The little shop was on a side street. It was a four block walk. But, at least there was much to see. People where hawking goods of every sort; canned vegetables, woven wool cloth, shiny oddbits of junk form the past, compact handguns with two barrels, small animals that looked like a cross between a house cat and a squid, dino hide clothing and boots, tools, electronics, and so on.

When she made the turn onto Side Street. 'That's clever', Theresa thought, the side street was actually named Side Street. Down on the right she found the shop. It looked like run down house. It felt like a magic generator giving off a powerful aura of protection. The door was red with elaborate but meaningless symbols all over it. A sign read "Knock twice and wait".

Neither in a rush, nor inclined to agivate the person she has come to see, Theresa knocks firmly the required two times and settles in for a wait of an indeterminate length.

After about a minute a speaker above the door sounded out, "hello, I am in the middle of a delicate filtration process. I will greet you properly in several minutes. Please be patient."

Theresa thought about that. A delicate filtration process. A potion perhaps? Her mind wondered in the realms of alchemy and chemistry. Then, after the passage of several minutes lost in thought, the door lurched open.

Standing there was a really short human. A midget, as they were often called, or dwarf. He was only about three and half feet tall with a bit of an offset gait. His hands and head seemed a tab large for his body.

He noticed her appraisal of his appearance and nodded as he gave her an easy going smile, "Yes, I know, the rumors are that I am a real dwarf from a primitive and magically active alternate Earth. That is that old techno wizard over in the southeastern swamps. I'm just you run of the mill little person with a displaced hip. But, I am one of the premier techno-wizards in Huntsville. And that says a lot."

He gave Theresa a once over in a way that was both appraisal and recognition.

"I have met one you before." He continued. "You Ecto-people tend towards abject thievery of things you find fascinating or intriguing. And you already have a bag full of oddities hanging from your shoulder. If I let you in will I have to kill you and eat your soul?"

Theresa Lets the shopkeeper's comment rest for a moment, then a little bit to long to quite seem polite.  Only when it looks like he is about to get confused or speak again does she reply.
”I have only meet a few wizards, but I would have expected them to be more intelligent.  If I was going to steal from you why would I have knocked on your door to announce myself?  Let alone stood out here while you took your time checking me over to make sure I was little or no threat to you or your shop before opening the door?  Now if you are quite done do you intend to make good on the recommendation from Hotel 9 that sent me here, or should I take my business elsewhere?”

"So, it would seem that you are exactly like the previous ecto-man that I met. Stuffy, full of yourself, and completely lacking any sense of humor." Darwin said. "I love it!"

He stepped back and gestured for Theresa to enter. There was a cup of steaming coffee in his hand and it occurred to Theresa that the complex filtration the little human had been performing was indeed to create the brew he now held.

"My name is actually Miles. Miles Darwinson. Darwin Ifixyostuff is my pseudonym." He explained. "If Shiva the Goddess of Death sent you here, then you're alright. She has keen powers of reading auras. Yours must have been quite complimentary if she sent you here instead of to One-Eyed Jack."

Theresa starts with the gauntlet weapon and the lightning gun, the two most obvious items she needs the shop keeper for, whatever name he wants to use.

”These are the items I need a specialist for, tell me what you can about them, and how they work, and what value they have in trade.  If I like the way you work better than your banter we can do business.”

He took the items and set them on a nearby work table saying, "Come in, make yourself at home."

As he scanned the items he uhumed, oohed, ahhed, and oh-yeahed. Without looking up from the table of techno-wizardry wonders he said, "You may be a stuffed shirt with no sense of humor but this stuff in awesome. What are you looking for here? Recharges, new kit, custom work, money, trade goods, or something else."

”That will depend on what you can tell me what you can about them, I will need some money, but I also need to know if you can make them work and if so how long that would take.
 If you prove to be helpful I may be able to return again should I find other interesting pieces.”

"This will take a day or two." He said. Theresa felt the little man was being honest, he was just so curious. Definitely a man who was intrigued by his work. "I can try to figure them out. Do you want any of the broken things repaired? That could get expensive mind you."

He stopped and looked up at Theresa for the first time in minutes. He had a genuine look of 'hurry up so I can dig into this stuff' on his face.

"It will cost you five hundred dollars." He said. "If you want to use credits from outside the FedMag circle of economic prosperity it will be six hundred credits. The exchange rate doesn't always favor credits."

After a few moments of thought Theresa realizes she will be needing to do most of the negotiation, as this fellow clearly favors the service side over the business side of things.

”I do not know if I will be in town that long. I will leave these here with you for now, if you discover anything send for me at Hotel 9, and I will return here to either make payment or negotiate a sale based on what you discover before I leave town.

If I do not return you may consider the items to be on consignment for 50% of whatever you can best sell them for until I do return.  I offer you this trust as you have earned the trust of others and the cost to you for cheating me is considerably larger than this one exchange.”

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, threat, threat. Oh, I do so love you adventurous types." He said without looking at Theresa. "So tough, so violent, and so full of, oh, hold the monologues. Where did you say you got this techno-wizard assault rifle. I think it is of trans-dimensional origins."

Not interested in his sad attempt at banter or baiting Theresa simply addresses the real question.

”It is not surprising that the rifle is from another dimension as it came from the city within the last rift where as the other items were picked up after the rift closed.  That should increase its value due to rarity rather than decrease it, but I am sure you will be able to determine that on your own.”

In response Theresa received and absent minded wave as the little man stuck his face back to magnetostropic scope and peered at the weapon. Theresa wasn't sure if it was meant to be good bye or get the hell out. Either way, she had lost his attention completely.

Rather than further interrupt the process of investigating the items she brought Theresa starts to wander around the shop looking at what else it has to offer, not so much searching for any particular thing as getting a general feel for the quality and style of the work done here.

Theresa was slightly amused and thoroughly enthralled. There was an old fashioned coffee maker with multiple tubes and wires added, along a funny circuit board,  that seemed unimaginably complex for a mere coffee maker. A flashlight mounted into a sword hilt, wrapped in copper wiring and some sort of lizard like skin left a lot to the imagination. There was an elegant revolver in deeply blued steel with LED beads for sights, a cylinder made from some type of stone looking like jade, and walnut grips. She saw many such sights; tools, tri-vision sets, and even a robot looking manikin.

All of the work seemed very meticulous in its quality and attention to detail. The welds were all straight and clean; free of porosity. The finish of the items was clean, smooth, and lacked tool marks or inconsistency. Nothing seemed 'slap-built' or 'jury-rigged'.

Knowing all to well that touching strange magic is rarely safe Theresa leaves the things in the shop alone as she continues her inspection.  Eventually she returns back to the shopkeeper and doesn't quite invade his workspace to look over his shoulder and see how things are going, but it is a close thing.

"If you are going to stay go watch the tri-v." He over his shoulder to Theresa without looking away from his work. "Staring over my shoulder only makes me feel uncomfortable. It does not speed up the process. Nor does it fill me with confidence. There is food in the kitchen if you want it."

Theresa doesn't move one bit, her business here not yet complete.  After a few moments she decides to try again more directly.

”I am not going to leave my things here until we have a made a deal, or at least a contract that will lead to one once you have determined what use you can make of them.”

"The big desk to the left of the tri-v." Came the reply. "Second drawer. Left hand side. In the third folder from the front. Form contracts. I, the undersigned blah blah, agree to the following; payment upon discovery, negotiated fees stand, full disclosure given, all analysis provide in portable format, sale recommendations to be noted, and first opportunity to purchase from you. Any questions? No. Good. Read it over, sign it. Take the bottom copy. And leave me alone to work, will you."

Over the radio, from Nutball:  ~Hey, guys.  Come see me when you get back.  I may have a line on some work.  Some very lucrative work, from the sound if it.~

Clearly a bit surprised by the total lack of business sense of this supposed shop keeper Theresa goes about following the suggested steps, recording a very detailed contract describing the consignment sale of her items as a somewhat favorable 70/30 split in her favor, with the shop absorbing all the costs from its 30% regardless of how long that process takes as an incentive for things to move fairly quickly yet still leave the shopkeeper with motivation to at least attempt to get a reasonable price for anything.

When the radio call comes in over her earpiece she makes no attempt to reply, nor shows much sign of having heard it at all, but she does present the contract to the shopkeeper for his signature.

"Really, seventy-thirty. I normally only get twenty percent. Do want to change that, not that I mind making more than usual, but I usually on claim twenty percent. I sale a lot of stuff to a Federation brokerage. That's were I really turn the profit margin. Those guys can't get enough techno-wizardry for their war effort." He said. He had stopped his work and was looking at Theresa.

He held up the assault rifle from the other alternate Earth and said, "This thing is impressive. I don't know all that it does yet, but it seems to use about six spell chains. Give me two days. I'll have everything worked out, charged up, or repaired then we can deal."

He turned back to the rifle on the workbench then suddenly looked back at the ecto-man, "Oh, keep this to yourself for now. There are a lot of competitors out there who would kill us both for high end techno-wizardry like this."

Theresa waves off the man's concerns both about the profit margin and the secrecy.

”Sell it to whomever you can get the most profit from, more for you, and more for me, the percentage is just the motivation to succeed.  You will find that discretion is not going to be a problem on my end as long as we continue to do business.”

With that last thought she leaves the man, and his shop, to go in search of whatever problem the others have managed to stir up already.