Iris leaned forward in her chair, performing a subtle cranial adjustment that resulted in a contented sigh. Her body had become rigid and insensitive due to prolonged immobility. The tingling sensation in her arms and legs indicated the resumption of blood flow after they had become numb. Her eyes stayed shut, and she clenched her fingers and knuckles, the popping sound echoing faintly. She then leaned back, arching her shoulders and cracking her back, before tilting her head back.

"Are you feeling well, Iris?" The interviewer questioned her about who had been observing her all along. She hadn't spoken in quite a while. This display of motion was the only response she had shown up to this point.

"Hmmm, fine..." she sighed, sinking back into her chair and adjusting her posture. "All the stuff I put myself through is coming back to haunt me now," she mumbled, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she slowly opened her eyes.

The interviewer's scrutiny intensified as he observed her, captivated by the visible markings on her skin. They alluded to a past she refused to divulge, implying the enduring impact of her youthful trauma. He expected her to still feel the lingering effects of those injuries. However, there were distinct and concerning alterations in her overall appearance. Her pallor and gauntness, observable both in her eyes and complexion, were striking. One could not help but wonder if the pain she endured stemmed from a deeper, underlying condition, perhaps exacerbating her health.

"Am I reduced to a mere object of observation in your eyes?"If you want something to haunt you at night, you can take a picture," she said, raising her eyebrow sarcastically.

Following an extended period of silence, the man responded, "While not a conventional spectacle, it was an object of immense fascination," briefly interrupting his work.

"Several of us, myself included, are astonished that you have survived the apparent ordeals you have endured," he remarked, gesturing to the visible scars. "Most of the injuries you have sustained would have proven fatal to a normal human long ago. Your survival is either a testament to your unwavering will to live or an sign that your body possesses an extraordinary ability to adapt to extreme conditions beyond human capabilities."

Iris tilted her head slightly at this to the side as she looked at him coyly. "well didn't you hear I'm a monster…." She replied, still staring at him.

"You seem to be a person of many talents and attributes..." The man stated, adjusting his glasses. The brunette woman was surprised by his focused gaze, a change from his usual disinterest.

"Tell me about Pope," he inquired abruptly. The mention of the name elicited no visible response from Iris, who simply fell silent. Nonetheless, her gaze betrayed a coldness and an undercurrent of anger.

"There's not much to say about someone who's been gone over ten years," she remarked, shifting slightly in her seat and drawing her knee up. Leaning her head towards him, she added, "He was essentially an open book; his outward appearance reflected his true nature. If you need a summary, that's it."

"And a spectral figure that haunts your nightmares, as you mentioned," he remarked, his gaze shifting to the bite mark on her neck. "I can also assume that this is the parting gift it bestowed upon you," he concluded with a pointed gesture.

Upon this remarkable occurrence, a quiet, dry laugh escaped her lips as she straightened herself in the chair. "Are you proposing that you act as my therapist? "She asked with an amused brow, 'You want to get into my psyche then?'" Want to learn the big nasty things he did to me? Might as well show you what else he left on me ".

Upon observing the slender woman rise, he experienced a sudden jolt of surprise, anticipating a possible attack. He instinctively retreated in his chair, the jarring sound of metal scraping against the concrete floor amplifying his initial startlement. He prepared to summon reinforcements, his fingers poised mere meters from the apparent activation button. However, he paused, noticing the woman was not attacking but rather pulling her shirt upward, stopping just below her chest. At that moment, he witnessed a scene so horrific that he struggled to articulate it, having observed a gruesome mutilation upon her abdomen.

" What can I say…. "He was highly imaginative," she observed, her voice low and devoid of warmth.

XXXXXXXX

2026, somewhere in San Francisco

Smoke was visible on the horizon, accompanied by the loud echoes of gunfire and the screams of soldiers in various directions. Despite the smoke remaining at a distance, the screams seemed to grow increasingly louder with each passing day. From her concealed vantage point, she had a clear view of the scene, observing the brunette's relaxed posture as she leaned against the building. The duration of her silent observation of the unfolding events was unknown, but it felt like an eternity as she remained entirely absorbed. She found herself in a state of emotional perplexity regarding the situation unfolding before her, a state that had persisted for some time.

She felt detached from the surrounding chaos, death, and hatred, as if she had numbed herself to everything in order to endure. Having long abandoned beliefs in concepts such as hope and peace, it is remarkable she maintained her sanity for as long as she did. Though many would contest her stability, it is undeniable that she held onto her sanity for a considerable period. Extracting a flask from her possession, she uncorked it and consumed a generous portion of its contents. She entertained the notion, though only momentarily, that peace might be attainable, albeit in a limited sense. Yet, such transient glimmers of hope were quickly extinguished within her subconscious. It had long been evident that psycho bastard's true nature would eventually be revealed, and with tenfold fury, he unleashed his rage upon those who had no connection to his past trauma, regardless of their innocence. His aim was to make others feel the same intensity of pain and fear that had afflicted him in the past.

While many attributed his actions to the humans' return and its presumed influence on him, Iris understood that this was a misconception. She believed that the darkness residing within Koba had been steadily brewing long before the humans' arrival, a fact she had witnessed on numerous occasions. Despite her efforts, it appeared that destiny sought to torment her by orchestrating repeated encounters with the vengeful bonobo. Their interactions were consistently marked by a significant impact on each other, and she could attest that their meetings were invariably characterized by violence. However, he also learned to avoid underestimating her solely on the basis of her humanity, as he gradually recognized her as a formidable force.

Tranquility, a fleeting dream, perhaps it could have been believed in the days of youthful innocence. Before she encountered the harsh realities of the world, some things that no child should ever have to experience. Peace would never come to be because nature would always come into play, the darkest form of nature within all humans and apes. The smoke began to irritate her lungs, causing her to wheeze slightly. She reached for her flask, taking a final swig before retrieving her gas mask from her side. She pulled her hair away from her face as she secured the mask.

A gentle, masculine voice, seeming to be close by, murmured, "Peace is never an impossibility, sweetheart," though she remained turned away, not acknowledging his presence.

"Tell that to the millennia of warfare," she retorted cynically. "We never evolve, and the apes will undoubtedly tread the same destructive path as humanity," she declared, her gaze fixed upon the billowing smoke.

The male voice continued, "…no one is perfect, and peace can be achieved if individuals are willing to make an effort to change."

"Others rather maim and murder then face change, because at the end of the day change is the scariest fucking thing you can face," was Iris had to say to the voice.

At that moment, she recalled that her dog had been exploring the vicinity where she had been, sniffing the ground and marking his territory on multiple occasions. Eventually, however, he grew weary of this behavior, or perhaps he perceived his owner's monologue as a sign of distress and became concerned about her emotional state. Bruce's ears twitched, and he approached the brunette, gazing up at her with his large brown eyes and emitting a soft whine. This made the now masked female look down at the German Shepherd, bringing up her hand to rub the top of his head to reassure him.

"Let's go buddy, let's see if we can find any supplies today…" she told him softly as she walked in the opposite direction, though she couldn't help it continue to look back and the continuing war zone happening.

The male's voice, growing fainter, spoke, "The battle is approaching…" "You…you will need to leave after she is gone…" the voice trailed off, leaving only silence in its wake.

Upon hearing this, the woman closed her hazel eyes, acknowledging her own intelligence; the brunette knew her time was running out, realizing that she would soon lose her. She took slight wheezing breaths as her steps became slow, getting lost in her thoughts. The dog, sensing her distress, began to rub against her, looking up with a plaintive whine.

"I'm okay boy, I'm okay," she told him quietly, but in all honesty she knew she wasn't.

Many anxieties plagued her thoughts at that moment, leaving her uncertain of how to proceed on the inevitable day of her departure from this world. Her prolonged presence in the city, despite the deployment of soldiers, was motivated by a single objective: to provide care during her final moments. Which was sort of the truth. In actuality, she felt tethered to San Francisco, the only place she had ever truly known as home. Countless memories, both positive and negative, linger. Perhaps the reason for her inability to depart is the familial legacy she still holds - the remnants of her father, grandfather, and brother.

She squinted her eyes, shaking her head as she started walking in a particular direction. However, she paused when she realized Bruce wasn't following. Upon witnessing him stand to full attention, exhibiting heightened awareness and emitting a low growl, she tilted her head inquisitively. This particular behavior was a clear indication of his nervousness, triggered by the detection of an unfamiliar object or individual. Over time, she came to understand that mistrusting it was unwarranted, as animals often appear to possess an intuitive awareness of danger that surpasses human perception. With careful deliberation, she placed her hand over the shotgun strapped to her back, her movements measured and controlled, as she slowly clasped her fingers over it. Her mind was a whirl with contemplation, and she strived to mentally equip herself for any eventuality that lay ahead. Reacting instantly, she spun around and leveled the weapon, aiming it at any potential aggressor.

However, upon perceiving the individual who dared to approach, she stiffened, subtly lowering her weapon as she recognized the familiar figure of the Ape King. His expression held the same solemnity as it had the previous day. She lowered her weapon, aiming it at the ground, but not before placing a hand on the back of the German Shepherd. The dog, with its tail wagging anxiously, flattened its ears, bared its teeth, and appeared poised to attack.

"Bruce, heel," she stated abruptly, removing her gas mask to regard the ape she had once considered a brother. A prolonged silence ensued as they locked eyes, neither party initiating a response.

XXXXXXXX

Caesar observed as the slender woman moved throughout the building, apparently searching for supplies. The memory of his question to Malcolm about Iris's exact residence remained clear, a query that had understandably sparked anxiety in the older man, who feared Caesar might seek retribution for the events of the previous day. The Ape King, having pledged his word against any such action, felt a compelling need to speak with her. The reasons for the human's eventual acquiescence remained unclear; perhaps it was his desperation, or perhaps it was his trust in his promise. He found himself in an unknown building, but he suspected it was once a part of the human colony, as evidence suggested recent habitation.

The building exhibited signs of age and neglect, yet evidence of habitation was present. Sleeping bags, one on the couch and another on the floor, indicated recent use, while a faded rug beneath them attested to the passage of time. The papers detailed observations of a coffee table displaying a drawing, apparently created by a young child, and open cabinets and shelves containing a haphazard assortment of objects and supplies. It's likely that a family once resided here, a family whose members were either forced out by Koba's apes or taken captive. His awareness of his partial responsibility made direct observation difficult for him. The remnants of humanity, striving for a new beginning amidst the devastation, attempted to establish a new home, mirroring the efforts of the apes, only to experience displacement once more.

He was jolted from his reverie, remembering that he had accompanied the human woman to this building, despite not having spoken to her. She subtly indicated that he should follow her, implying that a more private setting would be conducive to their conversation, which ultimately led him to the designated building. His gaze was involuntarily drawn to her movements; she seemed oblivious to his presence, neither acknowledging nor addressing him. He was demonstrably losing his patience and sought to find a way to bridge the gap between them.

"You have grown," he said gruffly.

"Yes, ten years have a way of leaving their mark," she retorted wryly, opening a kitchen cabinet and transferring several cans to her bag.

One aspect that had remained consistent over the years, he noted, was her unyielding sarcasm. Furthermore, her unwavering focus on matters other than his indicated that her gaze had not been directed towards him.

" Hair is longer than last time, you are thinner too" He continued, still endeavoring to bridge the communication gap she persistently created.

"Yeah, and your hair is grayer," she responded, turning to face him at last. "Is there a reason behind your presence, beyond simply observing our shared aging?"She asked," her eyes emotionless and her arms folded.

Caesar had not anticipated such directness, but then he recalled her consistently forthright nature, even in their youth. She was, after all, an exceptionally determined woman.

"Where have you been?... All this time" He posed the question that had haunted him for years: the fate of his human family, the circumstances of their demise, and the reasons behind their disappearance. For years, he was haunted by the event, despite his lack of knowledge regarding its specifics.

Iris's unwavering stare held him captive for an extended period, and in his eyes, he witnessed the anticipation and determination to seek the solutions that had persistently eluded him.

" You actually give a damn now? "That's rather ironic," she said, shaking her head with a dry chuckle as she explored the kitchen, inspecting the area beneath the sink.

His brow furrowed in response to her remark and disinterest in the discourse.

"What are you saying? Of course I care. You are the one showing not to care?" He approached her, attempting to see what she was doing and drawing her attention.

"Is that so?" she retorted, her voice echoing from beneath the sink, laced with sarcasm. "Based on your reaction yesterday, Caesar, I can easily tell that I am among your hidden secrets. I am not an idiot," she retorted as she promptly moved away and proceeded to examine a different room, only to have him grasp her arm.

She paused, remaining silent and motionless, refusing to turn toward him. The extended period of quiet intensified his grip, fueling his frustration. However, he attempted to maintain composure, taking several deep breaths with his eyes closed. "I didn't know..." he finally uttered.

"I didn't know… you were still alive. " He gently pulled her arm, urging her to face him, but the sight that met his eyes was unexpected. Yesterday, he had not fully noticed her numerous scars, but now, in closer proximity, their visibility was more apparent. She exhibited multiple gunshot wounds to the shoulder, a burn mark on the opposite arm, and numerous lacerations. The presence of teeth marks, however, was particularly striking. He knew that this scar had not been inflicted by an animal or a human, but by an ape. His eyes dilated as his unsteady gaze shifted upwards, meeting her impassive countenance.

"... Did you even bother to find out? "she whispered, her voice barely audible, and his gaze, now laden with sorrow, lingered on her.

" I came back…I tried…but…I had…I couldn't leave my apes" He found it difficult to articulate his thoughts as he reflected on the past and present.

"Had you really tried, Dad would have been..." Iris's voice trailed off, a sob threatening to escape her lips. She bit her lip forcefully, turning away from him and withdrawing her hand from his loosening grip. His interest piqued at the mention of Will. What happened to him? He wondered. Driven by the sight of blood during his previous visit, he desperately sought to ascertain the fate of his human family. He sensed, no, he was certain that his adoptive father had passed away. The conviction, rooted in his gut, was unshakeable; he could not dismiss it, even through wishful thinking. The absence of his presence during the loving man's final moments was a source of profound grief and devastation. However, the most distressing aspect was the realization that Iris was aware of the situation and had likely endured it in solitude.

"What happened Iris? Iris?" he called after her as she made her way down a hallway only to take a turn" IRIS!" He yelled as he reached the end of the hallway, he called out to her only to discover she had vanished, seemingly through multiple exits.

He drew a shallow breath, a surge of frustration, anger, and sadness overwhelming him as he retreated, leaning against the wall and sliding down its surface. He clasped his head, attempting to regain his composure. It appeared that all of his past and present endeavors were crumbling, leading him to contemplate the potential outcomes had he made different choices in the past.

XXXXXXXXX

Situated in the heart of the city, the ruins of the incomplete Tower stood as a testament to the final battle between Koba and Caesar, a conflict that ended the Bonobo's oppressive reign over the tribe. Caesar emerged victorious, yet the unfinished tower lay a somewhat state of ruin, with numerous primates perished as unintended casualties. Despite the extensive damage inflicted by the explosion and ensuing conflict, the tower remained partially intact. However, due to various circumstances, the site had been inaccessible for weeks. Primarily due to structural instability, rendering it unsafe. Despite previous attempts to verify the lack of survivors, the location was primarily shunned due to its pervasive association with unpleasant memories.

In the shadowy recesses of the tower, a cloaked figure, taking advantage of the circumstances, sat on a broken beam, breathing heavily in agony. They had been concealed for several weeks, initially unable to ambulate or communicate without severe physical discomfort. Their body had become grotesquely intertwined. They would crawl and drag themselves, scouring and scavenging for sustenance, consuming whatever they could find, including old sewer water, rats, or even bugs that ventured near.

Fueled by animosity, they persevered through any means necessary to ensure their survival. Daily, rage served as a potent driving force, enabling them, with the aid of makeshift staff fashioned from metal pipes, to gradually regain the ability to walk. The ordeal, which would have been fatal for most, only served to strengthen their resolve.

Executing their plans, they had ample time underground to formulate a comprehensive strategy. The pervasive darkness served as a powerful impetus. They perished, yet rose anew from the shadows, now determined to exact retribution upon those who wronged them. With every labored breath and hand pressed to their injured side, they allowed the discomfort to fuel their resolve to stand and proceed.

They proceeded, filled with both belief and menace, through the shadowy tunnel towards the light, which seemed to cause them a strange kind of pain. This held no significance for them, as the hurt they experienced merely amplified their resolve. They had accepted the encroaching darkness, aware that soon all would be enveloped in it. Fear and dominance constituted the sole means of instigating change. He envisioned a world that would come to fruition through his order and retribution, shaping it according to his own design. His desire for retribution stemmed from a conviction that true contentment would remain elusive until others experienced the pain he endured.

A hirsute hand slammed against a fractured block of cement as the figure ascended from the abyss, his eyes fixated on the distant fires. Amidst the sounds of gunfire, he panted heavily. A sinister grin spread across his face.