Heavy rainfall beat silently against the windows of the shop while intense flashes of lightning showed just how strong their assault was. What a shame that their gallant efforts were rendered mute against the policies of the shop. Threatening winds and vibrating panes after all could affect a customers state of mind when it came to purchasing decisions. The lightning flashes on the other hand – with the dimmed sounds from the thunder – only added to the chaotic ambience of the shop.
All that could be heard from the envelope of the shop was the rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the glassy panes.
It was in this tempestuous weather that a man in a dark colored coat and a stylized helmet walked into the shop without so much as a wet smudge on his clothes. His looks toed the fine like between middle-aged and elderly.
He walked in with the quiet confidence of a man who knew exactly where he was and knew exactly what he came to get. He didn't pay any attention to things on the shelves, maybe an idle glance, and kept his path straight until he arrived at the counter, in front of the man he came to meet.
"Isaac," he greeted.
"Mr. Lehnsherr, a good day to you," Isaac replied in kind while cleaning a set of golden chalices with a napkin, and with his usual semiformal attire, he looked more like a barman than a broker.
Erik Lehnsherr, or as his alias would rather depict him, Magneto, waited patiently with the regal gait of a man of class as Isaac quickly put aside the chalices and turned to him.
"What can I help you with today, sir?" The strange Merchant asked. Unlike the wishy washy behavior of those of the X-Men, Erik saw no problem with soliciting the Merchant's help to further his own goals. Charles' crippling morality, even in front of such an avenue, was the only thing keeping his old friend on the backfoot. Even Fury had gotten a leg up past them and yet Charles – or it might even be the X-Men this time – was still proceeding with caution.
Slowly, tentatively, he removed his helmet and handed it over to Isaac.
"I need a replacement. Something more discreet. Perhaps even ambiguous in nature."
Isaac took the helmet, looked at it with an interested gleam that Erik had learnt to notice was his unbridled interest.
"For a replacement, then I'm guessing you're looking for something that carries the same anti-psychic properties, correct?"
"That would be so."
"Seeing the make of this piece, I can't help but be intrigued. Say, would you be interested in selling this? I will make sure you're thoroughly and fairly compensated, should you be so inclined."
Now that didn't surprise Erik as much as it should have, given what he had come to expect from Isaac. The whole debacle with Charles' wheelchair and Summer's visor was an important piece of information his old friend made available to him.
It was also a complete irony that the reason he came here today was for a substitute – a discreet one – for the helm. Looking at the helmet now, he couldn't help but see his identity in the curved matte surface. It wasn't the identity per se, but rather the moniker of who Magneto was in the shape of an item.
He had a practical attachment to it but he also couldn't deny that there was also a bit of a sentimental one.
"Interested?" In the recesses of his mind, Erik rather found it unnerving how easy it was for this being that called itself 'Isaac' to get his way every time said subject was a trade. It was like he knew what his customers wanted and only offered suggestions based on that want, giving them less and less chance to refuse the deal he put in front of them.
"As long as you make it worthwhile."
"Perfect, first things first: mental health," he carefully put down the helmet and started bringing and summoning items to the table.
"Customers favorite: Occlumency." He held up a little tube filled with glowing blue lights while the others were laid out in front of him.
—Skill/Trait: Occlumency (Harry Potter): The skills of an experienced Auror with decades of service under his belt. The perfect magical knowledge for every social activity or impersonal subterfuge. With this level of skill, perfect control over one's expressions and emotions is given – obviously – and getting into your mind is a fool's task.
—Mindshield (XCOM 2): A powerful psionic artifact that renders the wearer completely immune to any negative mental conditions including panic, mind control, stuns, and disorientation. Does not prevent direct damage from psionic attacks.
—Cloak of Cosmic Whispers (D&D Homebrew): A shimmering cloak made of ever-shifting mist that grants immunity to charm and domination, and resistance to psychic damage.
—Skill/Trait: Mind Control Resistance: Often attributed to intense conditioning or training, this skill provides personal protection that scales with your overall power and mental fortitude.
—Skill/Trait: Mind Palace: Grants absolute control over your mind, granting immunity to all mind abilities below Mythical level. It also enhances thought speed, grants perfect memory, and allows you to alter your mental landscape at will.
"How about these? If these aren't what you're looking for then I'll need your preferences to narrow down the list before we can move forward."
Erik took the vial from Isaac's hand, and read the label tag slapped around it. While he did acknowledge the arcane arts and the strength of the few practitioners he knew of, it wasn't a practice that called out to him in any way. Occlumency was not what he needed.
He looked through the others: the artifact, the ephemeral cloak and the other two vials. The two magical-inclined items were out for the same reason as Occlumency, while he didn't doubt their use and effect – this was Junk 'N Stuff – it would better his home to focus on his mutation than his negligible talent for magic.
"How do these work?" He raised the vial labeled 'Mind Palace'. "Do I have to chug this down?"
"Any form of contact will do. You can inhale it if you want or pour it on your skin." Isaac shrugged. "Or if you are so inclined, you can chug it down."
Then his eyes zeroed down to the price tag. He didn't choke. That would be beneath him. Instead he simply regarded Isaac with a raised brow.
"You're sure the helmet will cover this?" He asked. He did bring along an object for exchange but he assumed the list of items Isaac had brought was within the helmet's budget.
"Quite." Isaac assured but Erik wasn't fully convinced.
"I doubt its use can be compared to what this does."
The Merchant nodded in understanding as if this was a point he was used to making. "That's because I don't intend to sell it as a functional item. It's more of a—"
"Decorative piece?"
Isaac actually nodded. "People would pay ridiculous amounts of money just because this is Magneto's helmet."
"Just because?"
"I'm guessing you've never been to Comic-Con." Just then the bells jingled, showing that someone just entered the shop.
"Woah! So fricking cool!!" Erik relaxed. It was a child. Such genuine wonderment could not be displaced in anyone else. "Ohhh! A LIGHTSABER!"
There was a little bump and tumble – tell signs of a clumsy child – but nothing sounded broken. He looked at Isaac, who looked amused, and back to the entrance where the child was soon to make his entrance.
Middle school. One of the nearby schools near the train station. The time fit since it was the nearest middle school around, and given the brewing storm outside, the child was likely finding somewhere to duck under rather than browsing through shelves in a pawnshop.
The moment the child caught sight of them, the expected embarrassment instantly fizzled out as his eyes lit up in recognition and pointed his finger at them.
"Magneto!"
As a reflex, Erik's fingers flexed as a magnetic wave spread out through the shop to take control, only for him to realize instantly where he was—also because his ability failed to register any metal under his control.
He glanced at Isaac, letting out a silent sigh of relief when the ever attentive shopkeeper remained silent. As if to make him more of a senile old man, the child rushed past him and that was when he realized.
"Where did you get this?! Gosh, it looks so much like the real thing." The boy knocked on it and gasped. "Sick! And it's made of metal too."
Right. The child recognized the helmet. Not the man who wore it. Obviously not many would recognize the man who wore it any more, not with the way he looked.
"How much?" The child asked, still very in his excited state.
"Well, I'm yet to buy it, so…" Isaac looked at him, which in turn made the child look at him. And continue staring.
"Is there something on my face, child?" The child made a face at his question and looked at him with a rising suspicion.
"You look like my dad. Aren't you a little too old to be cosplaying?" The pure inquisitiveness in his tone made it clear that it was simply a child being a child, lacking a social filter as usual and not trying to be particularly rude to strangers. Still the question did take him a bit around the left field as no manner of reply would fully satisfy the child, curious creatures as they were.
"It's an old keepsake. From an old friend." He replied evenly. Denying a child an answer to their curiosities was the folly of a fool.
Again, the child gave him a strange look. "You speak weird, kinda like my grandpa."
"Then your grandfather must be wise then."
The child shrugged, turning to face the helmet once more. "I dunno. He's dead."
Erik sighed.
He looked at Isaac and asked. "You were saying?"
"So cool!" He ignored the child who just now discovered the weird glowing vials on the countertop.
"Right." Isaac brought out his invoice. "For this stated piece, this is what I can offer you."
He took the piece of paper, saw the figures written on it, and nodded calmly. "I'll take it."
—Magneto's Helmet: When you see this, you know that there is only one figure that comes to mind: the one and only Master of Magnetism, misunderstood as he may be(was he? Really?).
The genuine article, a 1 of 1(?). Sadly, it doesn't make you a master of magnetism, but instantly makes you look like one.
Price: $17,500,000.
Erik uncorked the vial and the white fluorescent glow of the Mind Palace flowed into his nostrils. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he opened them, there was a clarity to his eyes that wasn't there before. He looked down at his palms and flexed his fingers. Even though his abilities were restricted in the shop, he could feel that there was now something… more to it. Almost like a mental block had been lifted.
"I'll take another one." The vial of Mind Palace cost ten million, he had enough money to balance the exchange instead of resorting to the original trade he had come here for.
"Is that drugs? Mister, are you doing drugs?" His liberated mind was tugged at full attention to the child who was now looking at him with something his mind clearly cataloged as disappointment.
"No." The reply came out sudden and brisk. "No, I'm not." He tried again, slower and softer this time.
"I'm simply taking my medications, child." The lie came out unobstructed and confident. This one he found hard to blame on his new mental clarity.
Now the child looked sad. "My grandpa used to take his medicines too, but they didn't work. Mom said that's why he died. Do old people die when they get sick?"
He handed Isaac his card, shaking his head as he replied. "No, child. They don't."
He took his card and turned around to leave, muttering under his breath as he did. "This old man didn't."
.
.
.
"He's dying isn't he? Poor old man." A child said sadly in front of a strange shopkeeper.
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