Life had become a routine, a war on timescales, motivation and work. Hard work. Running a large company as its main inventor and managing director was not easy, especially when dealing with his frail Grandfather and hair-brained Mother interfering at every opportunity. He tried to remind them that they asked him to do this job, so Grandfather could retire and his Mother could spend more time with Bulla and Father but they still involved themselves in the running of the business. Trunks sat behind his large wooden desk in his cold clinical office, his Mother and Grandfather 'contributing' to a new idea he had the mistake of telling them he'd had. He rested his head in his hands, stroking back his long purple hair. He looked to the window as they argued how to 'improve' his fully functional machine, a new air motorbike with lower emissions and increased protection for the rider. He saw the birds flying free and suddenly all he could think of was flying, flying far away, free of all this responsibility. This burden was crushing him, he wished to be free as he was when he explored the universe with Goku and Pan, he often thought about those days. Work just wasn't enough for him anymore, he wanted more. Goten had tried to get him to go out, meet people, meet girls, try new things but all he saw was the same people, the same girls, the same things. Nothing was was new to him, nothing as new as new worlds, new races and new people.
'Don't you agree Trunks?' His mothers question snapped him out of daydreaming. 'What?' he said dreamily. 'Don't involve the boy in this.' said Dr Briefs sharply. 'Trunks has too many things to think about, he needs a rest.' 'He lives for this,' his mother changed the topic of the argument 'Don't tell me how to raise my son. You're wrong about Trunks and you're wrong about the bike.' 'Enough, Mother.' His Grandfather was right, he did need a rest, he blood yearned for a fight, a proper fight. Texting Goten he shooed his Mother and Grandfather from his office and closed the door. He rest the back of his head on his door facing his wide office. This was his prison, no one understood how boring his life had become, how mundane. He craved something unknown, something alien, something unique to reignite his passion for life. 'Stupid Trunks'' he said tapping his head against the door lightly. He knew nothing would come of his flights of fancy, he would work and work and work, nothing more.