A/N: Hello there! I know it's been a long time since I've written anything, but I've had a good case of writer's block recently. So, until I can figure out where I want Charlie Company and RoaH to go, I'll be working on this. I hope you all enjoy.
Ace Combat Six: Fires of Liberation
Chapter One
Through the Heart of a Nation
Gracemeria. The capital of the Republic of Emmeria and the country's crown jewel, literally and figuratively speaking. Not only was the city a thriving economical center with one of the planet's largest middle classes, but it was also home to the giant armor crafted by the Golden King of Emmeria. The legends say he was a man of small stature, so he ordered a large suit of armor to be constructed out of pure gold and placed on his throne. So impressed by the armor were his enemies that they often surrendered without a struggle and even bowed in humility before the king's gentle smile. Even today, the giant gold suit of armor sits proudly in his throne, a likeness of his gentle face smiling down upon all who visit the castle in our modern times. People will often leave gifts for the king as offerings for blessings of luck, bounty, or anything else that the people of Emmeria may need. The castle, located in the Old Quarter of Gracemeria, is connected to the city itself by a long suspension bridge, named King's Bridge in honor of the Golden King.
August eleventh of the year 2015 started as any normal day would; the sun rose over the hills to the east, awaking all of those in Gracemeria except most of the Emmerian soldiers who were stationed there. Most of them were up long before the orange glow of dawn broke the horizon, and the pilots of the Emmerian Air Force were no exception. Days for them began precisely at 0500 hours with a quick shower, some breakfast and then physical training. After that, most pilots went about whatever other duties they were assigned. Captain Ian "Jester" Wallace wasn't quite one of those pilots; he had more than a mild interest in maintaining the well-being of his beloved F/A-18D Hornet and could often be seen with his ground crew and Crew Chief, Staff Sergeant Jamarcus Walton. Pysically, the two men couldn't have been more different; Jester was a tall, barrel chested, square-shouldered individual. Square jawed and loud mouthed, he earned his nickname from his constant barrage of (usually bad) jokes and wisecracks. Jamarcus, on the other hand, was a relatively short man who stood at a mere five foot eight, a full five inches shorter than his pilot friend, and lanky as a man could possibly be. The two men were standing in hangar 14-D on the airbase just on the outskirts of Gracemeria, going over every inch of the '18 to make sure she was in tip-top condition.
On the opposite side of the hanger was Jester's wingman, Captain Alvin "Zippo" Teo. He was also almost the exact opposite of Jester in every regard, with very few exceptions. Zip was a quiet, laid back kind of guy; he never said much to anyone, but was a friendly sort of fellow. He was a man of average height, build and shape; he appeared physically unremarkable in every way, but Jester knew better. Zip had more moves than any martial artist Jester had ever seen. Some other poor sap learned that the hard way when he decided to pick a fight with a man half his size; that man just happened to be Alvin Teo. The fight was over in almost the blink of an eye and the larger of the two men lying flat of his stomach with his face in the dirt outside a bar off base. Jester made a note not to pick a fight with his wingman from then on. There was another peculiar thing about Zippo; the man had what many considered an unhealthy obsession with the Zippo lighter he carried with him everywhere he went. When he wasn't behind the stick of his beloved Sukhoi fighter, he was always toying with that damn lighter. No one was quite sure where that SU-33 that Zippo flew came from, but Jester had an idea or two. Not that it really mattered anyway because no one quite seemed to care.
Jester and Jamarcus were almost finished with their inspection of the F/A-18 when the consant click, fwoosh, clack, click, fwoosh, clack started to grind on the crew chief's nerves. He looked up from the left wing of the plane and shouted "Zip, stop messing with that God damn thing, wouldja? You're gonna blow us all to Kingdom come!". For a brief moment, the sounds stopped before picking up again. Chief Walton was about to blow a gasket when he felt Jester's hand on his shoulder and was greeted by a shaking head and a smile on the pilot's face.
"Give it up, Chief, trust me. Look, we're all done with the check here, so you go take a break yeah?"
Jamarcus grumbled something incoherently and all but stomped out of the hangar as Jester sauntered over to his wingman and sat down, staring outside at the bright blue sky. He was chuckling under his breath softly and shaking his head with a smile. He got the feeling that Zippo messed with Chief Walton intentionally, just to amuse himself. And he was probably right.
"You shouldn't torture the old man like that, you know. One of these days he's gonna have an anneurism because of that." Jester chided, nudging his partner in crime in the ribs, as if trying to goad the response he was never going to get from Zippo out of him. At times, Jester felt like he was talking to a brick wall. Zip merely smiled and toyed with his ligher a little more, twirling it through his fingers and tossing it up into the air. The sunlight glinted brightly off of the silver-plated lighter, causing Jester to squint a bit, before it fell right back into Alivin's skilled hand. He flipped the cap of the lighter open and caused it to ignite at the same time, then flipped it shut and snuffed out the flame. Jester simply watched as though he were in a trance as the lighter continued on a series of acrobatic maneuvers. Jester was about to ask about the lighter when he was interrupted by a loud explosion that rocked the base. He and Zippo both leapt from their chairs and sprinted outside the hangar to try and see what was going on. Neither could believe their eyes. The King's Bridge was engulfed in a pillar of flame and smoke and the sky was thick with flak and aircraft. Air raid sirens wailed all over the base as a frantic voice came over the loudspeakers and bullhorns all over the base.
"Scramble all fighters! Scramble all fighters! This is an emergency! Gracemeria is attack by an unknown enemy force! I repeat, Gracemeria is under attack!"
Both men immediately made a mad dash for the pilot's locker rooms and began to dress for combat. They were ready in less than five minutes and made the mad sprint back toward their hangar as a trio of fighters, two F-16s and an F/A-18, screamed down the runway. Both crew chiefs and the crews were scrambling to get Jester and Zippo's fighters ready to launch, loading them up with missiles, fuel and everything else they would need for combat. The stoppers were yanked from under the tires as the pilots clambered in and started up the fighters' engines. Jester was first out of the hangar, guiding his angel ever so carefully along the taxiway and onto the runway, with his wingman close behind. The radio was already chock full of chatter; everyone from infantry to tanks and even to police units were screaming back and forth, trying to get a grasp on what was going on. Amongst the chaos, Jester tried to get in touch with the tower for permission to take off and finally recieved it for he and Zippo after a tense minute or two; the last thing he wanted was to get caught on the ground. After checking his flaps and aelerons, Jester powered up the engines and kicked in the afterburners. The F/A-18 shuddered as it rocketed down the runway and slowly climbed into the air. Jester retracted his landing gear and nosed upwards to twenty degrees, climbing to join the rest of the Emmerian Air Force with Zippo close behind. The massive formation of planes could see the destruction being reaked upon their beautiful city and huge columns of black smoke were choking the sky. Jester's radio crackled to life.
"This is Airborne Warning And Control System (AWACS) 'Ghost Eye'. Gracemeria is currently under attack by an unknown enemy force." There was a pause as Ghost Eye made contact with a lone F-16C, which was soon joined by another F-16C. Fighters were breaking away from the formation and speeding toward the rescue of the city, which had Jester chomping at the bit; the sight of the city, HIS city burning made him boil with intense rage and burn with a hatred that nothing could put out. Finally, Ghost Eye okayed Chimera Team (Consisting of Jester and Zippo) to engage any enemy fighters over the city of Gracemeria. Immediately, Jester banked dove down straight for the city with Zippo in tow. He called out a formation of B-52s dropping tons of bombs and rolled in to attack them. His radio cued on again, but this time it was Zip.
"Those sick bastards...they're bombing civilians for Christ's sake!"
Jester voiced his agreement in disgust and instructed Zippo to hit the bomber on the left side of the three plane formation; he would take the right. The three planes quickly grew in size as they closed the distance between the two until a steady beeping filled his ears; he had tone. To ensure a hit, Jester closed the gap a bit further before squeezing the trigger harshly and shouting "Chimera One, Fox One!" into his mic as the sidewinder missile zigzagged its way toward the tail of the bomber. Jester watched the missile intently, almost trying to will it to strike the target he had designated for it and caught sight of a series of yellow flashes from the bomber's tail section; the gunner was trying in vain to shoot down the sidewinder. Another half-second later, the B-52 exploded into a brilliant fireball as the missile slammed clean through the tail of the plane and detonated within the fuselage. That triggered the rest of the bomber's payload to detonate and the plane virtually disintegrated. Jester grinned sardonically and rolled to engage the next bomber, which was dispatched in a similar manner. As the B-52 spiralled downward toward the earth, an alarm started blaring in the F/A-18's cockpit, indicating someone out there had a radar lock on his plane. The pilot craned his neck left and right to try and find whoever was trying to kill him, but to no avail. His HUD suddenly glowed an angry red and the alarms became louder; someone had just fired a missile intended to kill him. Jester cursed and yanked the fighter into a steep climb, then rolled over and looked down. Below him was a trail of smoke that suddenly upended into an angry yellow and orange glow; there was the missile.
Half a dozen other pilots were screaming at Jester to evade, an action he was well in the process of. He rolled the F/A-18 over and throttled up to his afterburners, then banked hard right and yanked the stick into his chest. Jester could feel his fighter complaining from the high-G turn and he silently pleaded with her to told together. Ghost Eye called out that Jester had evaded the missile, but his celebration was short-lived. Orange blurs were streaking past Jester's cockpit and just barely missing the aircraft's wings; the man that had fired the missile was directly on his six o'clock.
"Goddamnit, Zippo, where are you?" he shouted, trying to get his wingman's attention.
For a moment, there was no response and the tracers from the enemy's gun were growing closer and closer to the canopy of Jester's aircraft. He felt helpless; if he tried to evade, the man shooting at him would surely blow Jester to pieces. If he didn't...well, same result. Chimera One's only chance was for someone to blow this bastard out of the sky and to do it damn quick. Jester clenched his teeth and bit down so hard that his jaws hurt as he tried to ever so slightly slide through the air with his rudders to try and stay out of the enemy's line of fire. A voice then cracked to life in his headset with instructions to fake left, then bank hard right in a spiralling dive. Immediately, he pushed the stick to the left, then quickly rolled over to the right and pulled the stick back into his chest as far as it would possibly go and throttled up to try and gain some distance on his attacker. No sooner than Jester had completed his first turn had the alarms that had been ringing in his ears for what seemed like an eternity suddenly ceased, much to Jester's delight. No time for celebrating now, though; Gracemeria was still taking a beating. Zip's voice came in on the headset.
"Jester, look to your five o'clock low. More B-52s. And you owe me one."
"Put it on my tab, Zip. I get a discount, though; you took too god damn long."
Jester heard Zippo chuckle as he pitched his aircraft to the left and pulled the bombers into view. Again, he pushed the throttle up to his after burners to close as quickly as possible with the bombers. He lined the first of the three plane formation up and armed his sidewinder missiles once again, waiting for tone. Smoke and flames licked at the sky below him as houses, cars and dreams burned to a cinder, all because of them! Estovakia would pay and pay dearly if Jester had anything to say about it. The green box of his targetted B-52 turned red and a steady 'beep' began to sound in his helmet. Jester waited a second longer and slapped the trigger. The missile rocketed away, zig zagging throgh the air toward its prey. The pilot tried to bank, but his aircraft was too bulky and too slow; Chimera One's sidewinder tore through the right wing and exploded, tearing the wing off and sending the bomber into a dizzying spiral toward the bay. The lead plane in the formation disintegrated, and was quickly followed by the third plane in the formation. Zippo hadn't called out his shot, so who else had shot them down? No sooner than Jester had asked himself that very question, a pair of F-16s that Jester's IFF had identified as 'Garuda 1' and 'Garuda 2' screamed past, banking upward and accelerating.
"This is Ghost Eye to all planes, I've got something on rad- what's this? Missiles? Warning! We have cruise missiles incoming!"
Jeser glanced back toward Zippo's aircraft, then down at his radar; it was showing dozens of missiles screaming in from the north! An explosion mid-air caused Jester's aircraft to shudder and he looked rapidly for the source and when he locked eyes on it, Jester felt his heart seize up in his chest; a giant fireball had appeared in the sky, swallowing all of the aircraft around it. Panicked voices suddenly overwhelmed the airwaves as the other pilots tried to get a grasp on what exactly had just happened. Jester kept his eyes locked on his radar, watching for any missiles near him and Jester.
"Those are no odrinary cruise missiles!" screamed Avalanche, "Evade like hell if you want out of this alive!"
Another voice popped up.
"Half our planes have been wiped off the radar!"
Then Ghost Eye again.
"I've got more enemy planes on radar. You don't want to know how many."
Jester's HUD suddenly burned an angry red, and his eyes were drawn back to the radar; he could have sworn he felt them grow to the size of saucers. Dozens of planes were screaming in from the north and dozens of misslies were scattering, three of which seemed inclined to hunting him.
"Damnit! Zip, head for the deck!" he shouted, banking and diving for the ground. Jester watched his altimeter drop from 10,000 feet to roughly 300 feet in a little under three seconds as he dove for safety, weaving around the tops of buildings to try and shake off the missiles. He glanced upward, desperately trying to find a target and saw the one thing Estovakia had that made him shake with fear; Strigons. They were Estovakia's aces, all of them hardened veterans from the civil war that ended a few years ago. The Strigons were as good as they could possibly get and were rumored to have utterly decimated all who stood before them. However, Jester would not run. Ever. Gracemeria was his home; he was born and raised here. Nothing would take that from him. He yanked the stick back and climbed upward (the missile alert had long since ceased to sound) and rolled in behind a Strigon. As he lined up his shot, Ghost Eye's voice rang over the comms. The next sentence caused total silence on the radio waves.
"This is Ghost Eye to all planes; Air Defense Command has ordered an evacuation. You have been ordered to give up Gracemeria."
Jester couldn't believe what he was hearing. He decided to speak up.
"That's insane! We can't comply with that order!"
Ghost Eye came on again.
"We are militarily at a huge disadvantage. You have been ordered to withdraw from this airspace."
Avalanche this time.
"This is Avalanche. We're not going anywhere."
For a third time, Ghost Eye tried to reason with the pilots.
"Listen! The plan is to withdraw from this area, regroup with all remaining forces, and counterattack. We can't afford to lose you."
Jester cursed angrily and fired one last sidewinder at the Strigon he had been tailing, then rolled out toward the west and kicked on the afterburners yet again, streaking away from Gracemeria with Zippo close behind. Cruise missiles were exploding all around him in giant fireballs that caused the sky to glow a burnt orange for the few seconds before Jester screamed past them at almost 1200 miles per hour. Gracemeria was lost, and there was nothing that Chimera team could do about it.
"Zippo, this ain't over. We'll be back for our city."
In another minute or two, Chimera team had left the combat zone...and effectively abandoned Gracemeria to the Estovakians. The Emmerian War had begun.