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…"
––––––
.
"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."
.
...…
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.
––––––
Caliban and Mikhail slinked into the shop when the sun came down, careful in avoiding every human gaze. Caliban didn't look exactly human with his skin tone and facial features, looking more like the media cliché alien, and while Mikhail looked completely human, his height and build was… quite intimidating to look at, if nothing else.
The call in from Richter was an expected surprise, expected because Caliban knew that Richter was one to defer when he felt things started getting too complicated, and surprising because they had been in the store for quite a while that Caliban had started thinking that things were simple enough for Richter to take care of.
Caliban didn't know what to expect when he and Mikhail entered the pawnshop. He already knew something was wrong because while he knew that Richter and the others were in the shop, he couldn't sense them no matter how hard he tried.
If not for him receiving the interval signal that they were alright, he and Mikhail would have already bust in there to bail them out. The silent giant behind him was the picture of perfect calm, at least that was how he looked, but Caliban could tell that Mikhail was just as concerned as he was. He just did a better job in keeping his wits than Caliban.
Caliban had frowned even when he entered the shop because even when he could hear their voices, he still couldn't sense them. His primary ability that enabled him to sense mutants for miles didn't pick them up despite them being in the same building.
"I don't like this, man. It feels sketchy." He'd said to Mikhail beside him, his stress already climbing up and making his muscles coil.
His stress had spiked up a new level when they met up with Richter, Bloc and Henri, although for a different reason.
He and Mikhail had shared a look and a nod as they understood what they'd just stumbled on. This 'Isaac' wasn't just a pawnbroker, he was a plug. A black market intermediary.
How did they know? Well if the water purifier that looked more advanced than the rickety clank they were using wasn't enough, the mini turret said it loudly.
The fact that he made no move to hide it when they came in and his general lack of surprise by their appearance gave Caliban a worrying suspicion. Did he know they were lurking around? Did he have someone keeping an eye on them?
It was paranoia, but it was warranted, especially when Richter and the others looked so relaxed.
That was how Caliban and Mikhail found themselves listening to what should have been the most outrageous sales pitch, except they couldn't outright dismiss it because of one specific grain of information that complicated everything.
The man wasn't a mutant.
The first thing Caliban's mind went to was 'Black Site Experiment' which was a whole can of worms because that meant bag-tag special ops, government watchlist, mutant conspiracy, heroes nitpicking and public implosion.
Nothing good came out of involving themselves with a person who was probably under spy agencies from 13 different countries.
No matter how Isaac easily dismissed that worry, Caliban could not purchase the same luxury.
"What do you think, Mikhail?" The stoic giant was having a one-sided stare down with the laidback shopkeeper.
"We need the water purifier, da?" And that was the truth of it. The one they had was an old thing that they had managed to rig up and keep in dubious conditions with duck tape and prayers.
They had healers and a doctor, yes, but their healers couldn't heal everything and they were running out of medicines like everything else. Their debilitating water source was a major issue that they had no way of immediate remedy.
The problem came back to their lack of cash.
"You supply us what we need if we bring cash. No ask questions?"
Isaac nodded quite easily at that. "Tis a simple trade." He ran a finger along the surface of the purifier. "Though, like I told them, if you have anything of value, real value, as rare and as exotic as you can find it, then I'll buy it off your hands."
"How 'exotic' are we talking?" Caliban asked.
Isaac smiled indulgingly, "As exotic as it can be. A super soldier serum – now those are a rare find – or a nugget of Vibranium. A page from the Darkhold, or an Arc Reactor."
Bloc and Henri stepped back in shock and a healthy ripple of fear. "You want us to rob Tony Stark?" the latter exclaimed.
Caliban snarled at the man's audacity to act surprised. "What? No! I endorse no action you take in acquiring your products. No such thing."
Professional courtesy, Caliban noticed, but the man looked as if he took it seriously rather than paying lip service. How far he took it still remained to be seen but Caliban ensured not to care too much as he would make sure that any business they had with this strange merchant remained surface deep.
"All I'm saying, dear customers, is that while I'm less inclined in buying bulk of mundane items, I'll readily give you a tempting deal if you ever come across any piece of value item that you are interested in selling."
The whole spiel was as clear and concise as it could be but Caliban still remained distrusting of the shopkeeper's words and mindful intent because even now, he still couldn't sense Bloc, Henri, Richter and Mikhail as mutants.
The man said he wasn't a mutant but he never mentioned anything specific about what he was. In the span of a progressive conversation, he now knew more about them than they knew about him, and not only that….
"What's up with this shop of yours?" Caliban asked, making everyone go silent as they stared at him. "I can feel multiple gazes on me but I can't sense anyone. Is this your doing?"
Mikhail was tense – he'd been since they walked into the shop – and Bloc copied him, while Richter and Henri looked reluctant. In Richter's case, Caliban could tell that it was because he didn't want a fight breaking out more than him trusting the owner.
Isaac frowned as his gaze shifted from them into the shop. "Sorry about that. Some of them are rather stubborn and curious. I usually stop them from interacting with the customers in discreet ways but it must've slipped my mind somehow."
"And who are 'they'?" This was getting out of hand. Everything was still vague and the man was making extra efforts to ensure it remained so.
They could leave, sure, but what if they were tagged? What if they were being followed and Caliban couldn't sense them, just like he couldn't sense the others? There were too many factors that made him constantly paranoid and the stress from it was fueling his veins.
There was something up with this broker and Caliban was intent on finding out what it was. Him, Mikhail and Callisto were already stressed out of their minds that someone was somehow tracking their operations. And now here was some guy advertising himself like a walking red flag.
The man shrugged, not looking a bit intimidated at the hostile tension. "A few sentient items I put up. Well, they are not fully sentient, semi-sentient rather."
Caliban actually took a second to mull over the reply to make sure that, yes, he didn't miss anything that sounded logical, and took another second to decide that, yes, he finally had enough of the bullshit and reached over the counter to grab the man by the scruff of his neck.
That was the intended action, but surprisingly his body had logged out of democracy by running a mutiny and seizing his body.
His body was suddenly frozen in place and nothing he did made it budge. Panic settled in, stress bubbled, and his strength increased, but still he couldn't budge an inch. His eyes, the only things he could move, darted frantically towards the others who were now looking at the shopkeeper with heightened wariness.
From the edge of his vision, he could see Mikhail gear into action only for him to be frozen in motion. His panic was now over the boiling point as his eyes darted back to the shopkeeper whose eyes now held a soft glow.
"Now now, let us not resort to violence, hmm?"
"What did you do to them? Let them go!" Bloc shouted but he didn't recklessly burst into action like the two frozen men.
Isaac deadpanned at them and crossed his arms over his chest with a disapproving look on his face.
"Now, I don't usually make a habit of hanging out the rules of my shop because I imagine it as basic courtesy to expect basic conversational etiquette in my shop. Even in the event of a disagreement, a conversation is all that is needed to lay down differences."
Richter and the others took a step back at the neutral educating tone Isaac had taken, made even more intimidating by the white ring in his eyes and the sense of utter detachment they were getting from him.
His manner of speech had changed and goosebumps were running up their skin but they didn't bolt. Not when Caliban and Mikhail were restrained in some way.
Isaac looked at them, at the two frozen men, and let out a deeply tired sigh as the glow disappeared from his eyes and the air around him flowed normally.
"You know, if you tried this in the stores of many of my peers you would have forfeited your souls. They are rather ruthless when it comes to their rules being ignored." He waved his hands and motion returned to Caliban and Mikhail who almost stumbled into each other.
"Violence of any kind is not permitted in my shop. If you continue… well, that'll give me free reign to do anything to you." He leaned forward with the shadow of a dark smirk on his face. "It can be a simple ban, indentured servitude, or a soul forfeit."
He leaned back and stood straight with his service smile back on his face as if the last minute or so never happened.
"Now where were we?"
Caliban looked at Mikhail, his gaze silently shouting at him to 'teleport us out of here'. Richter and the others were more than eager to depart thence.
Instead of their immediate retreat, Mikhail looked like he had other plans as he took a step forward and gave a slight incline of his head.
"I offer apologies. I showed violence to aid my comrade."
"Accepted. As long as you don't do so again. I'll warn you that I'm one with my words."
"Da." Mikhail nodded and stretched his hand to Isaac who shook it. "Deal with us truthfully and we have no problems."
"My kind of deal." Isaac leaned sideways against the counter, back to being friendly casual, and pointed a finger at the purifier and turret. "Now, are you buying any of these?"
Mikhail looked at the purifier with a thoughtful frown, looking more at ease with Isaac after the apology as if the last few minutes never happened.
Caliban and the rest stood a few paces from the counter, not at all feeling the casual air after the smiling shop owner's last display.
"We… have the means, but we'll have to return." Mikhail replied.
"Fine by me."
"Then I'll return."
They did not spend another second in the shop as they left quickly and found an empty alleyway where Mikhail opened a portal to one of the entrances of the tunnel.
Their dwindling cash flow would take a rather steep dive if they were to buy the purifier but they had to as seven children had already fallen sick just this month alone and their medicine stock was practically emptied.
They would have to do a job in the coming week so they won't starve by the end of it. Convincing Callisto of the need of the purifier was easy enough but it came with a caveat for Mikhail.
"If it turns out to be a scam you'll pay dearly for it. If you mess this up, you won't object to how I run things from now on."
Mikhail had accepted with the same practiced ease and took the scrounged up cash back to Isaac, going back alone this time without any of the others.
"Friend Isaac, do tell me, what exactly do you sell?" Mikhail asked as he took the boxed purifier.
Isaac chuckled, an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes, "Mikhail, my friend, the correct question is 'what do you want?'"
Mikhail looked at him silently for a short second. "A sword that kills demons."
Both of their eyes went down to the counter where a sword now lay. "Yamato. There is no infernal being out there that it won't cut through. Its edge is so sharp it cuts through space and dimensional barriers. A swing is absolute."
Isaac unsheathed an inch of the blade and Mikhail felt the energy roiling off it as it was exposed from its scabbard.
"Something that obliterates the foes in front of me." Mikhail held his eyes for a second before it went back to the counter that now carried a gauntlet.
"I take it you're a physical fighter and for the explosive treat you want, how about this: Sacred Gear: Variant Detonation. Your fists are explosions on demand. It is a growth type item, and while not the most powerful I have on my shelves, I believe this will suit you better as it won't drain your life and crumble your mind like the Nemean Cestus or the Starforge Gauntlets."
Mikhail took in a deep breath and asked one more question.
"And say, I want to go where no roads lead."
"The Yamato will get you there. As long as you have the image of the place, a slash in the air will open a rift that directly leads you to your location. I also offer onetime options if you're looking for those."
Mikhail exhaled. "They are expensive, my friend." The zeroes were intimidating, especially for the tag that came with the sword. He knew someone who would love to have that sword.
Isaac smiled knowingly. "Of course they are. You won't find these anywhere else on this planet. My word."
"I see." Mikhail lifted up the box containing the highly advanced water purifier and settled it on his shoulders.
"I will come back when I have the money," he started, taking one last look at them and then at Isaac. "It might take some time. A long time I think."
Isaac waved his hands and they faded away from his countertop like smoke. "Take your time, they'll be here whenever you're ready."
Isaac smiled to himself as Mikhail left and looked at the items on his shelves with a confident smile.
"And that boys, is how you build a customer base. Give them what they never knew they wanted and watch them work for it. This'll be great."
––––––
Being a Merchant was all about patience – quite obvious since all trading professions required it in some ways – but unfortunately for most — no matter how versed they were in the trade, no matter how many hauls they've sold out, no matter how many years they've spent garbage diving — the Trade always found a way to remind them that mastering patience was one of the few things they would never be able to do. Ironic that it was the same virtue that divided the good Merchants from the great ones.
Isaac too wasn't above it. Time and time again, the Trade – in other words their entire livelihood – reminded him, in small and great ways, of the golden rule; No Merchant is Above the Trade.
There will come a time when they don't feel like opening up shop, or when customers don't feel like entering their shop. Or maybe the ones that patronize them don't have the means to buy their goods, or even doubt the authenticity of the goods as a bloated con… or worse, they – the Merchant – start judging the worth of their customers with the quality of their goods. Now, that was as steep as the slope got.
It also summed up the only advice Isaac ever got from the older veterans when he was starting out; stay put and be patient.
Unfortunately for his stellar career, that piece of advice was one that he always failed to keep when it mattered the most back when he was starting out. He still had his 'deviant' episodes but those were very rare nowadays. His best record was a single outburst in a turnover.
Another piece of advice he got – this one he got from experience – was that dealing in mundane stuff made up at least 90% of the Trade.
In other words, 90% of his days would be the same boring shit. Life of a Merchant, what else could he do?
So, yes, while he was hopeful for the day he sold Pandora, nice child that she was, he would have to settle for the boring and less eventful days. Like this one.
The last week or so has been a slow one but, while a familiar occurrence to Isaac, did not mean that Isaac couldn't be bored through it.
Today was an especially slow one. For some reason it seemed as if time couldn't be bothered to move on. The seconds ticked by with an over-exaggerated swagger as if it was begging for attention. The minutes themselves acted as if they had something better to do, and the hours… oh the hours. They tiptoed around like the shy girl on prom night.
Suffice to say, the day had not been especially kind to Isaac. He cleaned every inch of his shop – every shelf, every window, every show glass, every cabinet – thrice. He couldn't wait for it to end and try again tomorrow.
He would have even preferred it if he sold some mundane goods but no, nothing.
As if to show that it heard him and sympathized with his plight, the Trade heeded his silent cries as soon as the sun took a skinny dip.
The bell tingled as three men came inside, anxious anticipation radiating off their frames.
Their eyes lit up when they saw Isaac manning the counter so they sauntered towards him in a straight file. A little strange but he was never one to judge.
"Welcome to Junk 'N Stuff. What can I get you gentlemen?"
The first one cleared his throat and hunched closer to Isaac over the counter while the other duo took simple glances at the inside of the shop.
"Hey man, how we doing?"
Isaac shrugged casually. "Heh, slow day. Could be better."
The man smiled, and the two behind him chuckled, "Name's Dre. And we're about to make it less boring for you, Isaac."
Isaac smiled, faintly amused and expectant. "How so, Dre?"
Dre gave sideways glances, and brought down his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "A mutual friend of ours, Pete, gave me your direct. Said you could 'clean' some things for us for cash, and hook us up with some 'valuables'. Hmm?"
Isaac looked confused for a moment, even a tad bit disappointed, but he quickly recognized the 'Pete' Dre was talking about. It wasn't the adventurous young boy who saw his shop as a 'choice' refuse dump. Either way he didn't judge, a customer is a customer.
Isaac shrugged, business was business, and he held the hand on what he would buy and reject.
"Let's see them."
Smiles broke out from their faces. They all reached inside of their jackets and brought out a slew of trinkets.
"Now, gentlemen, I'll preface by saying that I'm open to buying every junk and stuff you have, as long as they have some value. I don't deal in scraps."
Dre and his duo gave understanding nods. "We hear ya. Pete told us the rules."
They were behaving secretly suspicious for what was a simple trade, Isaac noted and gave a mental shrug. This was far from the strangest behavior he's gotten from a client.
"We didn't know how much to bring for our first time, so we picked out the best." Dre took the loot from his guys and spread them out on the counter and gave Isaac a searching look. "If the sell is good enough then we'll bring the rest and you'll get yourself some new custos. Feel me?"
The bravado Isaac was used to. Good. It meant easily manageable. He'd been bored out of his mind that he'd been half-hoping that they were here to rob him. Well, he'll take a trade over attempted robbery any day.
"Let's see what we got here."
A wooden ornately-carved ring box, a Cuban link, diamond-studded earrings, a pair of shoes, two rose gold watches, two pairs of glasses, a phone and a modified gun — it was quite the array of items.
Did it paint a certain picture? Isaac didn't really care. You'd be surprised by the stories behind the history of some things. He was a Merchant. Adhering to stereotypes and social profiling is just bad business.
"Yeah, yeah. Check out this stain." Dre laughed, looking extremely pleased as he laid out the items. "Over to you, brah. Do your magic."
The three friends looked excited, showing all the visual cues – smirking, chuckling, rubbing hands, licking lips etc. –, as they waited (im)patiently for Isaac to run up the numbers.
"$27,300." Isaac looked up after a few seconds. He could tell the value of mundane items like these with a glance, but he made a show of appraising it because… well, know your customers. No way they would believe him if he called out the price the moment they laid it out.
Was that not stereotyping and social profiling? Eh, technicalities. He wasn't judging them by any metric but was instead trying to sell trust. Appearance, after all, was a hard currency.
The two behind Dre whistled, while the man himself looked curiously at the spread and scratched his beard thoughtfully.
"Say, Isaac, which one cost more?"
Isaac pointed at the three things that Dre already suspected; the watches and the chain.
"The chain is a little over $9k. It's got solid enough gold." He tapped on the two watches, inwardly pleased with how attentive they were. "Male watches tend to cost more even if they're from the same brand. This one barely skims over $8k and the female one is locked at $5.5k. As for the others, the custom mod is around $2k and everything else is a couple hundred or more."
He picked up the gun, his showmanship spirit revving up for a few seconds, and the two behind Dre flinched but he paid no mind to them as he slid out the magazine with a cock and swift click. He checked the rounds and the chamber, hummed approvingly, before sliding the magazine back in.
He put down the gun and looked at them and asked the most important question(to him). "Will that be all, gentlemen, or do you need something else?"
They smiled, and once again Dre leaned over to whisper in a voice that was more 'inside joke' than secretive.
"And here I was thinking you'd never ask." He smacked his lips as if the main dessert of the night was rolled out in front of him and was also finding out that it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. "Since you asked, well, me and my boys need some 'insurance'. Something that insists that 'domestic' is optional. Feel me?"
Flowing rapport was easier to build with friendlier customers and it was never a bad idea to entertain their whimsy to a point. Isaac nodded with a slight smirk of his own, "I feel ya."
What followed was a show and tell where Isaac displayed some of his 'normal' guns with the flair and confidence of a renowned gunsmith(which he was not) and sufficiently wowed his present customer base of 3.
Dre also ended up buying up three sets of Nomex-Kevlar Hybrid bulletproof vests which ended up bottoming their bank more than the guns did.
They were a passionate sort, Isaac noted, as they left in higher spirits than they came in with. It put a content smile on his face that the things he sold could bring people joy.
That trade alone was enough for him for the day. He would sleep better at night from the memory of their excited mutterings as they left his shop.
He was still in that same glow an hour later when his bell rang again as another group of people entered his shop. A group of peppy teenagers to be exact.
"Why are we in a pawnshop, Flash?" a soft voice holding a tinge of irritation called out. "They gave us four assignments if you've forgotten. I don't want to be awake at midnight trying to finish them."
"Chill out, Liz," a more boisterous voice responded. "And besides, we're not submitting them tomorrow. So it doesn't matt— Whoa, that is so sick!"
"Flash! Don't just start touching things!" Liz cried out in a mix of frustration and anger. "What if you break them?"
"Chill out, Liz." Flash remarked, sounding confidently unrepentant. "It is probably an art store or something. And besides, we've got Harry here. He'll foot the bill if we break anything."
"I'm not your caution-free wallet, idiot. Break it and you pay it." A new voice, Harry, replied in complete disinterest.
Isaac said nothing even as they spent a few minutes parading around the shop before one of them, a girl, finally caught sight of him and gave an awkward wave/greeting as she turned red in embarrassment.
"Damn, this place is dope!" Flash cried out once again, proving once more that he was ignorant of the concept of public voice. "Is that a freaking lightsaber?"
"Idiot, it's obviously a prop." Harry mocked.
"Shut it, Hairy." Flash snapped once more. "Of course I know it's a prop. I'm just saying it's as detailed as the real thing."
The episode seemed to end there as three other teenagers converged with the awkwardly embarrassed redhead and froze at the sight of a patiently waiting Isaac.
"…"
"…"
"..."
"What up man!" Once again, Flash was ignorant and oblivious to public and social cues as he strode over to counter. "You've got some sick shit."
"Well thank you, kid." Isaac chuckled at the enthusiastic teenager. "See anything you like?"
"Fuck yeah. The blaster and the lightsaber look legit as fuck. And who designed that staff? Shit looks cold as hell."
Isaac chuckled again at the sincerity of the compliments. "What can I say? They are as real as they look. So what can I help you kids with today?"
Before Flash could open his mouth, the dark blonde(or was it brunette?) among them stepped forward and shoved Flash behind her.
"Sorry about our friend. He wasn't trying to be rude." Liz offered but Isaac waved it off, not at all bothered by it.
"I don't mind. He's passionate, there's nothing wrong with that."
"Hear that, Liz?" Flash pushed his way to the front looking smug at Liz. "Like I said, Liz, you gotta—"
"If you say 'chill out' one more time, I'll kill you." Liz warned, and Flash, boisterously oblivious as he was, actually shut up. There was hope for him after all.
He turned to Isaac, all smirk, looking very different from the brash and cocky jock he was at school.
"So you sell comic stuff and shit?"
"And junk." Isaac corrected. "I sell anything I can get my hand on. From merch to the real deal."
More than a few brows rose from his last statement but Flash wasn't one of them, as he just smiled. "Sick. So you got like some Spider-Man merch?"
Snorts came from behind him which made Flash frown. "What?"
"Nothing. It's just that you're seriously asking for Spider-Man merch." Mj, the formerly embarrassed redhead, chuckled.
Flash turned towards her and folded his hands over his chest, looking slightly confrontational. "And what's wrong with that? I don't jack you girls when you yap about Black Widow or Invisible Woman."
He ignored the girls and turned back to Isaac, frowning but still partially invested.
"I got some. The cheap ones, the budget ones, the original ones. Which one do you want?"
"What do you mean original?"
Isaac grinned widely. "I'm talking about the real deal." With a flourish, he reached for something under the counter and set it on the counter.
The group of teens initially looked unimpressed and uninterested as they saw the weird contraption he placed on the table, but that slowly changed as their eyes kept getting drawn to it.
"N-no way."
"That's clearly fake."
"I-is that what I think it is?"
"T-that t-that…"
Isaac smirked. Did his boredom have any hand in him bragging off to kids? Yes, yes it did.
"It's busted so I got it for cheap, but that doesn't matter."
Liz and Mj raised their heads in confusion and asked "Why?" but it was Flash and Harry who replied for Isaac, both of them staring at the tiny piece of tech in front of them.
"Someone will buy it anyway."
"They'll pay for it like they would an antique." Harry clarified, looking accusingly suspicious at Isaac before adding, "as long as it's real."
"Oh, it's real." Feeling a bit entertained, Isaac decided to humor them. "Watch."
He picked up the webshooter and pointed it at the wall to his left and pressed a button. Under the gobsmacked faces of the group, a soft 'thwip' sounded as a thin web strand shot out from the shooter and stuck instantly to the wall.
"Holy! Hahaha, holy hell!" Flash exclaimed. "I'll buy it. How much?"
Isaac shook his head. "Not this one kid. I want it to marinate for some years before I sell it." He saw the frown on Flash's face and added. "Or I can give it to you for 10 grand."
"What?!" Flash recoiled as if the words burned him, while the two girls behind him scoffed derisively.
"Who in their right mind will buy that piece of junk for 10 thousand dollars?" Liz asked incredulously.
Isaac replied succinctly. "The same type of people who bought the Mona Lisa."
"What?" Mj blinked, not at all expecting that answer.
"It's a hero's hardware. An athlete's signed jersey goes for a lot, what makes you think a hero's will go any less. The only reason it's this low right now is because our neighborhood hero is still new on the scene. Give it a few years and I could probably sell this for $500k or more."
While Isaac patiently explained the value of hero hardware to Flash, Liz and Mj who could not stop listening with stark disbelief, Harry kept looking at the webshooter as an idea came to him.
'Maybe his father would find it useful. Or maybe he would reengineer it and use it in his projects.' Harry couldn't help but grow exceedingly hopeful as the thoughts bloomed. 'Maybe his father would like it. Especially if he gave it to him like a gift or something since his birthday was coming up.'
––––––
Callisto looked pensive from the alcove she stood on as she watched the camp down below. Things weren't great by any means, nor was it how it used to be, but she could see some vigor in some people, and these few people were somehow infecting the camp with it.
They were still on the brink of starvation but no one was complaining, not even the kids. Everyone was doing what they could along with a little more just to make sure they could carry their share of the burden a little bit further.
Among the newly motivated, two stood out to her and she wasn't a bit surprised at who it was. Annalee and Mikhail were the ones who set the snowball effect into motion, and it all started from a chance meeting.
Unlike the others however, she didn't share in their enthusiasm, and it wasn't because she was a cold bitch like they called her behind her back(she was a cold bitch). Someone had to be practical and a hardass in case things didn't pan out for the optimistic fools.
They could hardly grow anything down here. Yes, sure, the doctor had a few makeshift greenhouses but they contributed exactly jackshit.
Their only means of survival was the number of odd jobs a few of them could do, like Dreamer and the doctor, but the majority of it came from the polite robbery they carried out every now and then. It wasn't a frequent thing but it bolstered their reserves for a good while.
'And we can't even go out.' Callisto clicked her teeth. She almost laughed at the irony when Mikhail decided to do a job on his own when he'd been the one most opposed to it when he first arrived. The big man had quickly realized that morals did not exactly stuff full the bellies of children.
The problem still persisted and the best way for them to get over it was to figure out who was interested in them, and to do that… 'We have to go out.'
It was an irritating loop that cited up a feral need in Callisto to slash her knives at someone anytime it crept up.
According to Mikhail and the others, they had secured a good enough contact and a potential solution to a good chunk of their problems, all they needed was money. Or things good enough to barter a trade with.
And speaking on this contact…
'Isaac.' Callisto rolled the name over her tongue and frowned at how bland it tasted. Even without meeting the man, she could tell right away that there was something off about him. He felt too… muted. Nothing about him stuck.
According to the others, he said he wasn't a mutant but he had other means.. Magic maybe. He easily restrained Mikhail and Caliban without moving so something was obviously at play. She shelved the information about 'violence not permitted inside the shop' and thought of a dozen other ways to restrain someone like Mikhail and even prevent him from teleporting.
Despite the danger this person presented, Mikhail did not take it to heart and became the runner between the Morlocks and Isaac. It was stupid and reckless and he was actively putting himself in the sight of someone who could capture him if he wanted, she'd told the stupid oaf as such, but, well he wouldn't be an oaf if he listened.
"If Isaac wanted to, he could. He is friend." The bloated mass had said as much in his Russian-accented drawl. "If you're curious, woman, go take look for yourself."
She left the matter at that but had let Mikhail know that it would be his complete fault should anything spiral out from their transactions.
Callisto was an extremely pragmatic and strictly objective person, as well as dangerously sadistic, so while she was able to look at the pros that came with the new contact, she looked away from it to continue staring at the extensive list of flashing red cons.
She'd sent some of their scouts to watch the pawnshop and when they did, they reported that the man never left his shop, not even for a second, for days on end.
Mikhail had told her not to antagonize the man, Callisto agreed. She did not have a fetish for making new enemies, and not raising hostilities did not include not spying on him for more than 15 hours a day.
And yet after everything, she had nothing to show for it. She dialed the threat the man presented up a few notches when all of her scouts, even the ones with x-ray vision and echolocation, failed to find out what was going on behind the doors.
It was like everything stopped at the door. She had already underlined magic as a prominent factor but it started to seem like the obvious one every passing day.
She looked down at Caliban and Henri discussing something and strained her ears a bit to listen to what they were saying.
This was the main reason why she liked this spot. With the vantage point, she could almost cover the radius of the main camp.
She stopped paying attention to Caliban and Henri when she heard the rubbish they were speaking about. She could faintly pick out the conversation between Dreamer and the woman with her.
She absentmindedly pulled out one of her knives and started twirling it around her fingers as she drew herself deeper into her thoughts.
Unimpeded, their only course of action carried itself out to her.
"We can't keep pushing it safe." They can't play being passive forever. If they let themselves be pushed to their breaking point they will be bound to make a costly mistake. Their optimal response was to act boldly so that their enemy will be forced to reveal themselves.
It will cost them but better on their terms than being blindsided.
Enough time had passed, maybe it was about time she visited this Isaac. She never met with any of their former contacts as that was the job of Caliban and the others but she was making a dangerous exception, all because of what Mikhail insinuated.
The naïve moose somehow held the belief that this man could get him anything he wanted, or perhaps the man had shown him everything he wanted.
"Time to meet this Merchant." Her dead eye behind the eyepatch twitched, making her pause for a moment before a frown doused her scarred face. "This is definitely a bad idea."
Her instincts were grumbling and that was a dead signal that something bad would happen, and that was what she wanted. The more explosive the escalation, the clearer the picture she'd get of her enemies.
"Sunder." She called out harshly as she walked off the jump from the alcove. "We're paying him a visit."
The loyal brute just grunted and followed after her. Sunder was the perfect example of muscle. He looked the part and acted it excellently. He never cared about Callisto's orders, no matter what they were, only ever silently following them.
"Mikhail." The sound of her voice killed every decibel of casual conversation around Mikhail. The people quickly gave the big man a wide berth as they saw Callisto walking towards him.
"What do you want?" Mikhail asked.
"Movement." She replied straightly. "Get me as close as you can to the shop."
Mikhail rendered her with a deeply inquisitive stare and he responded in kind by leveling him a daring one.
"Don't fight, Callisto." Mikhail relented with a sigh. There was little to nothing he could do about her decisions so he could only hope she doesn't feel tempted.
"That'll be my call to make." Her remark was curt and strangled. He might be the only one in the camp that could be this casual with her but that in no way meant that he held any means in curating her actions. He forfeited that right when he rejected her leadership.
They did not speak another word as he led Callisto and Sunder to one of the tunnel entrances and tore open a rift in space to an empty alleyway.
"How close is it?" Callisto asked as a wave of new sensations wafted around her.
"A few blocks." Mikhail stood aside and watched Callisto and Sunder cross over. "Keep going straight and take a right turn after the laundromat."
"I think I got it." She took a few sniffs from the favorable winds and assured herself. She could already pick up the faint scents from her boys that she'd put on watch around the shop.
The sun had gone low which meant that the streets were full of people trying to get somewhere which allowed her and Sunder to blend better into the crowd.
Her scars and eyepatch and Sunder's physique made them quite noticeable but it was easily muted with the hat and hoodie she wore and with the large coat and bandana Sunder wore and wrapped around his mouth.
It didn't take them long before they arrived at the shop in question. Junk 'N Stuff – even standing right in front of the door her danger sense remained muted, almost as if there was nothing in front of her to register. With the reports from Mikhail and Caliban, she expected to feel at least a thrum or something by being this close.
"Whatever happens, don't do anything until I say so." She ordered Sunder and the huge man behind her gave a grim nod with a grunt.
Her hands brushed against the knives that were in the inner pockets of her hoodie. It has been a long time since she last came up, having lost every interest in the outside world, but standing in front of this store was giving her a sense of déjà vu that she couldn't remember.
She opened the door and stepped inside the store and instantly noticed how prominent the muteness grew. It was as if it was wrapped around her.
"… business with you, Harry. See you next time." She caught the ending of a conversation second before a boy rounded her corner and promptly froze as he saw both of them.
"Run along." She snapped at the frightened kid who hesitantly looked behind him, a gaze she followed until she saw him, the so-called Merchant.
"It's alright, Harry. They are my customers." The man said with a disarming wave of his hand which prodded the boy and sent him skittering out.
The man looked at them with an embarrassed smile as they came close. "Sorry about his reaction. He's a good kid. He didn't mean anything bad by it."
She took a good look at the man. He looked well groomed in an effortless way, casual yet business, probably in his late thirties or early forties. She frowned a second later as she noticed a discrepancy between the man and her abilities. He was a guesswork. She couldn't get anything concrete by reading him.
"How can I help you, miss?" He looked at her curiously.
She drew her eyes from him, her danger sense still humming in ignorance, as she took in the inner dimensions of the store – Windows, blindspots, obstructions etc. – half suspecting an ambush to spring up in the next few minutes.
"Um, miss? Anything the problem?" The man looked between her and Sunder, not at all phased by their appearance and attitude, just curious.
"Isaac," she started, "that's me," he replied with a service smile but she ignored it. "You're the one making Mikhail run around as if he had a dead sewer rat in his pants."
Isaac's face lit up in recognition. "Oh, you're from Mikhail's community. That's nice."
He held both of his hands behind him, making Callisto's eyes narrow in vigilance but he made no reaction if he saw hers, and took on an openly friendly attitude.
"Haha, I think you're mistaking something. I'm not making him do anything he doesn't want to." He said jovially and cocked his head towards her and asked again. "Now, is there anything I can help you with, miss?"
"You say you buy rare things, right?"
"Yes, but it's mostly dependent on their nature."
Callisto nodded. She was never one for long talks so she went straight for the jugular. This is how you help people, Mikhail, was what she thought as she opened her mouth to speak.
"How rare is the X-gene?"