Credit to the both of them, they smoothly covered up their brief lapse and looked even more interested as they leaned forward against the counter and watched his every move with sharp, hawk-eye.
"And we're just supposed to take your word for it?" Clint asked, pulling the perfect act of a doubting client. "I'm not talking about the copycat rip-offs flooding the market. I'm talking about the clean stuff: biologically compatible, no side effects."
They slightly tensed up and their fingers inched towards their hidden weapons when Isaac adjusted his glasses as they watched for any follow-up movements which never came.
"No worries. You came to the right place." Isaac reassured them with a confident smile.
Clint scoffed, while Natasha used the brief window where Isaac turned to him to fully survey the shop and the haphazard assortment of items displayed in every corner.
"I hope so. Someone referred you to us in confidence, and I would hate to be disappointed after all I've heard of you." Clint said with potent frown lines marring his face.
It was frankly impossible how instantly they had jumped from a shaky desperate lead to a jackpot in seconds, but Clint and Natasha were nothing if not experienced and committed to the bit.
There was still a good chance that this was all a hoax, and whether or not it was, Isaac—if that was his real name— was already a name on a list: that much Clint was certain of.
Isaac chuckled. "Well, I can't have that now, can I? It will be bad for business if I fail to meet up to expectations."
They watched Isaac, from both ends of the counter, open a drawer and bring out a book that he started reading through; a book that sweetly made itself a priority item on Clint and Natasha's list.
"Hmm, not as robust a list to make its own catalog. Unfortunately, I can't really do anything about that." They heard him mutter to himself as he flipped through the pages of the book.
He closed the book and looked at them, slightly apologetic. "Normally I would have you look through the catalog to compare the options yourselves but it's quite a rare commodity that I don't have enough options to make up a standard catalog."
"And how big is your standard catalog?" Natasha interjected into the conversation with an amused and interested leer to her voice.
"A minimum of a hundred options for the standard catalog." Was Isaac's noncommittal reply. "I tone it down to fifty for the special items if they belong to the same series."
Once again, experience kept their reactions to nothing more than an interested eye raise to sell the bit.
"But don't worry," Isaac started, entirely oblivious to the two spies that had already decided to take him in and had signaled for an immediate extraction, "I can print out a list of items in the range of your budget."
Here Clint frowned and retorted in rising anger at the perceived slight. "Get us the damn list and we'll decide if it fits into our budget."
"That also works." Isaac nodded with a shrug, professionally ignoring the fragile anger of his customer. "One more thing; the magical or tech variety, which one do you prefer?"
Once again their fingers twitched. "Tech. Magic is a little iffy for our tastes." Natasha replied, both of them doing a good job of masking the new heights their hackles had raised to.
The insinuation was a damning and dangerous one— one that despite its lack of proof, supplied them with danger in a fog.
They exchanged another glance that Isaac missed, too busy typing out their list on the weird monitor in front of him, and they saw the silent question and worry in the other's eyes.
They had sent out concealed signals from their watches and burners—two quick beeps that signified immediate extraction and possible resistance— but they never received the affirmative beeps that signified that their request had been received and approved.
Their first thought was that a signal jammer was in place, which supported the fact why Clint couldn't listen in on what happened inside the building. What was strange however was that they, especially Clint, could tell when active signal jammers were in place around them and yet they couldn't with this one.
Either it was a more sophisticated tech than what they were used to, or it was something out of the left field. They both hoped it was just a matter of sophistication.
But even with all this, they didn't panic. They were the elites of their respective fields. They did not panic at every unexpected development.
Clint, once more, spied a look around the shop, paying special attention to the weird assortments of medieval weaponry and strange modern ones that he suspected were props or cosplay mods, all the while Isaac's insinuation of magic drifted in his head.
'Yeah, no way. Not even a fool would hang out magic weapons and lightsabers in a pawnshop.'
"Sorry for the wait." It was hardly a minute but Clint made sure to keep the disgruntled frown on his face. "Have at it."
Natasha moved closer and took the fresh list from Isaac's hands with a smile, her fingers lightly brushing against his.
—DCM (DNA Cancel Metal) Bullet (DNA²): This bullet delivers a chemical compound that suppresses specific genetic sequences, effectively neutralizing the problematic gene without physically removing it from the body.
*Can be manually tweaked to target specific genetic sequences.
A raised brow and a heavy breath disguised as an appreciative hum.
—DNA Resequencer (Stargate SG-1): An Ancient device that can alter DNA in any way the operator understands—including removing genetic diseases, adding superhuman abilities, or even programming a person to disintegrate at a set time.
You might want to allow someone who understands biology deeper than the mitochondria to operate this elderly device.
Their hands trembled, just a teensy bit, as they read the second entry. They both thought of the same thing: Super Soldier Serum.
If this kind of tech was real, as long as they had the serum, applying it to special agents became infinitely less terminal, like in the case of one Dr. Bruce Banner
They both looked at Isaac, questions warring in their heads, but they exercised patience and played out the deception.
"This is all you've got?" Clint asked, tapping on the paper in Natasha's hands.
"The ones that can suppress or remove the X-gene; those are the optimal picks."
Clint nodded. Their retreat was still compromised but that wasn't as important as getting as much information as they could. Information that this man in front of them was happily(stupidly) giving away.
—Genetic Bomb (Killjoys): A handheld weapon that can be keyed to a specific DNA pattern and disintegrates only those matching the genetic target.
It releases a pulse that destroys all cells containing the targeted DNA sequence, leaving others unharmed .
—Laboratory-Tailored Lymphocytes (Blood Music): Biologically engineered lymphocytes that reprogram DNA as a computational system.
These microscopic medical machines restructure their host on a cellular level, effectively removing and replacing the original genetic programming .
—The Bohr Maker (The Bohr Maker): A nanotech device that rewrites genetic code at the cellular level, granting enhanced abilities.
A 'soup' of nanomachines that systematically replaces the host's original DNA with new sequences.
—Quirk-Destroying Drug (My Hero Academia): A substance capable of damaging the genetic mechanisms that compose someone's Quirk, permanently erasing their superhuman abilities.
Created by Kai Chisaki ("Overhaul") using biological material from a child named Eri, whose Quirk "Rewind" could revert living things to a previous state. Once it enters the bloodstream, it destroys the Quirk almost instantly by targeting the Quirk Factor—the biological mechanisms behind Quirk functioning and other preternatural abilities—and returning it to that of a baseline human pre-evolution.
*Under special circumstances, the rewind frame can be pushed even farther.
Clint swallowed as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hands and glanced at Natasha who had lost the teasing smile on her face.
He was seventy percent sure that this guy was full of shit, but it was the remaining percentage—the window of possibility— that made him stay his hand instead of dragging the dude over the counter for some deep interrogation. And also because of his line of work—the same work that tends to throw impossible(loose word, that one) curveballs at his face every other Wednesday.
If even one—if a single thing on this list even slightly resembles the words it describes, he couldn't begin to imagine the clusterfuck of chaos it would cause.
There was also the tiny bit that he ignored on the list—the outrageous price tag—which was a nonissue as far as he was concerned because he was sure as fuck that his one-eyed boss wouldn't be paying a single dime for any of it. The only transactional word that man knew was 'confiscation', which was as American as any word could get.
"How about it?" Isaac speaking knocked out his mental funk and reminded him that the man he was about to dox any second from now was speaking. "Seen any one that fits your needs?"
"A couple actually." Clint replied with a real interested grin. "These prices on the other hand…"
Isaac nodded in perfect understanding. "The prices might look overwhelming but I believe the quality speaks for itself. Each of them are genuine articles and I can say this with full confidence: you won't find another one of these in any part of the globe."
"Except from Junk 'N Stuff." Natasha added.
"Except from Junk 'N Stuff." Isaac remarked.
"Mind if I snap a picture?" Clint asked, and quickly clarified on seeing the look of confusion on Isaac's face. "Need to show the boss. He'll decide which one we'll be getting but I'll be the one handling the payment."
The confusion washed away from Isaac's face and was replaced with a supportive smile. "Of course, of course. Go ahead."
The guy was almost too easy to fool, Clint thought to himself but said nothing as Natasha took a picture and casually walked outside. Clint watched as she left, half expecting some trap to spring up when she got to the door but surprisingly nothing of the sort happened.
"While your partner does that, is there anything that might interest your personal tastes?" Isaac asked as he caught Clint staring at some of the interestingly displayed items around the shop.
"No need. I'm more 'unconventional' when it comes to my hobbies." Clint said offhandedly as he counted down the seconds from Natasha's exit.
Natasha did not take long before sauntering back into the shop and gave a small nod to Clint.
"What's the verdict?" Isaac asked with the pleased smile of a man that was about to make bank.
Too bad pal, Clint chuckled. "The verdict, you say? Well that would be us taking you in."
"Huh—"
The moment Isaac turned to face Clint, Natasha's Widow's Bite lit up around her wrists and stung at Isaac with just enough punch to knock a grown man out.
"… "
"Ughh, not this again." Isaac sighed with profound disappointment and ran his finger down his face. Natasha fired off two more shots, but they turned to smoke like her first shot as soon as they crossed the counter.
Clint, with one hand on the counter, vaulted over to deliver a sharp kick to the man's head, only for his finely-honed balance to spin.
In a literal blink of an eye, that was how fast Natasha's confidence had sunk to hell from its all-time high.
"Clint!"
She started backpedaling while firing from both her stingers and her gun, her panic rising as she saw her bullets turning into smoke midtravel.
She bit her lips as she watched the man stand calmly behind his desk with a purple marble in his hands—the marble Clint had turned into when he attempted to kick the man.
Her guns and stingers ran out of ammo and it took her another split second to realize something damning—she had been backpedaling this whole time from the shop's interior map in her head, and according to the map it should have been impossible to be staring at Isaac because of the two corners to get to the door.
She turned around and her sprint came to a dead stop.
She was in a stark white room. A room that she couldn't see the end of. There was no exit or shelves in sight.
She looked behind her and saw that the man was still standing behind his desk, playing with the marble in his hand, looking utterly bored as he stared at her.
"Are you done?" He asked.
Her eyes widened. "No, wai—"
Silence.
"Now what am I going to do with you?" Isaac muttered to himself with casual disinterest as he lounged on his chair behind the counter of his shop.
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