Szilb gave DJ a rather curt send-off, but he still graciously provided the coordinates to his weapons dealer. DJ's ship may not have been space travel-ready, but it managed to get him to a surprisingly secluded piece of Nar Shaddaa a couple thousand kilometers from Szilb's home.
Touching his ship down at the edge of what looked like a very large junkyard, DJ prepared himself to meet with this dealer. He had a blaster but no ammo for it; nonetheless, he stuck it in its holster. When fortune favored him, DJ didn't need ammo.
As of lately, fortune had not looked on DJ kindly. Still, fortune's nature was change, and surely DJ was due for a change in fortune any time now.
Leaving his heavy coat in the ship, DJ stepped out of his ship and into the muggy air. He wasn't sure he had ever stopped sweating since his sauna session with Szilb, and he wasn't sure he'd ever stop sweating again. Perhaps he would gradually become a slimy slugman himself if he kept this up. The absurd thought made him smile as he walked into the junkyard.
There didn't seem to be anyone around. No one sentient at least. Very large, slimy, ugly rodents rummaged through the metal scrap piled to the sky around the huge lot. DJ eyed several scrapped parts sticking out of the piles, recognizing them as useful for his own ship, or as rare pieces he could no doubt either use or sell for a pretty penny. Certainly this lot had to have some sort of security, even if he hadn't encountered it yet. Nonetheless his fingers were feeling mighty sticky…
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and DJ spied a man rummaging through some scrap a few hundred yards away. He headed toward the man, but froze when he got closer and the man straightened up.
He was entirely naked. A human, his skin looked well-tanned from exposure. He was in exceptional shape, certainly not anyone DJ would want to tangle with hand-to-hand, clothed or not. The man was bald—in fact, his whole body looked pretty hairless, and he possessed a robotic right arm.
The man spotted DJ, and he approached. As he got closer, DJ saw he was young—probably half DJ's age or more, although his skin looked to be aging prematurely.
"Whach'a want, stranger?" the man asked, his voice thick with a drawl.
DJ just met the man's eyes and tried not to think about anything below his face. "Szilb sent-t-t me. About w-w-weapons."
"Szilb, huh?" the man said. He put his mechanical hand to his chin in a thoughtful way. "Right, Szilb did send a message. Well. What's yer name, stranger?"
"Call me DJ," DJ responded.
"Call ya, huh?" the man said, eyeing DJ closely. "So that ain't yer name?"
"It's the name I g-g-go by," DJ said, maintaining a light air despite all his mental alarms going off about this guy.
"Ah! I follow ya now," the man said, smiling. It was not a comforting smile. Every tooth in his maw was sharpened to a point. "Well, then ya can call me AJ."
"AJ. Quite a c-c-coincidence," DJ said.
"My man, there ain't no such thing," AJ said, moving beside DJ and putting his robotic arm around DJ's shoulders. "Come along now. We'll have some ice-cold tea and we can talk about all them weapons ya want."
They walked along the junkyard together. DJ wanted nothing more than to pull away from AJ, but AJ held him in a vice grip. Only when they had moved deeper within the junkyard to what looked like a makeshift hut built of metal sheeting did AJ release DJ.
"Don't-t-t get many visit-t-tors, huh?" DJ asked as the nude man strode into his hut.
"Not as many as I'd'a like," AJ called. "But the boss provides."
DJ didn't have time to wonder what that meant when AJ emerged from his hut holding an extremely large sledgehammer. At first DJ figured it was for busting apart scrap—until he realized AJ was swinging it at DJ's head.
DJ dropped down, barely missing getting his head caved in, and he scrambled away. AJ was on him in a flash, moving way too fast in the humidity. DJ grabbed the shaft of the sledgehammer, grappling with AJ over it for a moment before AJ pushed DJ up against a pile of shredded sheet metal. Sharp ends pressed into DJ's back, tearing the material of his shirt and into his skin.
AJ was bigger and heavier than DJ, and he pressed down on him more, positioning the shaft of the sledgehammer right over DJ's throat. DJ chanced to let go of the shaft and groped behind him for the first piece of junk he could grasp. He thrust whatever it was into AJ's shoulder, cutting his own hand in the process, but it worked—AJ howled in pain and DJ was able to push him away. DJ pulled away from the junk pile and put some distance between himself and AJ, although he didn't dare turn his back to the madman.
AJ was panting, bright red blood oozing out of his shoulder. There was a bloody handprint on his chest where DJ pushed him, and AJ touched the handprint, licking the blood off his finger. "You taste purty good, boy," AJ drawled. "I'll haveta send the boss a thank-you card for ya."
Drawing his blaster, DJ aimed it at AJ, whose eyes went to the blaster immediately. "I ain't on th-the menu," DJ growled. AJ dropped the sledgehammer and held his hands above his head—a rather empty gesture for someone nude, but appreciated nonetheless—but he smiled again.
"You got fight in ya," AJ said, delighted. "I like a good fight."
DJ knew exactly where his ship was. He saw the path they had taken clear in his mind. He just needed to get there. AJ's smile remained in place, a creepy grin plastered onto that tan, insane face. "You're g-g-gonna have to make new d-d-dinner plans," DJ said, then turned tail and ran.
AJ laughed, a screaming peel of a cackle. DJ didn't need to look behind him to know AJ was giving chase. Lungs burning, DJ ran as fast as his legs would take him, leaping over scrap metal on the ground and ducking under places where the scrap stuck out ready to behead or skewer him.
His ship came into sight, and DJ doubled down on his sprint. He heard AJ's heavy footfalls close behind him, but he made it home. DJ jumped into his ship, slammed the hatch closed and ensured it locked. He jumped into the pilot seat, panting, black dots in his vision. He was so dizzy from exhaustion he didn't immediately realize nothing happened when tried to power the ship on.
There was a grinding, crunching sound, and a particularly huge rodent crawled out of a vent, circuits in its drooling mouth. DJ stared at the creature for a moment, his exhausted brain catching up to the fact that his ship had been eaten from the inside.
A loud bang jolted DJ back. AJ was at the hatch, slamming that sledgehammer into it. DJ could see where the metal bent with every swing. He glanced around, his mind racing. Truth be told, DJ had "picked up" this ship from the selection of ships around the Nar Shaddaa casinos. Evidently he'd chosen a pacifist's ship, as there was nothing in that tiny thing to use as a weapon beyond a wrench. Hardly match for a nutcase brandishing a sledgehammer.
The hatch buckled, and DJ saw AJ reach in and began to pull the metal door away. DJ was cornered, but he was not defenseless. It was immensely difficult, in such as state he was in, for DJ to focus on the energy surrounding AJ, particularly at his throat.
Somewhere in his mind, there was a part of him that felt a wave of guilt. He heard the whispers of people from a lifetime ago warning him against what he was about to do. The old mechanisms created by years of training were still there, as strong as ever.
But those people no longer existed. The person DJ used to be no longer existed. Now it was either DJ or AJ, and DJ knew there could only be one outcome to this situation.
As soon as AJ pulled that hatch off its hinges and put his bald head through the opening, DJ reached out through the Force and squeezed.
Lyra pushed that little skip as fast as it could go, and maybe even faster. It had been hours since DJ left. In all likelihood, the Butcher had already had his way with him. Her stomach tightened at the thought. She had to hold onto the hope that DJ was as much of a survivor as he always boasted of being.
She had become suspicious when she had observed Szilb composing a message to his nephew Ungu. He had recorded it in Huttese, and Lyra had picked up enough of it to know he wasn't talking about securing the weapons Ungu had asked for.
After Szilb had retired for the night, Lyra wormed her way into his computer. Funnily enough, the techniques she had used to bypass the security protocols were things she had picked up from DJ over time. She had managed to find the coordinates Szilb had given to DJ.
Szilb had sent DJ right to the Butcher's doorstep.
The Butcher was Szilb's go-to man for anyone he wanted taken care of. Lyra had no idea where Szilb had met such an extremely insane and dangerous person, but anyone Szilb sent to the junkyard never came back.
The junkyard was in view, and Lyra only gunned the engines of the skip more. It shuddered a little but held steady as she scanned for lifeforms on the ground. She found one human one, unmoving, on the very edge of the junkyard.
Lyra had bounded out of the ship almost before it touched down. There was DJ's ship, she saw, and in the shade of it, DJ himself sitting with his back to her. She rushed to his side, and she discovered him chowing down on some extremely foul-smelling meat.
Backing away, she cried, "What the hell are you eating?!"
DJ shrugged. "Dunno what-t-t they're called," he said nonchalantly between bites. "But this one at-t-te my ship, so I'm just ret-t-turnin' the favor."
Glancing around, Lyra said, "We should get out of here."
"Worried?" DJ asked, looking up at her. Lyra shook her head, but DJ knew she was lying. "We don't-t-t gotta hurry," he said, then nodded to his ship. "See for yourself."
Lyra looked at the hatch, or what had been the hatch of the ship. It looked as if it had been peeled off with a giant can opener. Just inside she saw a pair of bare tan legs dangling out, motionless. She gasped. "Is he…?"
DJ only chuckled in response. "The b-b-back meat ain't too bad," DJ said, holding up some of that reeking meat to her.
Lyra felt faint. "I'll wait in the ship," she said, and she slowly retreated back to her skip. When she got to the hatch, DJ sat up on his knees to look at her.
"Hey, Lyra," he said, getting her attention. "We're square now, yeah?" For a moment, Lyra wasn't sure what he was talking about. But she quickly recalled when he said, "Cuz I sure as hell ain't-t-t getting' p-p-paid enough for this."