Disclaimer: I do not own the (many) characters that are represented in this story, with a few small exceptions. But they die anyway so it's alright. Author's Note: I said I would try to have the first chapter up by April and what do you know? I'm a woman of my word. Rujutoshi, this goes out to you (as well as my wonderful lunatic weasel and my fluffy Ebony. You know who you are!). Why? BECAUSE I CAN! And thanks goes to my wonderful Zanthiel. I miss you!

Warnings: Besides being a massive AU, this is a war-based fic, so expect blood, bad language, and all that good stuff. This is also a bit of a yaoi fic between Hiei and Yusuke, but that wont be for a while yet. Don't like any of the things mentioned? Then don't read the story you silly person!

Now . . . enjoy the story everyone! And REVIEW! Speak To Me Of Freedom

By: Sharys Aogail

Chapter 1

Damn. Damn, damn, damn!

Yusuke cursed himself again and again as he stumbled into the nearest trench, his wounded leg finally giving out on him. He rolled a good seven or eight feet before he came to a stop. Graceful, very graceful, he thought sarcastically. Vaguely, he applauded himself on not loosing either of his magnums in his little spill. He lay there panting for a moment before he dragged himself into a sitting position against the dirt wall behind him.

Still a bit out of breath, he mechanically opened the chamber of one gun, dumping six empty shells to the dry, dusty earth. Digging into the small pouch at his hip, he then began to reload one bullet at a time.

"Having issues, Urameshi?"

Yusuke snarled at the man without bothering to look up. Although Kale was a Sergeant, as well as Yusuke's commanding officer, Yusuke held no respect for him. And Kale gave him no reason to.

Kale smirked a bit, running a hand through scruffy blonde hair. "I thought for sure the Vahlkrans had blasted your ass. A shame really."

"Go screw yourself, Kale Thanks to your wonderful leadership, we're fucked," Yusuke said harshly. "Now get the hell away from me."

Kale's eye narrowed, his fingers twitching towards one of the many throwing knives hanging from his belt.

Taking note, Yusuke spun the chamber closed, and brandished his heavy revolver in the man's general direction, the threat clear. "Have a problem, sir?"

Face red, the man whirled on his heel and stalked off.

That's what I thought you fucking coward.

Yusuke slid the gun into its holster and then grabbed its twin and reloaded it as well. Only after that was done did he relax enough to really take in his surroundings.

The trench was no more than a deep, dried up creek bed where his squad had decided to take refuge. Soldiers were spread out over about thirty yards or so, the lucky ones that had managed to escape with their lives. Many, like him, were taking a moment to recuperate, while others were tending to their own wounds. Two over-worked medics could be seen taking charge of some of the more serious injuries, flitting from patient to patient. All of them were battered and bruised, their uniforms filthy and were tattered or burned.

Yusuke was no exception.

He shook his head as he mentally tallied survivors. It was hard to believe that they had been cut down to a third of their original number in a little less than three hours. But it was not so surprising given their opponent. They had been so overwhelmed by the enemy's forces that the survivors were forced to retreat. Yusuke himself nearly bit it when he realized he was out of ammo, with no place to stop and reload.

He bit down a bitter chuckle. We are so screwed.

"Hey, Urameshi!"

Reacting to the familiar voice, Yusuke looked up in time to see a tall, burly redhead bury the tip of his sword into the earth before dropping down beside him. He nodded at the taller man, giving him a wry grin. "Made it out alive too, eh? Damn Kuwabara, at times I think you're a cockroach."

Instead of punching him like he would have back in basics, Kuwabara just gave him a shrug, and settled back into a more comfortable position. He pointed at Yusuke's leg. "You should have a medic take a look at that."

It was then that Yusuke got his first real look at the wound. Blood had completely soaked through the torn fabric, and the sheer amount obscured the wound itself. It was a deep round gash that bit a good inch and a half into his thigh. The hole was smaller than it should have been, but Yusuke paid it no mind. It was a nasty wound, and by all rights he shouldn't have been able to walk, much less run.

He gave himself two days before he made a full recovery.

"Nah, it looks worse than it is," Yusuke brushed it off before gesturing about the numerous burns that covered Kuwabara's body. "Worry about yourself, you look like you had a argument with someone's pet dragon."

He scowled and rubbed his singed cheek. "Fire mage," he growled. "I still can't believe they had fucking mages!"

Yusuke clenched his jaw, but didn't comment, suppressing the urge to scratch the phoenix tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

Vahlkra had dispatched mages to engage them in open combat. Not one or two, like they had met in previous encounters, but a whole squad of them. It was certainly a first, as far as Yusuke knew anyway. Mages, like the stronger ones they had seen today, were rare and difficult to find. The Mageborn had a tendency to keep their heads down, and were exceptionally good about keeping themselves under the radar. They avoided attention like the plague.

To have so many in one location was . . . disconcerting to say the least.

"So . . . what do ya think it means?" Kuwabara asked.

Yusuke scowled. "How the hell should I know? As far as the big-wigs are concerned I'm just a grunt with a bad attitude and no respect for authority, so why would they tell me anything?"

"I was just saying . . ."

Yusuke gave a frustrated sigh and buried a hand in his loose, dark hair, suddenly craving a cigarette.

He was sick of this war.

Over the past year Yusuke had gotten used to military life, along with all the battles and tension that came with it. He had to in order to stay sane. After the draft, war was no longer an option, but a requirement. He had been pissed when his name had been selected, and had even tried to evade it altogether. Unfortunately, he got as far as the city limit when he was caught.

It had taken ten men to subdue him and drag him back to the registration building.

This, of course, caused inquiries after several officers claimed that he was Mageborn. Tests were made, his skin was checked, but no matter how many times he was examined, the results were always inconclusive. Unfortunately, the inquiry was more than enough for word to spread, making most of his superiors watch him like a hawk. The extra attention led others to believe that he was privy to more classified information.

Or maybe it was just Kuwabara that believed that particular rumor.

Nevertheless, Yusuke had had enough. His business was his own, and he liked to keep it that way.

He rubbed his wrist absently, staring dully at the elaborate design resting against the delicate flesh. A dark phoenix was painted in mid-flight, it's blue flame wings curled upwards to wrap around his wrist. His family had once jokingly referred to it as the caretaker of secrets.

My secrets . . .

He often entertained the thought of desertion, dreaming of leaving the military to go somewhere, anywhere, where he would be left alone. However, deserters were punished harshly, and those who were caught were often used as a warning to others that also thought of leaving. But with the way the war was going, he was beginning to think it was worth the risk of getting caught.

He wasn't about to die for a bunch of jackasses he didn't give a damn about.

Yusuke was forcibly drawn from his thoughts when the ground rumbled, and officers began shouting orders. "Everyone make a break for the forest!"

"Are you fucking insane!"

"Shut up! You're dead if you don't! Now move it! That's an order!"

Conditioned to take immediate action, Kuwabara leapt to his feet and wrenched his sword out of the earth. Others were doing the same, the majority drawing different kinds of blades while others, like Yusuke, drew guns from their respective holsters. Armed, they hauled themselves out of their temporary refuge and made a mad dash for the distant tree line. Yusuke stood stock still while others ran passed him, his instincts urging him to stay where he was.

He watched as the soldiers that scrambled topside were swiftly gunned down by bullets and magic. Only a handful of soldiers slipped past the barrage of attacks, countering a shower of bullets and other hand-thrown projectiles. Yusuke could only stare as one by one, his comrades fell. His throat tightened when Kuwabara was suddenly engulfed in flames. They weren't the textbook definition of "friends" but he had respected the man, as dense as he was.

Just another life lost in these stupid war games.

The sound of war cries, gun blasts and mage-fire was suddenly muffled as another sound rose in a gradual, but booming roar, accompanied by a wave of dry heat.

"INCOMING!" the warning came.

Too little, too late. That was all the warning any of them received before their whole world went up in an explosion of flame and ash.

oOoOo

Wait for it . . . wait . . .

Hidden high in the forest canopy, a slight figure held himself deathly still, his gaze steady and even trough the scope of his rifle. His breathing was calm and controlled, his hands never wavering from weight or exhaustion. Dark hair and dark clothing made him blend with the shadows. If it wasn't for his nine gleaming armbands, his stillness would have made him disappear completely.

Through his scope the target was clearly visible even from several hundred yards away, but a few scraggly trees and other soldiers that crowded nearby blocked his shot. His target was located on the far side of the shallow trench, adding distance as another layer of difficulty, albeit a minor one. Never one to waste bullets or to give away his position, the hunter waited patiently for his opening.

Wait . . .

The mage forces had cornered the remaining Jantan troops in a small dry creek bed, leaving them to huddle in their little ditch while they lay no more than a hundred yards away, waiting for their prey to resurface. A few straggling soldiers were picked off before they could rejoin the rest of their group, their carelessness paid for with their lives.

The little group shifted a bit, the target turning just a little to the right-

A single shot rang out with the target dropping like a stone not a moment later. The sniper watched a little longer as soldiers scrambled towards his victim, reminding him strongly of flies gathering at a carcass.

Another lamb to the slaughter, may the gods be merciful.

The job done he lowered his rifle to rest in his lap as he settled himself back against the tree trunk. His orders were to return immediately, but he ignored them for now, enjoying his solitude while it lasted. His pale hand drifted to his waist, coming to rest lightly on the hilt of a katana. While not his primary weapon during his assignments he preferred it to his rifle any day, the well-worn blade holding more meaning for him. Allowing himself to relax, he willed the tension out of his muscles and closed his eyes.

Vibrant red eyes that were a sure mark of a Mageborn.

But then again all of the Shades of Vahlkra were Mageborn.

After a few more minutes of peace, all of his senses were suddenly activated by the sudden presence of a new foreign energy originating from the direction of the battlefield.

Lifting his rifle against his shoulder, the Shade scanned the grounds below, searching for the cause of power. His eyebrows scrunched together a bit as tried to make sense of what he was seeing. The Jantans had completely abandoned their hiding place. The soldiers scrambled out of their holes and made a beeline for the forest, but were swiftly brought down by the waiting mages.

Did the entire Jantan Army turn suicidal?

Then he heard it.

It was a low rumble, reminiscent of oncoming thunder, accompanied by a tremendous amount of unmistakable energy.

Realization struck like a ton of bricks.

That sadistic bastard is going to kill us all!

Without hesitation, the Shade slung his rifle across his back and leapt from his perch. Dropping a good thirty-five feet, he hit the ground running, the initial impact having no effect on his enhanced body. He was no more than a black blur as he desperately tried to put some distance between himself and what was coming.

The ground suddenly heaved upwards, sending the Shade crashing to the ground and into a tree.

oOoOo

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Author's Note: Oh my god, an actual long first chapter! Wow!
This is an idea that has been rolling around in my head for a while now, and I've spent the last three months putting it together in a halfway decent story. The original idea for this story was based on Pat Benetar's song Too Long A Soldier. Great song. Anyway, the end result is a bit of a far cry from the original idea, but I liked it a lot better. From what I gather I'm looking at a 20 chapter story, and I am very much looking forward to writing it.

Regarding guns and military standings . . . I am not an expert on either subject, so . . . forgive any inconsistencies. I'm researching to make it a bit more believable, but I only have so much to work with. If you see any glaring mistakes (about anything) please point them out, the help would be very much appreciated. Lots of love people!