A/N: I think this was the weakest chapter I wrote. I don't know, Dead End's head proved to be much harder to get into than I thought.
Dead End
Apeirophobia: the fear of infinity.
The end was inevitable.
And he was glad of it.
It was just logical reasoning. Sooner or later everything ended. Rather sooner, now, as they were embroiled in a pointless vicious war, where every day could be a mech's last. And for what? A few meager scraps of Energon to fuel another day, only to have to repeat the motion again and again until they ceased to function. Or better yet, they could be blown to bits by an Autobot bomb or friendly fire. There was always the chance of a stray shot piercing a laser core or processor, or the simple unpredictability of mechanical failure in the midst of battle, where repair would be impossible and deactivation would be slow and certain.
It was just a matter of time.
It never ceased to amazed Dead End how, out of all of the Decepticons, he was the only one that could recognize the futility of their struggles. Why did they bother fighting against the Autobots when they would all eventually crumble into rust, regardless of faction? Why did they try to resurrect a planet that had already mercifully slipped from the mortal coil? Why was Megatron so insistent on ruling a universe that would eventually implode or explode or be consumed by some nightmarish entity from Cybertron's oldest legends?
There was simply no point to it.
Dead End's fatalism had become something of a joke amongst the Decepticons. He couldn't figure out what it was about hearing the absolute truth that they found so amusing. Perhaps the majority of Megatron's forces simply lacked the necessary processing power to realize their own mortality. Maybe it was his choice of words they found entertaining, or his elaborate explanations on how exactly the end would come. Maybe they simple didn't believe him, and were under the delusion of immortality.
Immortality. Now there was a terrifying concept.
To remain unchanged while everything around you met its own demise. To watch, unable to interfere or adjust fate, as everyone or everything you have ever known crumbled into dust. As cities were built on the ruins of ruins, and were eventually built over themselves. As wars erupted and peace reigned, all in a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth.
To live alone when everything else was gone.
No.
It couldn't, shouldn't happen. Everything met an inevitable end. It was simple how the universe worked.
There was no room for immortality. No room for infinity.
Let them mock him. Dead End didn't care. He knew the inescapable, indelible truth. Knew there was an end to everything and embraced that truth. Someday, maybe soon maybe not, he would cease functioning. His processor would stop, his spark would fade, and his frame would grey. He would die, and he was glad of it.
Dying meant he didn't have to face infinity.
