Her choice was obvious.
"I hate this damned city." She'd said this a million times and meant it every time. The rain didn't make it any better.
She was supposed to be curled up on her couch right now if only her stupid mark had used the day for illicit business. It would have saved them both a lot of time.
"Where are the stupid stores?" She asked frustratingly as all she saw were restaurants, food stands and a laundry mart. "I could've sworn I saw a minimart somewhere around here."
She turned right around a corner, but nope, no store. She was about to retrace her steps and take another road when she saw a boy coming from an alley with his bag hanging down his shoulders, his gaze down and awkward.
Her deduction said high school student, probably just got some weed and was clearly trying too hard to look normal. She didn't care about any of that as she grabbed him, almost smirking as she saw him stiffen and turn pale.
"Relax, I'm not gonna bust you for weed." She said before he could stammer out a word, "is there any store around this damned neighborhood?"
"Huh? Wha—"
"A store, where I can get some batteries." She said impatiently.
"Um, just behind Freddie's, to the right. They close very early, so I don't know. It's either that or the junk store nearby." He said as he adjusted his bag. "It's either that or near the subway."
She was already picking pace before he finished his sentence, following his directions as she passed Freddie's, a small diner, and saw the store. It was a discreet thing, tucked into the side of the building, and very easy to miss.
"Wait, wait, I just need some batteries." She shouted as she saw someone at the door flipping the open sign.
"Sorry, already flipped the sign." The dude shrugged helplessly as if that explained anything.
"C'mon man, I just need some batteries. I got cash." She pleaded, but the guy just shook his head.
"Sorry, no can do. Already flipped the sign, store policy." He said and locked the door.
"This fucker.." She bit her lips as her temper bubbled. She could go back to the subway and return, but there was a tiny chance that her mark would still be there when she got back.
She looked around and at the end of the line, she saw it. The junk store the kid talked about, because that's what the place was literally called.
There's no way she could get a camera battery at a junk store, but then again this was New York. Having no other choice, especially since the rain started falling even harder, she ran over to the store and almost sighed in relief when she saw the open sign.
The door at the bell rang as she step in, "Oh thank God." She couldn't help but say when she felt how warm the inside of the store was.
The store was perhaps one of the most chaotically arranged spaces she'd ever seen. Different things you'd see in different stores were laid everywhere with no rhyme or rhythm. A steering wheel was placed next to an empty frame, and next to that was an overgrown pot of some weird plant, and next to it were window panes, a whole stack of them.
"Can I help you find something?" She turned around to see a guy at the register.
"Yeah, batteries. You got any?" She threw him the batteries and he caught it, not even looking annoyed at her.
"Sure." He shrugged and reached under the to bring out a pack of batteries, almost making her fist pump the air. It was painful to note that this was the best thing that had happened to her today.
She paid for two, and turned to leave—
"Come on!" The heavy rain turned into a full downpour and lightning started flashing. Her mark— who was she kidding? The bastard was probably gone by now.
She scowled at the thought. She was drenched, hungry, bought two new batteries, lost her mark after six long hours of fruitless investigation, and all she had to show for it was a gallery of sketchy photos.
"I sell umbrellas if you're in a hurry." She heard the guy behind the counter say.
She looked at him angrily and saw him pointing at a rack that held umbrellas, poles, and freaking swords in it.
"What the fuck do you even sell, dude?" She asked, clearly exasperated as the anger bled out at the sight of the ridiculousness she was looking at.
"A little bit of this and a little bit of that. I buy and sell junk and stuff, and everything in between."
She ignored the name pun and walked towards the rack and curiously picked up a sword and pulled it from its sheath, half expecting a prop or a rusted blade.
"And this qualifies as junk?" She raised a brow at him. She didn't know about swords but this one looked way too clean, way too sharp and way too real to be called junk.
"Stuff." The guy replied easily. Well, he clearly got jokes, she'd give him that.
She looked at the window and saw the torrent of rain beating at it, along with the flashes in the sky. Yeah, this was a bust.
She sighed and put back the sword.
"Hey, um…"
"Isaac," he supplied.
"Isaac," she started, "mind if I wait out the rain in here?"
He shrugged. "Feel free to browse while you're at it." She snorted.
Well, it would be boring and awkward to just stand in the middle of the store, so she took his suggestion and just checked out what he had.
Why not just buy an umbrella and go home? Well, she was still salty for having to buy batteries she ended up not using.
As she walked around, in one particular corner of the store, she saw one of those pharaoh sarcophagus things, looking all old and golden.
"You buy shit like this and sell them?" She asked curiously.
"Mostly from other people. If they want to part with it, they'll find a fair buyer in me. As long as it's authentic."
She snorted, and jerked a finger at the golden coffin. "You think this is authentic?"
Surprisingly, Isaac nodded, not a trace of joke on his face. "I assure you, everything I buy and sell are authentic make. Junk or not. Even if it's broken, as long as it's real, I'll buy it off you for a fair price."
"Yeah, right. Save the con lines, I'm not stupid enough to fall for that. Well, this is New York, so I guess there's no end of fools who'll believe you." She won't give him smack about it, but there was no way that was real. The sword might be real, but if the sarcophagus was real then it'd belong in a museum or some rich collector's trophy room, not in a pawnshop.
Off to the side of the fancy coffin, on the wall, she saw an admittedly cool huge sword that had a sick skull guard with two small horns, along with a ribcage that held the rest of the blade.
"What the fuck?" She suddenly felt goosebumps on her body as she neared the blade.
She ran her finger over the edge of the blade and flinched hard in shock as she stumbled back. She looked at her finger, at the very thin but deep cut, in disbelief.
She wasn't invulnerable by any stretch of the word, far from it, but grazing a blade with her finger was not something that would hurt her, unless with some force behind it. She looked at the blade, and to her horror, saw her blood being absorbed into it, until the blade was back to its pristine look.
Instantly, she marched towards the counter where Isaac stood and demanded sharply.
"What the hell was that?"
Isaac tilted his head in confusion. "I'm not sure I follow."
"That blade, the one with the skull." She pointed, her anger and panic rising.
Isaac looked at the blade and gained a look of understanding. "Oh, that's Rebellion. It's a Sparda Family heirloom. Quite the demonic blade, that one."
"Demonic?" She looked confused for a moment, because demonic was clearly what that thing looked and felt like. "That thing gave me a cut just from touching it." She wasn't a particularly hysterical person, but this one was justified.
Isaac frowned at that. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you. It's quite a sharp blade."
She lost it for a moment and shouted at the damned clerk. "It drank my blood!"
She looked at him incredulously and he simply nodded his head and answered, "It does that too." Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:Kravenmato, Castle, noka133 and 602 others
She stared at him as the incredulousness just bled away into plain stunned silence, meanwhile he just stared at her with a small smile. Like he was telling her a joke and she just wasn't getting it, because she was the punchline.
She took a cautious step back and looked at him warily. Her hand went into her jacket, and she cursed mentally when she only found her empty pepper spray, but she kept it there to keep him cautious.
"Who are you?" She asked. Sure she could bench press a regular guy, but this was New York. A 'regular' guy might just as well bench press her. She'd found that out the worst way.
"You can call me Isaac. This," he gestured to the store, "is my little shop."
He folded his hand behind him, an action that made her take another step back, one he saw and decided to bring them back to the front.
"… What are you?" She asked carefully. Once again, she was in New York. Nothing was too far a stretch.
"I am but a humble and simple Merchant." The way he said it, Jessica noticed, sounded weird. In fact, the way he spoke the entire time sounded weird. It sounded too formal and posh for a simple back alley pawnshop.
"Relax, miss." He spoke calmly, too calm, like none of this was a concern to him. "I assure you, as long as you're in the confines of this fine establishment, nothing other than trade will be permitted and allowed. That includes violence of any kind."
What the fuck kind of established rules was that? And there it was again, speaking like he was a judge in a courtroom and everyone was under obligation to follow his words.
Her stance loosened, but no way in hell was she relaxed. She just wanted to see if he would do anything funny.
"Right. Apologies for the harm that came to you. It's not usually up for display so I forgot to put it behind a glass when I hung it up. Apologies, ma'am." It was as formal an apology as the word formal could get.
"If you would accept it, I would like to offer medical aid to the wound."
She eyed him warily. She was almost certain that something weird was up with this store. Was it some sort of black market front for some 'exotic' merchandise?
"Try anything funny and I'll make you regret it." She finally said as she slowly moved towards him. She wasn't such a pussy that she would run out in fear just because some big ass knife nicked her.
That said, she wasn't averse to knocking his lights out if he tried anything funny. Super strength and durability might have made her more cocky and daring, but certainly not more stupid.
"I wouldn't dream of it." Slowly, he reached one of the drawers and took out a little bottle and white cloth.
"I said nothing funny!" she warned loudly and took a half step back.
"I am not." He looked at her and calmly replied.
"Then what the hell is that?" She asked in a dead voice as she pointed at the clearly glowing liquid that was inside the tiny bottle he brought out.
He sighed. He had the nerve to sigh?! Oh, she wished she brought a gun.
"This is Estus. It's a healing balm. It's instant."
Okay, this was too far into trippy territory because either he was obviously fucking with her or something weird was going on.
He dabbed the cloth over the mouth of the bottle and waited for her. She didn't need to entertain whatever this was since her regeneration would take care of the cut in a couple of minutes, but she also wanted to see what this 'Merchant' was all about.
"And that's not some black market drug you have lying around, looking for test subjects?"
"Certain," was his very dry response.
She was no chicken so she closed the distance between them and watched with high alert as he brought the cloth towards the rather thin long cut on her finger.
"What… how?" She didn't know what her face looked like but her mouth was definitely wide open. Why? Because the wound instantly disappeared after he ran the cloth through it.
She looked at him again, this time a little less wary but more suspicious.
"So what? Are you a mutant or something?"
"Oh, I'm nothing quite as marvelous as that. I am just a simple Merchant, peddling a simple trade."
"And what exactly do you sell?"
"A little bit of everything and a lot of less. I'll allow myself a boast and say I have quite the collection. So whatever you want, I'm sure I can help you get it."
She raised a brow at his claim and eyed the glowing bottle. "Even that?" to which he answered with a nod.
Yeah, no. She was not buying a bottle of fairy dust and chucking it down to get some magic healing. She could handle that on her own. She also did not want to get addicted to whatever new sensation it was, or grow a third eye or some other horrific side effect.
"What else do you sell?" She asked instead.
"Whatever do you need?" He asked in return, which made her smirk.
"So if I want to buy a gun…"
"I'd ask what type." He said easily with a just as simple shrug.
She tapped her chin and squinted her eyes at him. She was almost certain he was a dealer or sorts, and not the small type either. Well, time to test that certainty.
"How about a list of the kind of stun batons you have." She threw him the curviest ball she could, because who would have stun—
He went through the door behind the counter and came out 5 seconds later with two boxes.
He opened them on the counter and Jessica's eyes went wide as she saw the stun batons he laid out.
Each of them had a little tag that basically described what they did.
—Murphy's Law: May not be lethal, but your enemies will wish it was. (Cyberpunk 2077)
*Can hit multiple targets at once.
—Merr-Sonn stun batons: You never forget the first time you get whacked by one of these things. (Star Wars)
—Taser Wand: Particularly effective against werewolves. (Teen Wolf)
*Produces up to 900,000 volts.
To say she was shocked would be an understatement…. How?
The more she read the tags on the batons the more shocked she became. These were clearly illegal. And way too dangerous.
On one hand, she confirmed that he definitely was a weapon's dealer, but on the other hand she was slightly curious and dreadful of who he delivered weapons to.
'But if he's a dealer, he wouldn't be showing his weapons to just anyone that walks in. There has to be a secret code or someth—'
Her train of thought came to a halt as she remembered the sword—the demonic sword— and the glowing balm.
She looked at the tags, and yes, one of them did say werewolves.
So far the list was camera batteries, mummy grave, demonic sword, magic potion and illegal tasers. Her mind raced as another conclusion came to her.
He wasn't a weapon's dealer. He was a dealer, plain and simple, and not the normal type either.
'He did call himself a Merchant. What does that even mean? Does he really sell anything?'
She was worried he might get annoyed if she pushed too much or asked for his entire inventory, so she decided to just start small. If he really sold stuff like these, then he would be a very good contact/supplier to have.
She looked at the stun batons, if they could still be called that, and while she liked the idea of having one to go along with her 'extra' activities, it wasn't really a necessity, at least not right now.
She cleared her throat and adjusted her posture to appear confident. If she looked like she'd done this before then he wouldn't suspect a thing— who was she even kidding.
"What about cameras? Spycams, micro-mics, micro trackers; let me see them."
If he saw her blundering act then he didn't say anything and instead reached for something under the counter and brought out a few smaller boxes.
She hungrily read the tags and salivated at them before wincing as she saw the price tags. Cameras weren't cheap and neither were these.
"Damn, these things are pricey." She whistled.
Isaac, the Merchant, smiled. "A fair bit, yes, but it reflects their capabilities."
Was she really about to do this? Her entire day has been particularly shitty and here she was contemplating whether she or not she should take the risk.
She wasn't exactly swimming in funds, and purchasing these will set her back but also make her job a lot easier. As for whether or not they worked, well she was obviously going to test them before she paid for them.
—The Toaster: A small, spherical camera that can be rolled into a room to provide a live, 360-degree video feed to the operatives outside. (Mission: Impossible III)
—Signet Ring-Camera: A ring with a hidden camera for covert photography. (James Bond: A View to a Kill)
—Credit Card Lockpick: Has an electronic ability to open locks. (James Bond: A View to a Kill)
These were the three items she picked, along with a camera but the camera was by the far the most normal thing out of all of them, even if it was leagues better than her current one.
The Toaster alone was $2,500 and came in a pack of eight. The camera was $3,200, and she could tell it was cheaper compared to if she had gotten it from an electronics store. But still…
"How about I give you $2,700 for the camera, and $2,000 for these small pops? These things ain't cheap, y'know."
Unexpectedly, he smiled at her haggling and instead of cutting it off, played his hand and took off a measly $150 off the top of the entire thing, which came to roughly seven thousand.
She would have been embarrassed to be seen haggling this fiercely, but they were the only ones in the store and he didn't seem to mind.
In the end, she could only get him to cut off $150 and had to sell him her camera, along with the two batteries she got earlier. In the end, she still ended up paying over five grand and that hurt her pockets good.
She had been skeptical about the whole thing but it was all blown away when she saw the quality of pictures she got from them. She could connect them to her phone and her computer at the same time and the range was simply ridiculous.
If she had this earlier….
At least she got something good from the blasted day, even if it pained her. They all had a one year warranty so that was that.
"Thank you for your patronage."
She rolled her eyes. "Cut the crap, Isaac. At this rate I'll be lucky if I can pay my rent next month."
He chuckled but said nothing after that. He was a pretty alright guy, she thought, probably in his early or mid 30s.
Ah, she almost forgot.
"What was that healing thing again? How much is it?"
"Estus? As cheap as $200. It'll heal any type of physical wound, no matter how great, as long as the person still draws breath." He said as he brought it out and handed it to her. "On the house. As compensation for what Rebellion did."
She looked at the clearly magical fairy dust and put it in her bag. "You're sure it's not gonna make me grow a third hand or something?" She joked.
"Goodness, no."
"Then thanks for the freebie." She said, "You can call me Jessica."
She stretched her hand and grinned as he shook it. 'Yup, he definitely ain't normal.'
"Hope to see you again."
She laughed. "Oh you can count on it. As long as you give me a discount."
Thankfully the stupid rain had finally decided to stop so she wasted no time and grabbed her things and left.
She took one last look at the place, especially the name, and snorted in amusement.
"Yeah, right."
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Isaac' the Merchant was having a slow day which was pretty normal in this line of business, especially so for Merchants who just moved into a new location. Now Isaac was no newbie when it came to peddling his stock, which was evident in how robust his catalog was. He wasn't really lying when he told Jessica that he had a little bit of everything and a little lot of less.
On the off chance that he didn't have something his lovely customers wanted, he was confident in his inventory that he could procure them a more suitable alternative.
Alas, he would have to wait for a while before business really started moving — waiting was never a problem for him. He'd done this a hundred times in a hundred different places and each time was a repeat of the time before.
He was still in the phase of sourcing his goods to his honored customers which was always the slowest part when a Merchant set up a new shop.
"You're going behind a glass, buddy. Let's hope we can get you a new home this time around." He patted the wailing Necronomicon tenderly on its fleshly wrappings.
For a stereotypical book, it gets a lot of bad rep. Human faces crying blood tears stitched to the cover was as much a spoiler as anything could ever get and yet people still act shocked when they read its content, or when it reads their souls. It happens both ways and the little book was a pretty fast reader.
As he walked around his store, shelving and boxing some of his wares, Isaac couldn't help but picture the day when he would get to sell all his supplies. He chuckled, knowing how glorious such a day would be.
As Merchants, they prided themselves in procuring authentic, vintage and the highest quality of goods so they can peddle to wanting customers.
"Now how did you get out of Schrödinger's box? I put the both of you in there for a reason." He sighed tiredly and grabbed the human-sized statue of a female angel that was hiding a bunch of mannequins.
He took the statue to the backrooms, ignoring the flickering lights and the vague shapes hiding behind pillars and went straight to the inconspicuous small box lying on the floor.
He opened the box and started pushing the larger statue into it until it completely disappeared into the box.
"Stupid cat. You only have one job and that's to watch her and you can't even do that. It's not like you do anything else." He grumbled under his breath as he clasped the lock of the box into place and then left it on the ground and went back up to sort out his shelf.
As Merchants, they had a love for everything they paid for but sometimes it was extremely trying on their patience and mental health.
Like having to perform roadside therapy for a tome of parchments that singlehandedly rebranded cosmic evil, only to find out it was just a misunderstood book with autism and down syndrome and that it's skin was a little bit darker than the others. As for the constantly regenerating bursting eyeballs? Well it was a bold fashion statement it tried in order to build up confidence and have a bigger public presence. It's simply aesthetics.
The end result was always worth it but the time between it was a dice roll of relative peace or a constant loop of migraine.
But that was the curse of the trade and any Merchant worth their title would happily receive it with both hands and a smile. They could always trade it for something else.
He went to one of his storerooms and picked up a half opened unmarked package box. The box vibrated in his hands causing him to laugh.
"I'm not putting you on the top shelf, Pandora." He chuckled again as the box hummed. "Don't lower your worth for anything. You are one hell of an expensive box so you don't need to be on a display case. You're in the 'special order' category. Anyone who wants you will come for you and no one else, so just chill in the back for now. Deal?"
The box hesitated before humming a low sound.
"Don't worry, I'm not leaving until I get each and everyone of you a new home." Isaac reassured the unassuming mundane box and put it on the top shelf of the storeroom.
A Merchant, especially a well travelled one like Isaac, knew the bone deep relationship between them and their merch. The merchandise makes the Merchant and the Merchant sells the merchandise. It was a cosmic symbiotic relationship.
Unlike some rookie marketplace peddlers that called themselves Merchants and desperately batter their trinkets at every chance they get, real Merchants would instead spend an ungodly amount of time in sourcing for prime merchandise from the nook and cranny of forgotten realms.
The shortest time old-timer Merchants would spend sourcing up a decent inventory was a century.
Isaac had personally stayed in one location for two thousand years just so he could have a chance at bidding for the weapon of a particularly stubborn warrior after they died. And that wasn't the longest time he spent sourcing for a particular item either.
Naturally, in an egotistical economy like theirs, Merchants were bound to be the prideful sort, but it was in the way they expressed their pride that made it prominent.
Isaac for example could patiently hunt for the stock for his inventory for a hundred thousand years or any exorbitant amount of time as long as he got equal quality goods. And his pride was that any time he was satisfied with his haul and decided to open up shop, he won't go scavenging for supply until he empties his current inventory, regardless of how long it took.
He took his pride in the high quality goods he sold – even his junk was of higher quality compared to others, he did the comparison – and the confidence that he could empty his inventory in record time.
Some Merchants still had items from six hauls ago in the last ten thousand years in their top shelf.
He could not imagine subjecting his carefully procured goods to such a fate. They were Merchants and their one and only job description was to sell anything they could get their hands on.
They did not overly care about the exchange they got from their goods, as that was mostly used as tax for the Union, but that did not mean that they'd sell their goods at a loss. They cared more about the customer getting their hands on the items they wanted than the exchange they received. The exchange was nothing more than the token of the transaction struck, and for when the Union came to inspect their books.
"Both of you will stay here for the aesthetics. It'll make it seem like you guys are a packaged deal." He said to the pair of ebony and ivory cast guns that he kept in the same showcase that he retired Rebellion to. "I shouldn't have to tell you guys how important presentation is."
He picked up an enchanted chessboard and set it up near where his little patch of mutated green grew. He did the same to a pair of pixelated diamond pickaxes. There was order in the way he chaotically showcased his goods.
"I think I've moved them to the backroom." He murmured to himself, shrugged after a moment and simply called out loud. "Any book rocking their human skin winter coat; to the backrooms. Today's aesthetic does not feature human skin as a theme. And keep the madness within the pages, thank you."
Was it weird that books were more likely to be sentient than anything else? Well he stopped questioning things a very long time ago and learned to quickly accept them with whatever weird quirk they came in with. It made for more fun that way.
"Now where do I put you?" He looked at the weird gun in his hands, thinking of throwing it in any direction of the store when his doorbell jingled as someone entered his store.
"Oh, Jessica, it's you. Welcome." He said as he went behind his counter to receive his customer. His first repeat customer.
"Hey there Isaac. What is that?" She gave him a small wave before noticing the weird gun with the bulbous head in his hands.
"This? It's a Null Void Projector." He replied offhandedly as he laid down the gun on the counter and smiled at Jessica. "What can I help you with today?"
She smirked and placed a hand on her hip, looking all smug and proud. "Well, let's just say those little babies I bought proved their worth over. So I decided to see if there is something I could get to pair with them."
"Well, I have a few recommendations—"
"I'm on a budget." She quickly added with an embarrassed flush to which Isaac nodded in complete understanding.
The constraints of budget spending was something Merchants were intimately familiar with.
"Okay, let's hear it."
"What are you looking for? Protection, counter-surveillance, disguise, or perhaps something more damaging?"
She actually took a second when Isaac listed a few avenues she could procure from which meant that she didn't think too much about what she wanted and instead wanted the shop to give her good options. A good customer trait.
"I can take care of myself pretty well so I'm not naked on that front. What I got last time can be counted for counter-surveillance. So that leaves disguise, don't it?"
"One second." Isaac disappeared from the counter to the storeroom behind him and came back in a handful of seconds with a small package in his hands. He slid it over the counter at Jessica.
"A Silicon 'Quick Change' Mask." He said as Jessica picked it up. "Fits perfectly to your face and allows you to alter your appearance. Limited to 3 set profiles that can't be changed after they are set. For the limited-budget option."
Her eyes widened as a wicked smile crept up her face. Three different identities for plausible deniability. Sure three was limiting but that was three more than every other person, with the shaky exception of shape shifters of course.
She was taking it without any question. "How much?"
"One thousand." Isaac replied with a service smile while Jessica winced as that was a little too close to the limit of her budget.
"No discount?" She asked weakly.
"That's the budget-friendly price." He replied and she winced softly.
"Well, no use crying about it now." She shook off the depression in record time, probably taking comfort in how it would make her PI work easier. "So how does this work?"
"There's a plate inside. You'll connect it to your device and send over the image, then you just have to leave the mask on it for a few minutes and that's basically it. You can connect your device to the mask afterwards and change it remotely."
She nodded. "That's easy enough. Thanks a lot, Isaac." He might be some sort of weird dealer/mutant/plug but he was cool in her eyes. Who else sold high-tech spy stuff in a junk shop?
"Not at all. Your patronage here at Junk 'N Stuff is more than enough. Thank you." He said with a soft rebuttal and a smile.
"Damn, even your customer service is top tier. Catch you later, Isaac."
"You as well. You can also refer us to your friends. We got a lot of stuff they might need."
"Sure." She waved him off and left the shop with a soft jingle.
He smiled as she left before leaving the counter and going back to make sure that some things were chaotically arranged to bring out the ambience of his quaint little shop.
Well the day was still young so all he had to do was wait around for the next customer to walk in through the door and let him take another step into emptying his inventory. He had no problem waiting for a long time, he was very patient.
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Cautious steps took her towards the mundane doors and the sign atop told her that this really was the place, not that she needed the sign's confirmation. There were a number of places in the world that were warded from her prying eyes, but not ever one that was in this part of the city.
The reason why her current actions were prompted was because a new variable appeared, one that was entirely foreign to the weave she's viewed a million times.
She did not get to grow as old as she did if she couldn't ascertain the factors of new variables and estimating the dangers they carried.
She looked down to the relic around her neck and the frown on her face tightened. As the guardian of the ancient relic for the last few centuries, the bond between the two of them could be called intimate, in a way of speaking, and it should have notified her the moment the tapestry fluctuated, except that it didn't.
She had to personally be there to witness a moment never seen before in the grand tapestry for her to know that something was incredibly wrong.
In the great tapestry, unrelated events were hardly unrelated as everything was connected in one way or the other, weaving a grand web to the Greater Will. And hours ago she was reminded of this lesson, having a front row seat as it played out.
Dr. Stephen Strange, honored as a memorable persona in the weave, was someone she had been keeping an eye on for a long time – since the day he was born – that she knew every single thing about his life; like the exact number of patients he would save in his practice.
So familiar that she could only stare transfixed as a completely new event played out in front of her and it involved someone that was never supposed to be here — not this soon, and not in that outfit.
She watched as young Peter Parker, in his iconic Spiderman outfit – an outfit that should not exist for at least a few months, with quality that should take him at least a decade to acquire – disengaged from a high speed chase and swooped down to carry a man that the car had hit to the nearest hospital — the same hospital that Stephen Strange worked in.
This was a meeting that never happened. None of the branches she'd peered into ever recorded an event like this, and there were two reasons for that:
First, young Peter Parker was never supposed to be as dressed as he was by this time. He should have been in a mask, a patched up hoodie and heavy pants, for the next few months before having the avenue to acquire a suit – of vastly lowered quality – like the one he was wearing.
Secondly, and most importantly, Spiderman was only ever supposed to meet Dr. Strange… not Dr. Stephen Strange. This was an absolute point because Spiderman, as acknowledged as he was, was never supposed to exist this soon.
She could excuse herself for being unaware of the stark changes to young Peter's future because she didn't peer that much into the lives of the heroes and other notable persons as there was literally no reason for her to do so.
What she couldn't excuse was the relic around her neck failing to warn her of the new weave she had been living in, for quite some time too from the looks of it.
She had teleported back to the Sanctum and immediately went to check on the wards of the three Sanctums and only after doing that did she isolate herself and peered into the Eye to view the new changes made to the weave… only for her to see nothing.
She could see the impossible events that happened a few minutes ago, something that should have lit a bonfire in the weave, but there was nothing strange about it. She could see that what was supposed to be a new weave was instead seamlessly blended into the others.
She instantly knew something was wrong when she peered further into today's weave and saw that its future was no different than the others close to it. That should not be possible.
She understood.
The changes being made were hidden. They were already made part of the weave but until those changes happened, nothing new could be seen — it'll simply blend into the others.
Being the Keeper of the Eye for as long as she had, she quickly identified the source of the branching path by following events around Peter Parker's life, until she couldn't.
She could see everything that had happened around him, and even the possibilities if she wanted, but there was one single moment where Peter Parker completely disappeared from her sights, which was also when the changes started happening — when he entered the store in front of her.
It was not a magical ward or a powerful artifact that hid him from her. No, that wasn't it.
Peter Parker effectively disappeared from the purview of Time itself for the few minutes he was in the store.
So now here she was, paying a… 'courtesy visit' while she had the other Masters watching the wards around the Sanctums.
She stood in front of the door and yet she couldn't feel anything that indicated that some great magic was cast here. The door and the store as a whole were as mundane as any other shop along this street could be.
Her heart and soul were the picture lake of tranquility as she pushed open the doors, pausing just a moment to look up at the bell that was rung on her entrance.
She felt something pull up behind her as she stepped past the threshold and yet she couldn't understand what it was.
She saw a man at the counter but her steps remained unhurried as she glanced both left and right, eyes drawn to a number of items hung up in different parts of the store.
She finally arrived at the counter, the man behind it smiling patiently at her and not offended that she took her time. She couldn't sense anything from him.
"Welcome to Junk 'N Stuff. Interested in anything you see?" He appeared jovial enough but she'd dealt with demons for far more times than anyone ever should.
She smiled at him. Conversation was a good start. Once again her eyes roamed some of the things on his countertop. "Quite the assortment you have here."
The smile on his face widened, easily pleased by her compliment and her good eye for quality.
"Many thanks." He folded his hands across his chest, a ray of pride wafting off of him. "Every piece of trinket you see, I can assure you, is of the utmost quality, of authentic make, or is a vintage piece."
"Now you're bragging." She pointed out, still smiling.
His smile turned challenging. "If you can prove me wrong then I'll let you have any one item for free."
Deals. She laughed and shook her. "I'll humor you for now but I'll be keeping an eye out." She had made enough deals in her life to know when to not make one.
"So what exactly is this store about? I've seen enough to get the idea but tell me."
"But of course. My name is Isaac, and I'm a Merchant, and this," he gestured openly at the store, "is my little domain where simple and honest trade can be carried out. Goods from lands you've never seen, never heard of, and can never go to are readily made available for your purchase. Whatever you want, as long as you have the means, is open for trade."
Her eyes narrowed and her fingers flexed. She saw the flash of pride when he called himself a 'Merchant', in a way that insinuated that it was more of a title than a job occupation.
"A trade you say." Now why did that word tickle her? Maybe because she could remember some 'fond' memories of beings offering her trades. "And pray tell, what do you receive in compensation?"
He gave a casual half shrug at the question. "Any country's currency will do. You can also pay in gold, diamond, precious stones or through other esoteric means."
"Souls?" She stared at him, her fingers flexing spastically behind her back.
"Those too," he readily agreed. "It's a bit difficult to price and most people tend to not accept the price of their soul."
"You presume to know the price of a soul?" Her eyes hardened and her voice dipped into a threatening edge. Whoever he was, she was not underestimating him but whether he offered her the same courtesy was unknown seeing as he remained unperturbed in front of her clearly hostile posture.
"Like I said, it's a bit hard to equate and due to the hundreds of factors involved in its constitution, it's a very unstable form of currency." He ended with a bit of distaste and sighed helplessly. "However as a Merchant whose policy is to trade with anyone willing, souls are one of the rare currencies people use and I have to accept."
"That's a lot of loopholes for a 'simple and honest' trade. I take it you don't concern yourself with how these souls are procured, do you?"
"No." He said easily. "Just the same way I don't ask my customers how they got their money, gold or any priced item they come to barter with."
He looked at her, a smaller smile on his face now, and spoke with an extremely professional tone, devoid of any inflections.
"I'm just a Merchant, dear customer. I'm not a moral or ethics adjudicator. My only concerns are in plying my trade fairly. Anything that happens after that, outside those doors, is of no interest to me."
Her fingers paused as she listened to what he said. She didn't trust his words, but she also had no grounds to call him a liar.
She had come here prepared because of the unforeseen changes to the weave. Whatever she was expecting — a big fight basically — meeting a man who posed himself as a Merchant was not one of them.
She could see clearly that he took being a Merchant as his personality and reasoning, which wasn't exactly helpful. Leaving the conversation where it was, she pivoted in another direction to see his reaction and willingness to comply with answers.
"I'll admit that my reason for coming here is not to trade but instead because of the residency you've taken up in this dimension."
"I have the permit for this store if that's what you're asking." He said, which she ignored.
"How did you get through the barrier?" Her voice came out extremely serious because she was. This could be the prelude to a crisis the likes of which she's literally never seen.
He looked confused for a moment. "If you mean how I got into this country and city, well public transportation like everyone else. If you're talking about the dimensional barriers warding off infernal beings," he looked down at himself, "Well I'm not some demonic creature as you can see. If you're asking about my other modes of transportation then I'm sorry I can't tell you. Trade secrets, I'm afraid."
The only thing she could verify in all he said was about him not being a demonic entity and even at that she remained highly doubtful because she couldn't sense anything from him. Not his presence, not his body heat or his intent. She could only read his body's expression and given that it was the only thing she could read from it made her trust it less.
On the other hand, he was easily forthcoming with information, being knowledgeable about the dimensional barriers and who knows what else.
"Why did you come here? Why this close to the Sanctum? Why this city?" She shed the veil of ignorance around them with those questions.
He smiled at her, looking pleased with her question.
"I'm a Merchant," he started and she wondered how that was related to answering her question, "knowing the best place to set up my shop is basic marketing."
His shoulders slacked and he seemed to give up on something. He plastered on an easygoing smile as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Ma'am, I'll apologize for any misunderstanding my arrival must have cost you. It's not much but I'll assure you that I'm only here to sell my wares, nothing else."
She snorted. "And you don't care about the outcome your action of trading these objects of yours might cause."
He nodded, still smiling. "No, I don't. I sell things. Whatever my customers do with their purchase, good or bad, is entirely up to them. I don't know what else I can say other than that."
"Leave." She said, "Take your shop and your goods and settle somewhere else on another planet."
"That I can't do. Not only will it reflect badly on me in the Union reports, but I can't exactly leave such a prime location and my potential customers without having barely made any sales."
And therein lay the problem. She could attempt to fight him off this dimension but the problem was she wasn't even on earth anymore. Yes, she could see the outside world from the windows, but she couldn't sense anything from the outside world.
Her connection to the Sanctum's wards had disappeared, nor could she feel the ley lines of magic that ran through the city under her feet. Her connection and influence to any and all dimensions of magic were cut off. They were practically nonexistent.
So not only was her magic hampered, but she could sense some truly strong magical artifacts lying around in different corners of the store.
Her mind zeroed in on the fact that she was dimensionally nonexistent and unfettered to the weaves of time, same as young Peter had been when he entered the store.
"You say all that and yet you've cut me off from my dimension and sealed my magic. How else am I to take that if not a threat?" It wasn't all her magic but it wasn't a small thing either.
Surprisingly, he gave her a little bow of apology and explained.
"Sorry if that might have startled you or painted me in a jaded light. By the rules of the store, any and all outside influences on customers are not permitted entry. If it's something that hampers the customer in any way then the store will compensate for however long the customer stays. You'll regain all your external connections the moment you step outside, so have no fear."
"So hypothetically, I'm not connected to any outside influence like say… time, space, divination, or maybe something like… cosmic soul contracts with infernal extra-dimensional beings?"
"It's not hypothetical. For the entire duration you stay here, you're effectively separated from every influence you were connected to. The connection is still there but there'll be no feedback between you and it… same for the, uh, 'cosmic soul contracts with infernal extra-dimensional beings'."
They stared at each other for some time, the man, Isaac, patiently waiting for her, while she debated with herself whether or not she actually wanted to do this.
"You called yourself a Merchant, correct?" He nodded. "Would you perhaps have anything capable of breaking conceptually-bound soul contacts?"
'Isaac' 'the Merchant' smiled happily at that. "I have just the thing."
She wasn't sold on anything he was selling, and even if she was temporarily disconnected from it, nothing in the weave was ever truly a coincidence.
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