, some tiny nifty tech parts, some pint of obscure chemicals, synth materials and a dozen other things that he never knew could be found by taking late night swings around Queens.
His little mancave – An extended closet – was already filled to the brim with things that he no longer had use for since he'd solved most of the cases they came from and now they were just waiting to be used as spare parts for future webshooters or any handy gadget idea he came up with.
Unfortunately, he was currently in a bind. He'd exhausted the integrity of the excuse that they were just passion projects and school stuff to May and he needed to find a way to get rid of some of them because they were starting to clog up his small room.
He couldn't just throw away spare parts. That went against every single one of his instincts as a tinkerer, a tech nerd and a teenage boy.
"This is harder than I thought." He mused sadly as he looked at the bags of junk parts he was about to donate to the garbage truck.
"I'm glad you're finally getting rid of some of those junks. Your room was starting to smell like Ben's old attic." Aunt May stopped her work in the kitchen, looking satisfied as he hauled the bags to the curb.
He shrugged, trying to downplay the sentimental pain he was feeling. "I didn't want to put it off any longer so… junk?"
Aunt May laughed. "So you finally accepted that your 'spare parts' are junk. You're just like your Uncle Ben."
Peter however had a growing hopeful expression on his face as something tickled his brain. "Junk… junk! Junk 'N Stuff!"
"Still junk." Aunt May said with a self-satisfied shrug as she turned back to her boiling pot.
He bolted in a run, grabbed a shirt along with his bag of junk and hauled his ass out the door.
"Thanks, Aunt May. I'll be back soon."
"Boys." She shook her head with a small laugh.
Swinging would have taken him two or three minutes but seeing Spiderman swinging around in the day with garbage bags was a sight that would've instantly alerted the police, Peter thought as he cut through alleyways in his run towards that strange junk store.
"Thank goodness." He didn't know why he thought the shop wouldn't be there but he was still there and still open when he got there.
"Hopefully he'll want to buy some of these." He murmured to himself as he pushed open the door. Getting a few bucks from these was better than everything just getting recycled.
"Oh? And I was starting to think you forgot about me, kid."
He smiled sheepishly as he saw the storeowner sitting behind his counter with a book and a cup in his hands.
"Not quite, Mr. Isaac." Well he didn't really forget about it, but he'd been so busy with everything else that he never actually found a reason to come back again, until now that is.
"I'll take your word for it then." He placed the book and the cup to the side and looked at the bags Peter carried with a raised brow. "Got something for me in those bags?"
"Eh, well, not really. I mean, I thought, um maybe there might be a couple of things you might be interested in buying…" The embarrassment was too great and the little awkward laugh at the end didn't help at all.
Now that he thought about it, he could have taken his time to sift through the bags for things good enough to sell instead of running all the way here with garbage bags.
"Sorry about the bags…" he apologized sheepishly while scratching the back of his neck.
Thankfully, and also a weight off Peter's conscience, the man didn't look irritated as he simply shrugged and rolled up his sleeves.
"Eh, no worries kid. I've had worse."
What happened after that was an hour of critical appraisal of carefully selected pieces of junk that Mr. Isaac decided were 'moderate enough to still have some value'.
It wasn't much but Peter was glad that at least some of those things had a marketable value. Who would have thought?
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Annalee sighed under her breath and adjusted her coat as she walked the downtrodden path of the city. She, like the others, had a few choice words about this city, but after all was said and said, none of them would ever leave because doing so would mean that they finally gave up, and despite its hatred for her and her kind, this city was still their home.
And besides it wasn't as if it would be better anywhere else. At least they knew how to survive down there.
As one of the oldest members of their estranged community, Annalee had witnessed every major progress and setback that they had endured, that they kept enduring because it was the only thing they could do.
All they wanted to do was live semi-normal lives, not at all interested in the faction wars of other mutants that happened up here — that was all they wanted. So it always came as a bitter irony that they – who were arguably the most peaceful and nonviolent mutant groups – were the ones that had to hide most dejectedly.
They couldn't even fight with their heads up high even if they wanted to. The majority of their population had mutations that only ran skin deep, mostly in horrific visual aesthetics. The bare handful of them that wanted to fight for a place to stay aboveground did not have a strong enough ability that would support the bravado.
Even if it were to be considered, as they were a community of homeless vagrants, the children population was stealthily growing larger than the adult's which meant that they had no choice but to focus more on survivability and sustenance than the damaging lust for violence.
Food was already hard enough to get, not only because few people would willingly trade with them, but also because they had little to trade with. They were already an endangered species(she scoffed, because clearly they were still humans) so resulting to small-time thefts, while an unwanted added risk, was a necessary one.
And whenever they had something to sell, very few of them could do it because of their lack of physical mutations and basic literacy. As an old woman, Annalee was one of those people and she took up this duty wholeheartedly because it was the least she could do for her people.
They weren't perfect. Not by a long chance. They were two steps from being outright barbaric, but no one had them like they had themselves.
She ignored the discussions the old drinkers were having about the morning paper. She tuned out the chatter coming out from an old radio as she made her way through the throngs of people that pervaded every square inch of this city.
A frown settled on her face as she remembered how tense the last two months had been for them. Caliban, Plague and Richter had almost been caught the last time they tried sneaking something off the port and with how Caliban told it, the lacking security they had expected had instead doubled in force and were lying in wait for them.
One of their contacts had tried setting them up and while Annalee wasn't involved in any part of the leadership, she'd known them long enough to know when they were worried, especially about their food situation.
It became more apparent the next two times they tried robbing some easy marks but were heavily rebuffed by waiting forces that their info broker failed to warn them about.
Annalee was worried that someone, probably a group, had caught sniff of them and were trying to rout them out. They had lost people when similar things happened in the past and Annalee was too old to see another bloodbath happen in however few years she got left.
The tense spot they'd found themselves in saw their reserve food supply dwindle heavily in the last two months of little to no work.
So here was Annalee, despite everyone being told to remain underground and only send proxies to the surface, out on the surface because she couldn't bear to continue hearing the fearful worries of the children who could only now eat once a day, with half of their normal portions at that.
She still had her wedding ring and bands, the only thing of worth that remained from her marriage after decades of running.
She'd wanted to gift them to her daughter when she got married but sadly, her little Sarah was no longer with her. Now another name among the list of many she'd lost through the years.
She was looking to pawn them off to scrounge up some cash, no matter how small, so the kids could at least eat a full plate of the normal two meals for the next few days. This would remove some pressure off the others so hopefully they could come up with an urgent solution in the meantime.
The frown on her wrinkled face was because of the abysmal price the last two shops had given her. Sure, she didn't know the value of jeweled stones but she was sure that the ring and bands were worth more than a measly $237.
Her dear Frederick had bought them during the advent of the war and she could recall that he'd spent quite a generous amount on them just to prove to her Pa how serious he was with her.
She came to a stop at a red light intersection, slightly out of breath because of the distance she'd walked. Old age had not been kind to her and her hermit lifestyle added to the frailty of her old bones. She was using the seconds left to catch her breath when she felt someone standing very close to her.
She'd tensed up as a flash of panic sent her thinking that she'd been caught, only for her to sigh in relief when she saw that it was just a young child looking at her in worry.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" She smiled as she felt his genuine worry when he placed his hands on her shoulders to support her.
It was things like these, very small things, that made it hard to hate her fellow humans as a whole just because they weren't mutants. At the end of the day, they were still people, good and bad, in equal measure.
"I'm fine, my dear. My legs aren't what they used to be." She said with a hearty chuckle but didn't refuse the help as he held her arms as he helped her cross the road. "Thank you, dearie. Hope I didn't cause you any trouble?"
The delightful young man shook his head, the wave of genuine kindness wafting off him and the smile on his face reminded Annalee of innocent Curtis, her little Sarah's joy.
"Where are you going?" He asked, his intentions pretty clear on his face.
She shook her head with a soft smile. He was a good child. "It's alright. I can take it from here. And besides I wouldn't want your parents to be worried about where you went."
"Are you sure, because I'm sure my Aunt wouldn't mind. I'm Peter by the way." He said with a natural cheer.
He was a sunny little boy, true and genuine in a way that Annalee hadn't felt in a long time.
"You're a good child, Peter dear, and thanks for the help. You can call me Annalee."
"Okay, Nana Lee. So where are we going?"
She laughed. Oh he was a cheeky one for sure. It was a refreshing delight because that was what the kids down at the community called her.
She thought about it and couldn't see why not. God surely still had His eyes on her to send such a helpful child her way.
"I'm looking for somewhere to sell off some old jewelry of mine. The ones I've been to have been uncouth and dishonest." She would have been embarrassed to tell a stranger that she was selling off her jewelry, but like she expected, the young man thought nothing of it and instead became more eager to help.
"Do you know somewhere where I can? I've walked down from the library and haven't found any."
"I know just the place." The both of them laughed as he took her hands in his, acting out the gentleman bit. "Mr. Isaac is pretty honest and he'll buy almost anything for a fair price."
She looked at him with a frown, a playful suspicion flitting around in her eyes. "And why exactly do you know the owner of a pawn shop, Peter?"
"It's nothing like that." Peter groaned. "Aunt May forced me to throw out my collection of… junk spare parts, but I took them to him and sold some of the good ones. It's just around the corner."
She accepted what he said and decided to see this 'Isaac' person, if nothing else than to ensure that he wasn't taking advantage of this dear child.
Junk 'N Stuff.
"Junk and Stuff?" She asked amused and Peter chuckled. Apparently it was a pun of what the store was.
They entered the shop and Annalee looked slightly confused for a second as she felt different foreign emotions coming from the store that didn't feel particularly human but it suddenly disappeared before she could make sense of what it was.
"I'll be out in a sec!" A voice called out as they held shuffling and whooshing sounds coming from the storage room.
Annalee's impression of the store was mixed but now she somehow understood the pun on name. Honestly, she strongly felt that the store itself was trying to show off how chaotically ordered it was. It was a weird feeling.
"Sorry for the wait. How can I help you?" The shopkeeper turned to Peter and smiled. "And how are you doing, kid?"
"Mostly fine, I guess. School's been extra stressful lately because of the exams coming up." Peter replied as they arrived at his counter. "This is Nana Lee. She said she wanted to sell some jewelry so I brought her here."
"Oh he's being modest. He basically kept me company along the way." She remarked, not showing her rising suspicions at the fact that she couldn't feel the man's emotions at all despite standing in front of him.
"Of that I'm sure." He nodded. "My name is Isaac, a Merchant. Well then, Nana Lee, let's see what we are working with today."
She brought out the ring and wedding bands from her bag, folded in a soft cloth as they were, and opened it on top of the counter, her suspicions climbing higher with every second.
"Oh? How surprising." He looked at her in surprise. "It is a very sentimental piece. Are you sure you want to sell it?"
Her frail heart took a pang as she looked at the matching bands and rings. Frederick had always been a clumsy and forgetful sort so she was the one who stored away most of the important things they had, like the rings and the bands.
She didn't want to sell it but neither she nor Frederick would want to hold onto expensive jewelry when innocent children around them cried in hunger.
"Yes." She felt free as she said it. "I'd want him to do the same if he were in my shoes." Peter, that sensitive child, had excused himself to wander about the store the moment she brought out the rings.
Isaac nodded. She didn't react in surprise when his eyes seemed to glow for a bit as that just confirmed what she suspected. He was a mutant. She felt a little bit relaxed with that confirmation.
"How did you know?" She might be an old woman on her last steps, but she wasn't an idiot. He must've known she was a mutant somehow for him to be so casual with that display. He must be like Caliban then, being able to sense other mutants near him.
"Hmm?" He looked up from his inspection. "Oh that? I knew the moment an empath entered my shop, that's why I muted the loud ones so as not to overwhelm you."
She didn't fully understand but she took it as is. She'd have to tell the others about this because if he turned out as kind as he looked then maybe they could use him as one of their suppliers to get the things they needed at camp.
He finally took his eyes off the jewelry, the glow gone, and adopted a smile that was similar to the ones she'd seen on marketers and stockbrokers.
"While the feelings behind these hardly add to their value," she clenched her hands desperately, "the charm stone in it is another story. It's very low quality and there's no magic tied into it but given that these are wedding rings, it's a perfect fit."
"Charm stone?" She looked at the red stones on the wedding bands. She didn't know what charm stones were but she'd thought they were rubies or red diamonds.
"They are the same as other precious stones but they have the ability to store magic. These specific ones are mainly used in weddings, cantric rituals and other such practices. They are basically gifts and heartfelt magic like helping their partner sleep better, making them feel each other's presence more deeply, or low level protection spells are most times imbued into them."
She let him finish his explanation and all she could reply with was, "Magic?"
He nodded with practiced casualness. "The rings and the bands, while basic in nature and make, had the increased value of charm stones. I'll take them for $2,700. We good with that, Nana Lee?"
For a moment she debated against selling them because of their true value but she instantly stayed that thought. She wouldn't let the children go hungry because of magic rings.
"Y-yes. Thank you." She said softly, smiling forlornly as the rings were kept away.
"No, thank you. Letting go of them could not have been easy. I'll try and make sure they go to good hands."
Annalee laughed. How considerate. "I'll be glad."
"Peter dear," she called out to that blessing of a child and gave one last thanks to Isaac. "I have to get back and give those mischievous little ones a hearty surprise."
She'd tell Caliban and Callisto about the store owner and see if they could get in contact with him, but first she had to go to the market.
Peter offered to help with her market trip and while she was beyond grateful, she called his Aunt May first to see if he could, and God bless her heart, she sounded just as lovely as Peter himself.
"Peter, be a dear and…"
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What do you mean you went up there without telling anyone?" Callisto all but shouted at the old smiling woman who just finished cooking up a huge pot alongside the other women. She could still hear the chittering of the energized shits from inside her tent which was why she didn't raise her voice all too much.
Still this was too much. "I expected something this reckless from Richter and his group of idiots, not from you Anna."
Callisto didn't give much in terms of respect but the old woman had been here since they were just a ragtag bunch of runaways trying to stay alive from the hoard of humans that hated them, for that alone Callisto was more considerate towards her than she was with the others.
Hence the current situation.
"If Dreamer hadn't said anything we wouldn't have known you were gone. And how did you even get the money for all that? You could have at least taken someone with you if you were going shopping."
Callisto clicked her tongue, slightly angry at how much Annalee looked unaffected by the interrogation. Anyone else in her position, even the older ones like Caliban and Masque would appear slightly agitated when held under her stare.
"I knew the risks," Annalee started, already making Callisto frown.
"Clearly you didn't or else you wouldn't have made such a stupid decision. I can understand if you're worried about the children but we have enough to last us a few weeks— a few weeks that we will use to scope out the surface to see if it's safe enough to resume operations. You leaving at such a time is an unnecessary risk that endangers all of us, even the children."
Annalee didn't have a calm rebuttal to that, at least not with sound logic. She knew Callisto enough to know that the brash hard-spoken was not one to subscribe to emotional stupidity and the fact that Callisto called her to her tent to give her a talking down was more respect than she gave anyone else.
"And how did you come up with the money for all that? Some last minute savings you set up years ago?"
"Not really." Annalee replied. It should have been a sad thing but the day was just too blessed for her to be sad about it. "I sold some old trinkets to scrub up the cash. It was just collecting dust so I decided it would be better to sell and help out with whatever came of it."
"Mmn…" Callisto looked at her, her thoughts of the story unknown to Annalee as her face was set in its passive frown. As for her emotions, she was one of the extremely few people down here that Annalee couldn't read.
"This won't happen again." Callisto stated in finality. If it was anyone other than Annalee, Callisto would have been slightly suspicious of betrayal – surprising, but it had happened before.
Annalee smiled, making Callisto's frown dig deep, and stood up slowly. "The young man I sold it to, he's a mutant. He's a polite one and he owns a pawnshop near Queens. I think some of us should go talk to him and see if any kind of cooperation can be had. He's polite enough to at least hear them out."
Callisto's brow raised – not much, just a tiny fraction – as she took the scribbled down address.
"I'll have Caliban send some guys there." They were out scouting if Annalee was followed but Callisto did not say anything. Just because she didn't suspect Annalee did not mean that she couldn't have been found out in her little daring excursion.
She waited until she was sure Annalee was far enough before she called out.
"Masque, send Caliban here the moment he returns."
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...…
Three inconspicuously dressed young men moved through the loud neighborhood with small frowns on their faces as they grumbled in low voices to each other.
By every metric of identification, social and visual, they looked completely human but that did not make them feel completely at ease as they walked.
Numerous times being hunted down by armed agents and hateful men were memories that were hard to get rid of just because they could blend in.
"I really don't like this." Henri said not sounding particularly pleased with their current task.
He wasn't against being outside and mingling with humans but he also wasn't completely comfortable with being in a neighborhood that was too far from any of the secret entrances to their tunnels, especially with the current situation they were going through.
Richter, an older teen, shrugged with his eyes. It was a shared understanding but still they had to do this because no one could say no to Callisto. She was a cold bitch in every extreme sense of the word but she was still their leader – and unfortunately for their peace of mind, she was a brutally capable one.
"Shrug it off, man. Caliban and the others are keeping an eye on us. They'll signal us if things start looking suspicious."
The third one, Bloc, asked tiredly. "And why couldn't the big guy be the one here instead of me?"
They knew who he referred to as 'big guy', a name that was affectionately/respectfully used for the only person in the camp that could give Callisto her shit without taking one.
He was also the one who caved Masque's face in when he found out about his particularly… vile habits. So yeah, he was the big guy, as well as their best chances at bailing out when things went rugged.
Richter shrugged again. "My guess? Probably with Caliban and the others to save our hides from getting tanned if shit flips."
"That's not reassuring." Bloc remarked unamused. He looked up to spot a path smudged between two major ones. "Ain't that the place?"
The other two looked up and nodded while Richter tapped on the earpiece behind his ears.
"Well, time to see what this is about. The sooner we get this done the sooner we can go back. I still haven't eaten."
They shared a nod and walked towards the nondescript shop, ignored whatever the name was supposed to mean, and walked in.
"Am I the only one who thinks something is up?" Henri asked in rising anxiety. He slowed down half a step as they crossed the threshold. "Please, tell me that's just me."
"Knock it off, Henri. He might be a mutant but he's just a storeowner." Richter said, frowning at the elder boy's jittery. "If he's down for it, cool. If he's not, chill. It's not like we want to ask him for some favors."
"Are we sure he's in?" Bloc asked as they arrived at the empty counter. "Anyone in?!"
They heard a sound coming from the back so they relaxed since their trip was not a busted one.
They started looking around, their juvenile mind easily taking shine to some of the items they saw.
"Okay, that's sick." Richter pointed at the skull-hilted sword and dual pistols combo that were locked behind a glass case. And just adjacent to the glass case was a sword make he could clearly tell was a katana
"Erm, guys, I don't think mirrors are supposed to do that." Henri's voice called their attention to the mirror the young man was standing in front of.
Instead of a reflection, there was a swirling void that was slowly forming images that looked eerily similar to an older Henri.
"Okay, this is getting a litt—"
"Hello, how can I help you, gentlemen?" Their reaction might have been a stance that was too aggressive for a pawnshop but the storeowner they were here to meet just looked at them calmly.
'Shit!' Richter cursed in his mind as he and Bloc were instantly ousted. The hazy filament around his hands and the static hums it produced could be ignored, if someone was intentionally and conditionally blind.
Bloc however had half his skin transformed into an earthen color. He didn't exactly look 'I just have bad allergies, I'm completely human, trust'. Whether the man was a mutant or not, people hardly reacted well to escalations.
"Sorry for the tardiness. The boys in the back have been… restless as of late." Or maybe he was intentionally and conditionally blind.
"Yeah, uh no problem man, sorry for uh… walking around your store…?" Richter said slowly, definitely not playing ignorance to the nothing that disappeared from his hands, and definitely not ignoring Bloc's detransformation.
"Don't worry about it. You are free to browse through if you want." Uh, looks like willful ignorance was the theme of the shop. "So what can I help you with?"
Richter didn't need to turn around to see the foolish looks that his friends were giving him for the episode that just played out.
They were here to confirm that he was a mutant, not plead for immediate deniability and reject the perfect chance they could get in breaking the metaphorical ice.
"… you saw that, didn't you?" The pressure was great so he went for broke. Richter wasn't the best at improvisation, Caliban and Mikhail knew.
The man chuckled, looking amused if anything, and nodded. "If you're talking about the interesting display, then yes."
"Oh, that's great." Richter heard sighs behind him that he ignored. "So you're a mutant then?" At least the entire thing wasn't a bust.
"Oh, no no. I'm afraid I don't have those special genes."
Richter did a double take, an action that was perfectly copied by the two behind him.
"What made you think so?"
Henri took a step forward as Richter bluescreened for a second. "Well, a friend of ours said they thought you might be. We came to see if what they said was true."
The man tilted his head and looked slightly confused, but not panicking. Not panicking was good.
"If you don't mind me asking, is there any reason you'd want me to be a mutant? Why I won't deny that I have a few peculiarities, the famous X-gene is not one of them."
What followed after that was a short introduction as they slowly stepped closer to the counter. Isaac, the now named shopkeeper – though they already knew his name – was a pretty swell guy.
"When you say peculiarities, what do you mean by that?" Henri asked tentatively. Isaac had been pretty casual with them and Caliban hadn't sprung them yet, so they relaxed a little.
"Hmm, how do I put this?" Isaac crossed his hands over his chest with a thoughtful crease on his brows. "Well, let's just say I can do a few things most people can't, and it's not because of an X-gene. Honestly, it's closer to magic than anything else."
He opened his hand and a box appeared in it, he made a waving motion and the box disappeared.
"So does that satisfy your curiosity?" he leaned forward on the counter with a teasing smirk that unsettled the trio of young men. "So tell me, why did you really come here? You could have told me you just came to do some window-shopping and I would have believed you."
Richter ignored the cleaning rag that definitely wasn't on the countertop a second ago and just shrugged. It would have been better to just end it there and simply leave but there was this magnetism in the way Isaac used his words and the shop in general that he couldn't find himself too paranoid about security risks.
Being frank with Isaac had been the theme of their conversation so far so he just went with it.
"Cash problem, really." He leaned sideways against the counter and idly studied the propped up wooden mask — The Mask: Do Not Wear — and wondered why it vibrated weirdly. "We got some things we could pawn off for cash but we don't know how much you'll accept."
Isaac scratched his chin, but he didn't look guarded or disinterested so that was a good sign.
"I'll probably buy it off you but I'll be more interested in the rare and unnatural finds you might have. While I'm very much open to adding interesting trinkets to my collection, I'm vastly more interested in what I can sell you."
"That's fair." Henri said, and it was. "But like he said, it's still a cash problem. We can't really buy if we don't got it. And what exactly do you even sell, dude? I saw some swords earlier, and I know this is a pawnshop…"
Isaac still looked thoughtful, which let them know that he was at least taking this seriously, and despite how casual they sounded, the lack of cash was a real problem.
"How about you tell me what you want and I'll tell you if I have it or not." Isaac said offhandedly, still looking deeply thoughtful.
"So like, if I say a water purifier and… a mounted turret, hahaha—"
The chuckle died in Bloc's throat before it could get any louder, as well as the amused smiles on Richter's and Henri's face.
"Huh? That's… pretty deep." Richter remarked in a deadpan. He really hated these scouting tasks, because here he was in some pawnshop, and while he couldn't make a comment on a water purifier, he damn well could tell what a turret looked like.
"Fuck it, I ain't dealing with this." He mumbled under his breath.
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