Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH50

[Escarot POV]

“Escarot, you have been summoned.”

I glanced up at the two palace guards standing at my doorstep like they had anything better to do with their lives. Their armor looked freshly polished, too new… almost as if they had never fought a day of their lives.

“Did he say why?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

“King’s orders,” one of them said flatly.

Pretty much what I expected.

I nodded. “Understood.”

It was honestly about tim. I’d expected King Vegeta to summon me the moment I set foot on the planet. The only surprising part was how long he took to actually pull the trigger. Maybe he’d needed time to emotionally prepare himself.

Or rehearse in the mirror. He looked like the kind of guy to do that, I had no proof of that but I didn’t need it.

I followed the guards, flying at a deliberately casual pace toward the castle, mentally preparing myself to swallow my pride.

I had to keep a low profile. For now…

The capital looked just as red from the air as it did from the ground. The giant red sun overhead bathed everything in that gritty rust tone. Real mood-lifter, this planet. Like someone designed it specifically to kill optimism.

We touched down on the castle balcony a few minutes later.

The guards led me through the familiar stone halls, towards the throne room. The big doors opened with that dramatic slow-creak, which I imagine was for dramatic purposes.

And there he was.

Sitting on the throne. King Vegeta.

Cape draped over the armrest, crown on his head, boots polished enough to reflect the ceiling, and that permanent expression of “I’m better than you, and I know it” plastered on his face.

I kept my expression neutral. Walked forward.

Then dropped to one knee.

Had to play the role.

“Do you know why I have summoned you, brat?” King Vegeta’s voice echoed in the chamber like he thought it was a big deal.

“I can’t hope to comprehend what one such as yourself thinks,” I replied, keeping my head low.

He stared at me for a beat too long. I could feel it. Like he was waiting for me to twitch so he’d have an excuse to throw a tantrum.

“You are being transferred,” he finally said.

…Transferred?

“Your outstanding service and diligence have caught the eye of Cooler himself,” King Vegeta added, and there it was—that smug, I’ve-just-screwed-you-without-moving-a-finger smile.

And there it was.

His play.

He was outsourcing his insecurity.

Sending me to Cooler was just another way of sending me to my death. But in a way that gave him plausible deniability. Because of course the King of the Saiyans wouldn’t dirty his own hands—not with Beerus keeping an invested on me, of course not, why would he when he could let another tyrant do it for him.

Lazy and cowardly.

On character for him.

“Your words honor me,” I said, keeping my tone flat.

“Do they?” he sneered.

He stood up from his throne, walked down the steps like he was about to deliver a sermon, and—

Kicked me.

Right in the chest.

The actual force behind it? Weak. Like a toddler with a vendetta. But I had to sell it. Had to keep the act going. So I let myself fly backward, smashing into the stone wall behind me with a grunt.

Pain? None.

Annoyance? Through the roof.

“Never forget who’s your better,” King Vegeta growled, stepping down and planting his boot on my head.

I took a slow breath.

In.

Out.

Don’t kill him.

Don’t kill him.

Don’t kill him.

Killing him accomplishes nothing. He’s so insignificant that his only role in canon was already accomplished by existing long enough to sire Vegeta.

“I apologize for whatever I did to earn your ire, my king,” I said, layering my voice with just the right amount of fear and pain. Had to sound pitiful.

I was so good at it, I deserved an award.

“Hmph,” he snorted.

Then came the second kick.

Again, I let myself go flying, crashing against the floor with a grunt. This one had even less power. The king was clearly enjoying himself. 

It was taking everything out of me; not to shove my fist down his throat.

“Take this trash out of my palace,” King Vegeta barked, turning his back on me.

The guards moved toward me, not even hiding their smirks.

I weakly dusted myself off as I stood up.

Oh, the things I would do if I didn’t care about long-term consequences.

But no. I needed him alive. For now.

Still…

Note to self: botch slap him into the sun when the time is right.

As the guards escorted me out, I heard one whisper to the other, “Did you see how far he flew? That must’ve hurt.”

I almost laughed.

Still, I kept my head down. Let the act ride.

Cooler, huh?

Well.

That complicated things. 

I already knew King Vegeta would try something. Sooner or later, it was bound to happen.

Cooler was dangerous, and possibly a bigger threat than Frieza at this point of time.

That said, out of anyone in the Cold Clan, I could handle Cooler. He seemed more reasonable than his family.

Either way, I was impressed… it seemed Lord Beerus’s visit rattled the little king more than he let on.

The pieces were moving.

And I had to move with them.

I was excited.

————————————————————————————

[Cooler – POV]

It took longer than expected, but the transmission finally came through. One of the ship’s many screens lit up with Salza’s face, punctual as ever.

He bowed, sharp and crisp. “It’s done. King Vegeta signed off on the transfer.”

I leaned back in my seat, folding one leg over the other.

“Of course he did,” I said. “He was never going to refuse. He had no option.”

The moment I brought up Escarot’s name during our last meeting, the coward practically pissed himself. A shame, really. You’d think after ruling over monkeys for so long, he’d have evolved past the tail-dragging phase.

Still. I’d gotten what I wanted.

Salza waited for confirmation before continuing. “Escarot will be listed under our command structure by the end of today. Orders already relayed to the Saiyan admin officers.”

“Good,” I replied, swirling a small glass of wine in my hand.

The kid was mine now.

I’d read the files. I’d seen the numbers. I’d even watched the recordings, sparse as they were, of that ‘pillow mission.’ Gods, what an idiotic premise… and yet Escarot completed it; years ahead of schedule. Not only that, but he delivered directly to Lord Beerus.

That told me two things.

One: he wasn’t just strong. He was smart. Smart enough to know what mattered and who not to piss off.

Two: Beerus noticed him. And most importantly… tolerated him. 

And that’s what intrigued me most.

Lord Beerus wasn’t exactly the sentimental type. You didn’t earn his favor with a soft smile and firm handshake. If the Destroyer so much as remembered your name, it meant one of two things: you either cooked well or you could kill well. Sometimes both.

And if Escarot had managed to draw Beerus’ attention, even for a fleeting moment?

Then he was worth watching.

And most of all; worth owning.

“Do you wish to pick him up now, Lord Cooler?” Salza asked.

I considered it. There was a part of me—small, but very present—that wanted to finalize this transaction. 

However…

“No,” I said, waving the thought away. “Let him rest.”

Salza blinked. “Sir?”

“He completed a job requested by the destroyer himself,” I said. “Years early, despite the clear sabotage. If the King had his way, the boy would’ve never returned from that mission. And yet he did.”

I leaned forward, setting my glass down on the console with a soft clink.

“That alone deserves some form of praise,” I added.

There was a brief silence. Salza didn’t question me. He never did. One of his better traits.

“Send a message,” I said. “Let Escarot know he has full clearance to recruit his previous teammates. If they helped him succeed under those conditions, then they may have value as well.”

“Understood,” Salza replied with a bow. “And King Vegeta?”

I smiled.

A proper, satisfied smile.

“Remind him that Escarot is no longer under his command,” I said. “He no longer has the authority to give him orders, or to punish him for perceived slights. Escarot now answers only to me, and if something happens to him, he will answer to me.”

The Cooler Force operated under a very simple rule: you don’t touch what’s mine. Not my soldiers. Not my ships. Not my conquests. And certainly not my tools.

Even Frieza and Father knew better than to interfere with my direct assets.

“I’ll make it clear, Lord Cooler,” Salza said.

“Also…” I leaned back again. “Assign one of our observation teams to keep an eye on the Saiyan capital.”

“Suspicions, my lord?”

“No,” I replied. “Insurance. Something about this entire situation smells wrong. I want eyes on Escarot, but I also want ears in the shadows. Watch for anyone tailing him. Unusual activity. Interference.”

Salza nodded. “What about Lord Beerus?”

“Nothing,” I said immediately. “You don’t watch a Destroyer.”

I stood, stretching slightly as the stars outside the ship’s main viewport glinted against the blackness of space.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“One thing,” Salza said. “Do you want me to send any files to Escarot regarding his transfer? Official documents, records, assignments—”

“No,” I interrupted. “He’ll figure it out the rest.”

“…Sir?”

“Think of it as a test. Let’s see how long it takes him to realize the leash is off,” I said, smirking to myself. “It should be fun.”

Salza bowed again. “Understood.”

The transmission ended.

I looked out into the void of space. 

Saiyans were many things—brutal, impulsive, genetically gifted—but they were rarely useful for anything outside warfare. Escarot, though…

It seemed he had potential.

Not just as a fighter.

But as a piece on the board.

Maybe even a wild card.

If I played this right, I wouldn’t just have a strong warrior on my side—I’d have the one person Lord Beerus might actually hesitate to obliterate.

That was something you didn’t buy.

That was something you collected.