Alright, so perhaps that hadn't been the best idea.

Of course, if Julien Enjolras was being honest, most of rather impulsive ideas weren't the smartest, but he also felt no shame in what he'd done. He'd started a not-so-entirely peaceful rally against the new laws that were being imposed the day before, stating that anyone who was found guilty of what they deemed "crimes against the government" would be subjected to some form of new treatment that seemed dubious at best, and terrifying to most. But, of course, no one had any say, not anymore, everything was decided by the man who'd imposed himself as "King" of Europe-or what was left of it. As had been foretold and warned against for many years, the world had plunged itself into an all-out nuclear war, starting with America and the team of China and Russia, with all the other big shots joining in. Europe, for once, was lucky enough to keep out of it, however they were caught in the crossfire and didn't escape damage. Most of the peninsula and surrounding islands was barren wasteland, with only shells of what were once proud buildings left as a reminder of what they'd done. The damage to technology kept them cut off from even other continent, and indeed most wagered there was no one left at all in certain regions, although it was considered (by their King, of course) that it was a waste of precious resources to go look and see if anyone survived.

The fortunate souls who had escaped the worst of the backlash, or whom had found shelters that could withstand the nuclear blast, were immediately rounded up and brought to the safest areas possible, those with a low enough radiation level to sustain life. Anyone who wasn't in those zones was left to fate, and no one wanted to think of anyone who dared go even a few meters outside the safe zone, horror stories passed down to young children to warn them away. Horror stories were spread rampant, telling of awful disfiguration and slow, painful death to anyone who went too far. No one knew for sure how much of it was true, but nor did they dare question it, as they'd learned not to question anything. After all, they were told, the world had become a far more terrifying place, and they were lucky to be alive, the government was just trying to help them.

Enjolras called bullshit and, well, here he was. In the back of what he thought had probably once been a repairman's van that had survived, the windows painted over and no benches, a barrier between him and the man driving the vehicle. Normally he would be crammed in along with likely a dozen others, but he supposed this was his father being what he thought was nice, letting him go off to prison comfortably. Comfortable as bumping around in the back of a van along back roads with your hands cuffed together could be, of course, but Enjolras wasn't complaining, if not mostly simply because he figured it was pointless, he wasn't the type to go shouting at nothing, rather he was calculating, calm, he was thinking of each and every way in which he could use this as a way to help change things. Maybe his arrest would draw attention, the son of one of the only remaining men with any power in this society arrested for standing against it-of course, the news wouldn't be widespread, his father would make sure of that, he was in charge of such things after all, the man the King trusted to watch what news sources they had left, mostly old radios and a few phone lines, some newspapers that were struggling to stay afloat in this age. Enjolras had latched onto those resources as much as he could, because of who his father was he also knew every way to get around what he wanted people to hear, to get onto the secret channels, find those people who would boldly use whatever means they could to get the real truth out, and Enjolras ate it up. He heard other voices like his own on those channels, young men and even a few women speaking out against what their King was doing, talks of horrible treatment and outraged cries against whatever was happening at the prisons-which, he thought grimly, he should be preparing himself for, he was about to become their newest addition after all-

In fact, sooner than he thought-he must've gotten wrapped up in his thoughts well enough that time had gotten stuttered, for it seemed they had reached their destination, the van had shuddered to a sharp top that sent him tumbling to the side, his head connecting with the metal side of the van rather painfully. He winced, reaching up to touch it, relieved that he felt no blood pooling there, looking at the door sourly as he struggled to his feet, refusing to be found on the ground as such. He cocked his head, hearing shouts outside the van, although he couldn't hear the words the tone didn't seem entirely friendly and suddenly he went on alert, hoping it wasn't some sort of bandits, which had become more rampant after the bombs, when supplies grew scarce. He listened for several minutes, and then everything went quiet, and somehow that only managed to unsettle him more. He stepped back so his back was against the metal caging that was meant to separate him from his captors, but just as his back touch the metal he heard the door slam open and he scuttled back in a rather undignified fashion, watching and waiting for what he assumed would be the surly guard that he wasn't entirely fond of…only to see a mop of black curls and a big grin with matching twinkling grey eyes.

"Hey there! Don't happen to know where they put the keys, do you?"

"I-what?"

"The keys, you silly, unless you'd like to stay in these cuffs the rest of your life but I'm afraid you won't be able to do much like that. Besides, we could use the van."

"What?"

"Can't you hear me? Where'd they stow the keys, Monsieur Enjolras?"

"How do you know-never mind, they keys to the cuffs were in the glove compartment, the key for the van were on the Captain, on his belt-"

Before he could even finish the curious young man had leapt back out of the van, and he could hear him calling out.

"'Ferre, keys are on the fanciest looking one! Better hurry, or they'll notice us taking their van!"

He heard a muffled response but before he could try and see who it was the young man had popped his head back into the vehicle, opening up the compartment and rummaging around for the keys, emerging with a triumphant grin.

"Meetcha back there in a sec!"

Enjolras opened his mouth to enquire who his supposed rescuer was, but the beaming boy had already clambered back out of the vehicle and around to the back. The young man was certainly native a Frenchman, although his accent was more southern than Enjolras' Parisian, even though the country itself no longer existed as such those old enough to have learned it still held onto their native tongue. Or at least those who still thought there was a such thing as freedom.

"Ah, there we go! Let's get you out of those cuffs, shall we?"

He was startled from his thoughts by the door swinging open, the figure much clearer without the metal grate separating them. He was young, perhaps a bit older than Enjolras himself although his cheeks still had a bit of babyfat clinging to them, and despite the wear in his clothing his grey eyes were bright. The clothes helped him figure out for himself what he was-one of the rebels, with a gun on his belt and several knives, the dark red jacket he wore patched in several places and the blue scarf around his neck looked threadbare, it was useful for wind storms and such, though, he'd learned at least that much. Before he knew it the other had the chains off his wrists, and he rubbed them subconciously, looking at him.

"Thank you, friend-as I assume you are."

"Oh, yes! The moment we heard your name on the radio we went into action, I mean I always told them that you'd be on our side but 'Ferre never believed me, said you'd be just like your father."

"I did not, I just said that we couldn't just go steal him away from his bedroom because you wanted him to join us." Another voice said, this one a bit deeper and smoother, calming, and when another face came into view he could see this man was much the voice of reason of the two of them, with cracked glasses and pale brown hair that almost had a tint of red. Warm brown eyes met his briefly before the man bowed his head, smiling. "Glad to see you're alright, Monsieur, but I'm afraid we're in a hurry. Courfeyrac, make sure that Bahorel doesn't kill anyone, it makes things messy and it's a waste."

"Yessir, be right back-privilege to have you with us, Enjolras!" He chirped, smiling before he bounded out of the van, calling out to someone else, Enjolras watching in calm curiosity, only stirring at the light touch on his temple, moving to look only to hear a soft "tut".

"Don't move, I'm checking this bump on you head-are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No, I'm just fine-you have medical training?"

"As much as one can get these days, you learn fast." The brunet said, shrugging, after making sure that Enjolras wasn't concussed or badly injured, clapping his shoulder lightly and smiling, perhaps not as broadly as his companion but it was a rare thing those days. "We'd best be going, come, we might all be able to squeeze up front, I believe there's room."

"I'll be glad to be out of here." Enjolras nodded, getting out of the back of the van and going around front, noting several of the guards who had taken him unconscious on the ground, a rather cheerful looking ginger-haired man making his way over, at least a few years older than either of them by the looks of it.

"Hey, we got the cargo, excellent! I get to drive, you ladies can fight over the other spots."

"Yes, and how about we hurry, please? They'll notice something is wrong when they don't arrive soon, and we'd best be far away by then." Combeferre nodded, opening the door, letting Enjolras climb in first, followed by Courfeyrac, and then got in last, Bahorel barely waiting for them to shut the door before he started it up, roaring off across the wasteland that they had been driving past, Enjolras deciding not to mention that the vehicle probably wasn't made for off roading, it seemed like it'd be pointless anyway, the fiery man giving a whoop as they drove off.

"Alright, let's bring the Princess back to camp!"

"He's not some damsel in distress, dude." Courfeyrac objected before Enjolras himself could, and the other two bickered back and forth for a little well, Enjolras letting himself relax a bit, tuning them out. He wasn't quite sure whether or not to be relieved, considering he might've just jumped into the sharks now, but he was curious as to what he was getting into with this oddly matched trio, and he had to admit he was a bit thrilled.

He was free.

oOoOoOo

A/N: hello and welcome aboard! Thiss is the short beginning of what will (hopefully) be a long, wonderful fic! Pairings are tbd however I'm fond of EnjyCourf so I might stick with that, but we'll see! Rating is for later chapters, I might stick some things in there. I hope you stick around!