THE MOMENT
Max didn't mean any harm as such. To him, separating suckers from their cash was a game, and he was very good at it. Of course, he was a team player, and an organized group earned a lot more than he could by himself. He was currently standing on a dusty main street corner of a cobbled-together gold-rush town. People who thought they were about to hit it big were the easiest marks; they'd already convinced themselves they were winners.
"What about you, young fella?" Max smiled at Davey, their youngest conspirator. He was a slight teenage boy with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and a dash of powder to give him an extra pale & ashy appearance. "How'd you like a free sample of Maxwell's Muscle Multiplier!?" he waved the boy forward as the gathered crowd of townsfolk cheered him on.
"Golly, yes!" the boy rushed forward, and Max handed him the clear glass bottle. It was filled with a red syrup that was mostly berry juice and sugar, with some whisky for just the right kick. The boy struggled with the bottle, then handed it back to Max. "Could you open it please?" he asked sheepishly while the crowd laughed.
"Certainly, friend," Max nodded and pulled out the cork with ease.
"Uhh.. how much do I drink?" he asked. It was an important question.
"The whole bottle, sonny," Max replied. "One whole bottle will keep you strong all day long, but it won't work none for no half measures," he added, then grinned at the crowd. “Be sure to buy plenty and keep them stocked for emergencies.”
"Okay!" The boy took a big swig, made an appropriate 'MMMM' sound, and chugged down the whole bottle. "That's delicious!" he said. "Whoa... I feel kind of warm... and strong...," he said. He straightened his back and puffed out his chest for effect.
"Try it out, sonny," Max said. “Lift anything you can.”
"Anything?" The boy smirked and dashed over to Max. With the ease of countless rehearsals, the boy wrapped his arms around Max's waist and hoisted him upward off the ground. The truth was, the boy happened to be unusually strong. Not entirely strong enough to lift Max by himself, but the moment was helped along with some simple showmanship. Max jumped at just the right time and flailed his arms while the boy lifted him up and gently lowered him.
"One gold per bottle!" Max announced. That was a signal for the crowd, and the orders started flying.
"I'll give you 100 gold for the whole stock," a heavyset teenager with dark bushy hair addressed Max directly and presented a hefty sack of gold nuggets. “And the cart.”
The biggest danger to Max's operation was slow sales. The last thing he needed was being forced to linger as his concoctions sold off little by little. The longer he was in any one place, the better chance of someone catching on. As it was, only his associates were lining up to buy; the real suckers hadn't quite been convinced yet. He wasn't going to get a better deal.
"I believe you have a bargain, young man," Max smiled as he accepted the bag of coins with a handshake. "Name's Maxwell," he gestured at his name on the wagon of product. "And, unfortunately, this cart comes with me. Would you like some help unloading it?"
"Nah, I can do it in a jiffy," the teen said. He grinned, but hadn't bothered to introduce himself. Maxwell panicked slightly when the teen reached for a bottle of elixir and popped the cork to drink it. He drank every drop, then nodded.
"Hah, that does taste pretty good," he said. He wiggled his fingers a bit, and his smile grew wider. "Feels warm and strong," he nodded. "Let's try it out." In a flash, he hopped onto the cart, grabbed a crate, then hopped off again. He set the crate down on the dusty road and leaped into the air again for another round. Back and forth, with fast, long jumps from the cart to the ground again, each time carrying a loaded crate of glass bottles. He chuckled gleefully the entire time, showing no sign of effort, much less fatigue.
"You were only selling this for 1 gold??" The teen laughed as he collected the last crate and jumped off with a graceful twirl that shouldn't have been possible with his bulky frame. "Eight crates... looks to be about a dozen each," he nodded. "Fair deal."
He tore off the lid off one of the crates with his bare hand.
"5 gold each!" he shouted. Now, the crowd had really seen an effective demonstration. It wasn't just about brute physical strength, but having a powerful body made everything look effortless and elegant. Genuine customers lined up immediately.
In the back of his mind, Max found an excuse to feel like something had been off about the batch. He convinced himself he'd felt magic in the air the previous night, and maybe, just maybe, the elixirs worked. Even his secret assistant seemed to be debating it. The younger boy was wiggling his fingers the way the teen had, and he looked over at Maxwell.
"I still feel it... I think," he nodded.
"Wait!" Max wasn't going to miss this opportunity. If it actually worked, even 5 gold was too low. "I've reconsidered. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I didn't personally sell each bottle I filled by hand. It feels like I'm leaving work undone. I know we just went through this, but if you're only asking for five times the price, would you consider selling them all for 500?"
Unlike when the teen offered, the crowd was invested now, and they began grumbling about getting their chance.
"And make all these people mad?" the teen asked with a shake of his head.
"Six hundred," Max said.
"Six hundred, and your wagon," the teen replied. "It'll save me trouble."
"You've got a deal," Maxwell nodded instantly without thinking about the situation too deeply. If the elixir worked, he could sell them for 10 gold easily, if not 15.
"Pleasure doing business," the teen nodded as Maxwell returned his money and included a large pouch of gold pieces. "I'll just take this and be on my way," he grabbed the cart and lifted it over his head to carry it off while everyone watched, still impressed.
"10 gold!" Max said. He wasn't surprised that he still had buyers. But, he was surprised several minutes later when his buyers became an angry mob demanding their money back.