THE REASON

The Silent Witness

"Finally, a genuine chance to strike back at those supreme monsters," Maya declared, a flicker of something akin to triumph, yet edged with years of suppressed rage, illuminating her weathered features.

"True, Maya," Rafe countered, his brow furrowed with a deep-seated concern that spoke of firsthand experience, "but we must tread carefully. The inherent problem, as I've stressed, is the indiscriminate nature of her blood. It doesn't merely wound; it initiates a catastrophic cellular breakdown in all living tissue it contacts."

"And let's not mistake theory for fact," he added, his voice a low murmur of caution. "We still operate under the assumption that this will affect a Supreme Being. Their physiology… it's an enigma, even to those of us who were created in their shadow."

"Oh, I'm certain that we will be testing that theory soon enough" Maya retorted, a dangerous glint in her eyes that hinted at a willingness to embrace extreme measures.

The sterile tension of Rafe's makeshift lab gave way to the slightly more lived-in atmosphere of the living room. Rafe, his gaze softening with a palpable remorse, turned to Maya. "You know, Maya… I'm truly sorry for everything that happened to you during Arnold's Rampage." His voice was thick with the memory of a terrible time.

A weary but surprisingly magnanimous smile touched Maya's lips. "The brutal calculus of survival, Rafe. Given the same desperate circumstances, I might have made equally compromising choices."

The morbid curiosity, a shadow lurking beneath my fear, finally compelled me to ask, "What truly transpired during Arnold and… his cohorts' rampage? You mentioned slaughtering lone Cogs."

Rafe drew a shuddering breath, the past replaying vividly in his eyes. "Eradication. That was their objective. A systematic culling of the un-sired, the independent Cogs. They saw us as loose ends, potential threats. I… I was fortunate. Desperation breeds a certain… resourcefulness. I bartered for my life with one of them. Lady Aaina Nasab." The very name seemed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. "A self-proclaimed goddess. One of the most savagely cruel Supremes I've ever had the misfortune to encounter." A visible tremor ran through him. "I offered her a twisted bargain: sanctuary in exchange for orchestrating the worship of other lone Cogs. Her vanity, her insatiable hunger for adoration, even from beings she considered beneath her… it was a weakness I exploited. I’d already navigated your father’s purges by leveraging my understanding of human mutation – a morbidly useful talent. This felt like another desperate, yet potentially viable, gamble. And against all odds, it worked."

His gaze drifted, lost in the haunting landscape of memory. "She spirited me away from the others, brought me to this very town. A place steeped in her own dark history – the site of her parents' murder, a trauma that twisted her ascent to become the third Supreme, after your parents. There was an aura of dread that clung to her name, a chilling reverence even among hardened Cogs. And a particularly disturbing… ritual. After a kill, she would deliberately let the crimson stain of her victim's blood run down her hand, a grotesque testament to her power." The image he conjured was visceral and deeply unsettling.

"And then?" I pressed, needing to grasp the full horror of his past entanglement.

Rafe inhaled deeply, as if bracing himself to revisit a nightmare. "How was this possible, she demanded, within the confines of the infirmary – my hidden sanctuary, my grim workspace. A week. She granted me a single week to prove my worth, or she promised a fate far worse than mere death – a drawn-out torment that would leave me begging for oblivion. She provided seven lone Cogs for my… experiments. Vivisection, in essence. Their brains, laid bare while they remained fully conscious; no known sedative could touch our unique physiology. One by one, I dissected their minds, searching for… something. I lost five of them to the process. Two remained, and I was already out of time. Then, an unexpected arrival: Lucia, bearing the one known as a miracle Maya. At that point, only one Cog remained for my desperate research. But then, grievously ill Anthony was with them. Twenty-five years. He had been suffering for a quarter of a century. A Cog afflicted by a persistent illness. A biological impossibility."

Maya’s voice, thick with the weight of years and sorrow, cut through the silence. "He pleaded with Lucia for release, over and over, for what felt like an eternity. But I… I couldn’t bear to let him go. Not until Arnold's Rampage forced our hand." Her voice cracked, a sob escaping her lips. "Lucia and he needed to vanish, to become ghosts. This town… this fragile sanctuary we’d hoped for. But Rafe… he couldn’t ease Anthony’s suffering. So, Lucia… with a final act of heartbreaking mercy, she ended his torment. A single shot to the forehead. I watched it happen. I couldn’t stop her…" The raw grief in her voice painted a vivid picture of unbearable loss.

A heavy silence descended, the unspoken weight of shared trauma filling the room.

Rafe continued, his voice a low, somber drone. "You see, Maya’s blood… it possessed a unique, horrifying property when introduced into a Cog’s system. It would initiate a gradual, agonizing breakdown of the brain’s intricate structures, yet somehow sustain basic life functions, trapping the victim in a perpetual state of neurological decay. It was through analyzing Anthony’s deteriorating condition that I finally understood the mechanism. The only potential salvation for Cogs in such a state, I theorized, was the introduction of a Supreme, a ‘sire’ powerful enough to potentially override the destructive effects. But even then, the process was fraught with peril. Those Cogs who possessed the will, the sheer neurological fortitude to resist the forceful imposition of the sire bond… they died a protracted and agonizing death."

"This… sire bond thing," I asked Rafe, my curiosity tinged with a growing unease, "how exactly does it work?"

"It's… a rather intricate and unsettling process," he began, his gaze thoughtful. "But to understand it, we must first delve into the mechanics of the serums themselves. Think of them, in a crude analogy, as akin to a rabies virus. They launch a direct and brutal assault on the central nervous system during the initial transition. It's an intensely painful period, a complete and utter cellular breakdown. When the serum is introduced into the bloodstream, it doesn't meander; it targets the brain with singular focus, directly attacking the central nervous system. It somehow… subverts the signals to the immune system, tricking the brain into perceiving every cell within the body as a foreign invader, a disease to be eradicated. Hence, the agonizing destruction of every cell during those initial twelve hours. Trust me when I say this… it is an experience that transcends mere pain. It is the sensation of your entire being decomposing simultaneously for a full twelve hours. Then, the rebuilding begins, originating from the nervous system. It's as if tendrils of new neural pathways reach out, attaching themselves to every other part of your being, dictating the flow of signals throughout the body, establishing a new, unnaturally stable state. Nothing truly enters, nothing truly leaves, hence the agelessness, the absolute immunity to disease, the accelerated healing of wounds. And the most profoundly disturbing consequence of all: the enforced sterility. For women, ovulation ceases entirely; for men, the production of sperm cells grinds to a halt. Any novel biological process the altered system detects is flagged as a potential threat, to be suppressed or eliminated."

Rafe paused, gathering his thoughts. "As for the sire bond… during that violent transition, specific regions of the limbic system and the prefrontal cortex – areas crucial for emotional processing, social behavior, and higher-level cognition – often sustain irreparable damage. In most Cogs, these damaged areas are never fully repaired. Coupled with the significantly heightened neurological plasticity compared to baseline humans, this creates a biological predisposition to recognize a superior being, a being possessing the inherent power to inflict harm. For us, the un-sired lone Cogs, our primal instinct in the face of such power is immediate flight. But for those who undergo the transition in the presence of a Supreme, their very brain structures are subtly rewired. The Supreme Being is no longer perceived as a threat to be evaded, but as an alpha, a figure who dictates the very fabric of their existence. It’s a neurological enslavement, akin to the unwavering loyalty of a dog to its owner."

"So," Maya interjected, her voice laced with a lingering curiosity about her own unique origins, "how was my father able to procreate?"

Rafe considered this, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I can posit two primary theories. The first, and perhaps most likely, is that he was exposed to a uniquely flawed batch of the Cog serum, one that triggered the transformation without fully suppressing the reproductive functions. The second… well, there exists a statistically minuscule probability, perhaps a zero-point-zero-one percent chance, that a Cog could spontaneously retain the ability to procreate despite the serum's intended effects. A rare biological quirk."

"So the serum directly impacts the brain?" I summarized, trying to process the overwhelming influx of information.

"Unequivocally, yes," Rafe confirmed. "And understanding that is key to understanding our vulnerabilities. To truly kill a Cog, you must destroy the brain. Interestingly, if you manage to strike the heart, we experience what I've come to term a 'false death.' Our brain, utterly reliant on the heart's function, interprets the trauma as a critical threat. It initiates a complete system shutdown, a desperate attempt to regulate blood flow and facilitate repair. However in rare cases, without intervention, this shutdown becomes permanent."

"Rafe," Maya began, her gaze unwavering, a mixture of dawning suspicion and raw concern etched onto her weathered face, "tell me what transpired here."

Rafe's breath hitched. "Arnold…" The name itself echoed the chilling dread that had settled over me since the brutal attack at the gas station. "...Arnold happened." a flicker of unease crossed his features, "he was accompanied by The Hound.' For the first time, I saw the face behind that whispered moniker. But the Hound… he remained a silent specter. He did nothing but stand there, a chilling observer as Arnold systematically slaughtered almost every lone Cog he encountered, along with a few unfortunate humans who crossed his path. Arnold wielded only a machete, yet our attempts to fight back were utterly futile. His movements possessed a preternatural speed, his strength defied comprehension. After thirty-nine lone Cogs lay lifeless by his hand, the futility of resistance became starkly, horrifyingly clear… we were no match for him"

He paused, drawing a deep, shuddering breath, his gaze flicking nervously towards the doorway. His demeanor struck me as subtly… evasive.

Maya's eyes narrowed, her suspicion deepening. "So why, Rafe, did he spare you? Arnold is not known for his mercy. He never leaves his prey alive." Her tone was sharp, laced with a growing urgency that mirrored the unease churning within me.

Rafe swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. He took another deliberate breath before finally uttering, "The rest of us… we.... we surrendered."

Maya's eyes widened, a stark realization dawning within their depths. "Emma," she said sharply, her voice now laced with unmistakable urgency, "go get your sister. We have to leave. Now."

My heart leaped into my throat. As I whirled around, intent on finding Veronica, the door creaked open.

"Don't trouble yourself, Emma. I have her right here." The deep, chillingly familiar cadence of that Russian accent sent a jolt of pure terror through me. I spun back, my blood running cold. Arnold stood in the doorway, an almost casual air about him, effortlessly carrying my sister Veronica slung over his left shoulder like a discarded doll. In his right hand, held aloft by her hair, was Josette's severed head, her lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead.

With a swift, brutal motion, he hurled Josette's head directly at Rafe's feet. It landed with a sickening thud, the sound echoing in the sudden, horrified silence. "This," Arnold said, his voice a low, menacing drawl, "is for the delay." The sight was sickening, paralyzing me with a terror so profound it stole my breath. Yet, amidst the horror, a desperate thought clawed its way to the surface: Jace… had he hurt Jace?

Arnold began to advance towards me, his gaze unwavering. Maya instinctively moved to intercede, to place herself between me and the monstrous figure. But Rafe, his face pale and drawn, gently but firmly gripped her wrist, a subtle shake of his head and a barely perceptible nod conveying a stark warning: do not engage. Before I could even register the full extent of the impending danger, the sharp sting of an injection needle pierced the flesh of my neck. A searing pain shot through me, followed by a creeping numbness. The world around me swam into a blurry haze, the edges of my vision darkening rapidly, until finally, everything dissolved into an absolute, terrifying blankness.