Not a single soul in the multiverse would've ever thought such a thing possible had they not witnessed it for themselves, but then again, the idea of it was nothing short of sincere impossibilities, at least, then.

Now it became but a thrum in the everyday extraordinary lives of the Z-Fighters of planet Earth, whether they had been from there or not. But this is neither a story about Goku or Vegeta or even any of their offspring, but rather on an under appreciated fighter who just so happened to be good at being good, at fighting and baseball…

… who unintentionally became one of the most renowned warriors throughout the cosmos as the one person in the galaxy who turned the eye of one galactic tyrant.

Parties had a way of bringing people together in odd ways; it was true enough for Earth and all of its strange and varied inhabitants, including visitors of a Godly variety. As it was now, with the Universes restored after the battle royale between them, some steps needed to be taken into account in regards to one of the fighters from Universe 7.

He had been brought back to life, as was the word of the foolish hero who chose him for the tournament, but Frieza was a loose cannon. If left unchecked, everyone knew he'd take over the entire Universe, and then conquer the land of the gods.

It was only lucky that said space emperor had all but lost his army, the majority of his known clan, and was currently weaker than the current gods that presided over the Universe. With that in mind, Lord Beerus certainly had a plan for the tyrant. One that involved putting a proverbial collar on him that would

Not that Frieza was happy about it. But he never really was, so it made no difference. Even so, there was some glory to officially being a destroyers accomplice - very few had the honour of such a title. Frieza took what was given to him and ran with it - it was better than going back to that hell.

And so, the party on Earth was underway, with everyone enjoying the rich variety of Earthian foods. Lord Beerus was also present, but up on stage as he waited for another lord of a different nature to make his entrance. Shortly after Beerus took his seat, Frieza walked in, and took everyone by surprise.

The tyrant was not wearing his usual battle armour (or nothing at all, as it was his true form) but rather a handsome purple-grey suit, clearly tailored for him, emblazoned with gold accents. Well, if he was going to become a destroyer's lackey, he may as well look good doing it!

His attire caught the notice of nearly everyone, and Goku in all of his intelligent glory said quietly to Vegeta, "hey, Frieza sure looks different. Ever seen him wear something like that?"

"It's his formal suit from his own planet," the prince answered gruffly, although there was the ever present annoyance in his tone that never seemed to leave, "I only ever saw him wear it once."

"Huh," the other saiyan looked curious about the attire, but left it at that.

"So that's Frieza, huh?" Yamcha peered on as Beerus spoke to the tyrant from where he sat, "first time I've ever gotten a good look at him…"

The retired fighter might've been retired, but he still kept himself in shape nonetheless, and even he could tell - Frieza's power was rather overwhelming. It was no wonder the present company had had so much trouble with him - back in the day.

Yamcha figured they'd have no trouble with him now… or rather, he hoped.

At least Lord Beerus seemed to hate him.

"Frankly I would prefer you to remain in your flower garden-," Beerus huffed, and Frieza growled, "-but a foolish promise is but a foolish promise. You're alive, and so, you'll become my official subject of Destruction while I sleep. However, if you abuse the position," the God's eyes narrowed, "and I will know, there will be consequences far worse than the Hell you've thus visited."

Frieza nodded stiffly. He knew better than to not agree.

"Very well - Whis," he nodded to his attendant, who waved his wand with an affirmative. On Frieza appeared a side pinned cape the same colour as Beerus's skin, pinned with the crest of the 7th Universe.

"While you wear that, it represents that you're on official business from me," The God gestured to himself, "wear it proudly, and most of all, wear it with honour."

"Understood," it was the first time Frieza had spoken, and while it was clear he wasn't happy, it didn't seem like he minded the novel touch to his attire.

With formalities out of the way, everyone began to dig into the feast. Frieza, it seemed, was not interested and merely hung at the back of the room, arms folded and seemingly deep in thought.

He had been given a whole new life, as promised, and a whole new chance to conquer his Universe - albeit with a much shorter leash than he had ever had before, and unlikely any conquering to really be done to soil a god's name.

Frieza had never been tethered before, really, and he already decided he hated it. Hated it to the very core of his being. He was the boss! He was the prince! He was the LORD!

The only reason he even so much as tolerated being tethered in such a way was that he was well away from the torment of Earth's hell. At the very least, he could handle being alive and able to wreak destruction in Beerus's name rather than hang from a tree being serenaded by cuddly plushies.

Psh.

Hopefully he could find something decent to do at this God forsaken party full of literally everyone he hated, which was to say nearly everyone in the entire Universe. Nearly.

There were a couple of people at least he was fairly neutral on, mostly because he hadn't really met them. One of which was mostly off to the side like he was, though it didn't seem to be from a lack of friendly connections.

If anything, it was from a supreme amount of sheer awkward.

The tyrant had a little bit of a giggle about that. How pathetic. He could tell from his build and attire that the man was at least relatively experienced in martial arts. The scars on his face certainly added an element of that… and maybe a touch of charm?

Maybe. At least it showed he gave it his all in fights - his red eyes glanced towards the saiyans he hated so much - the pair of them didn't have a noticeable scar on them. If anything it made him hate them more.

Filthy monkeys.

His eyes roamed back to the lone human who seemed to be quietly eating on his own. Occasionally a floating… was it a feline? Yes a blue feline, would come over and try to talk to him, but the human (he assumed) would merely wave her off and insist he was fine.

What a liar.

There was nothing else better to do at this party, so maybe harassing a human would be fun. He walked over to one of the tables, picked up a wine glass, filled it with his own wine, thank you very much, and wandered over to where Yamcha was standing, swirling his wine in his glass as he did so.

It felt like forever ago that Yamcha felt like a top league fighter, and being among the current top 10 in not only his Universe, but countless others as well. It was overwhelming, if he was honest with himself, and it made him feel like he really wasn't in the group anymore.

Truthfully, he hadn't been for a long time, and it was glaringly obvious at a party like this.

Everyone had moved on, too. He looked around at the sea of faces, much older than he remembered last… with families and their families having families. He once dreamed of getting married and having his own children. More and more, though, it seemed like a distant dream. He at least had a good job now, and a good income… it didn't help the loneliness, though.

"So, what do you call yourself, human?"

Yamcha nearly jumped out of his skin, and he had to cover his mouth to conceal the yelp that nearly came out. Right beside him was standing Frieza, a neutral look on his face and a glass of wine in his right hand.

"Y-you're… Frieza, right?" he stammered.

"Oho, you're aware of my greatness? Nice to know word of my return gets around~" The icejin swirled his wine, and the smile slipped from his face, "but I do believe I asked you a question, Earthling."

"O-Oh, right, it's Yamcha," he answered back quickly, "sorry, I didn't- well. Never mind," he shook his head, "it's nice to… meet you?" the human offered shakily.

"Hmph," Frieza blinked once, "so, this party sucks and I literally hate every single person in this room. And you?"

Well, that was a nice way to say hello, Yamcha thought to himself, though he had to remind himself he was talking to Frieza here. It was practically a compliment that he wasn't blowing up the room out of sheer annoyance.

"Well… I'm here because I used to fight alongside most of the people here," he nodded to the room at large, "but I don't really measure up nowdays, so I mostly work as support."

"Hmmm~" Frieza took a sip of his wine, "a rather pathetic end, don't you think?"

"I guess," Yamcha couldn't deny that - he would've much preferred to go out according to his own choice, rather than being forced out by more talented fighters, "it was fun while it lasted," he sighed and leaned against the wall.

The tyrant almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He mostly just felt disgust that a fighter would just give up. Normally he relished at the idea of someone bowing to his mercy, but no, this was a fighter who had simply been outclassed, and he didn't really like it.

Maybe he took it a bit more personally than normal, namely… he glanced over at Goku, and didn't bother to suppress a growl.

"But, you know, I moved on."

Frieza blinked, caught off guard slightly by the words uttered, "what?"

"I decided to become better at other things, you know? Stop wallowing in the past and just… do something else."

"Tch," Frieza nearly wanted to yell at him for that remark. What he was in the past was everything, and yet… this human could just give it up? How pathetic!

Then again, this human didn't once control 70% of the known Universe, did he? Whatever he did in his pathetic life was mere pebbles to what Frieza once was!

"So what is it that you do now, if you're no longer a warrior?" he hadn't meant to sound annoyed, but he didn't really care that Yamcha cringed somewhat. If anything, it amused him how scared this man was of him.

"I uh, mostly help out some of my other friends, but I also play baseball!" he offered, "it's a game here that pays pretty well if you get good at it. My martial arts made me pretty decent at the game, ironically…"

"Playing a game professionally? Hm. Juvenile, but I suppose if the glove fits…"

Well, Yamcha hadn't expected Frieza to be nice, but even so… "erm, well, other than that, what do you plan to do, Frieza?"

"Aside from the whims of Beerus the Destroyer, you mean?" he sounded even more annoyed.

"Well, yeah… I'm sure you'd be able to handle any task he gives you no problem!"

"Hmm…" Frieza supposed that was true. The edge on his tone disappeared, "so, how did you come to associate with your 'friends'?"

"Oh, well, other than fighting together…" Yamcha rubbed the back of his head, "me and Bulma kinda dated for a while…"

Bulma? Oh, the blue haired wrench who was married to Vegeta. Frieza's eyes narrowed as Yamcha prattled on.

"... felt pretty crap about that for a while, but we're still good friends, so that's nice."

"Hmph," Frieza stared at the human woman, "if she picked a filthy monkey over you, then clearly she wasn't worth your time."

Yamcha blinked. Was that a compliment? From Frieza of all people? It did catch him off guard, but the human continued onwards, "I dunno… I mean she's rich and a genius."

"Psh, set your sights higher!" the tyrant huffed, "so what if she is? She's one of billions who picked a lowly monkey has her choice of a mate. That automatically makes your preferences far better."

Yamcha wasn't exactly a fan of Frieza outright insulting his friends, but by the same token… he peered over at said friends. None of them were really paying much attention, except maybe Goku glancing over once or twice. The human figured it was more to keep an eye on the alien next to him than anything else.

And he had to admit… Bulma picking Vegeta over him didn't exactly mesh well with him for quite some time after it happened. In one way, Frieza had a point.

So, he merely smiled and shrugged, "well, thanks I guess."

Frieza huffed and smirked, lifting his wine glass to Yamcha's own drink. Surprised at the initiative, but smiling nonetheless, the retired fighter clinged his glass against Frieza's own and drunk. The noise attracted a couple of onlookers, who were mostly shocked that Frieza had made any semblance of a friend.

And that that friend was Yamcha.