Set thy course.

Thread Power Level: 130,000 | Dai Majin (x1/x3) Active! Current PL: 130,000/390,000!

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From deep within the bowels of the ship, a great rumbling shook its core. This was no sudden deep space shockwave, nor was it the engine failing. Instead, it came from a great and terrible force. Strong and foreboding, the Ki emanating from the source of this rumbling seemed to be snuffing out its opposition. One by one, the smaller energy sources circling it fell to nothing.

The massive Majin roared, overpowering the sounds of the engine he'd exposed thanks to a hole he'd put in the floor of the mess hall. All around him were corpses. Pirate, prisoner, and assuredly some that rode the line. All had fallen, and the few that remained were only such by luck alone.

The captain, a large and intimidating thing, cowered across the room. This was no ordinary Majin they were facing, after all. This was the legendary Majin Mumbo.

The Black Stargoon

"CMON!" He bellowed, downing another large gulp of whatever disgusting swill he'd stuffed into his alcohol bottle. "GIMME SOMETHIN' YA WIMPS! A BRUISE! A SCAR! SOMETIN' TA HOIT ME GOOD!"

He stomped toward the bundle of pirates across from him, denting the metal as he did. They cowered back in response, which brought a low growl out of the beasts chest. "Dat's it, huh? All ya's got in da tank is PISSIN' YER PANTS?! You chumps ain't Pirates."

Mumbo took another long drink, stopping only to raise his fist. Someone had snuck up behind him, but he preemptively brought his hand up to catch them by the neck. This pirate may have been one of the stronger among them, but his plan was too uncoordinated to make a dent. With a single motion, Mumbo crushed the mans neck, and loosed his limp body into the chasm below. The engine roared, and Mumbo liked to think it was a happy roar. After all, it'd just been given something good to eat.

"More. Gimme MOAH! YOU WIIIIIIIIIMPS!"

He fired an energy blast from his hands, and it blew a hole in the back wall. This was certainly a boring day...

The energy beam pierced the tension in the air quickly, ending the life of what few pirates remained. When he hit the floor, Mumbo laughed heartily. "Dere! See! Sometin' ta woik wit! At least somebody's got some juice flowin' in dis scrap heap!"

Mumbo turned to the new arrival, and squinted. His eyes were fuzzy after all the booze, which was admittedly a first for him. His drink of choice was usually a nice heaping helping of soda, but recent events drove him to a stronger substance. With a good dozen bottles of liquor swimming around his system, he could firmly say he definitely saw the merit in getting wasted.

Giving Ticoga a once-over, he was disappointed to see he was an Arcosian. These sort were usually really full of themselves, and even the super strong ones didn't pack much actual punch. There was a good reason the Saiyans stepped all over them; they were wimps with inflatable muscles!

"Feh." Mumbo tossed his canteen sideways, letting it clink into the chasm below. "Fahget what I said. Yer just anudda chump. I bet yer a realll goodie-good too. What's yer story, eh punk? What scheeme you woikin' on in dat big head?" Mumbo pulled off his helmet and pointed to his own head, which sported a multi-colored biogem. "I've chowed down on lotsa lizahd punks, and dey all tink da same. Connivin', but dey ain't got da guts ta back up da schemin'."

Walking forwards, the massive Majin grabbed the captain of the ship by his torso. The pirate had been momentarily distracted by Ticoga's arrival, forgetting the real threat was only feet away from him. With a squeeze, he crushed the mans ribcage, and waited for the life to drain from his eyes completely.

"I bet you's is gonna say somethin' real smaht-soundin' ta trow me off. Well guess what punk!" He lifted the captain over his head. "I ain't no IDIOT! I'm MUMBO, da BLACK STAH GOON!"

With a roar, he launched the pirate's corpse at Ticoga. If he impacted on the Arcosian, the both of them would be embedded in the wall.

"...?"

Mumbo was a little rattled at the offer. He sneered, more in confusion than contempt, as he waved away the dust that was floating in the room. Was it time to flex his muscles? Rip and tear and pose and taunt? Maybe not. This guy was different. He knew he was outmatched, maybe. Or just didn't like fighting. If it was the latter, Mumbo would punch him anyway, but he'd have to find out first.

"See. I said you's was gonna try sometin' smaht. Good decision."

He relaxed his muscles, exhaling as he rolled his shoulders and walked toward Ticoga. He hadn't paid his compatriot much mind, but as he walked past Marma, he'd give her a swift punch to the gut. It wasn't his full strength, and more just to see how she reacted.

"Dat was fer interruptin'" he said with a smirk. If the attack landed, he'd let loose an elbow in Ticoga's direction, too. "And dat is fer talkin' smaht. Now les get goin'. Prolly wanna hurry, too; what wit dat engine meltin' down an awl."

If the other two didn't begin moving, he'd push past them and open the doors to Ticoga's ship himself. Otherwise, he'd await their guidance.

The trip through the ship was surprisingly calm, all things considered. Mumbo hadn't had many people to converse with other the last few months, on the count of him beating the crap out of anything that moved up until this guy. He wasn't sure what gave him pause; maybe it was the prospect of a real meal. Sure, eating scraps and conjuring your own food was fine and all, but there's only so much one Goon can take before some luxury would be nice.

"Sweet digs."

Mumbo whistled as they passed hall after hall in the large craft. It reminded him of his time, however short it was, under the likes of Boreal and his lessers. The thought gave him a bitter taste, and he considered busting a hole in the ship as a petty act of revenge against a guy who was already dead, but he remembered that Arcosians could breath in space, so he shrugged the idea away.

With a thud, the massive Majin let himself fall onto one of the benches of the cafeteria. It dented on impact, the ends bending slightly upward as he nestled into his seat. If he were sober, he'd definitely be more careful. It was a shame then for Ticoga that he wasn't.

"So," he motioned towards Marma with his cup of juice, sloshing the content-- Wait, when did he get the juice anyway? Oh yeah, Ticoga brought it out. His memory was fuzzy. Laying off the booze was a good idea. "How'd a girlie like you end up in dis chumps posse? He gots a stash a' Zeni lyin' around?" He chuckled to himself, and, snapping his fingers, produced a stack of zeni from thin air. "Don't worry. I ain't gonna steal if dat's really why yer woikin' fer em." With a quick flick, he slid the Zeni across the table to the cyborg. "Money ain't no object to a guy like me. I just like kickin' ass and makin' goodie-goods hoit."

If Marma fanned out the zeni, she'd be disappointed to find only the outer layer of cash worth anything. The ink on the inner layer of money was smudged and bleeding. Not exactly useful counterfeits.

It didn't take long for the main course to arrive, and Mumbo could hardly contain his excitement. He grinned wide as the extravagant display was brought before him. He swiped one of the closest plates to him, and zapped it with a beam of magic. In a flash, the massive rack of ribs turned into a pile of shortbread cookies, which he sucked into his mighty maw with a single breath. The next plate fell just as easily, though the noodles he brought to him stayed its original self this time. He seemed a bit picky, but what the criteria was remained a mystery.

A few moments later, and half the buffet was gone.

Mumbo burped loudly, slapping his gut back into place underneath his armor. "Alright. I tink I'm sobered up a bit. All dat garlic bread really soaks it up." Wiping his face with an already stained napkin, he turned to the duo. "So? What's da deal eh? Usually chumps like you woulda begged ta be spared or somethin', and I can tell you's ain't no pirate neitha. Woulda tried ta poison da food, which by da way wouldn'ta woiked."

Was that a stain on his armor? Damn! He grunted, straining every muscle in his body as he muttered something. Suddenly, his armor poofed, and was replaced by an identical set of gear. Stranger so was that any remnants of food on his face vanished as well.

"So yeah. Which types are you's guys? And be honest, 'kay? If yer goodie-goods, I ain't too keen on findin' out from some udda chumps. I want it straight from da source. What's yer plans, and why didn't ya try ta fight me?"

In a perhaps surprising turn of events, Mumbo gave little reaction to Marma's story. No snide comment or joking jab at her or her enemies expense. Instead, he listened. Nodding his head at the odd moment, sure, but little else. "In case ya hadn't noticed girlie, I ain't go no ears ta talk awf. It's always interestin' hearin' war stories. Good or bad, all of us have some kinda scar somewheres, yknow?"

But Marma wasn't the only one with a story to tell. Ticoga began his explanation as well, and it seemed honest enough. Usually these types were a little more arrogant, or at the least would try to make light of Mumbo in some way. Not this guy, though. He seemed to realize that the gap was wide enough, at least for now, that quips or hoity-toity remarks would end with him in a hospital bed, and that was if he was lucky. It was an odd trait for an Arcosian; to be humble, that is. Even the goodies he'd chowed on were a little overconfident. Maybe this guy just played his cards closer to his chest.

"Ahh," Mumbo exclaimed, "Sneaky type, sorta. I run with dose guys once in a while. In fact, my current contract is wit a squid dude. He's kinda sneaky like you, but a little moah... Uh... Nasty. He'd definitely call himself evil. I kinda like dat about da guy, yknow? Kraktus isn't like, da toughest guy, but he knows what he wants, yknow?"

Something about this guy was intriguing. Maybe it was the strange first impression, or the fact that he showered Mumbo with food, but Ticoga had a special quality.

"I can tell you's ain't givin' me da whole story, what wit' you's two bein' scared a' me and awl-- not dat dat's a bad ting! Bein' smaht about info is a good ting in da kinda business you oar me tend ta get involved in."

Mumbo stood up, and the bench seemed to sigh in relief. The metal regained some of its natural shape, though its major wounds would need to be tended to by a professional. Walking away from the table, he spoke with the duo at his back.

"Do ya mind if we play a little game? Since yer in da business of info and such, it might be a good idea to loin sometin' from a guy like me. We could toss questions back and foath, and da foist poisun ta lie loses."

He stopped a few tables over, grabbing a metal napkin container from one of the other tables and transforming it into an hourglass of similar size. It had little sand inside, implying the timer was a strict one. "If ya don't staht yer answa to da udda guys question befoa da sand runs out, you also lose. It gives ya less time ta come up wit a convincin' lie and such."

He set the hourglass down in front of Ticoga, and sat back down, the bench groaning in agony.

"Whaddya say? Could be a fun way ta get ta know each-udda."

Mumbo chuckled, stopping the hourglass with his hand before it even hit the table. It was an easy question to answer in his eyes; didn't need time to lie, since he was dead-set on telling the truth. "I'm his Goon. Whaddevah killin' he needs done, I do it. He needs me ta protect him from some dope? Done. Me and da Goons usually have it on lock, but like I said we haven't chatted in a bit, so fer all I know he's dead."

If Ticoga hadn't moved the hourglass, Mumbo would take it up and turn it over again. Alright! Yer turn." Swiveling the glass like a pen between his fingers, the mighty Majin scrunched his nose for a moment, before deciding.

"Alright. Let's say you was strong enough ta fight... Iunno, the Saiyan lady. Kombuch? Crayon? Queen type, big hair; yknow da chick. If you's was strong enough ta beat her, and win, what would ya do afta ya kicked her ass?" Mumbo set the hourglass down. It was a simple question on its outer layer, but the answer Ticoga chose would be telling of what kind of person he truly was. The clock was ticking.

Interesting. He definitely thought about the question Mumbo posed before just now. So maybe he had more guts than he originally seemed to. Picking fights he can be sure to win was a good strategy and all, but Mumbo was a little disappointed that the guy wouldn't risk losing even a little bit. Then again, if he was strong enough to take out goldielocks, it probably meant all of her little bears would come to the rescue mid-fight. Saiyans were like wolves in that way; always kicked ass in a pack, or so it seemed to him.

"I like da way you tink bud. Gotta say; I coitently wouldn't mind da fleet comin' back."

Mumbo was up next, and the question he received was actually a tough one. Maple knew more about the inner workings of the Goon's endgame, but Mumbo himself was a bit fuzzy on the minute details. He paused for a moment, letting the sand swirl, and answered as best he could.

"We fight for Evil's Sake. Try ta help the nastiest kings and the sneakiest thieves with our friendship and poses. All da goodie-goods have dis ting dey do, when dey get tugedda. Dey like ta use teamwoik and friendship ta save da day. Well, our employa, Two-Bit, he decided we ought ta use dat against 'em. Become buds; really get in good wit' each of yer teammates, and give a good as hell speech when you's kick da crap out of that hero across the street."

The Majin frowned. A sour note hit his heart. Some teammate he was, huh? Leaving his buds behind. He wouldn't be surprised if they were hunting him down to kick his ass right now. He'd definitely deserve it, and in a big way too.

"Each of us Goons have our own plan fer life, so I can't speak for dem, but we do have a few rules and dat's A: Neva EVAH take ova a place unless someone hired ya's ta do it. Odds bein' dat if you take ova sometin', some pure-hearted chump will get everybody he knows ta come rip yer eyes out thru ya nose. And B: Neva screw yer buds ova. If yer a Goon, da udda Goons is yer family. Let em down, and you let da whole crew down."

He sneered deeply, trying to hide it in vain. Mumbo, the leader, had broken one of the most integral rules. That's why he went into hiding.

"Also, we try not ta kill people who hire us cuz dat'd give us a bad rep among da villainous community." Mumbo leaned in close, whispering despite Marma still being able to hear. "Ta be honest doe, we have had ta kill guys who hired us a few times. It kinda sucks." Leaning back, he continued. "We also try not ta woik wit goodie-goods unless it'd help us down the line. Havin' a goodie owe ya's a favor is reallll helpful."

Grabbing the hourglass, Mumbo tossed it back and forth in his hands for a bit. He was trying to think of a good one. A real heavy-hitter that'd knock Ticoga off his rocker. Most of his really good questions would only work on dopes though. This guy was clearly missing not a single screw.

"Alright alright, I got a decent one I tink." Setting the hourglass down, he began his question. "Out of all da chumps who ran dis fleet and da uh... What'cha guys call da last one? Da WTO? Whaddevah. Out of all da chumps, old and new, which Arcosian do you's tink was da woist ta lead, and which was da best?" He tapped the side of his bio-gem as he finished. "And you's can really dig deep fer names, cuz I got a bunch of yer buddies swimmin in dis noggin o' mine who'll remember some oldies."