Sadly, I do not own any of this. Any original characters are based off of a copyrighted product and therefore are subject to those same copyright laws.

Also, this is my first Ace Combat fic. I am a huge fan of the games, and I decided to try my hand at writing a decent story. I'm pretty well known for doing many of my stories from unexpected viewpoints in their respective universes, so I decided to hold onto that.

The Ribbon Above

An Ace Combat story by Jerrod Fortner

"Yeah, I fought in the one year war. It was a rough time, but we made it through. I guess tank jocks are just as tough as our machines, eh? The only people who were worse off were the fly boys. They were the ones who had to deal with Stonehenge, and then that damned Megalith incident. But, a good few of them came through it in one piece. And there was this one pilot, flew like a madman and fought like a demon. His call sign was Mobius One, but we all knew him as "The Ribbon". And the Erusians knew him by another name: The Grim Reaper."

The old soldier rocked back in his chair and laughed at the old memory. He was cut off by a sudden coughing fit, and then he reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a cigar.

"You want one? No? Suit yourself, but you're missing out."

There was a low hiss as he lit a match, and then the acrid smell of the smoke filled my nostrils. I shifted slightly and looked down at my notebook. It was still the top of the page, so I estimated another two hours with the man would give me the information I needed.

"Mister Svenson, could you tell me what you remember of Mobius One, starting from the first day you saw him?"

"Of course, of course. I was already a captain in the armored divisions of the ISAF army. I'd served for quite a while; don't really remember how long now. It was the attack on the Erusian Aegir Fleet, the so-called "Invincible Fleet"…

"All tanks move up. Form into pairs and take each street. Train your guns on any runaway Erusian soldiers. Remember, don't fire unless they attack. We're the good guys."

Reginald Svenson replaced the radio and smiled as the wind whipped by his face. The M1A2 Abrams rumbled like a contented cat underneath his feet, and the sounds of nearby explosions soothed him. He could smell burning fuel in the air, and he silently congratulated the pilots up above.

He turned as he heard a shout of surprise, and he looked up as a large shadow passed over him. It was an F-22 being tailed by two F-14s. There was a barely audible screech as one of the F-14s fired a twin set of missiles. Svenson prayed that the ISAF pilot would doge the volley, and he clutched a set of rosary beads that were in his vest pouch. He nearly passed out when the F-22 banked hard left, knowing the pressure that kind of maneuver exerted. The F-22 flew behind a set of buildings and the F-14s failed to follow.

With a buzzing roar, the F-22 reappeared, its machine gun ripping into the rear of one of the F-14s. The plane spiraled out of control and slammed into the water of the harbor a few seconds later. Svenson hadn't seen a parachute.

He quickly turned his attention back to the dogfight now taking place between the F-22 and the F-14. Svenson watched in amazement as the two planes spun and dove in almost synchronized harmony. He watched as the F-22 suddenly stalled, and a lump developed in his throat.

"No, it can't end like that…"

The F-22 continued to lose altitude, until it looked like certain doom for the pilot. Miraculously, he pulled out of the dive and came up under the F-14.

"Impossible! That pilot should be dead by now!"

But Svenson watched as the miracle pilot tore the second F-14 open with a single missile, and then did a barrel roll for show. He had never seen anything like that, and he knew he would never forget.

"Captain, Sir. There's a broadcast on the radio, you might want to hear it."

Svenson picked up his handset and listened. He felt his heart swell with pride as the pilots broadcast their special message.

"They were singing the Hymn of Liberty, Usea's anthem."

He cleared his throat and began to sing the anthem in his bass voice.

"O'er azure skies and emerald plains

Where freedom and justice prevail

With courage and strength

We'll fight to the end

For liberty in our land."

Captain Svenson wiped away a tear and smiled at me through his scraggly beard, his pride in his country mixing with the pain of buried memories.

"That Mobius 1, he was damn good at flying. The best I ever saw. I just wish I could have met him in person."

He stood up, limping slightly with his prosthetic leg, and he shook my hand. It wholly encircled mine, and he pumped it vigorously.

"You come back tomorrow, and I'll tell you more on The Ribbon."

I nodded and picked up my cap, then turned and walked out into the cold rain of the Usean fall.