THE REASON

Shattered Sanctuary

The rhythmic swish of a cleaning rag against dusty furniture had become a strangely comforting constant in Maya's secluded home over the past two years. Lucia, ever the pragmatist, had turned even domestic chores into lessons, her sharp eyes scanning our movements for any sign of inattentiveness, a latent threat always lurking in her awareness. Today, as I wiped down a chipped porcelain figurine, a relic from a life Maya rarely spoke of, her voice, usually soft, held a sudden, brittle edge.

"You know," she began, her gaze distant, fixed on some unseen point beyond the dusty windowpane, "I was once hunted to the ends of the earth, just like you two."

Veronica and I froze, cloths still in hand. "What?" I blurted out, the casual rhythm of our cleaning shattered by the enormity of her statement. "Why?"

Lucia, who had been meticulously sharpening a set of throwing knives at the kitchen table, her movements precise and economical, interjected, her voice laced with a familiar bitterness. "Her father, Anthony was the first and only Cog to procreate, back in 1930. A miracle child, they called her. Her mother, Gabriella… she didn't survive the birthing. I was the only one who knew about Maya for fifteen years."

Maya's head snapped up, her eyes, usually filled with a quiet resilience, now flashed with a raw, wounded pain. "Until Aaron," she cut Lucia off, the words thick with an unforgivable accusation. "You literally handed me over to that self-centered bastard."

Lucia's sharpening stilled. A muscle twitched in her jaw. "I… I was lost, Maya. Terrified. The Supreme Beings… their reach was so much wider then. Aaron… he promised your safety. He made it sound like the only way. But I got you back," she insisted, her voice strained, a desperate plea for understanding. "I risked everything to find you again."

A mirthless laugh escaped Maya's lips, the sound devoid of any humor.

"Two decades, Lucia. Two decades I spent in their captivity. Watching other Cogs… disappear. And then… you let me watch my father die." The last words were a bare whisper, the pain still a gaping wound that time hadn't even begun to scab over.

Lucia finally set the knife down, the clink echoing in the sudden silence. Her gaze, usually so direct, flickered away. "When I finally had a chance to get you out, I didn't know your father had followed me. And I still needed Aaron's… protection, or so I believed then. I couldn't risk him finding out I'd compromised his trust. I made a terrible choice, Maya, a compromise I thought would save you both. But I see it now. To Aaron, everyone else is just a pawn in his twisted game."

The weight of their shared history, the betrayal and the enduring pain, hung heavy in the air, thicker than the dust we were trying to eradicate. The mundane act of cleaning had unearthed a past far more dangerous and complex than we could have ever imagined, leaving Veronica and me caught in the crossfire of decades-old wound.

The lingering tension from Maya and Lucia's raw exchange hung thick in the air, a palpable weight that made the simple act of breathing feel heavy. Veronica, ever the pragmatist in a crisis, shifted, her gaze darting between the two older women before settling on Lucia. "So," she began, her voice carefully neutral, "they hunted you because you… shouldn't exist, like us?"

Lucia sighed, the weariness etched deep in the lines around her eyes. "Not exactly the same situation, no. But yes, the underlying principle was similar – a deviation from what they considered the norm, a threat to their control. For Maya…" Lucia's gaze softened slightly as she looked at her friend, "she was the first true… anomaly. Nature's own variation. Immune to every kind of illness, wounds and even fractures healed within hours, almost like they never happened. Her blood type, X, was both a universal donor and a universal receptor – a biological impossibility by their understanding. And her aging process… it was drastically slowed. She possessed a natural lifespan that could easily stretch beyond two centuries. She was, in essence, a living blueprint of what your father was desperately trying to force into being with his serums."

Maya offered a wry, almost self-deprecating smile. "I mean, look at me. I'm over ninety years old and I still experience a menstrual flow. Try explaining that to a bunch of power-hungry egomaniacs obsessed with control."

Veronica's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow. I just… I thought you were maybe a little above fifty."

I, feeling the need to inject some levity into the increasingly bizarre and unsettling conversation, quipped, "So, you're like a really, really well-preserved vintage model?"

Veronica, however, remained focused on the more pressing issue. "What about us, though?" she asked, her voice tinged with a growing anxiety. "What makes us so special that they're hunting us?"

Lucia's gaze turned to us, a flicker of something unreadable in her ancient eyes. "Well, as for both of you…"

The world dissolved into a deafening roar. The windows of Maya's secluded home exploded inward, sending shards of glass and splintered wood flying through the air. Dust and debris rained down on us, choking the breath in my lungs. The floor beneath our feet bucked violently, throwing us off balance. One moment, Lucia was about to reveal the truth of our existence; the next, chaos had erupted, plunging us into a terrifying unknown. The unspoken answer hung suspended in the dust-filled air, now overshadowed by the immediate and brutal reality of an attack.

The ringing in my ears was a distorted echo of the explosion, my head swimming in a foggy haze. Through the blurred edges of my vision, figures moved within the ruined living room – three of them. I strained against the pain lancing through my skull, trying to locate Lucia and Veronica. I spotted Vera near a jagged edge of the collapsed wall, struggling to navigate the debris, her movements hampered by confusion. "Vera…" My voice was a weak rasp, barely audible even to myself. She didn't react.

Then I saw Maya, sprawled on the floor, a dark stain blooming on her scalp. The proximity to the blast explained the severity of her injury. But Lucia… Lucia was gone.

As I fought to push myself up, one of the figures, a man, squatted beside Maya, a pistol glinting in his hand. My vision cleared slightly. He exuded a chilling confidence, impeccably dressed in a sleek, tailored black suit. The sharp lines of the single-breasted jacket and the pristine white shirt beneath spoke of a meticulousness that felt disturbingly out of place amidst the destruction. There was a cold familiarity about his bearing, a subtle echo of Arnold, yet this was someone new.

"This one…" he murmured, using the barrel of his gun to carelessly push a strand of bloodied hair from Maya's face, his gaze assessing. "Get away from her, Leon!" Lucia’s voice, sharp and furious, sliced through the dust-filled air. She stood framed in the doorway to the kitchen, a shotgun held steady in her hands. Her movements, faster than any human's, explained her escape from the brunt of the explosion.

Leon rose slowly, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he regarded Lucia's weapon. "Lucia… the runaway Cog," he drawled, his eyes locking onto hers with a predatory gleam. "You know, when Aaron told me where to find the girls, he conveniently forgot to mention you."

The other two figures, flanking Leon, wore identical blank white masks, chillingly reminiscent of the Cogs who had attacked us at the orphanage – an attack orchestrated on someone's orders.

Lucia’s finger tightened on the trigger. But before the deafening roar of the shotgun could erupt, the first masked Cog moved with a speed that defied human perception. His hand, a blur of motion, clamped onto the barrel, wrenching it upwards. The blast tore through the remains of the ceiling, showering us with another wave of dust and splintered plaster.

In a fluid, brutal motion, the Cog ripped the shotgun from Lucia’s grip and hurled it across the room, where it skittered out of reach.

Lucia didn’t hesitate. Twisting her torso, she used the momentum to drive her elbow into the Cog’s mask with a sickening c***k. The Cog staggered, his mechanical movements faltering for a fraction of a second, but he recovered with unsettling speed.

Leon watched with a cruel grin. "Looks like you're slowing down, Lucia," he taunted, but Lucia’s gaze remained fixed on her immediate threats.

The second masked Cog lunged, a glint of metal flashing in his hand. Lucia spun, her reflexes honed by decades of survival, catching his wrist in a vice-like grip and twisting it sharply. A blade clattered to the floor. Before the Cog could react, her knee shot upwards, slamming into his abdomen, sending him gasping backwards.

The first Cog was already upon her, his fist arcing towards her head like a piston. She ducked, the wind of his passing blow ruffling her hair, and countered with a swift, low sweep kick that knocked him off balance.

Before she could capitalize on her advantage, Leon moved with the coiled grace of a striking viper. His fist slammed into Lucia’s forearm, the impact echoing with a sickening c***k. A white-hot pain shot up her arm, and she stumbled back a few steps, her breath catching in her throat.

Lucia gritted her teeth, the fight turning against her with terrifying speed. The two masked Cogs recovered with an unnerving synchronicity, their movements precise and deadly. Before she could fully register the shift, sleek handguns appeared in their hands, leveled at her head. This was it.

"Hold it," Leon commanded, his voice a low, chilling drawl. "Before she dies… let her watch her old friend, the one she kept hidden from us all these years, breathe her last."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence that followed Leon’s words. What was he going to do?

He stalked towards the discarded shotgun, picked it up with a casual flick of his wrist, and aimed it at the side of Maya’s bloodied head. The click of the hammer being c****d was deafening. Lucia let out a raw, guttural cry, a sound ripped from the depths of her being. "Noooo!!!!" Her scream echoed through the ruined house, a testament to a bond forged in shared survival and now threatened by unimaginable cruelty.