Scelerat was written as the seventh of the Brady Patrick collection. Most of the time, since my return from hiatus on March 31, 2013, I released one Brady Patrick story a week. This didn't always happened, as I think I missed two weeks. For Scelerat's week, it was likely that I would miss that week too as I was writing an essay sunday night. But instead of finishing it, I made a deal with Destructivedisk that if he reviewed a certain page, I would write Scelerat. He did, so I had to write it.
I didn't have any direction for the very open question of 'how Cooler acquired his fifth form'. When I began writing, I felt like Cooler would be alone. In his short appearences, Cooler has been shown to be more of a loner than Frieza or King Cold, and that played well with his mental thoughts of being the sole person to continue his family's name. Scelerat took about 3 hours to write, mainly because I wasn't wholly focused on writing it throughout the process. I listened to Teeth Like God's Shoeshine while writing, though I did not import any references to the song into the story, which was a rare move. Usually, I reference the song I am listening to in some way.
The use of the sepulcher was a very striking image in my mind. Theme-wise, there are all sorts of things that can be analyzed, such as why he would find the most comfort in spending his time in his future tomb, why he felt it was the best place to train in, etc. It was really fun to write. Though it was an unconscious move, Scelerat certainly has larger paragraph sizes than other stories. My only explanation can be that it was written with lots of descriptions. Scelerat ultimately feels like the writing that came with both Derelict and the latter chapters In Requiem, in its elegance and refinement. It is easily the most well-written of the Brady Patrick stories.
There had been a time when the parliamentary dinners, galactic boundary drawings, anniversary parties, and birthday celebrations were something he would have gone to. But it had been a while. He still got the invitations, but he had long since stopped opening them. Cooler’s empire was now so vast that he couldn’t indulge in his father and brother’s parties. It had as much to do with his growing distaste of them as his desire to get stronger. Well, it wasn’t exactly a desire; more accurately, it was an obsession that he had felt since he could remember. Whereas his father had dug out a place for himself by creating the Planet Trade Organization, and Cooler built a good deal of it himself, he knew that, in time, it would all unravel. After they were gone, the Organization would eventually break up and his accomplishments would be placed amongst his brother and father. His individual accomplishments would be forgotten. But that was not what he wanted. He wanted to be unique, to be separate but equal to his father’s image. And he knew of a way to achieve it.
He was his father’s son, there was no doubt. Cooler loved being loved. But the thought of pompous people sitting around a table admiring and being admired was not how he wanted it. He wanted people to remember him as the greatest warrior the galaxy had ever seen. That was something people would remember, far more than the inevitable and long line of dictators they would suffer through. He would become that. Currently, his father was stronger than him, despite his father being in a restrained form. But Cooler had been training alone, out of the sight of his soldiers and family. And every day as he had gruelingly pushed his body more and more, he could feel something. Something was deep inside him, and felt that if he was just a little stronger, he could unlock it. It felt similar to how he had had to train to unlock his current transformations, but with far greater potential.
Cooler stood alone in a magnificent sepulcher – it was his own, actually – and looked around. Perhaps there was irony in him already crafting his grave, but it was something he felt needed the utmost planning. He enjoyed the serenity and quiet of the place, for no other would dare (or be granted permission to) enter his tomb. He walked the large, polished halls made of katchin painted deep bronze, and found the place he was looking for: a small sealed room. He pressed a button on a nearby keypad, opening the door. It was a wide, spacious area, rounded out, with a single, raised rectangular space in the middle. That would be where he would rest, once he died; once he had become the strongest in the galaxy. Upon walking inside, and closing the door with a second keypad on the inside, he set the gravity at 400 times normal. Immediately, he felt great strain pulling down upon his body. Even as he powered up to his maximum, he felt little relief. Then, taking a deep breath, he pulled his neck up, and began his agility training.
Cooler had done these exercises for months now. In between fulfilling his daily quota of destroying planets, he came here, to this desolate planet to train. Having gravity in this place was more of a security measure to keep weaklings out than to train in, but by training in his already constructed tomb made of the strongest metal in the universe, he could expel more energy and not have to risk destroying a gravity chamber in the process. It made him feel better, being out here alone. He wasn’t wasting his time like Frieza would be, sitting around being pampered. His brother was satisfied with the power he already had. He probably felt it was good enough. Cooler couldn’t be more different. There was always room for improvement.
He jumped across the room, straining to shoot energy blasts as he did so. Somersaulting around, he quickly tired himself out. Then, landing, Cooler raised his arm and shot a hail of energy to the air. He slanted his body forward, and sprinted across, attempting to dodge the energy. Closing his eyes, he felt for the energy, by feeling the subtle ripples of air hitting his face. After weeks of doing this, Cooler had been able to master sensing where the ki would be. The only problem was being able to dodge; with how much energy it took to move out of the way, he had to sharpen his reflexes so that he would be able to move far before anything would hit him. The entire process drained him.
After a few hours had passed, Cooler turned the gravity off with telekinesis, and fell, exhausted, on the raised bed in the middle of the room. It was cold, giving his overheated body some relief as he lay there still panting. He felt his aching muscles still throbbing, and his throat was sore from his extended breathing. While he certainly didn’t need to breathe, it helped to replenish some of the energy lost in heavy training. And as he lay there, Cooler felt something burning start up in his chest, but it wasn’t an overstrained muscle. In fact, it felt like his very bones were on fire. He sat up as the pain overtook his entire body. Surely, he felt himself a good judger of pain, as he had put himself through this exercise every day for the longest time. But the pain he was feeling now transcended all of that. Lurching forward, sweat dripping off his perfectly smooth head, Cooler barred his teeth, and clenched his fists. But he would not scream, would not moan. He wasn’t a weakling. He felt the burning sensation start rising into his face, behind his eyes, and into his skull. And at once, the pain overwhelmed him. Cooler’s eyes glazed over, and he fell backward, unconscious.
Cooler awoke in a pool of cold sweat. Sitting up, he still felt the dull strain that was the result of every training session. But that horrific pain that came on after last night’s was gone. Standing up, Cooler made way to leave his sepulcher when he noticed he was taller. And not just slightly; he was a good two feet taller. As he walked, he could feel his head was different; feeling with his hands, he found the back of his head to be covered in tall spikes. As his heart began beating faster, Cooler flew with all his speed to the door, and looked at his reflection in the glass. The sight sent a shiver through his skin.
His features were completely different; His head was now elongated with spikes, his face was covered with a protective guard, and his overall body was significantly larger. Even as he looked, he knew what it was he saw. But Cooler was not a foolhardy fellow and he had to test it. Pressing the gravity control button once again, he raised the gravity to see if he could now tolerate it. He stood there for a moment waiting for the gravity to turn on, but he could not feel anything. Then, glancing back at the panel, he saw it was already on 400 times gravity.
Rising into the air, Cooler attempted more acrobatic maneuvers, such as flips and whatnot. All he could do as if the gravity was not turned up. Satisfied beyond comprehension, he touched back down, and exited his tomb. With all his speed, he returned to his ship, and left the planet. As expected, a soldier had forwarded him a message from his father. This time, for the first time in a long time, he opened it. It was an invitation to a feast Frieza was holding. Cooler smirked to himself. He would be happy to go – and even happier to show his brother what he had accomplished. Maybe he could rid himself of that pest. And he would do the same to his father, should he stand in his way. The power of his new form begged submission. The galaxy would be his to rule alone! His family name would be much more respected with the greatest warrior in history at its helm.
After some time, Cooler arrived on the planet. He saw his brother’s flagship docked, and parked next to it. He was sure his father was here as well, but it would not be advertised, due to his secrecy. Cooler reverted to his fourth form, or third transformation, as it was his favorite, before exiting his ship. He didn’t want Frieza to be forewarned of what he was going to do. As Cooler entered, he spied two of Frieza’s dogs, Zarbon and Dodoria. They both looked surprised upon seeing him. Not as surprised as they would be in a moment, he thought to himself. Continuing on, he came upon the great feast hall. Just before he went to open it, the large wooden doors swung open, and out came his father, King Cold.
“Cooler? You decided to come?” his father asked in surprised, if lazy droll. Though he towered over Cooler, he was not the least imposing.
“Is that so hard to believe, father?”
“Yes, I haven’t seen you in a while. You must have something you want from me. What is it this time? A Planet? A new ship?” the king asked before sipping some wine out of his absurdly ornate goblet.
“No, father. I have come to show my brother something. Frieza will see that those of us who continue to push ourselves will be rewarded! I have been reborn through my power and cunning! You see, father… I have achieved a fifth form, beyond even this one.” Cooler said, barely holding back his excitement.
Cooler stepped back, and thrust his arms to each side. Gritting his teeth, he produced an aura around him. A white light engulfed him, and within a second, a small crack exploded, dissolving the blinding light. In its place stood Cooler, in his newly achieved form. King Cold stepped back completely in shock at what his son had done.
“It is time my brother pays for his incompetence. I will not have my name be brought down by his laziness and carelessness! Only I run my empire with the utmost precision and authority and he will see how,” Cooler boomed in a deeper voice. He attempted to move forward, but his father placed a hand firmly into his chest.
“You will do nothing to your brother, Frieza,” King Cold said, his voice gaining determination. “I don’t care what you two are fighting about this time. My sons will not be killing each other. That would make me look bad.”
“Father!” Cooler began, getting ready to blast through him too, if necessary.
“Cooler, do you think I got to where I am by being a fool? No? Then hold your tongue, and enjoy yourself. Have some food.”
Cooler simply growled, and pushed forward. Seeing he had no choice, Cold sighed. He flung his goblet into the hallway, and hunkered down into a squat. Beginning with a low grunt (which was sustained throughout), his aura grew around him, and encompassed him until Cooler could no longer see him. Then, it vanished at once, and revealed King Cold, in all his glory. He was in the same transformation as Cooler.
Cooler’s heart sank. All this time, his father had known and never said a word. He had lied to Cooler that the third transformation was the final one. Frieza was still painfully oblivious. And here his father was, still in control, still more powerful, still one-upping him. Why hadn’t his father told him? Why did he need to humiliate Cooler like this?
“Now, Cooler. Regress, and forget we talked. Your brother doesn’t need to know about this yet. He’s not strong enough. There’s no point in telling him yet,” Cold said. He eyed the malice still in Cooler’s eyes before speaking again, “Oh, say a word about this to him, Cooler, and I will take half of your planets.”
With that, Cold quickly regressed to his favorite form, and walked past his son, leaving Cooler in a state of complete deflation. All his feelings of joy at accomplishing this impossible feat were gone. Though he did regress, Cooler did not go inside. He knew his father favored Frieza, but he would not have any part of it. He wouldn’t speak to them again until he was as strong as his father. Then, he would kill them both and take over everything. Maybe then, his father would be proud of something he had done.
- The original description of the Cooler story was "2. Scelerat - cooler sees that his father spoils frieza and gives him no attention, using his anger to achieve fifth form".
- This story is named scelerat because Cooler acts quite villainous after achieving his fifth form. From Cooler's point of view, the scelerat is probably his father.
- The use of a sepulcher was influenced by The Twilight Sepulcher of Skyrim, though Cooler's sepulcher looks nothing like it.
- I guess one could say the parallels between Cooler's mindset and KidVegeta's mindset are similar, when comparing becoming a better warrior (when already a great one) to KidVegeta wanting to become a better writer.
- Perhaps there is foreshadowing in Cooler training in his tomb, and laying where they would put his body, after he was weary from training.
- In order to see how much taller fifth form Cooler is compared to fourth form Cooler, I used Raging Blast 2's training mode. I set myself as fourth form Cooler, and the opponent as fifth form, and doing so let me see the great height difference.
- King Cold throwing his ornate drinking cup down the hall was probably the great tragedy of this story, considering how much that cup was probably worth. It could have bought entire armies, no doubt.
- Having King Cold with the fifth form was great for deflating Cooler's sense of uniqueness. King Cold basically doesn't give a fuck about his son's power, as transforming into his fifth form, he could have probably taken on both of his sons at the same time. It was just to show Cooler that his son had much more to learn, and was nowhere near the level of his father. After all, Cold was stronger than Frieza's maximum power, when merely in his second form. If we take the multipliers to be the same for all members of their race, than fourth form Cold should be stronger than Cell, and fifth form could very well have been stronger than Kid Buu - though not Buutenks.
- Cold not telling Cooler there was a fifth form plays fulfills the speculation that Cooler has about his father not being truthful with him.
- The title of this story is most likely referencing King Cold, though it could be argued that it is a name for Cooler from either King Cold or Frieza’s perspectives.
At the time of writing this, Scelerat replaced Soup as my favorite Brady Patrick story. The writing is superb; highly elegant, commanding, and descriptive, with excellent dialogue and plot progression. I don't think I have any complaints about the story at all. After reading back on it, it clearly reminded me of the quality of Derelict or In Requiem (some of my better written stories), and the plot was very unique. I enjoyed the description of the sepulcher training, and all that entailed more than I expected, and it will probably remain as one of the favorite scenes that I have ever written. I would give Scelerat an S.
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Part 22 ---->