"How rare is the X-gene?"
Callisto almost flashed out her knives at the genuine smile and, dare she say, joyous glint in his eyes that blossomed the moment he heard her question.
But this was better. She was used to dealing with freaks. She led a group of freaks. This was home territory.
"Now now, before we scale unnecessary tangents, what do you mean? Are you asking from a purely statistical—"
Callisto was not having any of those fancy words so she cut him off and bluntly spelled it out. "Can you buy an X-gene if someone is willing to sell theirs?"
Sunder had stiffened behind Callisto, posture straight and eyes wide, as he heard the ludicrous question Callisto just asked, but more than that was that they both were looking at the owner and waiting for his answer.
"If they are willing to sell theirs, then yes." Callisto did not react at the admittance frankly because she didn't know whether to believe him or not. 'If it's true, then it's not just magic. He's probably a demon.' She thought as she listened to what he had to say.
"It's a bit hard to valuate, but it's not impossible. The price fluctuates widely, especially in a world like this. The strength, application, versatility, nature, potential, defects and drawbacks of the particular X-gene are all taken into consideration and they affect the price greatly, decreasing the worth of what it would normally be, currency-wise at least."
She got the gist of it and that was what almost threatened a frown to her face. 'Defects and drawbacks', that was the word that easily describes the majority of the Morlocks. It was like they collectively picked the short stick of the evolution draft.
Most of the ones that had good mutations also possessed one or two physical defects. Herself, Mikhail, Annalee and a sparse few were the only ones who looked completely human. Even Sunder behind her did not look aesthetically natural.
"So you're saying they're duds."
Isaac shook his head. "Not all of them. Unfortunately, most of the X-gene provide physical alterations that aren't exactly aesthetically accepted and the abilities that come from them are barely a positive over the defects."
Isaac scratched his head since he knew that they wouldn't fully understand. This was one of the complications of an adaptive foreign exchange system. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and tapped his chin in contemplation. The motion stopped when he threw a glance towards Sunder and snapped his fingers.
Before that, he turned towards Callisto. "Do you want me to explain it further?"
"Yes." The word was so dry that it sounded like 'obviously, idiot', and her cold stare wasn't helping with the atmosphere.
"This young man is with you, right?" She nods once again. If him calling a man who looked to be the same age as him a young man sounded weird then either they didn't hear it or they didn't care.
"I can tell he's a mutant," neither Callisto or Sunder reacted to that, "so for example if we were going to sell his mutant genes– do you mind taking the cloth off, sir?"
Sunder looked at Callisto and only when she nodded did he peel off the bandana. He looked relatively human but his pale brown skin tone hinted at a suspicion, and the slight deformity in his face hinted at another.
"Forgive me for asking but what can you do?"
Callisto raised a hand to stop Sunder from answering and narrowed her eyes at Isaac. "Can't you tell?"
"No, I can't. I'll have to appraise him for me to know, and that requires physical contact."
She hummed, face still set in a cold stoic expression. "Increased physical attributes."
Isaac nodded. He was well familiar with these kinds of customers. Their impassive mask was one of the toughest things to break and it was it's own reward as they mostly turn out to be great customers once they get impressed.
"Now this young man here, his mutation has a tiny amount of physical alteration and the flip side of that is that he can punch above his weight class. If he was to sell his mutation, I'll net it anywhere between 10 – 15 million. A deeper appraisal will be needed to solidify that estimate. It might drop or it might go up, I won't know until the appraisal."
Isaac could see that the both of them were completely hooked, but still Callisto remained one tough cookie to crack.
"What will happen to someone if they sell their X-gene?"
"They'll be permanently reverted back to being human. No trace of the X-gene will be left in their system, and with it will be gone every change that came with it."
She drew in a breath as she saw in front of her the answer to all their problems, but like everything else, complications came with it.
They could sell the mutations of the children that weren't particularly useful and downright debilitating, but that would also mean selling a part of their identity that has always been with them, especially for the children.
It was like trying to tell a human to sell off one of their hands because having two was a defect and having one was natural.
Her eyes grew cold. Hot shit. They'll sell off the stupid things for pennies if that's all they're worth. She'd force them if they have to.
The greater the deformity, the lower the price – she knew that. She had her own pride as a mutant and she wouldn't be anything else if she had the choice to choose, but she also wasn't stupid.
What was the point of having a mosquito's head and body parts and enjoying bad food and yet couldn't even fly with the membrane wings because it was too weak to support the body?
This was it. Not that idiotic marathon Mikhail was running. This is how a leader provides solutions.
And the good part, this was still one part of it. The most important thing was the second one.
"So you'll buy the mutations if we bring them." She asked and he nodded. "Does that mean that you also sell powers in a bottle?"
Isaac chuckled. "Not necessarily in a bottle, but the sentiment is spot on."
"… other X-gene?"
"Not exactly." He started tapping on the table as if highlighting the options of a list. "We've got plain old magic, exotic fruits, sentient swords, leaf-approved books, organ transplant, deals with beings who should not be named, life aura, spirit aura, body aura, body cultivation, cursed weapons, holy weapons, demonic weapons, something in-between, questionable ghost fluids etc. I've got a lot of options so you just have to find the one that fits into your budget."
Safe to say, Callisto was hooked, Isaac was certain. She might be trying to keep her expression dead but Isaac had done this tangle a thousand thousand times. His sales pitch is not an advertisement. It is a confirmation. Every wild hope and greedy ambition Callisto had, he just gave her a ticket to the auction.
"Is this a joke?" Her eyes were now severe and threatening and Sunder behind her hummed with violent anticipation.
Denial. Trying to save themselves from disappointment when the door is wide open before them.
"Now now, miss, I'd like to ask you to refrain from any notions of violence. We don't tolerate it here." Isaac said, barely a strain of the former joviality still in his words.
The ring of light in his eyes arrested any stubborn thought of escalating from Callisto's mind, because even now her sense of danger refused to tell her anything.
"No fight." She found herself saying and glared over her shoulder at Sunder who was wearing violence over his large coat. They were in the same boat, it seems. They were about to lash out at something they could scarcely believe because of how unbelievable everything was.
"Good." The way he said it was as if he was pleased that she wasn't as stupid as he feared. "Now miss, what is it you want? I can't promise you that the X-genes will be as profitable as advertised though."
It was the simple truth. No one would part with their X-gene if they won the biological lottery. The only people who would want to give up being mutants are those that were afraid of being found out and those that failed the evolution check and came out with either useless abilities, physical deformities, or with both of them.
Callisto would never part with hers for any amount, except if she was getting a stronger ability.
But now wasn't the time for that. As the leader of the Morlocks, now was the time to act and to act decisively.
There was no doubt in her mind as for whose ability was to be traded first. It wasn't even a question.
"When do you close shop?" She asked as a rare feeling of urgency came over her.
Isaac deadpanned at her question. "Miss, your people have been watching me for a week now. Surely you know when I close up."
She looked completely unruffled despite him saying he knew about her spying and turned around to leave, Sunder trailing behind her, with some parting word of choice.
"I'll be back in 30 minutes."
She stepped outside and took in a deep breath as her muted senses were no longer clogged up.
A phone call to Mikhail made him ready on standby to open a gate to the tunnels as soon as they returned to the alleyway.
"You're tense, Atamansha. It went well, da?"
"About as much." Was her curt response. "Masque, get over here."
Frowns crept up a few faces as the deformed hooded figure wobbled over to Callisto. A few shoulders tensed, having never forgotten their history with the particularly bitter man. If not for the arrival of Mikhail and him challenging Callisto for a change in leadership, that vile tradition would still be happening.
"Callisto..." the voice from under the hood came out with a rasp and a gurgle.
"Be thankful, you can now finally support the rest in a more helpful way. You'll be coming with me." Masque looked confused and intimidated which, since that faithful day, was his new response anytime Callisto called him.
"What the hell are the rest of you doing here? Scram!" The little group around her instantly dissolved and left her with Mikhail, Sunder and Masque.
"Use your words, Callisto. What is going on?"
The underlying meaning behind his words made Callisto snort in disdain. "Please. If I wanted to kill him to get rid of him, I would have done it in the middle of camp. He'll be back. He just needs to make a… commitment."
She scoffed. How stupid would one have to be to care about the life of someone who tried to kill them. The same sentiment she had when she first fought Mikhail never changed. His powers were wasted on him.
"Just be on standby in case we have to return early." She said as she crossed the rift over to the empty alley.
"That doesn't reassure me." The soft giant said with a frown with crossed arms on the other side.
"Good. It means I'm doing it my way." She walked away, a completely covered up and anxious Masque and Sunder trailing after her.
"Da. That's why I'm not reassured, sumasshedshaya." The rift closed as he muttered to himself.
Down the street, an overly anxious and jittery Masque walked alongside Callisto with fearful steps. It has been forever since he came up to the surface, over a decade, and his stigma still remained on his face.
He licked his lips nervously and opened his mouth to speak cautiously. "Erm, Callisto—"
"Masque," she suddenly started, cutting him off, "I've known you the longest out of everyone in the camp and I know that I've asked you this question before but I'll ask again: what will you give up to look normal again?"
She held his stare, not allowing him to look left or right and silently pressured him to answer she knew he would give.
Masque looked at her and bit his lips. That question caused a bitter feeling to bubble up in his chest.
"Anything…" he said through clattering teeth and a bile of rage. "I will give anything—"
"Even your mutation?" She sharply cut him off again, dead frigid eyes boring straight into him. She already knew the likely answer he would give but that didn't stop her from pressuring him into it.
"This damned thing caused everything."
She almost smiled as the ball dropped where she wanted it to. Because she knew that despite the thrill of power he got when he used his powers on others, never for a second did Masque hate anyone other than himself.
"Come." She pushed open the door and made her way to the counter with both men marching along.
Isaac smiled at their arrival and put aside the crossword puzzle he was battling with. "That was fast. Welcome," he added the last part as he turned towards the hooded Masque.
"Are you up for it?" He asked and adjusted his rolled up sleeves.
"Yes." She grabbed Masque and pushed him forward. "He'll be the one to do it."
Isaac shrugged and regarded a thoroughly confused Masque whose head whipped to Callisto in shock, disbelief, horror and the staple confusion. She only gave him a look and he turned his head back to Isaac.
"In case you haven't been told, I'm going to be appraising your X-gene, and while an understanding has been reached between the lady and I, the decision to sell your X-gene or not is wholly yours to make. If you want me to go ahead then I'll need your hand to begin."
Masque was still in a fugue state when his hand reached over the counter. He flinched for a moment when Isaac held his hand, absolutely stupefied as if never having expected someone to willingly touch him, and remained rooted in place when the normal brown eyes lit up in a silver ring.
"Well, now what do we have here?" He heard the shopkeeper mutter to himself. "Now this is something I can work with."
The appraisal took less than 30 seconds but it was 30 seconds where Masque had absolutely no idea of what was happening. In fact, he was so lost that he couldn't even remember how he arrived here, whatever this place was, at all.
Isaac released his hands and he instinctively drew it back as if it was bit by a snake and hid it in the sleeves of his robe. Isaac chuckled at the reaction and scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Masque, who stared dumbly at it until Sunder nudged him to take it.
"The quotation of your X-gene. If you have any questions, please ask."
The floor Morlock was slowly getting out of his fugue state when he received the paper and looked at it, read it once, read it twice, and his fugue came back as he stared dazedly at it.
—Masque's Biological Alteration(Physical Transformation): The X-gene of a mutant with the ability to reshape and alter the flesh of living beings with a touch. Congratulations, you have the high table as a plastic surgeon.
Unfortunately, as this is only the X-gene, Masque's experience with it is not part of the package, hence, it is left to lucky you to unearth the potential this gene carries. (High chance it comes with physical deformity)
Reading the summary of his ability was a jaded experience, all things considered. He didn't really feel anything about it. What locked his tongue in a twist was what was under the description.
Price: $14,700,000.
.
.
.
.
.
A/N: In case anyone is wondering, just in case, why the price of the base of Masque's ability would be higher than the price of the basic Ancient One's curse, I chalked it up to the different utility.
The Ancient One's curse, even in its lowest basic form as a demonic contract, comes with the caveat of eternal damnation. An eternity of suffering for a few decades or centuries of power. And not everyone would gain Dormammu's favor or interest for him to increase their power.
As for Masque, the utility is entirely different, and while it also comes with physical deformity(which also slashed the price), just imagine what it could be in the hands of someone like Black Widow or any assassin.
Also instant and perfect plastic surgery. Yeah, that alone explains the price. The original would have been in the 20 mil range if not for the drawback, which can be nullified if you grow it to the extent to make it affect yourself.
Also there is the market to consider. Since he's in the Marvel-verse, the market for X-gene is highly favorable towards the abilities of people like Sunspot, Storm, Charles, Scott, Magneto, Darwin etc. Most people won't and simply don't care about Masque's because the market doesn't favor it.
Now if we were to sell the same ability in a verse like Naruto for example, then yeah, the price would skyrocket. (Especially when you can create perfect clones with little cost and high enough mastery)
Hope that clears it(in case anyone was wondering).
See you next chapter.
The counter fell silent as the three of them stared at Masque who was locked in the most visually disconcerting loop as he regarded the piece of paper, unknowingly realizing that he lacked the required emotional bandwidth to appropriately react to the confounding scribbles he just read.
"Is he okay?" Isaac asked, virtually oblivious, causing Callisto to glare at him before turning the glare to the fidgeting Masque.
"Masque." Her voice was low but the sharpness cut through Masque's static frenzy.
The cosmically lost mutant looked at his long time leader and croaked out softly, his voice trembling as he did.
"… Callisto, w-what is t-this?" his head swerved to Isaac and pointed a shaky finger at him. "W-what is he trying to do, Callisto?"
Isaac looked at Callisto with a small disappointed frown on his face. He huffed and tutted his displeasure.
"Miss, my little business is run on the utmost transparency and cultivating trust. Am I to assume that his general confusion is because you failed to inform him of the potential trade?"
"He would have found out regardless." She said with a derisive scoff and returned Isaac's stare with one of her own. "And I fail to see how any of that is your concern. Shouldn't your concern be only on the trade."
The frown on Isaac's face bent into true displeasure on hearing Callisto's words. Ignorance was bliss, maybe in a handful of situations, but in most cases it was hubris. And Callisto was making sure to stand on it on her two feet.
"Listen here, miss," his tone took on a slightly harsh edge and was downright lecturing, "no trade will happen unless the customer is willing to make the trade of their own will and my store ensures the sovereignty of that will by protecting them from any sort of influence, supernatural or mundane."
Callisto wanted to say that Masque was not being influenced by anything but Isaac wasn't through with his little exposé.
"It also means that their minds are protected and free from making decisions under duress, be it by intimidation, coercion, threats, blackmail or even psychological manipulation. The choice is his and his to make alone. My domain makes sure of that."
The customer's choice is to be respected, above all by the Merchant themselves and they take every precaution available to ensure that it stays that way. So even if they were being forced or controlled to make a trade they are slightly reluctant against, whatever form the influence takes is severed as soon as they cross the entrance threshold.
This was why Masque has been mostly confused and shocked by everything because his decision to be here was made sorely by his fear and submission towards Callisto, so when that broke he suddenly found himself with a clarity that left him utterly lost and confused.
While the Merchants themselves have no business or personal interest in the private lives of customers and people that exist outside their doors, they also had to take precautions to prevent any instances of a lawsuit from their customers… like say maybe a petition for a refund and compensation for a transaction made under duress, in whatever extreme form it takes, no thank you.
Callisto came short. Her eyes narrowed upon understanding what Isaac was trying to say, and while normally she would doubt the veracity of such an absurd claim, she found herself being unable to. Why? She had absolutely no idea.
Maybe it was because of the look in Isaac's eyes. Maybe it was the fact that all six of her senses were picking up absolutely nothing to indicate a threat. Or maybe it was the fact that the store felt like it was thrumming and was also staring at her with a daring glare.
"Masq—"
"I apologize, miss, but that will be enough from you for now. Let him make his decision without you trying to burn him with your eyes. Sheesh." Isaac finished his Callisto-dedicated piece and addressed Masque who looked so dumbfounded at the one-sided back and forth. "Now then sir, I'm terribly sorry for you being kept out of the loop."
Masque shook his head as the oblivious haze was slowly clearing from his head and handed back the paper to Isaac.
"Basically, this is the quotation for the price of your X-gene if you want to sell it. The trade can only continue if you willingly decide you want it to."
Masque looked at Sunder and then at a silent frowning Callisto and then back at Isaac and gulped down the phantom rock in his throat.
"I-I can s-sell it?" The question was so ludicrous but it was the only thing he could ask, or rather the first thing that came to his mind to ask.
"Yes you can. And this is the price I'm willing to pay for it." Isaac waved the paper.
Masque swallowed heavily. "…. W-will i-it… w-will i-it ta-take…"
Isaac nodded in understanding, stopping cold Masque's hopeful stuttering. "If you're asking if you'll lose your physical alterations upon sale, then yes you'll lose it as it is an active part of your X-gene. Though those you've made alterations to won't lose theirs."
"L-let me see." Isaac handed back the paper to Masque who greedily read through it multiple times.
The hopeful light in his eyes couldn't be hidden. This was his ticket to a normal and comfortable life on the surface. This… this was it.
He looked at Callisto and Sunder, mostly at Callisto, and asked. "You were going to take the money, weren't you?"
"Of course." She answered easily, not a shred of hesitation in her words. "It will be the first thing that you ever did to help them."
"You of all people don't get to condemn me, Callisto."
"I'm not condemning you. I'm just telling you the truth. It will be the first thing you ever did to help them, and maybe you won't hate yourself as much if you were no longer a mutant. I see it as an absolute win."
It was such a Callisto way of saying things that it left no room for further interpretation. She wasn't doing this out of spite or anything of the sort. She wanted him to sell his ability to… some guy, leaving him completely human, so she could use the money to take care of the rest of Morlocks.
The rest of the Morlocks.
Ah, so that was where the trepidation came from.
"Will I still be a Morlock?" 'Even if I'm completely human' was the part he just couldn't say. Being a Morlock has been his identity for decades, almost for as far as he could remember.
"If you want to be. If you want to leave then don't come back." She said with casual indifference
He wanted to laugh, but it came out as a gargled croak. He cursed himself once more.
"Everything changed when he came." Masque hissed in venomous hate. "You started changing too. You only cared about keeping them alive and nothing else. You didn't care what I did."
"I don't." Callisto answered. "I hardly do even now… no that is not entirely true. I started caring with disgust when I realized you would continue doing so even when I tell you not to. I told you not to."
"He's not one of us." Masque argued, but even he knew it wouldn't hold. He was trying to mask his excuses as justification.
"Everyone who finds their way there and wants to stay is one of us. Just like I did. Just like you did. Just like Caliban did. Just like he did."
Masque hissed. "THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE GETS TO DECIDE HOW WE DO THINGS!"
"It does." Callisto's reply was sharp and apathetic. To her, Masque's emotions, his opinions, thoughts and feelings, were completely irrelevant. They were to her as the sewer rats. "We fought. He won. He gets to lead. The rules are his to make."
"But–"
"But he decided not to lead after sparing my life and told me to stop what you were doing. I told you to stop and reverse everything you did and what did you do? You refused my orders and tried to kill him that night. Tried and failed. If it was me, I would have killed you then and there and you know it. You disobeyed not only his orders, but mine too, then you tried to kill him, and failed too."
Masque grounded his teeth together as that ugly feeling rumbled in his lungs and mixed with his breath.
Mikhail's arrival and subsequent order had stirred up that old bitter hate Masque had tried to forget throughout his life. The beauty of people that looked normal while he looked like a squashed Play-Doh pricked at the bile in his mouth.
"Decide quickly. I don't have all day to spend here. There are dozens of people back at the camp I can easily replace you with. Stop wasting my time."
And that was it. Callisto did not see him as important as he saw himself to her. She never did, while he deluded himself she did.
She let him do what he wanted all this while in the camp, not because she supported him or deferred the authority to him, but because she did not care about the physical appearance of the other Morlocks. Her only concern was that they were safe, fed and housed.
Air left his lungs and suddenly he felt tired… and just nothing. He was so low that he temporarily lost the emotional bandwidth to care about anything else right now.
He looked at the paper and all he could see was that he would finally stop looking like this. He would be losing a part of himself, sure, but it was a part of himself that he always hated. And if he could no longer use his abilities on the other Morlocks, then he hardly saw a reason to care about it.
He would no longer be a mutant as he understood it, and that was fine. As long as he could remain as a Morlock. That was… he could live with that.
"…"
"Sir?"
"…" he let out another breath and took one last look at the paper in his hands. "…. Take it. I'll trade it. Just… just do what you have to do."
He could care about this later. He could care about Callisto and Mikhail later, or hate them. This was probably the only decision he would make in his life without him being pressured or forced to do so. Neither Callisto nor Mikhail could order him to do this, and for now he would take it.
"How are you going to do it?" He asked. If possible, he hoped it wouldn't involve him being strapped to a table.
"Just give me your hand. It'll be done in a short moment. You won't feel a thing, except probably a slight case of vertigo for a few seconds."
Masque didn't know what to expect, only that he was hopeful and that this somehow works out, so he took the man's hands, greatly envying the man's looks and his semi-formal sleeve and vest outfit.
His vision drowned in colors and light and a sensation of loss doused his whole body only for it to be filled with something that was slightly muted. It wasn't that much of a jarring difference, but it was noticeable.
He opened his eyes with a gasp as if he was drowning and finally got to air with his last stroke. Everything was slowly spinning but it wasn't bad enough that he had to keel over for balance.
His vision corrected itself a few seconds later and he saw the man, Isaac or whatever, holding some dark green haze that covered his fist in his hand.
"Nice." Isaac said with a pleased smile as he inspected his work. "Please give me a second."
He retrieved a glass tube from under his counter and funneled the green haze into it before corking it close. They all saw the laze turn into a DNA strain after it settled inside the tube.
"Splendid trade, my dear sir." Isaac said after storing the tube somewhere and shook Masque's hand while making a mirror appear on his other one.
He let Masque get dumbstruck at his new(old?) face before calling back his attention to the final stretch of this wonderful trade.
"$14.7 million as agreed. Mind you, I'll be deducting the price of the tube as part of the trade." Isaac looked at Masque who could only share a dumb nod. "What would you like it in? Cash, deposit, store credit, or in gold – conversion costs apply. Or perhaps you would like to purchase something?"
Masque could hardly think about anything else as he was lost in the recent memory of his normal looking face and smooth tumor-free body.
"Give me the top. She gets the remaining $10 mil." He said, his non-gargling croaked voice sounding both strange and soothing to his ears. "Is there a way you can help me with that?"
"I can create an obscure bank account for you for the cost of $50,000. Are you okay with that?" Isaac asked as his hands got to working while Masque nodded absentmindedly.
After receiving the details to his bank account(which was prepared very fast, in less than 2 minutes), Masque retreated a few steps from the counter to bask dazedly in his new state while Callisto started talking to the Merchant, Isaac.
He remained in his jaded flow even when they returned to the tunnels, even through the surprised horror on everyone's faces when they realized who he was, until he got to his tent and fell atop his padded bed to sleep.
He didn't know what Callisto bought with the money or what she planned to buy, but to his credit that was the farthest thing from his mind. There was hardly any thought in his mind, even until he fell asleep, and even then there was no dream. Just a feeling of openness and possibly… relief.
––––––
The days that followed after his wonderful trade with Callisto were eventful to say the least.
Instead of a repeat customer, he had somehow managed to procure a customer base. He didn't really care about the nature of their trade, as long as a trade was had. That was the whole thing. It was why the Union existed. To give people what they wanted.
So yes, he didn't really care about the fact that he was buying what could be argued as priceless(negatively literal) mutations. As already established, the lesser valuable things in his inventory would be sold off in bulk to other entities.
Merchants weren't the only ones out there that dealt in some sort of interdimensional trade. Most times, the younger and small-time Merchants lacked the capital to buy any meaningful bulk of goods from them, something that was both understandable and expected and because the Trade must go on, they then turn to other entities and organizations who are more than happy to buy off the leftovers in their inventory.
While the Union was a massive organizational entity, it wasn't the only one out there, nor was it the largest. And besides, the Union wouldn't have been able to grow itself to its current behemoth existence if it only traded with itself.
When Merchants grew to a certain level, most of them were sought out by agents of other entities, and for Isaac, he had contacts of agents in two of, if not, the largest organizations in his sphere of influence.
The Company and The Guild.
These were the two of the oldest organizations out there, even older than the Union, and between the both of them, the Guild, with its chaotic code of conduct, was Isaac's most frequent customer any time he closed up shop.
Even their agents were such mischief gremlins that their most preferred purchases were bad goods – the more damaged it was the better.
A ring that summons a protective barrier but shaves away your lifespan with every use? Let me see that. Oh this serum causes major biological deformity but grants slightly enhanced human capabilities? Hm, not bad at all. A magical tattoo that causes horrific nightmares, cripples your immune system, makes you weak at night, gives you partial blindness during the day, moderately robs your sense of hearing and taste, attracts monsters towards you and makes them frenzied? Give me your whole stock and I'll put a down-payment for the next one.
The agents were just every bit crazy as their clients but Isaac wasn't one to judge. As long as a trade was had, he didn't care about his customer's 'seemingly' destructive tendencies.
It was because of this certainty that Isaac wasn't exactly unwilling to buy the… more defective X-genes as he knew exactly who he would be selling it to for profit. This wasn't to say that he didn't make a sale to Callisto, because he did.
Yeah, she could throw around the icy glare and intimidating posture all she wanted, but there was no way she could hide the genuine interest(more like salivating intensity) when she saw what she could get from the small fortune she was amassing.
—Salamander Dagger (Lies of P): A fully upgraded dagger designed to make the embedded Ergo generate Overheat. It was created by Alchemist defectors for a special purification ritual, which, good for them(they definitely needed it).
Well now you've got a super finely crafted dagger that deals intense fire damage with every slice.
*The dagger possesses an ignite function that drains more power from the Ergo source to vastly increase its fire damage.
Price: $6,820,000.
To say she was one happy customer would be both a truth and a lie because she expertly hid her reaction upon her purchase but it didn't matter because Isaac could clearly see that oh-so-familiar glint in her eyes.
That wasn't the only thing she bought. She just couldn't get enough of it, but at least she made sure to go for a practical choice.
—Mad Eye Moody's Magical Eye (Harry Potter): The ultimate replacement. A glowing electric-blue magical eye that spins.
If that is not enough, it also sees through walls, invisibility as well as provides a 360° vision.
Price: $2,402,000.
As if that wasn't enough, she also bought a nifty thing that she wrapped around the eye-catching eye.
—Tattered Mage's Cloak (Dragon Age): This junk? It's just a torn piece of cloth with frayed edges and fading glyphs.
*It grants, at most, +5% to Mana/Stamina regeneration.
Price: $7,380.
Honestly, wrapping the tattered cloth over the magic eye, both to hide it and to supply it trickles of magic to boost its abilities, however minuscule the boost was, was a genius purchase and efficient use. Isaac had been pleasantly surprised by Callisto's ingenuity with that little decision.
It also paired well with her X-gene— which she had let him appraise, and was valued at $29,000,000— which gave her, not enhanced physicality and senses, but actual superhuman physicality and senses, along with superhuman reflexes, intuition and regeneration.
If there was anything that Isaac loved about being a Merchant was the scalable market and how erratically it could fluctuate depending on where he was.
For example, the tattered cloak was literally just a piece of cloth he picked up from the ground in some ruined castle.
The eye, now that required some patience to be able to get it for cheap. Nothing a good trade and batter couldn't fix, especially when he had a full shelf of rare magical tomes staring straight at the impressionable young boy.
As for the dagger, well that he actually paid for, but it was nowhere as expensive as he had to sell it. Less than even a fraction of it.
It wasn't that he was purposely raising the prices through the roof. This dimension practically lacked a magical community which further increased the rarity of these kinds of items, like the eye and the dagger, as well as give value to a piece of rag.
Those were the only things Callisto bought for herself, as she spent a tiny fraction of the returns from selling a few defective X-genes to purchase things for her community, like bulk purchases of tents and blankets sets that filters the air, provides extra comfort and boosts recovery and rest with every session of sleep.
He tried to interest her with magical seeds but she declined, citing that they lacked the soil and sun to properly grow them. Well, at least he got a few things that were sure to interest his roster of eccentric clients from the Guild and the Company.
—Anomalous Fly Mutation X-gene: You are a fly. That's it. You are a human-sized fly. In fact, you're more fly than human. Except that, well, you can't fly(which is the only human trait you have).
Trivia: A fly has a lifespan of 15 – 30 days, luckily for you, that doesn't apply to you. Unfortunately for you, you have a lifespan of 15 – 30 years.
P.S: Never forget, you're a human-sized fly. Do with that information what you will.
—Vitiated Polymerized Biology X-gene: You're made of plastic, down to your very cells. You effectively exhibit plastic-like traits on command, turn your body into plastic, and fuse with other plastics of the same type as you.
… You're polystyrene. Your breaking point is that of Tupperware. And yes, you break. And melt.
On a less important note, every time you turn into plastic or exhibit its properties, it becomes harder to revert back. Use it too much and you'll turn into a plastic statue— which means you die in a pose, choose wisely.
—Energy Absorption X-gene: You can completely absorb any type of energy into your body, and can also attract them towards you in a 10m radius. Heat, cold, lightning, kinetic , gamma radiation, psionic waves, magic, dark matter, gravity – you are the perfect recipient of any and all forms of energy that no residue is left in your immediate vicinity after absorption.
You also possess zero immunity or resistance towards these energies other than what your body naturally provides.
Fire will burn you from inside out. Cold will drop your inner heat, ergo, you die. Lightning? New type of rare steak. Gamma, psionic, dark matter? If you survive, be sure to leave us a review.
These three were not the only ones he got but were some of the best highlighters from the list of X-gene he bought from Callisto and her Morlocks.
They cost a fraction of what Masque's mutation cost, as even these three combined cost less than $150,000, but the addition of the bulk he bought did cost up to some pretty millions. All in all it was a great trading session.
The kids were happy, Callisto was happy, even if she tried to hide it, and Isaac was happy. The customer is happy, the Merchant is happy.
As for his other customer of interest, Mikhail, the big guy was still thinking about Isaac's recommendation of weapons and came in one day to appraise his X-gene to see if it would help with the cost.
The price of his X-gene was so atrocious that he considered selling it for a brief second. He didn't, but the thought became familiar.
Upon seeing Mikhail's internal dilemma, Isaac gave him his professional suggestion. For example, instead of getting the Yamato, he could get a one-use item to get where he wanted to go and for the weapon, Murasame (Akame ga Kill), Soul Split Katana (Jujutsu Kaisen) and Tessaiga (Inuyasha) were all good alternatives.
Isaac rolled out a catalog of weapons within his X-gene price range and effectively made Mikhail adjust his priorities. As for what those priorities were, Isaac was sure he would be seeing them in the near future.
.
.....
The Morlocks, in the span of a few weeks, had witnessed the kind of change none of them would have ever expected to see in their life.
As a forgotten and unneeded demographic, they were well used to surviving by the edge of their teeth and playing with the worst set of cards life gave them, but the recent weeks has seen a stark change to that cosmic balance.
Good tents that didn't leak and beddings that for the first time in a long time made them feel like they were sleeping on beds, good beds, not the bedbug-ridden and chopped foam some of them slept on. They had clean, crystal clear water and good healthy food down in depths of the tunnel under New York city.
And that wasn't the last of it.
Humans. They could be humans again. Most of them that had mutations that threatened their lives, affected their livelihood, and were downright cancerous had traded their mutation for a chance at life again.
Masque was the first to do it and even though it left mixed feelings with most of the Morlocks, it was a proof of concept that they could change their lives.
Whatever they sold their mutations for, Callisto made sure that they donated a good part— a good 50% that is— of it to the camp and the rest they could keep for themselves in case they wanted to go live on the surface or were saving it for a rainy day.
If they decided that they wanted to go live on the surface, Callisto made sure that Dreamer erased all their memories of the Morlocks and implant fake ones. It was a little harsh but no one could argue with Callisto against it, not even Mikhail, as they all knew the risks.
For those that became humans but decided not to leave, well nothing much really changed for them except adjusting to life without their crippling mutation, which was a positive step-up all things considered.
However, it wasn't without its own set of issues as there were some of the Morlocks who saw the act of parting with their X-gene as a betrayal to their identity as Morlocks. There was slight tension in the camp as the murmurs grew and some started suggesting that they send all the humans back to the surface, but it was instantly killed in its infancy by a stern Callisto after the first altercation broke out.
A very serious threat of forcefully wiping the memories of anyone who thought so and sending them up to the surface with their mutations shut up the last grumbles of dissent.
It was either that or they gave her an excuse for her to use her new daggers on a person. Fortunately for them and unfortunately for her, the Morlocks knew her well enough to know when she was in a murderous mood so they wisely swallowed their misgivings and kept it in their dreams.
.
.....
"What do you mean?" a rigid voice spoke through a speaker, and even though it remained calm and neutral, there was a natural sharp pressuring edge to it that pricked at the ears and the spine of the listener.
"It's not clear yet, but something has clearly happened down there to bring about all this change. The news is fairly recent."
"How certain are you?" the voice from the speaker asked, making the listener hesitate for a moment before giving their reply.
"I can't be sure until I check it out for myself. Even if it's not true, there is no denying that something actually happened to spark such a rumor."
The voice did not immediately reply, going silent for a few seconds, before responding after an irritated grumble.
"Find out that it is and track it down." The voice ordered, and added after a short pause. "And be quick about it?"
They scoffed. "When have I ever been late?"
"A rhetorical question, I'm sure." The voice said dryly and promptly cut the call, eliciting a faux offended gasp from the former listener.
"Rude." The voice said with personal amusement before clicking their tongue as a new irritation set it. "Now, what the hell is this about?"
.
.
.
.
.
A/N: I put Callisto's X-gene at 29 mil. At first I thought it was too expensive but then I remembered that this is marvel and saw that it was actually dirt cheap given that Cap's super soldier serum is a multi-billion fruit punch, and that no one in their right mind in Marvel would sell it for less. So in a way, it might seem that Isaac is actually ripping them off and technically he is.
It's simple demand and supply. The market favors him as abilities like these are dime a dozen in his shop.
So the equation is:
If Marvel-verse(Mv) = Superhuman abilities, X-gene, and tech is cheap(ST), then Magic items, exotic fruits and cursed tools(MT) are expensive, as long as the Merchant(M) is constant.
∴ Mv = M(-ST) +M(MT)
––––––
The average daily life of Peter Parker.
Now that would be a catchy title for a documentary or a biography of his life and would get the audience hooked on from the start since it alluded without alluding to his life not being completely average. Extra points to the director if they managed to perfectly catch the transition between the average daily Peter Parker life and the dark unordinary secret of his life that the title promised without promising.
It would automatically win a few Academy Awards if they stuck to the source material and added a few key Uncle Ben quotes in grey frames and somber music playing in low volume in the background at opportune timing, like when he found himself at pivotal crossroads and had to make a decision that drove his life further from average.
Junior high school would be the formative arc and the initial introduction of the core characters. Here is where the trauma/character development stimulus and (supposed)genius intellect will be briefly shown. Where the expected path of his life will be foreshadowed, which also foreshadows the pivotal divergence.
The template for his character will be exercised – nerdy, antisocial, purported genius, kind, pushover – which will lead to the most important arc: senior high school.
The failed romance, the pining, the rebellious phase, the tragedy, Aunt May's cold pasta, the bullying, the letdown, the pushback, the accident, the realization — the choice.
The audience will be left stunned as the tone suddenly changes and the dark clouds sets over. It will already be too late when they realize that the average daily life stopped sometime ago.
No mood will be allowed to settle in for too long as they will keep changing things up with flashbacks every time a decision is to be made. The decisions will be the highlight of the whole thing.
If the director needed a global recognition then adding key visuals of Aunt May and at least three scenes of her perfect Sunday pasta was unnegotiable. If executed perfectly, it would earn a few nominations and at least one major film award.
While it won't hit that legendary billion dollar summit, or even the five hundred million dollars greatness milestone, it would smash the box office in its opening weekend.
At the end of the movie, people will trudge out of the theater in dumbstruck awe and ask themselves the same question Peter was likely asking himself at every point of the documentary.
Like right now.
'How did I get myself into this mess?'
Almost a year since he got bitten by that one radioactive spider, and a few months of him officially being The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man – with the suit, logo and everything – and he'd been content with dealing with thugs, robbers, organized crimes and other no-do-gooders in small, normal Queens and its environs. He was perfectly okay with that. He had zero complaints when dealing with thieves and criminals with guns.
'How did I get myself into this mess?' He just hoped the documentary would get it right because he had absolutely no clue how this even started.
Why did he suddenly get a supervillain? Why before Christmas? And why did he look like the Explicit Content modern retelling of the Grinch?
"What did Christmas ever do to you? Guess who's still on the naughty list this year?" He might have or not have joked about the green imp's seasonal getup. That might also have been before or after he called the glider an inferior imitation and that it couldn't do what Rudolf did in one foggy night.
Something might have happened around or between the statements because he suddenly found himself crashing into a building and crashing into a family's lunch.
He had hardly gotten himself off the broken table and was in the middle of an apology to the terrified family when they heard the maniacal laughter careening towards them.
"You even got the laugh wrong. Do your research!" a web splurge covered the cosplaying Grinch's face as he flew over, and two stretched webs to either side of the broken walls shot him towards the blinded Grinch like a catapult.
"This is why no one likes sequels to classics." He punched the jade menace across the face, sending him flying off the glider which didn't hesitate to do a small loop and fly towards its rider.
"I will fillet your flesh off your bones, insect!" The open-budget Grinch roared which caused Peter to hang his head low in disappointment from where he was perched on the side of a building.
The. Grinch. Doesn't. Roar. He. Snarls!
"Get it right!" Peter shouted as he swung over with practiced flair. "If you're going to pirate a classic, at least get the subtitles right!"
He shot a few web bullets but the dude dodged them and rushed at him with his rebranded deranged cackling. Peter dodged the bull rush by hopping web strings but this new guy was even faster as he surfed his glider in a sharp upward turn and cut the webs and caught Peter by the neck.
"Insignificant worm." The shrill anger was grating to Peter's ears but he forced through it and the suffocating grip to croak out something of utmost importance.
"Your last words perhaps?" The weird elf asked with sinister glee.
"… rch…..d…et…..r…"
"Hahaha, be polite and speak loudly." The schizophrenic elf brought him closer so Peter tried again with more force through the crushing hold on his throat.
"A spider… is an… Arachnid. Get. It. Right."
"You vermin!"
"A..rachnid." Peter croaked as the new local bully wound his other hand up for a gut punch but Peter webbed up his face again and drew it in for a headbutt that rattled his skull a little, like a tiny bit. The guy faltered and his grip weakened but Peter did not instantly peel away as he instead pulled in the webbed head for another headbutt.
This one did the trick as the hover board wobbled erratically as its rider lost balance. Peter wasted no time as he wounded up the Spider-Man special as he pulled away and webbed up a nearby wall and the intense cosplayer.
Using the force of his swing, he grunted as the muscles in his other hand coiled as he used one hand to swing the guy into the wall of another building.
The moment the guy slammed against the building, he started peppering him with a rain of web bullets and instantly cocooned him to the wall before physics did its thing.
He landed on the wall and squatted above the masked head. "Guess who's not stealing Christmas this time?"
Instead of snarling— or roaring as this pirated copyright did— the first phase boss started laughing which raised Peter's hackles as he recognized that he just transitioned into a cut scene. His enhanced senses floored out and quickly drew his head to the whirring and clicking of the floating saucer.
"What makes you think you've won? How about this little gift to celebrate our first meeting?"
Two mini turret jutted out of the glider, Peter's spider senses that were ringing before started blaring, and then started shooting things into the sky.
"Pumpkins?"
"Hahahaha!" The psycho continued laughing but Peter had already kicked off the wall after the falling pumpkins as the pitched up humming and this particular tempo of his spider senses told him that those were likely explosives.
The laughter behind him grew even more deranged as it grew farther until it just stopped. The madman had escaped.
Peter did not dwell on it as he webbed up three pumpkins and held it tightly against himself like eggs on sale. He kicked another one towards him as he swung by to web up two more.
It was a tense midair juggle as he hurried to catch all of them as the humming turned into a high pitch. The last one had already bounced off a building and was falling over a crosswalk where people were gathered and watching him.
Things like wind resistance and angle of elevation came easy and instinctive to him when he started swinging so he didn't think too much about it and shot a web downwards that looked agonizingly slow to him even as it crossed the distance in a fraction of a second and grabbed the ticking pumpkin.
A simple thought and the relaxing of his danger sense made him pull the bomb up and threw the web of pumpkin bombs up as well, just a moment before it blew up in a huge explosion whose resulting force sent him flying to the ground as a potential red splat, which he narrowly avoided by webbing up an exposed beam on a billboard and used it to bungee jump onto the roof of a nearby building.
He waved down awkwardly as some people panicked, some cursed loudly, while some cheered at him.
"What the hell, Spider-Man? You made me drop my burger. Warn a brother next time before you pull shit like this!"
".. Sorry." Peter winced in embarrassment as he mouthed off a few apologies to the grumbling crowd before slinking away.
His mind was fully on the worrying appearance of whoever that man was as he swung down one of his preferred alleyways and changed out of his suit.
He winced at the welts that were on his shoulders, chest and back as he threw on his shirt. The guy was strong, strong enough that he was clearly enhanced in some way and psychopathic to boot.
Nothing ever happens in Queens, so why would a villain ever show up here? And there was the level of tech.
That was not something that could be knocked up in a sectioned room that gave away a part of its birthright to be half the room it used to be but also allows it to function as an all-purpose science lab, nor was it built in the garage of an obsessed ambitious engineer. Those refinements were hi-spec and that meant equipment that had acronyms for names and cost millions of dollars at a minimum.
"This is bad. This is really bad." And here is the part where Peter Parker belatedly realizes that he unknowingly just took another step that strayed him further from an average life.
If only he could have gotten something from their battle, like a dud pumpkin bomb or a part of the glider, that he could dismantle and start his search for clues.
"How did my life get to this point?" He moaned in misery as he hurried back home.
He was behind on two assignments and his attendance record was getting some splotches, and in return for the rising threats to his academics, the universe rewards him with a villain in the middle of the day and forced him to skip last period as well.
.
...…..
.
The Grim Reminder watched with complete apathy as the group of lowlifes skittered into the empty building through the front door that they easily picked.
To enable their sick gains, they had no qualms with killing anyone who they felt would be too much of a complication or might inadvertently lead the police into securing their arrest. The Punisher would endeavor to repay the favor. They would not live past this night.
He watched as they all entered the house. He could read the sheer excitement that rolled off their body at what they thought would be an easy job since no one was home.
He has been tracking them for days now and today just so happens to be their unlucky day.
He stepped out from where he hid in the darkness and strolled towards the house and entered it with a calm stride and silent footsteps.
The first guy that was still lounging around the living room looking for something of value to pilfer was the first casualty of the night, and he should have been thankful for it.
The Punisher covered his mouth from behind and snapped his neck without so much as a second thought.
One down. Six to go.
The second one was coming out from the lounge adjacent to the living room and had a second to register the shock before his friend's knife kissed his throat. He fell with an ungraceful thump.
"Dey, is everything alright down there?" a concerned voice called from the second floor but he got no reply so he called out again. "Dey, Beck, you guys alright?"
The concerned man came out from one of the rooms and leaned over the railings to confirm what was happening downstairs. He gasped as he saw his two friends lying on the ground in the low lighting.
"Gu—mmph!"
Crack.
The words hardly left his lips as someone covered them from behind and crushed his neck with a brutal twist.
"Hey Donny, what's up— holy shit!" The man who came out of the same room as the dead Donny screamed and hastily raised his gun, only for his hand and a part of his stomach to be blasted off by the Punisher's shotgun.
A commotion instantly kicked out and shouts and padded feet echoed from the other rooms but Frank Castle didn't care about it and instead walked towards the screaming man that was trying to hold his stump and stop his guts from spilling out with one hand.
He stepped on the man's stump, eliciting a shrill scream from the dying man, and levelled the barrel of his gun to his head.
"Your guns. They look clean and expertly modded. Your supplier. Give me his name."
"P…please, I-I didn't do— arck!"
His gargling groveling turned into a tortured squeal as Frank pressed down his foot.
"Name." He said again. The noises were near. He raised his head and raised his gun towards the bend of the hallway and mentally counted down.
The moment a shadow flickered past it, his finger clamped down on the trigger and the new assailant fell down to the ground with brutalized legs.
"Hector! Let's get out of here!"
"B-but Hector, he's… he's…"
"He's dead. Let's get out of here, Drew. He's dead!"
"He's…he's my brother."
Frank looked down at the man that was slowly going into shock and pressed his foot down on the hand despite the weak groans.
"Name."
"Pawnshop. D-Dre k-knows…." Frank dispassionately stepped over the man who just fainted and ignored the other one with the busted legs as he was currently on his last breath.
He turned back and went downstairs and walked around the house to catch the last two hopping over the small fence with their 'hustle' slung over their shoulders in a black bag.
He was completely calm and unhurried as he brought out a pistol and shot the both of them at their pelvis, effectively compromising their waist bone, i.e their motor functions.
They slipped down the fence with pained groans that came out as half whispers and half screams.
Two more shots to their shoulders stopped them from being able to grip their gun.
There was no joy to be had in this as he did not do it for vain satisfaction. Not for any moral justice or immoral revenge. He did it because he wanted to. Just the way they decided to kill and rob, so also did he decide to kill them. It was as easy as that.
He used his foot to flip them over and levelled the gun at their heads, eyes dead and empty.
"Guns. Supplier. Name. Now."
"W-why should we t-tell you—arghhh!" The bravado died prematurely as a bullet dug into his kneecap. Two more entered his thighs for good measure.
"Name. Now."
"Y-yes, yes. I'll tell you. Just let us go."
"Name. Now." Frank said and reinforced his words by pointing the gun to the other unharmed leg.
"Junk 'N Stuff." The man huffed with labored breath as feverish sweat coated his forehead and blood smeared his teeth. "Off Queens. Small… small pawnshop. Isaac. That's it. I swea—"
Bang. Bang.
Two swift shots put both men out of their misery as the Punisher got the information he wanted and left. It would be minutes later before the cops showed up but all they came to was seven dead robbers.
––––––
The Punisher watched the nondescript pawnshop from when the sun was up in the middle of the sky to when the sun went down, even until it was total blackout and it was quarter hours to midnight.
He already had the outside layout of the building seared into his mind. The supplier, Isaac, will not be escaping today. He had put an end to two other newly formed gangs that got their supplies from the man in the last two nights.
The fact that all four of the bastards pointed to the same person made him almost certain that the information was golden. He wouldn't be certain until he confirmed it himself.
He had watched kids, elderly and even suspicious people enter and leave his store throughout the day and all it did was make him all the more angry and eager to put an end to this piece of living filth.
Just like every criminal around the globe, he just couldn't be content with his honest trade and let his greed consume him. Well today something else will consume him.
He waited patiently, curiosity almost making him tail the suspiciously dressed group that just left the pawnshop but he decided against it. He would interrogate the pawnbroker about who they were and also his list of clientele.
He looked at the time, a few minutes past 10, and no one had gone in or come out of the shop in the last 10 minutes. It was time.
He finished his fries and crossed the streets by melding into the crowd of people around him. Another good thing was that there were no security cameras in this area.
His overcoat provided the needed coverage for the guns and knives strapped to different parts of his body, even the shotgun that was resting vertically against his spine.
The stores around the shop and even the ones further down the street were already locked down for the day which was another safety net. Even if the police were notified, it would take them no less than 10 minutes to arrive. 10 long minutes for him to retire as a long lost ghost.
He pushed the door slightly, well aware of the bell behind it, and grabbed the bell above him before quietly entering the shop. The door closed softly behind him while his hands tucked under his coat and pulled out his pistols.
He looked around the corners and confirmed what he suspected: that there were no cameras.
He turned around a corner, both hands held forward, and once again he registered no cameras as he stalked closer to the counter.
"… surely not." He could hear the voice of a man, probably Isaac, as he walked towards the last bend. "Don't tell me–"
He whipped around the corner that put him face to face with Isaac who was looking his way with a look of disbelief.
"— that I'll have to start hanging up the sign. Can you please not?"
"Isaac…"
"Sir, I'll ask you to kindly put the gun away for your sake." The pawnbroker said with chiding disbelief.
"For my sake, huh? How funny." The chuckle that followed was a dark one. "You reach under that counter and I'll put two holes in your shoulders." He said as he stormed towards the man who still thought he was safe.
Isaac put down the book he was reading on the counter while his other hand dropped to his side and cocked a deadpan brow as two clicks sounded off.
Frank's eyes twitched but experience held him as he pulled back the gun and cocked them against each other, the weight telling him that, yes, they were fully loaded. He pulled the trigger again, eyes slightly widening, as he felt the gun jam.
In a brief second, before Isaac could make any move, he holstered the guns to his waistline and pulled out the ones on his shoulder straps. He aimed them at the head and let them bang… but bang they did not.
"Okay stop." The man finally said, putting a pause to Frank's motion that was about to uproot his shotgun from his back.
"Just for the façade of civility, I'll ask: what's this about?"
Frank resumed his motion and in one swift movement, he was pointing the barrel of his shotgun at Isaac.
"The guns you've been selling. Who's moving them? Give me their name." Guns of those make that looked like the parts just came out of the factory was not just a simple black market deal. This was more than just arming petty gangs in the neighborhood. This was the work of a crime ring, the cartel, the mafia, hell maybe even the triad. This was huge and this man, Isaac, was one of the retailers.
All these were signs that pointed at a war coming to the Underworld and he needed to know who were the ones pushing it.
Isaac on the other hand looked less than impressed. "If you're asking whether I sell guns, then yeah, they are among the many things I sell. My customers, I don't know most of them, and even if I did I wouldn't be telling you. I'm a Merchant, not an Infobroker. As for my wares, I'm not telling you that. Trade secret."
Frank seethed and cocked the gun. The only reason he hadn't blown out the man's brains was because he had no idea how he was jamming his guns.
"I would like to tell you that no manner of violence is permitted in this place. Your guns won't work, no matter what you do." Isaac said, not really feeling polite towards this extremely rude customer. Even Callisto did not behave this rudely. "With that out of the way, I'll go ahead and ask while I'm still contemplating a full ban and a memory wipe; do you want to buy something?"
"What the hell is this place?" Frank asked. He was as fearless as any man on their deathroad and just as cautious. He could already tell that something weird was going on.
"Junk 'N Stuff. We sell all kinds of junk and stuff and everything in between."
"You sell guns to anyone that walks through that door?" Frank asked sarcastically with a derisive snort.
Isaac nodded with a drag as if it couldn't be anymore obvious. "If that is what they want then that is what I'll sell them."
"…What?" He couldn't believe his ears. He laughed. It sounded raw and also like broken glass scraping against each other. "it's all about the money for you, isn't it?"
Isaac blinked, looking genuinely confused at the question. He gestured to the store with his hand spread apart. "I run a business. While it is my passion, it's also about selling as much as I can. So yes, in a way, it's still about the money."
The Punisher started seeing red at the edge of his vision as he held himself back and gritted his teeth. "And you don't care about the lives they ruin with it, don't ya?"
He decided in his mind that he was torture this man until he started begging for death, and even then he'll make it slow.
"I generally make it a rule not to inquire about the reason for my customer's purchase. The moral dilemma rises with what they do with it, not with me. I doubt who you bought those guns from asked what you wanted to do with it."
"I use it to put sick psychos where they are supposed to be – the ground."
"You don't see me blaming who sold you those guns for your rude behavior, do you?" Isaac looked pleased at the rhetoric. "Now, if you're not here to buy anything then I'll have to ask you to leave. And trust me, you wouldn't want me to make you leave."
"The names. I won't ask again."
Iaaac groaned loudly and slumped his shoulders to show just how fed up he was with all of this. "With all due respect, fuck off, man."
Click. Crack. Click.
He deadpanned at Frank who tried to shoot, failed, cocked the gun and tried again, only to fail again. Finally having enough of this, Frank fished his combat knife and rushed at Isaac who just continued staring at him with growing disbelief.
Isaac finally had enough as he saw Frank trying to jump at him over the counter and decided to put a stop to it.
"What is this?" Frank asked, shock and utter disbelief coating his words as he was frozen midair.
Isaac ignored him as he thought of what to do with his overly rude customer. There was at least one of these types everywhere he set down shop. They were practically a constant to the Trade.
A simple ejection or ban will have him come back and start harassing his customers. There was a harsher verdict should that ever happen but Isaac preferred to completely prevent such a scenario. A mindwipe would save a lot of stress and he wasn't such a slouch that he would leave holes in the memories. These were on the tamer end and going further would… well he didn't see a need.
Frank looked at Isaac with his growing panic. "What are you? Some kind of mutant?"
"Not a mutant, unfortunately."
"What are you doing?"
"Deciding what to do to you." Isaac said plainly. "Well mindwipe it is. I don't really care about your soul."
"Wait!" this was a situation the Punisher has rarely ever found himself in. "Why not just kill me, huh? I might find out about this place again."
Isaac looked at him with raised brows. "Are you that eager to die? If you are then do it elsewhere. As for why, well it's obviously because you kept being violent when I explicitly told you not to."
That made Frank pause. "You're going to erase my memories because I kept attacking, and not because I found out about your operations?"
"Why would I do that because you found out about my shop?" it was said in a way that suggested it was an obviously stupid thing to ask. "Like I said, this is a business. Why would I be upset if someone found my shop?"
Frank's mind raced. The threat of his memories being erased put a genuine fear in his heart that he never expected it to. He couldn't risk anything happening to his memories. He couldn't risk forgetting them. And that fear became real when he saw the harmless-looking shopkeeper's eyes glow and started feeling dizzy.
He grasped at anything he could to stop whatever it is that was about to happen.
"Wait, wait. You said this is a business, right? You don't have a problem with who buys from you, right?" He knew he was sounding desperate but he just couldn't risk anything happening to his memories. It was the only thing he still had.
Isaac paused but still looked impatient. "Yes. I said the same thing a few minutes ago."
"Then I'll buy. As long as you don't touch my head I'll buy from you and I won't tell anyone." Frank was a prideful man. He was rigid and set in his ways and would wholeheartedly prefer death to changing his ways – he knew that. But every man had his weakness. And an oblivious shopkeeper just grabbed his.
His hope cracked when he saw the frown that grew on Isaac's face. "What do you mean you won't tell others? What part of running a business don't you understand? How am I supposed to increase my sales if you don't tell your friends?"
"Huh?"
"Huh what?" Isaac's irritation grew. "Listen man, are you buying or not?"
Frank looked surprised and relieved at the question but he didn't let the question pass safely before he replied. "I'll buy."
Isaac stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if it would be better in the long run to just yeeted him out and be done with it, but he ultimately sighed at the end as there were sales to be made.
"Fine." He said. "But try this again one more time and I'll erase the whole file."
Frank nodded as he was let down slowly. His back was drenched in sweat as if he just escaped the executioner's block.
He slid his gun to his back and looked at Isaac with a new sense of caution. He was always a stubborn man, so he decided to risk it seconds after being cut off the noose.
"Just gotta ask first," he looked at Isaac who reluctantly gestured for him to continue. "Are you affiliated with any gangs or crime families? Just a yes or no."
Isaac looked at the ceiling, existentially fed up with everything at this point. "No. No. Just no. No gang or cartel or anything." He sounded as if he was physically forcing out the words from his mouth. "Now, what the fuck do you want?"
"Guns." Frank replied with zero hesitation. That admission was enough. He'll find out later just how truthful it was.
"What type?"
Frank hesitated for a moment before a ghost of a smile, a very dark one, wormed its way into his face.
"Surprise me."
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