"That settles it then," Enzo stood from the table and gathered his money cards, stuffing them eagerly into his cargo pockets. Without a moments notice, he was headed to the door, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke behind him. When he had reached the streets outside, he tapped a local on the shoulder and pointed his thumb southward, saying, "Bortelli Brothers that way, pal?"
The man only shook his head and pointed the other way. After a couple of seconds, he added, "Dey is set up a couple blocks that-o-way pardner. Little ugly buildin' nixt to a junk yerd; cain't miss it."
Enzo thanked the man and beckoned to whomever had followed, trotting down the sidewalk. Eventually, they arrived at a small office filling the only gap in a chain-link and barbed-wire fence surrounding a sandy lot filled with shuttles and trucks in various states of disrepair. A faded sign hung above the door, reading Bortelli Brothers Quality Used Merchandise: If you can't find it here, it's probably brand new! Enzo tossed his cigarette to the curb and yanked open the door, causing a small hanging bell to jingle. Inside, the walls were covered front to back with guns. Small handguns and rifles lined the lower shelves, with space-faring weapons disassembled on racks near the ceiling. In the aisles near the middle of the store were all manner of devices which would no doubt catch the eye of the junkers-- plasma manifolds, distortion cables, cardialotic kajiggers and gargleblasters or what-have-you. A large pile of parts surrounded a workbench where a man was busy at work on something.
He was a large, bald man with two cybernetic arms and a cybernetic eye to complete the ensemble. He turned to Enzo briefly and lifted a metallic hand in a slight waving motion before returning to his work. Hearing a pause in the clamor of tools being used, a second bald man entered the room, wearing a business suit. This man was short and portly, but not so much as to be hideous. He was putting on some glasses when he caught sight of Enzo at the door. They both stared at each other in silence for a moment before breaking into a chorus of noise, starting with a really stretched out "Eeeeeeeeeeey!" and ending with a rough-looking bear hug.
"Vinny! Vinny! My own nephew as aye lib an breave!" The larger man was almost cheering, "What, what may I ax ju, brings ju outta to my parda da galagsee, eh?"
Enzo squeezed his burnt hand from the night before and responded slowly: "I, uh, I gots pinched Uncle Lucco. Not by the Yams's or anybodys important-like. But some pirates pinched me, see? An' I was, uh, wondering if you sold anythings to people lookin' for Mule parts."
Lucco frowned at Enzo and put his hands on Enzo's shoulders. "Dis is not good news, my nephew. No, no, not good news at oll. If dey comes here, lookin for parts for your ship, nephew, dennat means dey gots your ship. Not a good good sign for you or business in genarell."
Enzo remained silent while Lucco moved to the register and flipped through papers on a clip board. When he had waited long enough, Enzo decided to speak up again, "Unlce Lucco. These guys behinds me, they pulled me outta my escape pod and saved my skin. They've been good to me these past few days. They dids me and this family a favor. Can you arrange to helps me pays them back for what they've done?"
"Of course, of course, Vinny!", Lucco replied, still flipping through papers, "Just have dem look trew my moichandice anyting dat might be for to have nifty or whateva! I'll be eggs-tra reasonable an' keep 'em cheap. Mide eben gib 'em something free if its nota big thing."
He looked up at Enzo before continuing, "I may hab sold some stuff-o dis guy. He comes in here sayin' he gots a Mule, yeah? Annit's needin' some new stuff, yeah? So I gets 'im 'isduff an he tries to takes it widout payin, see? Well, big brudda Frank innit to happy about all this sos he ruffs 'ima up a liddle. He gets us ouwa moneys and shazaam, we gives him his goods and faggedaboutit, it's all good again. If dat's your guy you got no trouble gettin' your stuff back, yeah? He gotta eyebowl tatooed on his fore-ead."
"That's my guy, Uncle." Enzo assured him, a bad taste coming into his mouth as he remembered the eyeball staring at him from over the pirate's brow. He pushed the though out of his mind and began browsing the store, looking through a rack where several combat jackets were hanging for a suitable replacement for his former jacket, no doubt resting peacefully in the hotel's garbage with the remains of the goo-woman.