Liberté Foncée

PROLOGUE: INSIDE INFORMATION

The world is split into three forces - Good, Evil, and Those Who Fight.

The Good are clueless. They have no idea what the fuck they're doing, but they know they want to take out evil. They're powerless to do it. Face the truth.

The Evil want to destroy. They want power. Total dictatorship. Total control. They want the reins in their hands and the world at their feet. They thrive on death and live off the terror of the craft.

Those Who Fight only want one thing - a single idea - but it is worth risking everything for.

There's one thing that the world can't give

A freedom from fear.

They fight not for money, land, or peace. No, they fight for a simple feeling of security. They do not want to be loved. They do not want to be known by anyone.

They live in the shadows and do not make contact.

They are feared.

They are hated.

They are outcasts.

They are the only people in the whole goddamned world who have any bloody idea what the hell they're doing.

And:

The only thing for which I live

They are the ones that have to help everyone else through.

Life can be so goddamned unfair, eh?

*

IN THE WORDS OF AN ANONYMOUS FIGHTER:

The world is a dangerous place. Got that? Only the strong survive, and you sure as hell better know what you're doing. You think you can join us? Dream on. You have to earn your place in this world. You live on with the happy little idea that you've got a stable life going on until you lose everything you ever cared about.

I've sold my heart, my soul I've lost

See how perfect your little universe is then.

Lemme give you some advice right now while there's still some hope you'll make it in life: You stand up for something, you get beaten down. You've got to fight and fight strong if you want something, and you've got to be sure you know what the fuck you're doing. You've got to know what you're getting yourself into before you do. I've seen a whole hell of a lot of people taken out because they didn't have a shit of a clue where they wanted to go in life.

But for my fight, that was the cost

They saw us as a hobby. They saw us as a fucking after school job or fall back plan for the blasted weekends.

Bullshit.

For those of you who think we're just sitting around thinking about how to cause trouble, lemme tell you one thing:

I'm not who you think, I'm not what you know

You have no bloody idea who we are.

We will fight and we will die. If any of us live, we will not rejoice. We will keep fighting.

We know what we want and we'll do anything to get it.

Anything.

Death doesn't scare us.

Pain doesn't scare us.

Nothing scares us.

We have accepted the world. We knew what the bloody place was like from the start. We knew where we were going and we were going to get there at all costs.

I'm leaving now, but before I go

If we happen to pay a visit to Hell along the way, so be it. We will fight from the goddamned grave if we have to.

We won't stop until we get what we are fighting for, got that?

There aren't that many of us. A few hundred at the most.

That isn't enough to get what we want, but does that stop us?

There's somethin' that you've gotta know

Hell no.

We're going into life standing tall, knowing there's a very fucking good chance that we might not be coming back.

We live with it. We die with it. We take it.

Can you?

*

The Aurors and Fighters hate each other. It's fact. The Aurors believe that the Fighters are causing more trouble in a world that doesn't need any more chaos, and the Fighters think that the Aurors are clueless.

(One of the two above claims is correct)

They both want to end the same thing, but the Aurors want more then that. Both wanted the freedom from fear, but with that, the Fighters would be content. The Aurors wanted Voldemort wiped off the face of the Earth along with all his fucking supporters.

Yeah, right. That's going to happen some time soon.

Dream.

On.

*

This is a tale of friendship, betrayal, different paths, and a torn world. This is the story of pain, sorrow, and a Hell on Earth rolled into one. This follows the lives - and deaths - of several people, including every dark and forbidden detail.

I'm not the one you need

There is no happy ending waiting for those who make it through this.

There isn't a very happy beginning, either.

*

IN THE WORDS OF SHANE PARKER:

Those of you who can't deal with blood, death, and a World of Shit can clear off now. If you want a good laugh, look somewhere else. If you're looking for a fluffy romance I'm sure you can find some bullshit sex novel at the drug store down the street for real cheap.

If you're looking for a story to enjoy with a cup of coco by your side get the fuck out of here. I don't care who you are. You won't get through this.

I'm not the one you want

I did.

I suffered.

I lost everything.

I survived.

I hate the world, I hate my life, I hate myself, but I know that I made it.

I've lived in the gloom

I'll fight to the end.

Because it's not over yet.

It's just beginning.

My love won't bloom

*

IN THE YEAR OF 2012

The Boy Who Lived had died. His final face off with the Dark Lord had been the unlucky one needed to finish him off. Lord Voldemort had not been destroyed. While weaker then he had been, he was alive. And Harry Potter was dead, along with his friends and family.

And now, The Dark Lord would rise above all while the Wizarding World lay in smoldering ruin, mourning the passing of their Savior, and he would gain the power he'd possessed years ago and that he'd lost because of the Savior.

But there would be no one to stop him this time.

Because Harry Potter was no more.

*

The sky was a dark, almost black shade of grey, occasionally pierced by a blinding flash of forked lightning. Electricity tingled in the air along with some hidden magic.

I'll give you that stare

Something was about to happen.

Something in the air was restless. Waking. Brooding. Alive.

A sense of ancient evil added to the maddening dark intensity of the morning.

The girl felt it. She felt something waiting to pounce like a lion on an unsuspecting antelope out in the grasslands and deserts. A shiver ran up and down her spine.

Suddenly, she felt scared. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her pulse raced. The world spun. She took a deep breath, then turned, and ran.

The one that says I don't care

*

She didn't know where she was going, but she knew that she needed to get away from whatever was around her in the air. She didn't know how to escape the world, but she knew she had to try.

Somewhere deep in her four-year-old subconscious she knew she had to run - escape.

Little did she know she was running to her death, right into the hands of the evil she was trying to get away from.

Giving up? Might as well

*

Everyone knew her name.

The Girl Who Died.

The girl who was unfortunate enough to possess that childlike purity that made her the perfect target.

As her family mourned, everyone offered support. Most everyone smiled sadly, and spoke about how sweet and innocent she'd been, and how awful it was what had happened to her.

Find someone else to tell

Even complete strangers offered sympathy.

But there were those who did not mourn. There were those who did not feel pain for the family. There were those who rejoiced, for their master had risen, this time, immortal...

*

Those three words

*

IF IT WERE NOT FOR THIS STORY:

*

I'm not who you think, I'm not what you know
I'm leaving now, but before I go
There's somethin' that you've gotta know

I don't give a damn