{Written while listening to Brooklyn Bounce by X2x ;)}

The cold biting wind of the Northern Neo-Soviet highlands wiped the red leather cloak sharply against the stone-solid figure standing on the crest of the hill. His hat clasped tightly around his brow held the Continental mark of the Empire in bright gold, glittering in the bright sun. His jaw was set, not in hatred or rage, but in a grim determination that this was where the enemy stopped. They moved no further and there would be no failure here, not on his homeland.

His breathing was trimmed with regularity as he raised his heated sword above his head and stared across the battlefield. Nothing moved yet but he knew they were there.

With a howling roar that shook the very roots of the universe he dropped his sword and the artillery dropped the treeline. Single file, each in turn, the eight ton artillery cannons rained hot iron on the enemy positions, making a perfect drumbeat as each blast rocked the ground around it.

Mars waited for the first volley then let out another roar even more powerful than the first and broke into a full out dash down the hillside. Not a moment later but he was accompanied by the men of his homeland, neo-soviets, New Germans, veterans from past wars and new freedom fighters seeking glory and a selfless desire to protect what was given so freely to them.

The enemy broke through the treeline even amidst the barrage of metal hail, eager to meet them on the battlefield. In a great tidal of flesh and blood, heated blades and blessed lasfire, the fate of nations was being decided. . .