Touch Base (Open)

Mayze had finally found his way back. Once more, he was in the saiyan capitol. It had been many many moons since he last stepped foot on these well-traveled streets. The sights and sounds brought back memories, some good, some bad. He wasn’t sure why he had returned, but he figured he had to at some point. Still, he didn’t think he had the guts to return to his old family home. He wasn’t sure he could face what he had left there so many years ago.

He spent his time in the radditsu district, frown evident on his face. The place hadn’t changed much since he last saw it. It was still the same poverty-stricken, dilapidated slum filled with unfortunate low class saiyans who hadn’t been able to climb up the rung. If Mayze could give the denizens any advice, it would be to get out, become a mercenary. It was better than wasting away in squalor on a ravaged, war-torn planet at any rate.

Some living here had even decided to set up stalls along the street to scrape by a living. It was definitely… an alternative career path when it came to saiyan culture, but every society needed businessmen, producers, inventors, creators, etc, you get the picture. Typically, the stalls along these streets were staffed by the elderly, those who couldn’t fight in combat well anymore.

Mayze passed by several of these stalls, absorbed in his thoughts. A young saiyan boy bumped against him, sending him stumbling. The boy offered a brisk apology and dashed off, a spring in his step.

He stood there a moment, dumbfounded. Sighing, he shook his head, and walked up to a stall. He grabbed his… wait… it wasn’t there? His wallet was gone? Where was it? Did he lea-? It dawned on him!

“That little shit!”

He dashed forward looking for the saiyan boy that had ‘bumped’ into him! The boy had a few seconds head start… but Mayze was quick. As he sprinted forward, simply a blur to others, he thought he could make out the boy just ahead. The kid was just about to pass by a Namekian sitting on some stairs who was chatting up a saiyan women who looked... familiar. Ahead of him was an alley, if the kid turned into it, Mayze might not ever find him. He didn’t know the nooks and crannies of the district like the kid probably did.

Tilting her head, the saiyan seemed taken aback. "Not a stranger?" She wondered aloud, as she questioned what he could have meant. Even as their attention was taken by the male saiyan she'd met quite a while back now (at least that's what it felt like to her), she couldn't stop wondering what the alien had meant. Was her name well known, or something? Oh shit, were the fuzz after her on account of some fines that Zuqetta had wracked up?

Shakuhachi had quickly snatched up the saiyan boy as he tried to skirt past the pair on the steps, holding him aloft while Vennel's mind raced with the potential troubles she assumed of herself. Vennel glanced at the kid, he seemed dirty, unclean, weak, but above all she couldn't help but feel like he looked vaguely familiar. Not that she'd seen him before, but there was a quality to him that felt kismet. "Hey, easy on the kid," she cautioned Shakuhachi.

Whatever the kid had done, he no doubt had earned the ire of the man that chased him, but something had landed the kid here. He was a victim of circumstance and making due, and she could respect that on some level. But before she could speak up or stand up for the kid more, she caught herself. "We are NOT taking in another stray," she chided herself, as she turned back to look at Mayze.

"So what'd the kid do?" She asked after the man who'd presumably caught up to the group by this point. Since Shakuhachi had caught the kid and was deferring to Mayze on the matter, legally speaking, Mayze had ever right to mete out whatever punishment he saw fit, given the kid was low class and all. "And what do you plan to do with him?" She asked, curious as to the answer.

Mayze was taken aback by the Namekian’s answer. He was looking for Vennel? He looked back and forth between the two, clearly confused. Vennel, on her part, seemed just as confused as he was, but she seemed to recover quickly and responded with typical saiyan aggression.

He had no clue what to do. He felt like a bystander who had no part in this business. Should he leave? Should he wait and see- he was a little curious, and he knew Vennel, kinda- well not really. The mercenary was totally lost, but remained rooted in place. He’d lend the saiyan woman a hand if needed, solidarity with one’s own species and all that.

Mayze opened his mouth, and hesitated a moment before speaking, “W-Well, small… galaxy I guess. Uhm, am I interrupting something?” a puzzled expression still adorned his face. What in the hell should he do?

He paused for a moment, a serious expression forming on his face. He crossed his arms, looking the Namekian straight in the eye, “Look pal, if you got a problem with Vennel,” he pointed a thumb back at the saiyan woman, “You’ve got a problem with me too,” the saiyan finished, a slight edge to his voice. The saiyan just hoped she wouldn’t take offense to the help he was offering… saiyans were a prideful bunch after all.

It started as a snicker, but slowly built up, into a full bellied laugh before she settled herself down. That was it? That's what he wanted to ask? Vennel had no idea that this alien was going to be telling jokes. She wiped a tear from her eye as she settled her laughter bit by bit, as she looked back at the namekian. "Haha— so let me get this straight: you met my kid sister, maybe talked to a few saiyans, and now you're an expert on our entire people?" She didn't know what was funnier, that this Namekian was acting so similarly to Cheri, or that he expected her in particular to answer for her entire species? What, was she to be their keeper?

"Let me answer your questions with a few of my own." Finally settling down from her previous outburst, she glanced over at Mayze and winked, before turning back to face Shakuhachi. "You're a Namekian, right? So why are all your people this arrogant? Why do you go around the galaxy and seek to presume guilt and demand your sacred answers from the older sister of the first child you speak to?" Vennel's eyes narrowed as she glared at the man now, "I'll save you the trouble— they probably aren't and don't."

She'd attempt to shove the jolly green oaf, an aggressive action to be sure. Maybe if he got angry and fought back, she thought, this entire encounter could be made into something more than the waste of her time it felt like it was going to be. She wasn't particularly angry at the man, but he was testing her nerves. And she didn't particularly care for his tone and demands either. If he hated their kind so much, then just what the hell did he think he was doing loitering in their backyard? 

Vennel's fist tightened, she wanted to swing it for the man but restrained herself. Rather, she wanted to tell him off, but what good would it do? "You've already made up your mind. You're the grand expert on our people. Go on why don't you tell us, huh? It's in our blood right? Maybe it's the way our heads are shaped, maybe we have some oversized part of our brain that makes us want to fight? Go on, tell us funny man. Namek-splain us some more, why don't you?" At this point she was practically jeering at him, egging him on, hoping he'd make the first aggressive move.

"You want to know why I hate the Tuffles?" Her tone was calming down at this point, the fur on her tail had been standing on edge, and was only just now settling down. "Because they say shit like that. You may have fought one of us, you may have even talked to one of us. But you'll never be one of us. So don't you dare presume to know all of us." She could have taken his questions seriously, she could have tried to have some high minded conversation about the merits of her society. She could have likely gone on for days about how Shakuhachi was powerful, but was he born that way? Or did he get that way through confrontation or conflict? How conflict drove advancement, that rising to meet new challenges was a natural part of life, so that it was completely natural if one culture among the stars took that to the logical destination and arrived at where they were today.

But Vennel wasn't some philosopher, she wasn't a grand standing elite that preached 'ideals,' or anything like that. She was a warrior, she thrived in battle and conflict. However, she was starting to cause a scene, and lots of passerby were starting to look at her. She was getting heated up now, her emotions raging uncontrollably— she needed to calm down.

So the woman took a deep breath, letting it out once more, before she finished speaking. "Whatever— Mayze, you want a shot at him? I'm going to hit something if I have to listen to more of this shit eating alien's assertions."