Shaw did not believe in the concept of 'true freedom' or in the idea that someone couldn't be controlled. Everyone had something that they responded and submitted to. The very same anchor they held in their hearts could just as well be a steering wheel to someone who knew how to work it around.
Information, knowledge and might – the first two were the main keys to control, more so than individual might. The three together gave true control and not just the illusion of one.
No one was above control. The only thing was that they could be above someone else's level of control which gave them the illusion of freedom. One of those such figures was Magneto. Even the touted Master of Magnetism had things he stood down to.
Another one was Selene. She was not above control, fight it as fiercely as she did for as long as she's done. He had seen it on a few occasions that there were powers she acquiesced to, and some she dared not to cross. And loathed as he was to admit it, he was lacking in all three when it came to her.
But then came along the 'Merchant' and his unspoken promise to flatten the board. Suddenly Selene was no longer an ally of convenience but was now a temporary associate. The avenues the Merchant promised were on such an astronomically large scale that all of his ambitions felt like backyard schemes. What was the need to curtail the business sector in America when Nick Fury had a starcraft? The existence of the Merchant made apparently clear the level everyone was playing at.
Nick Fury had his eye on the stars, and soon the Avengers would follow. All while he did what? Plan to top Frost International in the next quarterly?
With the existence of the Merchant, his might could exceed what it currently was and with it he could acquire more information, and with that the knowledge of control would be his.
All of this hinged on a simple crux.
Whoever controlled the Merchant controlled the board.
There was simply no way all the groups that were aware of that particular existence were not making efforts to get closer to the Merchant all for the sake of finding a way to control his influence.
Shaw had watched and waited. His investigation into every person of note that was familiar with the shop unearthed two people that frequently visited the shop and spent the longest time inside.
One was a high school student, Peter Parker, with nothing exemplary to his name except some degree of upward intelligence and his romantic inclusion with the daughter of the Captain of the NYPD.
The other was a young lady PI, Jessica Jones, adoptive sister of one Trish Walker, a media curator, both of whom grew up through a troubled and abusive childhood. It seems also that Jessica Jones was likely a mutant with some level of physical enhancements. The last part already made her interesting enough, but it was something else that made her a prime subject.
Out of everyone who frequented the shop, Jessica Jones on average spent at least three times longer inside the shop than anyone else. That information painted a framework.
The structure of her identity and importance however came from the fact that she was the only one to ever be seen with the Merchant outside of his shop. She and Isaac had spent hours from the evening well into the night walking around the city and going for drinks. The surveillance ended when they branched on a path that led straight to Ms. Jones' apartment but what must've potentially transpired was not hard to figure out.
And just like that she had obliviously provided the first piece needed to understand Isaac and his weakness. It was nothing certain but at the very least it was a great start.
All he now needed to do was to wait and watch for the perfect opportunity to act, and that too graciously presented itself to him. In the chaos of a citywide alien attack, it was easy for someone to go missing.
Taking care of the surveillance in that area had been easy enough and just like he planned it, she was soon in his grasp. Losing one of his subordinates was an unfortunate result but a non-issue overall.
He had her scanned thoroughly to make sure she wasn't carrying anything resembling a tracker or a signal cell before restraining her with heavy magnetic cuffs.
Interrogation, torture or having Selene rip out everything from her skull – the choices were all hers to decide from.
He was standing in front of her with his hands clasped behind his back when she returned to consciousness through groggy eyes. He saw the moment she realized that she had been captured and froze.
"Ms. Jones, you're here because of your close proximity with an individual of interest. If you wish for my continued hospitality then I suggest you be forthcoming with your replies, or else I'll be forced to resort to rather unsavory methods."
"Who the fuck are you?" She snarled at him but he remained unfazed in front of her hateful glare.
"I ask the questions, and for your sake do not let me repeat myself." He advised and she nodded twice which was a good—
"Well then, Mr. No name, you're dead. Just a heads up."
Sebastian Shaw did not take kindly to threats but he was also no shallow man that showed offense at every insult. He took it all into himself and let it brew. That was his principle.
"Now Ms. Jones—"
"Hey, mustache man. Where did you put my things? I had one-fifty in my pockets when your goons grabbed me. I'm not leaving here without it." Despite her precarious situation, Jessica kept a casual air and kept staring into Shaw's eyes, already picturing how his cold corpse would look like.
Shaw recognized that look. It was the look he was most familiar with as everyone he's ever dealt with had at one point or another had that same look on them.
For Jessica, the fact that she was chained up in a cell, being looked down upon by a pompous man, made something more darker than hate sit comfortably in her chest.
"Tell me everything you know about Isaac. If you remain uncooperative then I'll have a skilled telepath dig it out of your head." Shaw gave her his final warning but even that too failed to get a reaction out of her.
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...…
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While the city underwent what was probably a limited time event, a stranger wearing an all black business suit calmly stalked down the streets, not at all looking ruffled or panicked by the destruction that was happening in the opposite end of the city.
Even though the fight wasn't anywhere close, for now at least, the smoke could be seen clearly from the skyline by the civilians who smartly hastened their steps home.
The stranger kept a comfort smile on his face as his steps glided through the sizzling chaos, walking with purpose instead of for survival like everyone else.
He made a pause in his walk as he came across two paths: on his right a laundromat and a family restaurant, and on his left was a beaten down road with few shops down its lane. He took the path on his left.
His certain steps continued down it until it came to an assured final stop in front of the nondescript shop that if not for its curious name board, most would not have an interest in entering based on its bland entrance.
He looked down at the knob and allowed a faint smirk to show before reaching for it. He stepped inside and for the first time his steps faltered and broke out of its intended rhythm. He glanced at the door behind him for a brief moment, a look of consideration flashing through his eyes which he replaced with an amused shrugged, and continued on.
His turquoise green eyes carried a studious twinkle as he walked down the aisle of shelves that hosted a few interesting characteristics. At the end of the entrance aisle, he came across the impossible to miss elevated board that had a few rules to it. Ominous writing indeed, what with the finality they carried.
Now he smiled. Satisfied.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned around smoothly, and behind him, carrying two boxes just below his chin.
"Well hello there," the owner of the shop said with a pleased smile, almost intending the stranger would say. "I heard there's quite a ruckus outside."
"Quite so." He replied.
"Excuse me, let me just put this down." The owner went towards the warning board and put the boxes just under it and then brought out a stamp from his pockets and pressed it into the boxes.
"Just had to clear the backrooms for a bit. Figured I'd move some of the old boxes out." The owner came forward and stretched out his hand. "Name's Isaac. Merchant. I own this little rickety place."
He looked at the hand for a second before taking it.
"Loki. And you're right, it could look a lot better than this." Loki's green eyes held a dizzying light in them as he looked at the owner, Isaac. "Quite the prestigious little trade you're peddling down here."
Isaac laughed. "Well, thank you. It's my life's work and so far it has been fulfilling." Nothing could be gleaned from Loki's thoughts as he beheld Thor's benefactor. "You're free to browse through anything you find interesting while you wait out the little ruckus outside."
That was it, wasn't it?
"And who is that little write up for? Surely it must be a pain when people constantly break it when it's boldly written a few feet from them."
Isaac looked at the sign and shrugged. "Well there have been few breaches but so far it has applied to everyone who has broken it. No exception. No matter who they are." It was said with such casualness that it was impossible to glean the truth or lies behind them, even for the God of Lies.
"I've heard words but what exact trade do you ply down here?" He looked around, expression neutral while his eyes shone, making unknown what his true thoughts were.
"Most of what you'll ever want, and few of what you never thought to desire."
Something bled off Loki's edge at that proclamation and turned cool. Whether for better or worse remained unknown.
"To claim the bounty to sustain my grandest ambitions. Boastful, ignorant or foolish – which do you say?" He stepped closer to the man and stared deep into his eyes, eyes daring him to repeat again such an affront.
"In my humble capacity, the only concession I would make for that statement is that I have a negligent inventory of things pertaining to this dimension. In the same vein, I assure the compromise of a long range of better, stronger and more reliable alternatives."
"And pray tell, what inspires that confidence so?" Loki asked. "How can a mortal dare to claim he can sustain the ambitions of a god?"
"Customer reviews." Isaac replied without missing a beat. "It's mostly word of mouth, but all of them have been nothing but glowing."
Loki looked at him, wondering if this was really the precursor to Thor's boon. Then again this seemed like the type of foolery then brute would happily go alone with.
He stepped back. Two exact steps.
"And what will you take in exchange?" He asked. Thor definitely did not get that for free. Or maybe he did. This was Thor after all, glorious prince and all that.
"Currency or items of equal value. My items perform as advertised and they are backed by a policy that will reimburse you in any capacity if they don't." Isaac said, hair framing his glasses and giving him the look of a certain scholar Loki knew. "Do you perhaps have anything in mind?"
"Surprise me." The assured smile came back in place as he followed Isaac back to his counter.
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