Generation Stronger
by Kurahieiritr JIO     More by this Writer
The story takes place in Mirai Trunks’ timeline, a couple of years after Mirai Trunks finally destroyed androids 17 and 18.

Song Used: Britney Spears – Stronger

Trunks walked down the hallway to answer the door. He was still half asleep due to a typically restless night of nightmares that never seemed to end. It had been two years since he had destroyed the androids in his world, but still, they sneered at him in his sleep. He rubbed the back of his neck, mentally shaking off the after images that tried to rear their ugly heads to drag him back down in the mirky depths, and opened the door.

“Package for Mrs. Briefs and son.” a thin, wiry framed, youth from UPS chirped at him in a cheery voice. Trunks inhaled deeply to keep from snapping at the carefree young man standing in front of him with his computerized data pad, ready for someone’s signature. It wasn’t the UPS boy’s fault he couldn’t get a descent night’s sleep he reminded himself sharply, before he spoke.

“I’m Trunks Briefs. I’ll sign for it.” he said holding out his hand for the data pad and computerized pen that would commit his signature to the memory banks in the machine for later re-verification.

“Wow! You guys are lucky. Not many people get personal packages from Aurora you know.” The way too cheerful fellow pronounced in an awed tone as he took back the data computer, handing over a fairly large package reluctantly. “What’s she really like? Is she half as cool as they say she is?” The young man asked, eager for information on the veteran pop singer.

“Um, well,” Trunks was hesitant to speak about young woman who he and Gohan had rescued two years before Gohan’s death. “Rory is just like anyone else to be honest. She’s down to earth basically.” Trunks shrugged, scratching his head, wanting to end the conversation quickly so he could find out what the Son family’s pseudo-adopted trouble maker had sent to him and his mother, especially since she hadn’t been in touch for several months.

“Man what I wouldn’t give to meet a girl like her! You must be one envied guy I bet!” The carrier continued oblivious to Trunks quickly darkening look.

“She’s like a kid sister to me. So don’t get any funny ideas buddy!” Trunks snapped at the startled teen standing before him.

“Oh sorry sir… I had no idea. Well… I best… get back to… business. Nice to meet you.” The younger man stammered in squeaky tones, back peddling out of the doorway, tipping his cap in a hasty fashion. Trunks slammed the door, turning to see his mother staring at him, a look of disappointment on her face. “Morning mom.”

“Uh huh. Not if you’re about to murder the delivery people straight out of bed Trunks.” She said with a raised eyebrow and a hand planted firmly on one hip in that intimidating fashion which still caused Trunks to cringe like a little boy, whether he knew what he’d done wrong or not.

“Sorry. I just hate being plagued about Rory. It’s rare enough when she actually bothers to get in touch with us now days.” the tell tale blush staining his cheeks had Bulma grinning openly at her son.

“Oh what did little Miss Rory send us I wonder?” Bulma opened her hands, a clear demand for possession of the parcel Trunks held. She glanced at the box and headed for the den, where she sorted through the family’s mail and bills. She grabbed a long, thin knife she used for a letter opener, and slid it lightly across the heavy tape, freeing the seal and fanning Trunks’ own unquenchable curiosity. A letter and a heavily bubble-wrapped bundle slid out onto the desk surface. “Well at least we got a letter with this one, eh son?’ Bulma grinned wickedly at her lavender haired son, who was watching her intensely.

“Mom?! Would you open the darned package? I want to know what she sent already!” Trunks’ grumbled, ill-humored, at being kept in suspense by her antics.

“Oh pooh. You’re such a spoil sport.” Bulma chuckled, even as she reprimanded her only son. “First things first, son of mine. We read the letter so we know how ChiChi’s little lady is doing and then we’ll get to the goodies.”

“But mom…”

“No buts, Trunks. Letter first!” Bulma gave him her most daunting look, smiling inwardly at his frustrated look of longing at the bubble wrapped packet in front of him. He was as bad as her, in his voracious inquisitiveness she knew. But he wasn’t getting the bubble wrapped box just yet.

She loved seeing that look, when his eyes were alight with almost child-like anticipation that reminded her of his first four birthdays, before he understood the gravity of the Android era he had been raised to endure. It was rare to see that kind of look at best. He wouldn’t have shown this part of his personality so openly, if not for still being partially asleep. She would savor every minute of it, no matter how crazy she was driving her grown son with her antics.

She opened the letter slowly, savoring Trunks almost pleading, and obviously exasperated look for her to speed things up, get the letter read, and get to the all important, curiosity bedeviling bundle.

Bulma cleared her throat and began to read the letter aloud; “Hey Mrs. B. and bratty bro. What’s up with you guys? Sorry haven’t been in touch lately. Have had a whole bunch of stuff on my plate and usually can’t find time to breathe, much less to actually write or call either of my adopted families. Anyway I will have plenty of time to write you guys from now on. It’s been kept under wraps but if you heard bout it from the radio or tv, then you know I was attacked a couple weeks back by a berserk fan, turned stalker.”

Trunks mind flashed back to the newscast where they had turned the aborted attack into the main story byline on almost every station planet wide. He and Bulma had to calm ChiChi down by going to the Son residence and spending the night to pull her out of her never ending terror that she’d lost her second chance child to violence, as she had lost Gohan.

His mother’s voice yanked him back into the present like a chilling slap. “What did she just write again? Repeat that last sentence mother.” Trunks demanded, all curiosity over the package deflating at what he thought he had just heard Bulma read. “It’s gonna be announced that my career is over due to that attacker’s having busted my vocal cords beyond repair later this week, but I made my manager and the record label hold off on telling the world until after you guys, aunt ChiChi and grandpa Ox have had a chance to say Yes or No to the last thing that I will ever put on the market as a singer.

Bulma looked over at Trunks, white faced over the news that Aurora had been hurt so badly. She was appalled that the truth had been withheld from both the Son and Brief families when both families had called in to get answers as any other family would have. Trunks returned the look, with a black, enraged one of his own, fire burning in his eyes. She knew how protective he and Gohan had become over the small waif Trunks had pulled, partially crushed, from the rubble of a building, while Gohan had taken the brunt of battle, to hold off an Android attack when Trunks had been thirteen.

Aurora, a tiny, iridescent silvery haired, wide-eyed orphan, was already a year long veteran of the streets when she had been rescued at age eight. She had recovered fully from her injuries, to become a wonderfully playful handful for both half Saiyajins, and their mothers. Her delightful, often heart-tugging, if somewhat aggravating pranks quickly captivated both remaining Z fighters and their families, winning her a permanent home in their lives.

Bulma returned to reading the letter after a moment’s more hesitation. “This is a music tribute to the first and second generation Z warriors, and was assembled a while back, but I had the gang at the label company produce two prerelease copies even though they didn’t want to. They grumbled, but agreed to produce a copy for you both, and one for aunt ChiChi and grandpa Ox, to look over and help REVISE, in case you want something removed or added to the scrap book portion of this box set. Most of the money raised will be going to benefit and maintain the United Nations “Heroes of the World” museum. They are planning on adding a Z warriors’ memorial, as I’m sure you probably already know. Anyway they asked me to contribute music to help them in getting it off the ground since they found out I grew up in Gohan’s old family home. I even got asked what you’re really like Trunks, believe it or not. Ha ha! Yes I’m definitely smirking and laughing over that one! You are what I affectionately still call my ‘bratty bigger brother’ now aren’t you? Needless to say the whole room dropped its jaw when I said that to them. I even got the giggle rights on those who actually fell out of their chairs sputtering at the indignity of having heard their beloved “Great Android Killer” called a brat by me. Oh well what can I say, I’m still the obnoxious brat, adopted sister here!”

Trunks groaned, snorted, then smiled at the building mental image produced by her letter… The last couple statements smacked of Aurora’s antics. He and his mother both knew only too well just how obnoxious, annoying, and troublesome Aurora’s quick retorts were. She had a notoriously unpredictable tongue and you never quite knew what she’d say next, no matter how well you knew her personally. To say Aurora spoke without thinking things through was an understatement.

Bulma smiled back at her son, and returned to the task of reading the missive. “Anyway, I felt a strong need to make the world aware of just how much the first and second generation Z warriors, Earth’s Special Forces, had done for them, both in life, and as it was with so many cases, their deaths. Hope that’s okay. I figured I’d send you a preview because you knew the first generation and much of this is compiled from your stories about the men who made up the first Z team.”

Trunks blinked, amazed. “She went and did what?” his voice echoed his stunned reaction to the news that the package was a tribute to the original Z warriors and himself as well as Gohan.

Listen up.
It has to stop
There’s nothing we can do, you say; Wrong babe
I’ve had enough,
We’re not their property as of today; No Way!
You might think that we can’t break ’em, but your wrong.

We’re Generation Stronger than yesterday’s,
Now it’s time to for us to claim our day.
Droid Hatefulness ain’t killin us no more.
A Generation Stronger.

Than a generation thought to be; Thanks Babe
We used to go with fears’ flow,
Didn’t know we had the strength ya see.
You might think that we can’t take ’em. We’ll prove ya wrong.

We’re a Generation Stronger than yesterday’s,
Now it’s time for us to claim our day.
Droid hatefulness ain’t killin us no more!
A Generation Stronger.
Come on now.

Use your minds,
To war we go.
Link your minds ever’ body,
Answer’s still unknown.
Here we go!
The strength’s our own.

Gotta unite to win our fight.
So come on now ever’ body
So here we go. Stand and fight.
So here we go. Stand and fight.
So here we go We’re right.
So here we go. Stand and fight.
So here we go. Stand and fight.
Here we go. We’re so right.
Here we go. Stand and fight

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