This Is the Way the World Ends
PG, Trunks and Cell
Set in Cell's original timeline, where he kills Trunks for the first time. Title taken from T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men."
*****
No... No, no, no, this can't be, this isn't possible...
It shouldn't be, by all known accounts. Androids 17 and 18 were dead, finally, finally gone, and there had been no data, past or otherwise - not even so much as a footnote - on there being another possible threat to humanity.
And yet here it was, this monstrous green thing before him, walking towards him, this, this.... Android, his subconscious helpfully supplied. Yes, another one of those wretched things. It had always been those damn androids anyway, all these years. It made sense that, if it was powerful and evil, it just had to be an android. Alien warlords and despot wannabes were simply too much to hope for nowadays.
Trunks felt an insane urge to both laugh and cry. I really, really hope there's a hell, Dr. Gero, and that you're burning in it. Even if Father's burning with you.
In Trunks' experience, the unknown variables were usually the most dangerous ones. Time travel had never been an exact field, before the chaos had come and certainly not after it. There was always the danger of knowing too little and changing too much, which was why he and his mother had been so meticulous with their data-gathering. Clearly, they had missed something. Even as his mind now scrambled and fumbled on itself trying to come up with some possible explanation for this, his heart had already glimpsed the bigger picture and understood what was going to happen: I'm going to die. No one will be left. Oh God... Mother...
The android was so much more frightening up close. It was insectoid in design, a far, more hellish cry from 17 and 18. The Saiyajin in him noted the height, its lean but muscular build, its possibly prehensile, needle-tipped tail - certainly not perfect, but suitable enough for combat. And it was grinning. The fact that it had no discernible lips made Trunks shiver. I don't know this enemy, I should run, study him first...
But he tried to fight it anyway, fully charged-up and swinging, as his kind had always been wont to do. Saiyajin never ran from a fight, and he of all people couldn't bear to allow something like despair and certain death to stop him from trying to keep the end at bay. The battle – scuffle, more like - was short, much to his chagrin (and perhaps, fortune) with the creature matching him blow for blow, and easily overpowering him.
He still fought and struggled, even as his sword fell to the ground, even as the creature's serpentine tail constricted around him, even if he knew how it would end.
No, I must fight! I'm the last one, I'm their only hope, I can't die, I have to save everyone, I must-
He never finished; his neck snapped first.
Not with a bang but a whimper. – T.S. Eliot
*****
Notes: This wasn't actually meant to be a fic - in fact, given its original context, I got carried away with it - but I felt it was good enough to be fic, and holy cow I actually wrote fic! So, riding on the high of actually writing something, I went and posted this.