A tiny twist in time

        Brolli
woke up slowly. It wasn’t his father looking down at him, but a pretty man with
light blue skin and a long green braid hanging over his shoulder. He blinked up
at the vision before him without comprehension as his admittedly shattered mind
tried to take in other information.

        He
had limiters on. The familiar weight of the old ones was gone, though. These
were lighter, different. They felt different, as if instead of just holding his
power back, they removed it somehow. It made him feel a little dizzy. He raised
one hand to brush at his eyes, and saw the jewels on the limiters seemed to
match the ones the pretty man wore.

        It
was another minute before his wits returned enough to recognize that he was
naked and the other man might as well have been. His own nudity didn’t
precisely bother him, but the other’s nearly nude state made him flush. He felt
the blush spread as the man smiled down at him.

        “I
am Zarbon, your new master. Frieza has agreed that you will be my pet.”

        His
eyebrows knit slightly as he tried to process that. He knew the name Frieza –
his father had cursed it often enough – but Zarbon was only vaguely familiar.
And what was a pet? So, he asked.

        “P…
pet?” he managed, throat dry and sore.

        Zarbon’s
smile widened. “Yes, little monkey, you are my pet.”

        He
shook his head very slightly, having noticed his headache at last. “What… is a…
pet?”

        Shock
wiped the man’s face of the earlier condescending smile. “What is a pet?” the
green-haired man repeated. “You don’t know what a pet is?”

        “No,”
he answered simply, honestly. He’d never heard the word before, not that he
remembered.

        Zarbon
cocked his head, now giving him a quizzical look. “How old are you, monkey
boy?”

        Brolli
frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”

        “You
don’t know your age?”

        Brolli
shook his head, since he didn’t, although he’d meant monkey.

        “Well,
do you know where you were born?”

        “Vegeta-sei,”
Brolli answered without hesitation, “a few days before it blew up. Father told
me so. What is a monkey?”

        Zarbon
blinked, and then very carefully, delicately, seated himself on the bed next to
Brolli. “You are twenty-two years old, at the very least. Do you know your
name, Saiyan?”

        “Brolli.”

        “Brolli,”
Zarbon repeated, picking up Brolli’s tail and stroking it. Brolli stiffened,
eyes wide, waiting for the pain to begin. Father did just the same when he had
displeased the older Saiyan, and he didn’t see how he couldn’t have displeased
Zarbon, with his questions and his stupidity. He was stupid, he knew, his
father had told him so often enough.

        “Stupid
brat,” he murmured, eyes locked on the hands stroking his tail. “Stupid brat,
so much power and no brain to use it. I’ll teach you to use it right!” He
winced at the last word, his tail jerking in Zarbon’s grip at the expected
twist and accompanying pain. His eyes slid slowly to Zarbon’s face when the man
did nothing more than continue to stroke his tail.

        “This
was often said to you?” The tone was one Brolli didn’t recognize: pity.

        Brolli
winced as Zarbon’s fingers found an old break. The spot was healed, but like
all the broken places, especially tender. “I’m insane,” he offered quietly.
“Father says I have too much power and not enough brain, and that Kakarot’s
incessant crying drove me insane when we were in the crèche together. I don’t
remember that, though. I remember the sword, and the explosion, and all the
times father tried to teach me control, but I don’t know who Kakarot is or what
the crèche was.”

        “Kakarot?”
Zarbon mused. “I’ve heard that name. Ah, yes. Raditz’ younger brother. The other
Saiyans have gone to collect him from E’arth, where he was sent as a child.”

        The
faint humming finally clicked. “Are we on a spaceship?” Brolli asked.

        “We
are, little pet.” Nimble fingers threaded through the tail, pinpointing several
more old breaks. “But I think we will first put you into a regeneration tank.
Your tail is not well healed, and you have other injuries as well.”

        Brolli
nodded slightly, only to gasp in shock as he was scooped up. Tail and arms
wrapped around Zarbon’s lithe frame, clinging as his world attempted to adjust
to the new positioning. He laid his aching, buzzing head against a warm
shoulder; eyes squeezed shut to try to stop the dizziness. Zarbon began moving,
and Brolli tightened his tail’s grip on the man’s thigh, moaning a little
desperately as he tried to compensate. His fingers dug into his own forearms,
knowing better than to score the man who apparently was to be his father in
this new place, at least until his father returned. Still, in spite of his
unhappy condition, he still wanted to know what a pet was. Maybe Zarbon would
tell him after he took him out of the regeneration tank. An unhappy whine was
cut short, Brolli not wanting Zarbon to ask why, and have to admit he was
worried about being put in a tank. Tanks held especially bad memories for him.

        He
kept his eyes on Zarbon’s face as the tank filled. His tears blended with the
liquid when the man turned away. He knew well enough how a mouth was shaped
when saying, “stupid” and “have to train you”. Yes, Zarbon was indeed his
father in this place. He would be punished twice then. Once by Zarbon, and
again when Father came for him.

        Brolli
felt the new limiters do something, and then knew nothing more.