At 9:00 a.m. on a bright Saturday morning in Myrtle Beach, Derrick Chesterton opened up shop.
Dressed in a blue pinstripe suit with slicked-back red hair and aviator glasses, Mr. Chesterton smiled wide. He had relocated from Salt Lake City, and his pawn shop had been a huge success in the three months since it had opened. To the average onlooker, this would have seemed insane; there was not a single piece of inventory on Chesterton's shelves and there hadn't been since the store opened.
Unbeknownst to the outside world, Derrick Chesterton was not an ordinary man. That is to say, he was no man at all. There had been many names for him in the past; Baphomet, Samael, Beelzebub. He had kept his past or whatever he pretended it was to himself. No one who came into his shop cared about him personally; all they wanted was what he could provide.
For his customers, Mr. Chesterton could provide anything their heart desired. Money, cars, models, anything the pathetic little rubes wanted. All they had to was pay a price...his price.
As Mr. Chesterton was looking at his Rolex, his first customer of the day walked in.