So I've finally gotten around to rewriting this chapter. For the most part the battle scene is the same, but I made a few changes to it so that it's hopefully better than before.

Warnings: Violence, some potty mouths, possible OOCness later, maybe character deaths later (not sure on that yet).

No pairings as of right now. That may change later though.

The South Shall Rise Again

Prologue

He was afraid, but he called upon all his courage as cannonballs caused the ground and surrounding scenery to explode all around him. Bullets raced through the air, some narrowly missing their target. Sweat and dirt caked his face and clothing as he gripped the dirty old musket in his shaking hands. Ducking behind a tree, he quickly reloaded before peering around the side of the bullet ridden trunk and began firing. Ducking down and shielding himself as a cannonball hit a few yards away, he waited a moment for the dust to clear before sitting up.

Off to his right, a gray blur ran behind some trees, ready to shoot their target. Standing out like a sore thumb with his dark blue coat and light blue pants, he proved to be an easy target even through the choking smoke. A sudden burning sensation in his shoulder immediately told him he'd been hit.

Straining his eyes through dirt covered glasses, he tried to spot any Gray Coats that may be nearby. Ignoring the burning sensation in his shoulder, he aimed at a gray blob attempting to hide behind a tree. Hesitating only momentarily, he pulled the trigger sending a bullet into his target. The blob jerked violently before collapsing and disappearing from sight.

Between the deafening explosions of cannons and sounds of gunfire, the voices of men echoed through the forest, each voice shouting out orders or calling for missing comrades. In the confusion of the battle, he managed to steal a chance at escaping to a safer location. He hoped to reunite with his comrades soon to get more bullets and gunpowder and to have some backup as the battle drew on.

Spotting a familiar figure in the distance through a thin cloud of smoke, he hurried towards the man only to be blown back when the ground suddenly exploded in front of him. Hitting the ground with a sickening thud, he lay there in a daze. Knowing he was injured badly from the explosion, he still attempted to get to his feet once he regained his senses. Gritting his teeth against the pain that such a normal action caused, he blinked the tears from his eyes and looked where his comrade had been standing only to see what appeared to be a mutilated corpse sprawled across the ground, head blown completely away by the force of the cannonball hitting its target.

Before he even had a chance to register what he had just witnessed, a sharp kick to his chest forced him back onto his back. Coughing through a combination of inhaling too much smoke and having the wind knocked out of him, he managed to see who had kicked him. Standing above him in an all-too-familiar gray coat and blue pants similar to his own, stood his assailant. The man sneered down at him with a cold glint in his eyes.

"Ye damned Yank." He spat, aiming his own musket at the downed soldier. He swallowed back his fear as he stared at the man above him.

"Do what you may, but the north will win."

"Ha! Fat chance, ye Union scum. The Confederacy will prevail!"

"Not likely. I've heard that your supplies are almost depleted and all of your major ports are under Union control."

"Tha' may be, but we'll never surrender to th' likes of you!" The man pointed the barrel of his gun at his head. He just stared up at his would-be-killer, ready to face whatever may happen.

A Southern accented voice brought him out of his thoughts. He glared at the man towering over him, fully prepared to be shot.

"Any last words, Yankee scum?" The man sneered as his finger tightened around the trigger.

"The Union will win." He said with confidence.

"Like hell." The man spat as he pulled the trigger and Alfred's world went dark.

Alfred sat up with a gasp as sleep fogged eyes quickly scanned the area for signs of the enemy. As the fog lifted, Alfred realized that he was in his bedroom and not out in a battlefield. Letting out a shaky breath, he rubbed his face before he reached over to his nightstand and picked up his glasses and settled Texas on the bridge of his nose. Running a hand through his sweat dampened hair, he sighed and looked at the glowing red numbers on his alarm clock. 5:24 AM. Great. Only another hour before he had to get up and get ready for yet another unproductive, yet highly entertaining, world conference. Getting his lazy butt in gear, Alfred swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. After a quick stretch, he made his way to the bathroom to freshen up.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, Alfred noticed some stubble covering his face. Deciding that a good shave was in order, he located his razor and can of shaving cream. Once finished with that task, Alfred admired himself in the mirror for a moment, grinning at his heroic self. Deciding that he could stand to take a shower to get rid of the sweat smell lingering on him, Alfred stripped off his t-shirt and shorts before turning the water on and hopping into the shower.

After shampooing his hair and washing up, Alfred stood under the running water and closed his eyes, relishing in the soothing warmth. As he relaxed, he couldn't help but let his mind wander.

Soon big brother...

Snapping his eyes open, Alfred looked around. He was positive he had heard a familiar voice speak to him. Shaking his head, Alfred shut off the water and grabbed the towel that was hanging on the wall. After wrapping it around his waist, he stepped out of the shower and glanced around the small room. Goosebumps appeared on his skin. Whether from the sudden chill of leaving the warm water or from something else entirely was to blame, Alfred couldn't be sure.

"Okay Alfred...calm down...you're just tired and your brain is being a total troll right now..." Speaking softly to himself, Alfred looked in the mirror and nearly screamed when the reflection he saw wasn't his own. Hurrying out of the bathroom, Alfred ran into his room and slammed the door shut. "Shit...I must be coming down with something or something..." Running a hand down his face, Alfred decided that running around dripping wet in nothing but a towel at six o'clock in the morning was definitely not something he wanted to keep doing.

After drying off, he went to his dresser and pulled out the clothes he was going to wear that day. After dressing, Alfred opened his door a crack and peeked out. Nothing but darkness greeted him. Deciding that he was simply overreacting, Alfred made his way back to the bathroom to comb his hair. After completing that task and grabbing himself a quick bite to eat, Alfred headed for the front door, but stopped as he passed the door leading to the basement. As he stared at the old wooden door, he couldn't help but get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Shaking it off as his brain trolling him again, Alfred left his house and got into his car and started it before heading for the conference hall across town.

In the basement, a pair of mismatched colored eyes glowed faintly in the darkness as a cold chuckle echoed off of the stone walls. Soon...