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America—San Francisco
Since the outbreak of the Simian Flu, the city of San Francisco had become a sealed tomb—no one entered, no one left.
What was once a vibrant metropolis had turned into a desolate, quarantined zone, whispered about across the country as a "no-go area" for humankind.
But today, for the first time in years, that silence was shattered.
The skies over the Golden Gate Bridge roared to life as a full combat division from the Army surged into the city.
Apache attack helicopters, Black Hawk utility choppers, and Kiowa Reconnaissance helicopters cut through the fog, heading straight for Muir National Forest—the known home of the evolved ape tribes.
Behind them rolled an armored column: Humvees with towed light howitzers, MRAPs carrying mortars, and mobile radar vehicles.
The scale was massive, the message unmistakable: total annihilation.
The operation, code-named Clean Sweep, involved nearly 10,000 troops.
Major General Howard, a veteran commander of the Mountain Division, personally led the assault.
The force included a forward combat command battalion, four special field brigades, a combat aviation brigade, and logistical support units.
Their mission was brutally simple: Exterminate every last ape. No prisoners. No survivors.
Major General Howard leaned over the digital map inside the armored mobile command center on a hill overlooking the city.
A soldier's voice crackled over the comms.
"Command, this is Falcon Brigade. We've got visuals on the ape settlement. Estimated population: over a thousand. Structures appear semi-permanent—wood, mud, stone fortifications."
Howard didn't hesitate.
"Execute fire. Neutralize the target."
The order was given.
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Muir National Forest — Ape Territory
"Boom—boom—BOOM!"
The first wave of Apache helicopters swooped down like hawks.
Rockets screamed from their hardpoints, slamming into the forest camp below.
Fiery explosions ripped through the dense canopy and rudimentary ape dwellings.
Smoke billowed into the sky, blotting out the sun.
Caught completely off guard, the apes were thrown into chaos.
"UWAHHHHH!"WOOOOO! WOOAHH!"
Terrified howls echoed through the trees.
Stone huts crumbled under the barrage.
Apes carrying children tried to flee but were cut down mercilessly.
Those who grabbed spears and slings to fight back were met with high-caliber gunfire.
The pilots radioed in, laughing.
"Hah! Did you see that one fly twenty feet?"
"They're lighting up like bonfires. Smells like barbecue down there."
"Keep the pressure on. Torch the whole forest if you have to."
To them, this wasn't a battle—it was pest control.
The soldiers believed the apes were responsible for the virus that wiped out millions.
Few knew the darker truth: the virus was man-made, a failed experiment that leaked from their labs.
The apes were just scapegoats in a war for survival.
As the air assault continued, a second wave deployed.
Chinooks helicopters lowered special forces squads into the outer perimeter of the ape camp.
Equipped with infrared scanners, motion trackers, and night vision, they moved in ruthlessly.
One of the squads—Echo Team—spotted a group of adolescent apes fleeing through the undergrowth.
"Target acquired. Fifteen hostiles. Moving southwest at 20 klicks an hour."
"Permission to engage?"
"Granted."
A short burst of suppressed rifle fire ended the escape.
But not all apes were unprepared.
A pair of scarred, older apes watched the destruction unfold from a rocky outcrop above the chaos.
Their leader, a hulking silverback named Luca, growled lowly, gripping a war club carved from petrified wood.
"Humans... bring fire again," he murmured in broken English, taught by Caesar years ago.
"But we... will not die easily."
Luca raised his club. Warriors began to assemble.
Despite their primitive weapons, the apes knew the terrain and would use every inch of it.
Back at Command
General Howard listened to reports pouring in.
"Casualties on the ape side estimated at 300-plus and climbing."
"Zero human losses so far."
He allowed a cold smile.
"Keep the momentum. Burn the forest if necessary. No ape escapes."
But beneath his confidence, his intel officers noticed something unsettling.
"Sir, we see signs of coordinated movement in the eastern ridge. Not just panic—actual tactics."
"They're adapting?"
"It appears so."
Howard narrowed his eyes.
This wasn't going to be the walkover he had expected.
"ROOOAAARR!!"
A furious cry tore through the thick smoke above Muir Forest.
From the tree canopy, Luca the massive silverback gorilla burst forth.
Without fear, he launched himself at an Apache attack helicopter, his body twisting in midair like a living missile.
The pilots had no time to react.
Luca slammed into the cockpit glass, pounding it with his massive fists.
The bulletproof windshield cracked, then shattered.
Wind and rotor-wash howled into the cabin as the ape tore through the controls like a wild beast.
"Mayday! Mayd—!"
The helicopter spiraled, losing control.
Luca ripped apart the console with one final roar, sacrificing himself to take the machine down.
The Apache spun into the trees below and exploded in a fireball, sending debris and flame across the forest floor.
Two soldiers burned inside the wreckage.
Luca, mortally wounded and scorched, lay beneath the rubble.
His chest rose one last time... then fell still.
"Jesus Christ—did you see that thing jump?"
"He brought down an Apache! With nothing but his fists! These bastards aren't just animals anymore..."
Above, pilots climbed to higher altitudes, now cautious.
The loss of one gunship rattled them.
No longer laughing, they maintained attack formation while keeping their distance.
But Luca's sacrifice had done its job.
All across the battlefield, other apes emerged—leaping from trees, hurling stones and spears, even climbing after the choppers in suicidal charges.
The skies filled with the desperate howls of warriors covering a retreat that Caesar had personally ordered.
Their mission was clear: hold the humans back.
Buy time for Caesar to get the elders, women, and young to safety.
But even that hope was short-lived.
From a ridge near the mountain pass, Caesar, riding a dark stallion, urged his people forward.
Beside him rode his most trusted: the wise orangutan Maurice, the brooding and volatile Koba, and the dependable Rocket.
They pushed through dense undergrowth and steep paths, guiding the fleeing survivors deeper into the wilderness.
Caesar turned once to watch the battlefield—his warriors dying in the flames, their screams echoing behind him. His chest tightened.
We only wanted peace… but peace was never enough for them.
Suddenly, the low growl of engines rumbled from up ahead.
Caesar raised a hand. The line stopped.
Then the ambush hit.
"Target confirmed. All units, fire at will!"
Bright flashes lit the woods as an entrenched Special Field Brigade opened fire—mortars thumped from the rear, lobbing shells into the treeline.
Towed howitzers roared, sending shockwaves through the valley.
The explosion came like a god's hammer.
"BOOOOM!!"
The apes never stood a chance. The first barrage tore through trees and bodies alike.
Fire engulfed the forest.
Choking black smoke rolled over corpses, young and old alike.
Blood sprayed the leaves.
Maurice screamed as shrapnel sheared through his lower half.
He collapsed, twitching, legs gone.
Caesar dropped from his horse and ran to him, but it was too late.
Rocket's mate and child were vaporized in a single blast.
The screams of baby apes echoed before being cut short.
Caesar's heart shattered as he knelt by the charred remains of his wife and newborn.