Knowhere — The Collector's Gallery
Taneleer Tivan tilted his sunglasses and studied Nolan from over the frames, a thin smile cutting across his face as he stepped closer.
"An honor to meet you in person, Supreme Sorcerer."
Nolan regarded him without warmth. He remembered the rumors: the Collector and the Grandmaster brothers, ancient and eccentric. In this branch of reality, Tivan felt closer to his film incarnation powerful, yes, but not the primordial Elder that could outlast creation itself.
"If it's an honor," Nolan said, "how much?"
Tivan's smile didn't falter. Old monster, old manners. He'd seen the footage: Nolan against Knull. Nolan against Dormammu. Gods falling like pins. If the Sorcerer Supreme had stepped into Knowhere, then urgent business had followed him in.
"If I can be of service," Tivan said smoothly, "my resources are at your disposal."
"I need the Aether," Nolan replied. "The Reality Stone."
Direct. No hedging. No ritual dance.
Tivan hesitated a beat. In another age, he might have had the man thrown out. But this was Nolan. And the Aether, strictly speaking, had been entrusted to him by Asgard. Custodian, not owner.
"That is… a relic of cosmic genesis," Tivan ventured.
"I'll trade," Nolan said, raising a hand.
His palm opened into a living aperture; flesh parted, and a sphere rose from within the Orb. It unfolded like an iris, revealing a crystal that pulsed with violet thunder.
The Power Stone.
Tivan's pupils dilated behind the tint. He'd chased whispers across Xandar and beyond, sent agents in circles, watched the trail die a dozen times. Yet here the Stone glowed not five feet away, offered like a trinket at a bazaar stall.
"You would exchange this?" he breathed.
Nolan shrugged. "I've internalized what it offers. For me, it's a paperweight."
And for anyone else? A planet-killer they could not control.
Tivan's mind raced. Accept, and he gained a weapon. Refuse, and… well, the Sorcerer might choose to take what he wanted. He'd seen that smile before in mirrors when he decided a specimen belonged behind glass no matter the protest.
"Consider something else," Nolan added mildly. "The Aether was stored here by Asgard. If I ask Thor to retrieve it, he calls in favors… perhaps from Odin's circle. You'd lose the Aether and gain their attention. Neither is pleasant."
Cold prickled down Tivan's neck. The calculus finished itself.
"One moment."
He disappeared through a sealed door and returned with a containment capsule. Inside, a cloud of dark crimson fluid writhed and shimmered, never settling on a shape for more than a heartbeat.
"The Aether," he said. "On loan from Asgard."
Nolan closed his fingers. Gravity folded. The liquid convulsed… and condensed. In his hand, a deep red gem cohered from the living mist, the Reality Stone choosing solidity at his will. Across from him, Tivan cradled the Orb like a newborn star.
For a flicker of time, avarice sparked behind the Collector's smile.
Nolan glanced up. "If you're going to try," he said gently, "try now."
The thought died on Tivan's tongue. He forced a chuckle, bowing his head instead. "Perish the thought. A fair exchange between… connoisseurs."
"Mm."
The Stone warmed Nolan's palm, sinking into his arcane matrix, threads of possibility stitching themselves to his psionic core. Matter, law, and context bent subtly, experimentally around his breath.
"Pleasure doing business," Nolan said, turning away.
Tivan clutched the Orb tighter, a smile returning by degrees. "And should you ever wish to sell a dead god…"
Nolan paused at the threshold, eyes glinting. "I already did."
The door sealed behind him with a hush.
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