Hello, friends!

Another chapter is here. Unlike previous iterations, this chapter one of the longer ones I've had to write. If any of you have read my Star Wars fics, you'll know some chapters were 10k+ words. That will not be the norm here. But on occasion it might be necessary.

Lots of perspectives and thoughts to balance here. Emotionally, it's quite heavy and contains one of the more brutal scenes I've typed out (needed a few drinks afterwards). So fair warning on that front.

As always, reviews are heavily encouraged:)

"Who controls the past now, controls the future. Who controls the present now, controls the past."

-Rage Against the Machine

Act 1 Chapter 6- Truths and Lies

Mae sighed in relief when the attempt to break through the vault door failed. But it was a temporary reprieve.

"Don't worry," Trevathan said, sensing her anxiety. "Whoever's in there is dead or gone. We've been banging on that door for months."

His casual indifference invoked Mae to speak openly about her mission for the first time since leaving the bunker.

"Do you not know where we are?" she said as he parked himself on the recliner. "When things got bad and the government went underground, this is where half of it went. All their technology, all their weapons-"

Her temper was reaching a boiling point and she struggled to control it in the face of this obstinate turncoat.

"Don't you understand? That ape cannot have what it's inside that vault."

The plea, or the demand depending on your point of view, fell on deaf ears.

"You gotta stop thinking about the way things were and start thinking about the way they are," Trevathan told her. "This is a good life. And you have a chance to be a part of it."

"What? And build a world for the apes?" Mae said with so much revulsion she almost gagged.

"It is already their world!"

Trevathan shot up out of his chair with the vigor of someone thirty years younger. Mae saw the frustration in his eyes, begging her to see reason, to embrace passive acceptance at being the lower species. She did not blink.

He shook his head when her stubbornness proved stronger than his treachery.

"There's fresh clothes and hot water in that room back there." He hobbled away to another room. "You'll feel better when you get yourself cleaned up."

He stopped and offered one more snide remark.

"By the way, Proximus is going to want you to join us for lunch…better figure out how to keep that mouth under control."

Mae clenched her fist, wishing she could drive it straight into Trevathan's nose. Training kicked in to blunt the violent impulse.

We will conquer. We will triumph. Humans will rise again.

She kept to the creed. Their time was coming. Apes would know their place.

That thought led to another one that caused a twinge in her gut. What would Noa say if he heard her thoughts?

Mae decided not to think about it.

"Hold…still."

Caesar obeyed the command of Dar, who tended to his bandages. The gash on his hand had been wrapped in a torn rag, hastily constructed in the aftermath of battle. The meager band-aid did little to aid in the healing process.

"Lucky that it…did not get infected," she said, wrapping it in a fresh linen. "Let me…look."

Caesar winced as she placed a hand against his chest.

"I'm fine," he protested weakly.

"Hmph," Dar said with an eye roll. "Males always…insist they are fine when they are not."

The darkest parts of Caesar's mind welcomed the pain. He deserved it after all. For failing as a leader. Failing to prevent the suffering of humans. Failing to set an example for apes. Failure to bring peace.

It didn't register that most of this wasn't his fault. The darkness, the self loathing, the visceral hatred of Proximus was too great to accept any kindness. Dar shouldn't be helping…

Not that she left him a choice.

Dar hummed to herself as she inspected the chest wound underneath the bandages.

"It is…not healing properly."

Such news would normally induce panic. Caesar couldn't bring himself to care.

"I will live."

"Not if you don't rest," she admonished with a wag of the finger.

Caesar grunted with indifference. The so subtle lack of concern over his own well being prompted Dar to change her approach.

"You…are in pain."

"It doesn't hurt that much."

"Not…what I meant."

He wished didn't look at him like that. An empathetic, penetrating stare that could smash the walls of his stoicness.

"You have…lost much."

"My family is gone."

She didn't dispute it. Older, more experienced apes caught onto things overlooked by younger ones. Caesar didn't consider himself to be old. But the circumstances of his life necessitated that he grow up fast. Dar instinctively understood this.

"Perhaps." She massaged the muscles of his chest, combing through layers of fur for parasites. "That does not mean…there is no hope."

Through the flap of orange fabric waving in the wind, he saw Noa talking to Soona. The two were close, that much was obvious. A young couple in the making. Seeing them together ignited a swell of affection…and sadness.

Dar flipped him around to finish his grooming.

"...look to future. And…new friends."

Caesar almost protested the idea that he had any friends in this miserable future when Noa made an appearance.

"Pardon me, mother. But I would like to speak…to Rocket."

"Of course."

Dar wandered off to look after the children, who were demanding more food.

"You are him."

Awe danced about in Noa's green eyes as he pointed. He figured this was coming. The young chimp was too clever to be fooled for long. A point illustrated by his next statement.

"You are the true Caesar."

Caesar, both out of necessity and exasperation at the youngster's lack of filter, clamped a hand over his mouth. He raised a finger to his lips.

'Be careful. Masks may be listening,' he signed.

He'd deduced that Proximus did not employ sign language. At least it would help avoid unwanted ears.

'You are the Lawgiver.'

'No. Not the Lawgiver,' Caesar said with scoff through his nose. 'Just Caesar.'

'But…they use your name…your words…'

Caesar shook his head.

'Nothing but lies.'

"Apes together strong," Noa said aloud, making the symbol of the branch. "You did not say this?

He could not lie to the young ape. That innocent stare was too reminiscent of Blue Eyes. Too innocent to spare him the awful truth.

"I did."

Noa furrowed his brow in contemplation, trying to put together the scattered pieces of the puzzle.

"Raka said…Caesar was…not is. And yet…you are here. How is this possible?"

"I don't know."

He regretted that his answers were not satisfactory. Because he didn't know himself. The question of- 'how is this possible'- may never be solved.

Noa returned to sign language, unsure whether or not Caesar was being cagey or cautious.

'Raka said apes and humans lived side by side in Caesar's time. Your time. But you said humans aren't trustworthy. What is true?'

Of all the potent, uncomfortable questions to be asked, that had to be rotten fruit on top of the dying tree. Noa had grown attached to Mae. A blind ape could see it in a minute. The truth might break that relationship apart before it had a chance to flourish.

He was torn in two. Lost, unsure, and for the first time since leaving Will's home…afraid.

A staff slammed down on the concrete, jolting the chimps out of conversation.

"Come. Both of you."

Sylva's order left no room for interpretation. They complied as though nothing but silence had passed between them.

An ominous feeling washed over Noa when Caesar was not taken to the same place he was. A separate gorilla soldier led the latter to another part of the camp, while Sylva pushed him inside of the metal monster.

He had no idea what it was. He had no idea what was in store. Raka spun tales of great ape civilizations of the past. Was this one of those remnants? Had apes built all this only to abandon it later?

Noa sniffed the air. Whatever this place was, it smelled funky. An odd mix of metallic and rot. Traversing the hallways, he saw they were lined with an assortment of items, many of which were foreign to his eyes. Some were round or square shaped; a method of storage. Others look lethal, sharp enough to puncture skin and induce pain. Horrible images of them being used on other apes were enough to send a shiver up the spine. In another notable corner, large red sticks piled up in a corner alongside thick bags of black powder.

He need not have worried. Sylva was not being aggressive, at least by his standards. They reached the end of the hallway, turning the corner into an expansive room. The voices inside were laughing as opposed to crying out in pain.

"...and that's why they call it a toga party."

"You are a funny little human, Trevathan."

Hearty chuckling mixed with a reedy wheeze. Noa leaned and was surprised to see Proximus sitting at the end of an elevated chair against the backdrop of the same symbol he'd seen earlier. The entire room was lit by hundreds of little lights that somehow functioned without the need for kindling. A fire burned in a giant pot, providing a degree of warmth inside the drafty space. Though chains dangled to and fro, it was a much more inviting scene.

Far from being tortured, Proximus gave a gregarious boom.

"Come! Sit!"

An extended table sat in the middle of the room, covered in all sorts of objects and foods Noa had never seen before. An array of colorful fruits, vegetables, and meats lined the rows. A human, much older and bent over, sat at the far end by Proximus' left hand side. On the left was Mae.

His heart leapt to see her alive. It yearned to ask if she was alright, but caution won against passion. She caught his eye and on instinct, understood no harm had come to her.

Proximus dismissed one of the cloaked females beside him, stood up from his chair, and jumped down the lone step in a dramatic thud. He was even bigger and imposing up close.

"Wonderful day, yes?"

The other bearded human raised his cup in agreement. Mae did not, keeping her gaze downward. Noa sensed a deep seated fury in her.

"You two have come a long way. An ape and a human…traveling together is…quite an adventure."

Proximus gave a deep chortle at his humorous observation. Absent his pointy crown and an adoring crowd, Noa was getting a firsthand look at what made Proximus so charismatic…and dangerous. He was large. Apes respected strength above all else. He moved with deftness as well as power. Yellow tinged eyes contained a deep well of intelligence; searching, calculating. He was not a leader that ruled with just fists, but with words, which he was quickly learning were more important than action.

"You are Noa, yes?" the king said, as he sat down at the head of the table at the same time he sat at the other end. "Welcome, Noa."

Proximus gestured for a servant to fetch him food. To Noa's amazement, Anaya came fumbling out, arms full of some kind…fish on a board. He didn't have the gall to tell the bonobo his best friend was notoriously clumsy and not the best pick to be serving anything.

Case and point, Anaya spilled a bowl of hazelnuts as the two caught each other's eye. He whimpered, as if expecting some sort of physical punishment. Proximus's lips twitched in annoyance, but didn't react beyond that.

"Go," he ordered.

Noa tried to speak to his friend but Anaya kept walking, unwilling to take the risk of disobedience. The same red mark dotted his forehead. Of all his family and friends from Eagle Clan, he looked the most downtrodden. Sad. Humiliated.

What have they done to you?

"Mae," Proximus said, addressing her for the first time. "You are familiar with the concept of…ee-vo-lution. That is the…human label, yes?"

The old man nodded when the bonobo looked to him for confirmation. Noa's experience with talking humans was limited to Mae, but he understood right away that this other human shared her gift…and was little more than a useful slave.

"The advancement that I crave requires time. Vast amounts of time that I…do not have. Unfortunately, I am but a mortal ape."

The old man and Proximus shared in the joke, reveling in its unspoken implication.

"So…this is why I need to get the knowledge inside that vault. I believe it will deliver instant, ee-vo-lution. Noa, you don't understand. In their time humans were capable of many great things, yes?"

The king used dramatic gestures to illustrate the message.

"They could level mountains. Speak across oceans. They…could fly Noa," he said, pointing upwards. "As eagles fly."

Noa listened to this speech with rapt attention. Proximus spoke in terms completely foreign to him. Mountains did not crumble. Water was uncrossable without a bridge. No ape would ever fly like the eagles in his village. Impossible. Better yet, how did a creature with the same intelligence as a boar accomplish the impossible? Such claims contradicted everything Raka said about the past.

But the evidence was right in front of him. Two humans smart enough to speak. One of whom was looking at the other with a glare that could have killed with its strength.

"But now we will learn…apes will learn…I will learn…from what is inside that vault."

"It's impossible. No one's getting in there."

Noa had expected…no he wanted Mae to deny the whole thing. To accuse Proximus of lying. Fabrication. False truths just like during the morning speech. She did not. It all pointed in one direction. That Proximus was true. That Caesar had been right.

'You don't know humans like I do.'

He did not want this human girl, the one Raka told him to keep safe, to be a liar.

The chair creaked under the strain of Proximus' weight, who hooted with amusement. He motioned for Lightning to give him something- a small piece of paper. He stood up.

"Mae, Mae, Mae, Mae…" he rumbled, repeating her name like it was music to his ears. "My apes…encountered your companions." He slammed down the piece of paper in front of her.

"I believe this map…belonged to you. You see Noa," the ape king said, addressing him once more. "Before she was traveling with you and that…old orangutan…" he added with special disgust, "...Mae was with other…humans."

He let the last word hang in the air for a few seconds, allowing its impact to permeate among the lunch guests. Mae, previously a wall of passivity, could not hold back the tears sliding down her cheeks. Tears that shook Noa to his core.

"But sadly, my apes did not realize their value…so I was brought only bodies," Proximus said, devoid of any genuine regret. "I cannot speak to them like I can speak to you."

He leaned forward, bearing the full weight of his size down upon her.

"I know…you are coming here to get inside my vault."

Something snapped in the human girl that day. Something primal, angry, and dangerous.

"It is not yours!" she seethed with rage.

"Oh?" Proximus almost laughed at the outburst, as if it had come from a mouse and not a human. He delighted in whispering soft taunts into her ear. "It is now, isn't it? And I will get inside. No matter how many apes it costs me."

Noa was still processing this information when the bonobo called his name again.

"Noa," he said, lumbering over to his spot at the table. "I have heard that you…are a very clever ape, yeah? Very clever." He tapped him on the shoulder in a wya the young chimp dared to call affection. "He repaired one of your broken staffs, Trevathan."

The statement was a small blip in his mind. Yes, I did, he thought. What did that mean? Did Proximus want him to pledge allegiance? Bow down? The idea was unconscionable…

"I have much use for…clever apes," Proximus continued. "Now, can you tell me…did Mae tell you how to get inside my vault?"

No. Mae hadn't. But that didn't sting so much as the fact that she'd been deceitful from the start. Untrue. Unable to look him in the eye. Dishonest. When he answered, it was as much to Mae as Proximus, speaking with the honesty she withheld.

"She told me nothing."

A flash of violence entered the huge ape's eye and he slammed the table in frustration.

"She told you nothing!" He growled those words verbatim, before seizing Noa by the arm. "Come, Noa. Come with me. I have something to show you."

The force of the bonobo's grip was too great to resist. He was pulled away but not before one last hurtful glance towards Mae. She looked apologetic…was she truly sorry? Or was that another act?

Proximus led him to a wide opening on the ship's hull overlooking the coast and beyond. They were out of range of any sensitive ears. Noa somehow knew Mae was watching their every move.

"Tell me, Noa. What do you see?"

From on high, the vast scope of Proximus' empire became easier to see and also more difficult to comprehend. Tents stretched for miles along the sandy shores, stretching to the edge of the forest and beyond. Apes scurried back and forth on the beaches, collecting sand, fish, or any resource needed to fill the appetite of demands by their ruler. How many of these apes had been captured against their will? How many later fell to false promises? To silver tongued lies?

"Stolen clans," he replied with as much defiance as possible.

"Not clans…a kingdom." Meaty paws went back and forth between them, indicating that this 'kingdom' belonged to all and not just one. Noa didn't believe the show of generosity. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore. "Noa…a kingdom for apes."

Proximus leaned in, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.

"Humans can never be trusted. Where there are two that can speak…there must be more."

It wasn't the anti-human sentiment from this fake Caesar that bothered Noa. No, it was that the same sentiment had been echoed by the real one.

'Humans are…untrustworthy.'

"Mae has come here to claim the tools inside my vault," Proximus explained. "Tools that make humans strong…and make them dangerous. That is why I must have them first. They do not understand…that this is our time. This is my kingdom."

For the first time since arriving at this accursed place, Noa heard truth come out of the ape king's mouth. Or at least a sincerely held belief. A reason for the raw ambition and the suffering born out of it.

But out of all the disturbing things he'd heard over the course of one journey of the sun, of everything that had flipped his world upside down, Proximus left him with one more dark gift to ponder.

"I must destroy their kind…unless we want to live in cages again."

He patted Noa on the shoulder and gave a fond smile.

"Come."

Proximus ordered Trevathan to tell a funny story. Noa couldn't have laughed at anything. Not even if Anaya slipped and fell on a banana peel.

He and Mae locked eyes.

It's not true, is it? He asked her in silence. Please tell me…not true?

Silence spoke louder than words. Sometimes, a lie was more comforting than truth.

Raka estimated he spent at least five hours locked in a cage, but it felt far less. The ability to manipulate the perception of time was something mastered from years of practice and it paid off handsomely.

So when the ape guards came back and opened the door to his cell, he suspected that he would be spared death. Tyrants liked to eliminate potential threats before they could become threats. His Order was a threat. So why be allowed to live?

The mask ordered him out. Raka obeyed, lumbering down the corridor. He glanced at the smattering of holes in the metal and guessed it was about mid afternoon. A circular set of stairs led down into a large section of the main deck. What he saw was a wonder to behold.

Books. A vast collection of them. Shelves upon shelves of volumes, tomes, and editions of every size and color. The orangutan monk had to stop and take a moment to admire the knowledge inside this place.

Darker reality returned. This priceless library was in the hands of a despot who would use it to commit terrible acts of evil.

"Impressive…is it not?"

The voice of that dark reality popped in out of nowhere. He turned to see a bonobo wearing a large crown, his body garnished with metallic trappings. His size matched that of most humans, surpassing it in some cases. Raka needed no introduction. This was the ape responsible for the masks…for wiping out his Order.

"Do you read books?"

A cross of anger and indignation created a mean snarl on the bonobo's face. Like he'd heard the biggest insult of his life.

"Watch yourself, orangutan."

Raka figured it best not to push his temper further and get down to business.

"Why…am I here?"

The tyrant sniffed, as though the ape in front of him were made of dung instead of fur. Whether that was due to being an orangutan or having different beliefs, he did not know.

"I am Proximus. Proximus Caesar."

So this ape wasn't just a tyrant but a false prophet. That explained a lot.

"You are here because…I seek knowledge."

"For yourself…or for others?"

Proximus gave a mean chuckle. "For the advancement of my kingdom."

For himself, Raka answered silently. Apes such as this made no distinction between themselves and the places they ruled. Ego, hubris, and greed were their ways.

"And you want me…to be a teacher."

"Yes," Proximus said in an excited whisper with an emphasis on the 's'. "Knowledge is power and power is everything…for apes to have power…they must understand certain things."

"Things," Raka repeated. "Things inside the books."

"Precisely."

The orangutan monk had many thoughts on this, some of which he could not voice aloud to this pretend Caesar without losing his head. He did not feel motivated or inclined to help regardless.

"And why should I do this?"

If the aura around Proximus had been stormy before, thunder crackled at the nerve of being questioned so directly.

"Perhaps…I did not make myself clear," the king growled, taking a step forward with each passing word until mere inches separated their faces. "There is no choice in the matter."

A lesser ape would have defected himself and thrown it abject terror. Raka stood his ground in spite of the increasing fear. A speck of anger flew out.

"You killed my Order…my village."

"Yes," Proximus said with ruthless relish. "They stood in the way of my vision…my plans for the future. They refused to accept that I…am…Caesar."

"A lie is a debt that must be paid to truth."

Proximus slammed a fist against the wall, creating a soundwave of metallic dissonance.

"The truth is what I make it. I…warned you and your Order what would happen if you continued to oppose me. Now…you have paid the price."

Trapped in a prison hold, surrounded by enemies, staring into the face of death itself, Raka knew he couldn't physically do anything nor find some clever method of escape. The monks spoke about this. Scroll 9 verse 27.

It is in our darkest hours, when all light seems to fade, we find our greatest strength. Remember the words of Caesar.

"I may be one," he said defiantly. "But there will always…be more who stand for what's right. Apes Together Strong."

Proximus laughed like that was the funniest joke he'd ever heard, mocking the same Lawgiver he claimed to descend from.

"Your allies are two apes and a puny human."

"Then together, stronger."

The amendment to the original creed came from the heart. An unexpected, heartfelt sentiment of dubious approval to the monks. No one was supposed to change any of the original texts. But the monks weren't here anymore. Only Raka. He had to continue the work.

Proximus spat in dismissive disgust.

"Bah. You and your love of humans…for all your talk of truth, you still cannot see their true nature."

"They are living creatures…creatures with souls."

"Continue to speak such blasphemy…and I shall remove your tongue."

Raka decided that further argument with the bonobo would serve no other purpose than to arouse that foul temper. Best to return to silence and do what was needed until he figured out a way to get out of this place.

"Good," Proximus said, thinking he'd achieved a measure of personal dominion. "Now, get to work. Trevathan here…will help you."

To his surprise and joy, another human entered the room. This one was older and male (females did not grow beards). Trevathan limped with a significant gait and had melancholic, clear blue eyes. Right off the branch, Raka recognized his intelligence and felt immense compassion for him. What sort of personal trials had he gone through?

"I'm sure his stories will be…illuminating." The ape king gave a nasty laugh before slamming the door shut.

"He is…a most unpleasant fellow," Raka remarked with a note of humor. Addressing Trevathan, he was eager to make his acquaintance. "I am Raka."

Instead of reciprocating the introduction, Trevathan stared at him for a few seconds, before shuffling off.

"There's a section of books over there that need to be sorted. I assume you know how to read?"

What an odd question.

"Of course."

"Good. Take K through P."

Raka was simultaneously mesmerized and perplexed. This was the second intelligent human he'd met; a blessing from Caesar himself. A boon to his work and to apekind. There was much he could learn from these marvelous people.

And yet, like Mae, Trevathan was guarded; reserved. He seemed uninterested in talking. But this went beyond antisocial tendencies. His hunched over posture, strained movement, and dejection hanging from the roots of his whiskers told the tale of someone lost in a great struggle. No…that wasn't quite it. Someone who'd struggled and lost.

"It is a great pleasure to meet a fellow scholar. Especially a…human."

If he thought the compliment worthy to bridge the divide between them, he thought wrong. Trevathan snorted. He sounded as bitter as elderberries off the bush.

"I'm no scholar. And humans aren't that great…trust me on that one."

Of all the puzzles present in Raka's mind, the sight of a species disparaging its own was hardest to conceive.

"But you are human."

"I know."

He affirmed that fact with sad acknowledgment. As though doing so somehow brought pain to his already stiff joints. Trevathan flipped through books, organizing them into large stacks. He worked with great speed that belied old age. Talented certainly existed.

"Why do you work for Proximus?"

Trevathan stopped his work, sighed and made a show of facing him. Blue eyes peered over half rimmed spectacles twinkling in the sunlight.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured that out yourself."

On the surface, it sounded like a compliment. But Raka pursued its deeper meaning. The compliment was backhanded and to a degree, a bit insulting. This human served a false ruler and retained superiority at the same time.

"He…favors you."

Trevathan shrugged..

"It's a good life."

"Proximus hunts your people. Puts them...in chains. Forces you…to be a slave. This is a good life?"

The old man shook his head and limped over to an old stove, which contained a copper pot filled with tea. He poured two glasses and offered one to Raka, who studied its white porcelain with great awe.

"Better than the one I left behind."

He took it and sipped the good brew. The flavor was fruity but not overpowering. Its warmth burst forth in his tired bones, invigorating them.

"Thank you."

Trevathan showed the first inkling of kindness with a nod. Proof that humans were capable of empathy the same as apes were (and enjoyed tea). Another fascinating discovery.

"Proximus hates humans. Surely…you are aware of this?"

The human took a sip of his own tea. "There's nothing he's done to me my own people already haven't." He set the cup down and walked back over to the shelves. Raka noticed a book on the mantelpiece just above the stove.

On the Origin of Species, by Charles Darwin. On the cover was another bearded human who looked older than Trevathan and yet five times as wise.

Perhaps, apes and humans were not so different after all.

Separation from Noa induced a high state of alert in Caesar.

The younger chimp entered the dark mouth of the abandoned ship while one of Sylva's gorilla lieutenants pushed him towards another path along the shore.

He didn't bother to ask where they were going. The gorilla carried an electro staff and avoiding another shock to the chest was preferable to the alternative. Grunt soldiers tended to think with their fists first and their brains last. He knew the type, having had to discipline them more than once.

The dune grass swayed in the wind, which brought a refreshing cool in the afternoon sun. Caesar remembered weather near the beach as being quite a bit warmer. He idly wondered if lack of human activity had anything to do with that.

Up the beach he went, sloping sandy hills rising higher with each step until reaching flatter, grassier ground. They passed through the busybodies of Proximus' kingdom…or rather, those who did not have the privilege of close proximity to the center of the ruler's headquarters.

Apes were involved in all kinds of work- some were building nets or hoisting wooden stakes. Females placed thin strips of cloth over the holes covering their tents. Younglings ran across the dusty path, kicking a small ball of some kind. The activity invoked nostalgia. It reminded Caesar of how human children used to play outside Will's home, when he would peer out the window, longing to join them…

Shadows of the past continued their haunting encirclement. Caesar could run, not hide. The empty hole in his heart begged to be filled, but he only found pain. It was better to feel nothing than the amount of emotion waiting to be released. So the past had to die. Disappear. Become nothing, just as he was nothing.

Gone.

They were all gone. His family, friends, everyone he'd ever known and loved had died long ago. Almost as if they'd never existed at all. Without them, what was there? A land of slaves, beholden to a dictator who used them for evil. A human population scarred and decimated. Is this what the sum of his work had led to? To be corrupted into this horrible world? A hell where neither human nor ape benefitted?

"Keep going."

The gorilla bumped him on the back and he picked up the pace, almost grateful for the words. Keep going he must. There was no other choice.

In time, the throes of despair brought a strange clarity to Caesar. The average passerby might not have noticed the suffering. For every ape engaged in dutiful labor, another sat motionless, crippled from thirst or starvation. Mothers cradled babies in their arms, despondent and desperate to keep them alive. A foul odor lingered in the air, which he assumed came from bodily waste as well as lack of space.

Whatever Proximus claimed, this was not a kingdom. Not when so many were treated like they didn't matter. If this had been his time, if he'd gotten wind that any ape under his charge was being abused…

It's not your time, is it?

The grim reminder induced a bitterness in Caesar as he was led away from the slum and into a separate section of the camp. Ironically, the further from apes he went, the more human his surroundings became.

Sand transformed into gravel road. A remnant hidden to the untrained eye. He'd seen human roads enough times to recognize one. Expanding vegetation failed to cover it completely.

It was here the lost ape wondered if death was about to knock. Remote places out of sight from witnesses spelled doom for those unfortunate enough to find themselves in them. But as he soon discovered…he was not alone.

The path had a purpose. A journey towards a building that was unmistakably human. Caesar wondered if these apes knew anything about the spaces they occupied but time did not exist to dwell on that thought for long.

A browning, barbed wire fence held against an open dirt field shared by at least three dozen apes, all of whom carried a weapon of some kind. Adjacent to this dirt field was an old brick building, domed with a steel roof and a small chimney. It was elongated, punctured with holes, and lined with about a dozen barred gates. When Caesar climbed the fence, careful to avoid the barbed wire, he saw that a large group surrounded two bonobos, wrestling each other in a vicious battle for supremacy.

His gorilla guard took the lead and the sea of chimps and bonobos to part wide, allowing them to pass. The two combatants slugged and smashed into each other, letting out primal screeches in their efforts to gain the upper hand.

"Halt!"

The entire group fell silent at the strike of the gorilla's staff. Even the two combatants, who scrambled to stand at attention.

"Caesar's Legions, unite!"

"Unite!"

Caesar resisted the strong urge to eyeroll. The man who called himself 'Caesar' also called his armies 'Legions'. Charles would have laughed.

"Do we honor our King?!"

"We honor!"

"Who is ruler?!"

"Caesar!"

"Who is law?!"

"Caesar!"

This was all eerily similar to a group of humans who enslaved his clan long ago. A group who used the power of voice to intimidate and oppress.

The colonel would have been proud.

"Today…we have a new member of this proud army!"

Words devolved into a series of shrieks and hoots. The effect of Proximus on his subjects seemed to be universal.

The gorilla slammed his staff once, then twice.

"You have been…selected to join…the Legion. Do you accept this honor?

Caesar thought about it telling him to shove it up his pink ass. A darker thought followed. His empty heart begged to be filled. Perhaps, this way, it could be satiated.

"I accept."

The hollers returned and the gorilla did not attempt to stop them. A small smirk crossed his face, sizing up the chimpanzee like fresh meat off a deer carcass.

"Very…well."

In the next few seconds, he was led towards a metal shed, its doors a tad bit ajar. Inside, a huge pile of weapons lay inside, tempting those who gazed upon their lethal edges.

"Choose."

The gorilla's demand left no other option but to take something. The options were limited. On one side was a collection of spears, stone tipped, and primitive. In the center hung a collection of steel knives. The other corner contained more of the electric staffs.

A logical ape would have chosen a staff. A clever ape would have chosen a knife. At present, Caesar did not operate on logic. He grabbed one of the wooden spears. Excited hoots followed him as if they were personal demons. Taking a spear must have been rare.

"The recruit has chosen!" the gorilla declared.

Caesar was pushed towards the center of the dusty yard and the other soldiers filled in around them, cutting off any escape. But he was not looking to escape.

A staff slammed into the ground once more, signaling the start of the ritual.

"You must fight…until bell sounds," he was told, indicating an ape with a stick who stood over a large gong. "If you are standing…you join."

Do or die. Caesar was quite familiar with the concept by now. Death had been a constant companion for years. Once upon a time, he feared it. That fear was strangely absent now.

The bell rang. He flipped his spear into an attacking position. A lone mask waddled forward, club in hand.

His swings were clumsy, Caesar evaded them with ease. He jabbed the end of the spear into the head and in seconds, the minion was on the ground, groaning in pain.

Two more challengers raced forward, one with a spear and another with an electro staff. He dodged two swings of the staff, parried the spear, spun around and delivered a nasty strike to the neck. The second challenger met a similar fate.

Three apes came forward this time, each one wielding a different weapon. Caesar did the best he could, but found blocking three attacks at once to be impossible. A heavy strike of a club smashed his spear into, forcing him to retreat to the edge of the circle. He grabbed the hand thrusting a knife towards his midsection and smashed an elbow into the ape's face, but this left him vulnerable.

A sizzling strike to the side lit his bones on fire. He fell knees first, unable to use his right arm. The left tried to make up for the loss in vain. A second shot, this time in the back, sent him face first into the dirt.

Injury aside (he was really starting to hate those staffs), Caesar crawled forward and rolled onto his back, desperate to breath in a whiff of air to relieve aching lungs.

Rays of the blinding sun retreated into a blue sky. The sand and dust became a bed and the Kingdom of Proximus his resting place. He did not want to rise. If it meant seeing his loved ones, better to lay down and accept the inevitable.

The heads of the other apes came into view, blocking out the sun. The electro staff hissed, ready to inject another victim with its flashing blue light.

What was there to live for? Did he want to live?

As the staff prepared to strike a fatal blow, Caesar's hand reached out and grabbed the handle, sending its trajectory into the stomach of the ape behind him. Raw athleticism propelled him to flip backwards, seize the staff and smash it against his foe.

Standing tall and proud, the chimp beat his chest and hooted, the message primal but clear: come after me if you dare.

More soldiers foolishly took that challenge and charged; their battles were over before they began. Caesar's blood ran too hot. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, pain created anger, anger liquified to rage, fueling a brutality he'd never experienced before. He swung his staff with such ferociousness that all fell before him.

One brave chimp tried to tackle him from behind. He paid for the mistake by being slammed to the ground. Caesar heard the crack in his back, eliminating him as a threat. But he wasn't done just yet.

Roaring, he brought his fists down on the luckless soul again and again, unleashing a full torrent of rage against him. Resistance weakened with each savage blow…

"Mercy."

The word paused an otherwise relentless deluge. Caesar stopped midair and when the reddish haze in his vision cleared, witnessed with open eyes the raw carnage. The ape, no older than ten seasons, a mere child, was bloodied and broken, barely alive to deliver any sort of utterance

Except one hand. One hand trembled upwards begging for the suffering to stop.

The gong sounded. Caesar breathed in and out at a slowed pace, horrified by himself.

What have I done?

Ape shall not kill ape. He broke his own rule. The ape in question wasn't dead yet but he might as well have been.

Why not? Koba taunted him from everywhere and nowhere. You have done it before.

"The chosen is standing!" the gorilla bellowed. "Long live the Legion!"

Sickened, Caesar spun around at the bellowing apes celebrating his victory. He wanted to leave this desolate place and found all paths blocked by the inner circle of soldiers. They would not let him escape. They would not let him forget what he'd done.

Turning back around, he found the paralyzed chimp and reached down to grab his hand.

"Do not help him."

The cheers went silent. An unmistakable pattern of thundering footsteps shuffling in the dirt approached from behind. Caesar's heart skipped a beat.

"You are…the victor. Congratulations, Rocket."

Proximus, flanked by Sylva and Lightning, leaned over the battered soldier with disgust. He nodded towards two of the bystanding masks. They complied in a swift sequence of ruthless efficiency, dragging the chimp by his arms and thrusting two spears into his chest. The other combatants, injured but not fatally so, were offered no help in returning to their feet.

"Why?" Caesar asked in his grief.

"Because he was…no longer useful," Proximus answered, still staring at the now dead soldier. "His back was broken. Therefore, he could not do his duty. He was weak."

He turned to Caesar, yellow eyes glowing in admiration.

"But you are not."

The ape king swaggered forward in a show of strength, copper crown gleaming in the sunlight.

"You are a strong ape…a warrior. I need strong apes. A kingdom…needs an army."

"So…I'm just a soldier to you?"

Caesar failed to hide the contempt in his voice, bordering on disrespect for this thief of names, robber of history, oppressor of humans and apes alike. But taking a stand seemed to increase the esteem Proximus held him in.

"No…far more…you are a leader. Lightning told me that you fought with the power of ten apes at the crossing." He glanced at the towering gorilla who's stern, impassive nodded intently. "I would make you…a captain in my Legion. Only Sylva and myself would rank above you."

Proximus placed a thick, muscled arm around his neck, pulling him forward.

"There is just one final task to complete."

He waved two fingers and a mask ran on all fours to a small box located in the corner of the enclosure. With one press of a red button a series of doors swung open on the side building. Caesar understood on sight and sound what this place was: a horse stable. As with all things Proximus touched, it had been converted for a much darker purpose.

At first nothing happened. A few seconds passed and a head poked out. A human head. This was followed by another. In total, four humans- including one child- ranging from about forty to ten wandered into the open space.

"Glorious…isn't it?" Proximus said in a low enough rumble that only Caesar could hear him. "How the mighty have fallen."

His estimation of the bonobo changed in an instant, if such a thing were possible. Proximus wasn't some ignorant brute, but an opportunist. A predator who took advantage of others mired in ignorance. His act was in part self belief and theatrical, all for the sake of one thing: power.

He knows the truth about humanity.

Horrified beyond measure, Caesar was about to protest the treatment of the humans when Proximus gave an order.

"Kill them."

"What?"

The king pulled him in so close, it put into perspective just how huge he was; at least five inches taller. The scent of his musk traveled through Caesar's nostrils.

"In battle there will be no time…for hesitation," he growled. "You must be ready to do what is necessary."

Seeing his trepidation, Proximus laughed. "Do not worry. These are…slow humans. They do not have a voice or a mind."

He spoke in a near whisper and Caesar heard fear in his voice for the first time.

"Mae is not….the only human with the gift of intelligence. There are others. Others I have yet to find…but they are out there somewhere. Plotting…rebuilding. That is why I need strong apes. So when the inevitable war comes…we can eliminate them for good."

Lightning placed another wooden spear in his hand and flashed his psychopathic grin. Proximus pointed at the humans fifty yards away, herded by guards with staffs, cowering in fear from their torturers.

"Do your duty."

Do your duty. It was something he would have said a long time ago to any number of the apes under his charge. Blue Eyes, Rocket, Luca, even Maurice from time to time. When humans attacked and tried to destroy their home in the woods, he'd emphasized that creed above any other principle. Bathed in gunfire and the horrors of war, Caesar made a number of tough calls. If anyone disobeyed an order, if they'd questioned his command...

His conscience reminded him that killing innocents and 'duty' were not the same thing. These humans lived multiple generations beyond the ones who'd caused him pain. And the closer he got the more these primitive souls shook him to the core. They were fair skinned. Two were brown haired- a man and a woman. Another woman was blonde as was the little girl, who Caesar assumed was their daughter. The brown haired woman may have been an aunt judging by her resemblance to the man.

A pungent odor hit the air as he approached them. Their respective conditions bordered on malnourishment. Skin and bone with nothing in between separating them. Judging by the brown stained rags, this poor family hadn't received the dignity of a bathroom.

The little girl scurried behind her father's thin body for protection. He reached out a hand, which she squeezed tightly. Her light green eyes latched onto his.

Caesar's heart broke. The final consequence in all its messy, smeared glory committed in his name. Humans had been reduced to this…unnatural state. Subjected to the whims of a dominant species. The tables had turned in a grand stroke of cruel irony made all the more pertinent by his own actions. The struggle to free apes, the war fought between man and simian, every choice made…led to this moment.

The humans shivered as he approached. Lack of speech meant they could not scream, cry, yell, beg, or negotiate. But silence did not equate to emptiness. Though their minds may have been simple, real emotions, some intelligence resided somewhere inside.

He threw his spear to the ground.

"No."

He stopped and turned to Proximus, who had the appearance of a slapped ass.

"I will not kill them."

"You may want to…reconsider," he growled.

"The answer is still the same."

Hoots from the ape soldiers grew in number, and Caesar was transported back in time to the slave camp of Colonel McCullough, where his defiance of the human soldiers aroused a near rebellion. He heard their whispers, the question of what Proximus would do to a soldier who refused to follow orders.

"You care for their well-being?" Proximus shouted. "They are stinking humans!"

"They are people!"

People. On the rare occasions humans referred to each as one and not as separate tribes, he heard Will, Malcolm, and Charles use that word. 'People'.

Proximus clenched his jaw, fuming that someone would have the audacity to defy him. A vein throbbed near his ridge forehead.

"Then they will suffer from your actions!"

The ape king signaled the guards to commit the foul deed. The man was impaled first. The two women were second. Panicked instincts ignited the child's sense of self preservation, and she ran as fast as possible away from the blood stained bodies of her family. Caesar tried to reach her, but Sylva restrained both of his arms.

"NO!"

He closed his eyes as the girl met a similar fate: a jagged knife to the throat, courtesy of Lightning. A splatter of scarlet ended her life. The tears he'd tried hard to lock away flowed freely and mixed with the blood soaked ground.

"Pathetic."

Restrained by the big gorilla, Caesar was helpless to defend himself against the vengeful backhand delivered to his face.

"The next time you refuse an order…it will be your life…not theirs."

Another fist to the gut knocked the wind out of his lungs and the few contents inside his stomach. Sylva ordered the men back to headquarters, and the masks shuffled off. Proximus gazed down at him imperiously.

"You know I am right."

Caesar lost track of how much time passed before he was able to summon the strength to get up. By then, the Legion was gone and so was their leader leaving him alone with a pile of bodies.

The chimp swallowed a thick lump in his throat. The humans looked so small…so innocent. The exact opposite of the proud creatures they'd once been.

Picking up one of the discarded spears, he used it to start digging a hole.

Shades of pink and purple rippled off the waters. Eagles cawed around an old metal tower as the sun dipped below the horizon. Noa had no idea what it was or its function.

Something human, I'm sure.

The revelation of the day's events saddened Noa more than shocked. He was too upset to put much thought into the fact that humans, not apes, were the rulers of the world long ago. For one human lay imprinted in his heart.

Mae…why did you lie?

She'd been dishonest from the start. She had not come for other echoes, or because she wanted food. Power. The power of whatever lay inside that vault.

What did it matter anyway? It's not like his tribe was ever coming home. As if to mock his pitiful state, Eagle Son, his father's beloved bird, landed on a wooden post about twenty yards away.

He reached out a hand. Just one time, Eagle Son might listen. Just one time, he could feel like a true master of birds.

"He will not come."

His mother sat down beside him. She was as dejected as he was.

"Why?"

"Because Eagle Clan…is gone."

No. No, he couldn't accept that. Would not accept that. How could someone so wise say something so defeatist? His mother was a beacon of their community. A branch of strength. To give up this easily went against everything she stood for.

"Eagle Clan is…here," he said to her, pressing a hand to his heart.

"We are…here," she countered, using the appropriate sign language to emphasize the point. "In land of Proximus. And Proximus has no need…for eagles."

He was about to argue back. Insist that it was not over and Proximus did not decide what it meant to be 'ape'. A familiar ape caught his eye.

"Caesar!"

His mother frowned.

"Proximus is here?"

"No-" Noa stuttered, trying to recover from the slip up. "I mean…Rocket."

He pointed towards a figure, stumbling across the sandy courtyard. Caesar looked like someone had taken a large branch and beaten him with it. His breathing was ragged and uneven like an elder on their deathbed.

"Help him!"

Dar and Noa reached him just before he collapsed.

"Rocket…what happened?"

"Water," Caesar croaked.

The two dragged him up the steps and into a more private section of their tent. With no spoon or ladle, a bucket of water had to be directly poured into his mouth. He was laid down onto a patch of unsoiled straw.

"Is he…dying?" Noa asked as Dar examined him. She checked his fur, extremities, chest, and areas containing vital organs.

"Broken rib," she answered. "Not enough…water."

"I'm fine," Caesar tried to insist. Dar harrumphed.

"Every time I see you…you get worse. How does this happen?"

"Proximus."

Noa sighed in empathy and indignation. Just how much more was this singular power hungry ape going to take from them?

"He did this to you?"

Caesar grunted through the pain of having his chest prodded. "I refused to join his Legions."

In an ugly, brutal sort of way it made sense. Proximus recruited them because he thought them to be useful to his vision. Noa for his intuitive gifts, Caesar for his strength. They were receiving a first hand look at what happened to those who did not share in that vision.

"He will live." Dar said it with enough confidence to subside Noa's fears. "But…no more fights."

Noa wasn't convinced that order to be possible, but stayed silent out of respect for his mother. Caesar, polite to a fault, showcased his gratitude.

"Thank you."

"Thank me by…staying out of trouble," she chastised but placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

"May I…speak to Noa? Alone."

Dar switched her gaze from son to stranger and smiled in acknowledgment of the growing bond between the two males.

"Of course."

Caesar sat up into a sitting position upon her departure, grimacing in discomfort when putting weight on his right side. Noa reached out to help.

"Leave it. My rib will heal with time." The older chimp's eyes softened as he looked at his companion.

"I am sorry."

Noa shook his head. "Not your fault."

"It is." Caesar made the sign for it against his body's wishes. "All of this…is my fault. What you see, I caused."

What a sight it was, for such strong figures in his life succumb to doubt and despair. They'd only known each other for five days. In that time, Noa came to view him as inspirational. Nothing could replace his father, but Caesar (and Raka) provided maturity and stability when he needed it the most.

Yet there was greater meaning behind his self blame.

"There is something you need to know," Noa said.

He recounted his meeting with Proximus. The king's claim of valuable knowledge inside the vault, the power humans wielded, the warning that they could never be trusted and that Mae had misled them from the beginning.

"Was he lying?"

Noa's heart desired to burn the grass separating fact from fiction and he knew the one ape who could light that torch was right in front of him.

"He is not lying," came the fateful reply. Noa almost wished he'd never asked the question. "At least…not about all of it."

He resisted saying 'explain'. That sounded too demanding.

"What do you mean?"

Caesar grabbed a piece of discarded fruit from the ground and bit into it, savoring its sweet juices.

"I am First Elder…because I was the first ape to speak."

"You mean-"

"We were silent," he clarified. "I…was silent. Humans gave me medicine. Taught me sign language. Eventually, I found my voice."

Setting aside that such a thing should be impossible, Noa quickly discerned how it made sense. Caesar had a way with words that few other apes, if any, possessed.

"So humans were…smart?"

"They had power apes cannot imagine."

It defied logic. How could a creature so low, so weak, so dumb, be capable of so much? The obvious exception to this was Mae. She was living proof of Proximus' claims, but Raka insisted she was an exception not the rule. A gift of circumstance, taught by apes. How ironic that it should be the other way around.

"If this is true…why are apes dominant and humans scavengers?"

"I stole medicine from humans and gave it to apes. It made us-" he pointed to his head. "-smarter. Not long after that, a virus killed almost all the humans."

"A virus?"

"It made them sick," Caesar said and Noa saw the sadness glistening in his eyes. "Very sick. They lost their voice…and their power."

Noa thought it strange that Caesar should feel bad towards the species that he said could not be trusted.

"Did humans and apes…live side by side? "

That poignant, potent question, direct in its purpose, was also one the young chimp hoped was a lie. A falsehood created by Proximus to trick him into joining his cause. Why should Raka be wrong and a tyrant be right? What kind of world was this? A sick joke? A tall tale told by apes around a fire?

"Humans ruled over apes. We lived side by side…on their terms."

Noa sat back, running a distressed hand through thick fur atop his head. Since leaving his village, everything he thought to be normal, everything he considered important, was now worthless. His heart sank into the depths of the coldest ocean.

"What do we do?" he asked aloud when speech returned to his throat. Caesar, recovered with the consumption of food and water, sat up straighter.

"We find a way out."

"How?"

"Gather your clan," Caesar instructed, sounding much more like the confident leader Noa had first met. "Find Mae."

"But…she hid things."

This ambiguous attitude towards humans served to confuse Noa further. Sometimes, he believed Caesar didn't know how to feel about them either.

"She is not the only one who hid things," Caesar said in a reference to his own lack of transparency. "And she is also the only one who knows what is inside that vault."

Noa closed his eyes in a vain attempt to block the impenetrable logic. There was no other choice. To free Eagle Clan and go home, they'd need multiple allies. So what were these twisting, unnatural feelings he had? Why did they desire to see Mae again? Why did they also want to yell at her?

"What about Proximus?"

"Leave him to me."

The idea of Caesar going up against the giant bonobo verged on suicide. It was a stupid plan for someone so wise.

"He is…too strong."

"I am stronger."

"Let me help you."

"No."

Caesar let out a deep breath. There was a storm swirling in those green irises. But not from anger or physical pain.

"Proximus is my responsibility. Not yours."

Noa wanted to protest. Say that he did not have to bear the burden on his own. Together, they could bring down Proximus and free the apes he'd enslaved.

The look in Caesar's eyes was the look of an ape whose mind was made up. Nothing would dissuade him. That line of thought led to the singular idea that hadn't been challenged since embarking on this adventure.

"When will you challenge him?"

Apes followed the strongest branch. If they wanted to defeat Proximus, there was only one way. Both of them knew what happened when one ape sought to overthrow another.

"Tonight. I will find a way to confront him. You get Mae. Make peace."

"Why?"

"Peace comes first. She is…important."

The use of that word sent a wave up Noa's spine. Not at the idea but what Caesar was implying. He almost resented it.

Almost. If he were able to deny said implication.

Caesar brought himself to full height in spite of the injuries he'd sustained. The setting sun gave him an iridescent glow. A grace unmatched by any chimp he'd seen. Noa understood then and there, why this ape had become the First Elder.

So...what's Caesar going to do? Is he out of the woods yet? Can he challenge Proximus? Why does Noa feel so conflicted about Mae? What is she going to say when he confronts her? Should Raka trust Trevathan?

Find out soon! Next update should be by next week. Rock on!

~TheWasp