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The cliffs where imposing. The solid rock walls rose hundreds of feet in front, above stood imposing, black, iron bunkers and shining steel walkers. Behind, the frigid Channel waters, icy and trapping the Evolutionaries. Dion had only feet to go to reach the cliff sides, providing the only cover.

"Forwards men! Get out of the water!" an officer shouted, an imposing Plains Wolf, just as a shell exploded a little too close then most people would like. Water and body parts rose about 10 feet in the air.

"Reach the rock wall! Get to the- AGH!" The Wolf gripped his shoulder and bent forward, before gazing upwards, his teeth now barred. He raised his Jack Rabbit Assault Rifle and pulled the trigger. The gun shook and trembled as it emptied its 30 rounds of plasmid in 1.5 seconds, his arm able to keep the gun steady.

Dion trudged forwards, her cat-half wanting to jump back into the transport, her human-half trying to survive. Bullets whizzed by, her sensitive ears picking up the sounds of the bullets as they past too close. Machineguns and auto-cannons sent lead in their direction like a swarm of metal mosquitoes.

Now, artillery shells began to fall like rain on the beaches. Screams, cries and howls rang up and down the beaches, for miles both ways. Even Komets, German jet-fighters, began to pummel the beaches with 50.-cal. Machineguns and dropping Feuerräders, Wheels of Fire. Literally spinning metal wheels that spewed fire from 4 nozzles and bounced across the beaches, and had blades attached to cut through any Anthros unlucky, or lucky enough to not be set ablaze, found in the Wheels path.

Dirt, mud, sand and water coated Dion's armor and fur, her eyes began to sting, her tail heavy with mud, her fur stuck and plastered to her skin. Another Wheel passed too close to her, some of her whiskers and tail fur being singed off.

Suddenly, Dion was flung forwards, head over heels. She closed her eyes, thinking of which part of her body was blown off...

Then she felt the course sand grind against her rose cheeks. Her gun had been thrown out of her hand and she began to fell around, fearful of being unarmed, finding only mud and sand. Then she felt something rough and squishy to her left.

With her head still half buried in the sand, she opened her eyes, and a few inches away, lay the disemboweled upper half of another Feline. The fur and skin where too charred to tell it apart from any other Anthro, but it was the eyes that gave it away. Golden irises with the distinctive slit pupils a navy blue.

Continually, shells landed and more cries echoed in Dion's ear. But the eyes, compared to the rest of the body, where completely undamaged, untouched by the earth of the beaches, the water of the sea and the fire of war.

They frightened Dion...

Slowly she looked down, her Feline sister charred and disfigured, her intestines strung out from her body, her left arm missing at the elbow and the bone showing, her right arm missing completely.

But a little farther down, Dion saw the glimmer of a Titanium plated 8-round Colt .50 Revolver, still in the Felines hand with the joint bones protruding out, only the thumb and pinky finger still gripping the handle.

"She was an Elite!" was all the Dion could think of. Dion never knew of any Felines that had ever made it to Elite status, never mind serving as a frontline solider. Most are forced into the Medics Brigade, or serve as "stress relief" for returning troops. It was sickening to see such strength and beauty, mutilated and torn apart, sent to die on a piece of dirt.

Out of respect, or hope, or even fear, none of which she would ever know, Dion reached out with trembling hands. Sand and water, and now blood of all colors, flew into her eyes, drenched her fur, shells hammered at her ears, bullets kicking up more sand, the cries of her brothers-in-arms, but still, she reached out.

As respectfully as she could, Dion slowly worked the thumb and pinky off of the handle, and flipped the revolver over so she could grip it herself properly.

Just as she had a firm grip on it, Dion felt something tug at her back plate!

The Wolf that was shouting, and shot, earlier was going up and down his section of the beach looking for anyone who could still walk. She starred deeply into his grey eyes. They seemed cold and unforgiving, bloodshot and fearful, yet at the same time, tender and caring.

"Are you hurt solider?!' he barked in her face. Dion could only stare back.

He gave her a gentle shake. "I asked, are you hurt, solider!" This time, Dion nodded, slowly, and stated to regain her stance. He was just as stained and dirty as most other who had landed.

"Alright, get up to the wall; we need to start scaling the cliff side, now!" He took a moment to survey her to make sure the adrenaline in her system was not masking the pain of injury. Then he saw the Revolver in her hands.

"Where did you get that?" he shouted over the artillery.

Dion simply pointed to the charred body.

"No... She can't be..." and for a moment, Dion thought she saw a tear form in the Wolf's eyes. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the tears where replaced by a fire from within. It was not the fire of survival, but of vengeance, of revenge.

The wolf closed his eyes, looked down, and then, with all his strength and fury, let out a howl. It was loud, imposing, frightening, but above all else, it was reinforcing.

It was so loud in fact, that it was heard for the entire miles long stretch of the beachhead. Up and down the beaches, from the ports of Cherbourg to docks of Le Havre, other Wolves began to howl, then the roars of Lions where heard, the cries of Dogs followed, and then every other Anthro let out a cry that shook the cliffs themselves.

Even the Clunkers had stopped firing to hear the cries. The Unstoppable War Machine of the East cold not resists the fear that suddenly overtook them. The unison of cries, not of pain, or anger, or hatred, but of strength, of unity, of understanding, rattled the iron bunkers and brought steel Walkers to a halt.

And for a few moments, their cries where all that was heard on the beaches... And then...

Silence.

Dion had not realized she herself had joined in the rallying cry. As she stopped, she turned to run to the cliff wall, and saw the Elite and his Lieutenant that she arrived with. The Engineers where preparing a metallic tube and inserted a long stretch of synthetic scaling rope and, at the end, a funny looking Eagle.

A few Clunkers where brave enough to peer over the edge of the cliff after the cry ended. Dion looked up and saw one that had his lower jaw and most of his neck replaced by Augmentation.

For a minute, neither side fired at each other.

Dion simply starred at the one directly above her, and then raised the Revolver...

The Clunker noticed this and tried to scramble backwards, but was too slow. Dion pulled the trigger, and was laid flat on her ass.

The Clunker, on the other hand, had his entire head incinerated and flashed boiled by a plasmid bolt. His lifeless body slumped forwards, liquids spurting from his Augmentation ends. His comrades simply stared. The Anthros at on the beach looked at the Feline as she staggered to get up.

Then, other's across the beach raised their gun too, and up and down the cliffs and shores, hundreds of thousands of Clunkers fell, limbs incinerated, their liquids boiled, holes the size of a fist burned through their torsos, heads removed from spines.

And as the firing began, Evolutionary gunboats rose from the Channel waters. Varying sizes of Whales, the largest being the Great Killer Gunboat, charged and fired all of their weaponry, plasmids in different calibers and heats. The Killer Whale, Darwin's Revenge, had a displacement 71,000 t, had a length 263.0 m, and was equipped with 30 point-defense turrets, 2 forward and rear plasmid cannons, and two 20.1 in. forward-fixed Rail Guns. The Gunboat angled and the Whale let out a great echo, the guns firing.

Two Iron Bunkers turned red-hot, and then the walls melted and turned into liquid sludge. Clunker's that where manning their Vadvida's Heavy Machineguns screamed in agony as their fleshed was melted and boiled off, their Augmented liquids boiling along with their blood and eyes. Fat and muscles where well cooked and bones heated like charcoal.

The Engineers began to launch the bird creatures, hundreds of which filled the sky. They flew well passed the cliff tops, sailing high into the air. Around one hundred feet, the birds angled back down, and nose-dived back to the cliffs, their wings pressed to their bodies.

Then, their beaks began to glow red-hot, and they picked up speed. On impact, they burrowed into the dirt, displacing and throwing up columns of dirt. Some landed in sand bags and destroyed the entire emplacement from the sheer force of impact. Others landed in the Iron Bunkers and only dented the 10-foot thick walls. Even some landed in Clunkers, exploding their bodies and sending pieces of machine and body parts all over the cliff top. Some operators of Walkers exploded in their cockpits, and then the Walkers themselves exploding in a brilliant shine of steel fragments.

The Lion tugged on the rope, and then processed to grapple up, the Lizard following next, crawling along the wall. The rest of the platoon, a mish-mash of Anthros who Dion did not remember, clambered up the cliff wall. Dion was the second-last to scale up, the last being the Plains Wolf.

The wall seemed to be infinity long. She climbed up, slowly, step by step. Each one a challenge, the gunfire back at full force, the shells rain down like explosive hail, she was sure she was shot or had shrapnel in her. Wheels of Fire passed too close, singing off more fur. She looked to her right and saw some who had been lit on fire, letting go of the rope and falling back down, crashing into and dragging down other soldiers. To her left, Clunkers where hacking at the rope with Tottens Sickles, Death's Sickles, sickles about forearm long and used as bayonets. The Clunkers hacked at the synthetic rope enough to cut through, the Anthros on the rope fell to their death onto some rock exposures. Those at the bottom survived but where crushed by their allies, those at the top fell onto the rocks and broke their backs.

Anthros that made it to the top where being shot by firing squads, blood spurting out over the cliff and simulating rain on the beaches. Limp bodies falling and knocking other's behind them off the cliff or ropes. Those lucky enough to survive the cliff lip where pinned down behind low bumps of dirt.

The Gunboats where firing all they had, the iron bunkers where taking a pounding, Clunker trenches where being shelled out, sandbag emplacements destroyed. The lip of the cliffs where being shelled to give the Anthro's holes to take cover in. Some made it up to these holes, other's had there rope anchor destroyed by friendly fire. More fell to their death, and more landed on the beaches to replace them, Engineers continued to set up more rope ladders, but still, the Clunkers found times to fire at the beaches and the scaling soldiers.

Dion was almost there, the Lion almost at the top, but the Lizard was well a head. As he breached the lip of the cliff, a Komet passed by and tore apart Anthro's on the cliff top. The Lizard was shredded to pieces; his body mangled and looked as if some savage creature had ripped chunks of flesh and meat from his bones. His body lay limp and bleed as the Lion breached the lip. He saw his lieutenant and reached for the chain along his neck. Ripping his dog-tag off and stuffing it in his chest plate, the Lion pulled out a Plasmid grenade and pulled the pin. He lobed the grenade over the shell hole crest and in seconds heard Clunkers scream "STAK!", then in agony as they where singed and burned.

Dion was a just a few more steps away, the cliff crest nearer. "Just...A...Few...More...Steps!"

Suddenly, she perked her ears, and then slowly turned her head. From the East, a fait shimmer of light reflected off the afternoon sun.

"Bomber! It's the Super Fortress!" screamed Dion. Other Anthro's that could hear the low humming screamed and pointed to the Bomber. Everyone was scrambling up the rope, facing bullets or bombs.

The Super Fortress, Angle of Stalin, was powered by 6 "Overlords" turbosupercharged radial engines, and 2 rear jet engines. Around 40 meters long, and with a wing span of 50 meters, the bomber housed 10 point-defense Heavy Machineguns, 10 AA-guns on the top of the fuselage and 5 underneath. The bomber could carry 500 small lightweight bombs, 250 City Burners, 125 Fire of Lenin heavy bombs, or 10 Star's of the People. But today, the bomber had only one bomb, actually... One missile...

Dion was so close. She reached and grabbed the cliff lip. She swung her other arm up, and gripped the lip, but her hand shot off after a bullet passed through a thin layer of dirt and whizzed passed her face, the rest of her whiskers clipped off.

Dion lost her grip with her other hand and began to frail and fall backwards! She would break her back on the rocks, be shot on beaches, ripped apart by a shell, incarnated by a fire or destroyed by the bomber.

She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn't, she just couldn't bring herself to. Instead, she just and waited for her ends, to see how it ended. In this moment, she felt as if the world had slowed. Her long locks of hair flew into her peripherals. The sky was all she saw, filled with black smoke of bodies. Bullets rained down, and a Komet flew by... The Komet...

Suddenly durst into flames! An Eagle Fighter dragged its sharp talons through the cockpit of the plane. The Eagle's rider was firing on Clunkers with her Scorpion submachine gun. Their own fighters finally arrived, but too late for Dion...

Then the world sped back up. Dion felt something across her back, and then yanked to her left. She suddenly had her faced buried in the Wolf's chest. He had saw her fall and managed to catch her without losing his footing on the cliff wall!

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, not entirely around him. He grunted, with one hand under Dion, cradling her close, and with the other, straining, pulling the two of them up. He bared his teeth and bit down hard on the rope. He pulled them up the rope, let go of the length in his mouth, and then bit down on the next length.

"We're almost there!" the Wolf grunted through his teeth, "Just...a little...farther!"

Finally, the Wolf pushed up Dion. She turned her head and reached out for the cliff top, Plasmid discharge filled the air where other soldiers made their way up and took cover. She pulled herself up, but was again pulled back!

The Wolf this time threw his arms and legs around her and held her close to the cliff wall. He worked the rope length through his arms and gave it to her.

"Take hold of the rope, now!" he shouted.

She did as she was ordered. She wrapped the rope around her for arm and gripped it tight. She was afraid and scared, bewildered as to what he was doing.

A gap between the Wolf's arm and body allowed Dion to peer out past him and was amazed at the sight before her!

The Channel was filled with barges, firing plasmid mortar rounds. The Whale gunboats where lit with discharge, every second, hundreds of cannons fired. More and more boats and transports had landed, the beaches where littered with shells of the same boats, unable to reverse and return for more soldiers. She even saw a sortie of Eagle Fighters, their talons glimmering silver in the evening sun.

The beaches where loud, but she heard only one sound. Her ears perked, and remembering the sound...the sound of Death...

The Angle of Stalin.

"Take my Trench Knife.", whispered the wolf. Dion reached for it and removed it from its sheath and placed it in her leg holder. "And take good care of that Revolver. I loved its owner..."

With those words, the beaches where alight with fire, more intense then Dion had ever felt. She made to scream, but the air was eaten by the fire. It was only an empty cry, devoid of feeling, of sound.

The screams on the beaches replaced her own. The fire licked at her hair and tail. She cringed and cried as the heat surrounded her in a cocoon of death. She felt small and pitiful. Useless...

An out-of-tune Violin, in the Symphony of Death.