AN: Hello once again, all. So on a whim, I picked up AC7 during Steam's Summer Sale a few years ago. The fact that I decided to do a fic about it should tell you I enjoyed it. Well enjoyed enough, anyways. This takes place independent of my other stories, but still has the more realistic approach I take with what I write. As well as using some of the blanks and ambiguity in the series to expand on things, plus maybe trying a few alternate takes on certain events. Don't worry, I'll still make 'em exciting. Guys like Torres just deserve some proper buildup matching their popularity, ya know? Also gonna try a few new things in terms of how the story is organized. Once again, shoutout to Asta for all the help and to my bros Cerb and Sho. Happy reading.

1-0: From the Nest

April 17, 2019 (Local Time: 1015)

Ten Miles Northeast of Tyler Island

"Gazer this is Atlas Lead, we've reached launch altitude. Standing by for first phase."

"Atlas Lead this is Gazer, cleared to start first phase. Golem 3-1 and 3-2, maintain visual."

Captain Marceline Guidry craned her neck and looked over the canopy rail at the massive shape below. It wasn't yet flying; six C-5M Galaxies carried the vessel on their backs. While her F-15C Eagle was normally supposed to play the role of air superiority, today it was using its strengths in a different way. She exchanged glances with her lead, Major Thomas Cole. He motioned that she was free to break from him before he banked his Eagle up and away. Marcy did the same as the heavy transports lifted the larger craft upwards again. She watched the entire process with fascination; the C-5 was the biggest and most powerful kid on the block. Even a mighty giant like it seemed to be struggling to lift this load.

"Okay we're ascending…Golem 3, roll film." Gazer radioed.

Marcy reached down and switched one of her MFDs (Multi-Function Display) to the camera pod on the centerline. She worked the thumbwheel on her control stick experimentally until she got the hang of it and then pointed it at the scene. She locked the camera in place, pressed the button she'd been briefed to, and nosed up as the C-5s drew closer. The propellers on the back of the wing-shaped vessel on their backs began to spin. Gazer, a ground station on Tyler Island, counted off each one as it spun up. There seemed to be so many details that it had Marcy starting to sweat. She glanced at her altimeter and airspeed. Every time it began to dip too fast, she increased the throttle and adjusted her rate of ascent. The Eagle ascended like a dream, moving smoothly and staying steady.

"All engines are at designated RPM, break, Golem can you confirm?" Gazer spoke up.

"Golem 3-1 confirms all props are spinning." Knocker radioed.

"Golem 3-2 confirms all props are spinning." Marcy replied.

"Copy, initiate phase two. Atlas, standby for JATO firing."

"Atlas copies."

The late-morning clouds fell behind the formation as they broke 35,000 Feet. Another countdown led to dozens of large rockets on top of the vessel firing.

"Atlas 1-6 and 1-5, detach."

The outermost Galaxies stayed with the vehicle a second more, then drifted away.

"Atlas 1-3 and 1-4, detach."

By the time Atlas 1-1 and 1-2 were gone, the aircraft was starting to level out. It seemed like something of a scramble, but Marcy was convinced that it would work. It'd already worked once, the same way. If those geniuses at launch control weren't confident, why would they have spent time and money trying to come up with a way to launch this thing? She looked at the altimeter and felt her muscles tense a little. The Eagle was fast approaching its service ceiling and even with that much altitude she wasn't interested in working through a stall. She could feel the colder air starting to paralyze the bird. She nosed down until the JATO (Jet-Assisted Take-Off) "bottles" fell away. Knocker took over narrating things for Gazer.

"Gazer, Golem 3-1 confirms that craft is in level flight…nose is starting to descend. No signs of anything wrong. Anything on your end?" The young major radioed.

"All systems read green, maintain visual contact through descent." The control station replied.

Marcy watched as the massive wing went through a gentle dive, slowly falling behind the two fighters for a minute before it moved forward and held pace with them. Not that they were trying to outrun it, Marcy thought. Even here, she had to hold her mount above anything else.

"Coming back through 30,000 Feet. Airspeed is 270…Almost there."

The aircraft once again leveled out and banked northwards. Marcy let out a low whistle and turned with the machine.

"Gazer reads all systems in the green, relaying to Lighthouse…okay Golem, get us a nice once-over for the papers and we'll put this in the "win" category." The controller spoke up.

"Copy, alright Elf I'll handle this part. Go up high off this thing's seven and hold."

"Two."

Marcy turned off the camera and nosed up. She circled around while Knocker went around the aircraft like he was checking for damage. There was none to be found and, despite the moments of anticipation, there was still no real sense of danger. The second Arsenal Bird, Justice, was at full operational capacity. Marcy jokingly wondered if she was helping the demise of her own kind. Then again, she added wryly, those outside the military had always been trying to turn war into some clean little videogame they could digest. What made this oversized boomerang any more special than the last attempt?…

The warm coastal air that enveloped Farbanti seemed to mean nothing to the men and women moving about in their beige uniforms. Officers, NCOs, and enlisted members of all four branches crossed the central circle of the General Headquarters with brisk, purposeful strides. Stone-faced members of the Capital Guards Rifles stood like statues under the shade of the walkways, seemingly interested in nothing besides the world in front of them. They only moved to render a proper salute to officers passing by.

The appearance of a wasp-waisted man with a brown beret seemed to break the routine. His chest was filled with ribbons and badges denoting graduation from prestigious schools. Parachutist, Commando, and Intelligence. The beret alone told onlookers he'd been a member of the elite 1st Recondo Group. The patch on his left shoulder indicated that he was a member of the Erusean Royal Intelligence Services. Its director, in fact. Major General Jean Auclair hurried past the marble pillars at the entrance to the building, returning maybe a third of the salutes he received. A young lieutenant at the security gate spotted him and motioned him over to the side.

"General, I was informed of your arrival. We must still conduct our check. I hope you understand." He said in a polite, almost groveling, way.

"Do not apologize for doing your job, Lieutenant." the older man grunted.

King Anton D'Elise was the one he sought. He ventured deeper into the inside of the building. The leader of Erusea was a busy man, but he'd spent many days as of late at the headquarters of his military. Pouring over every single thing that happened to the east of the country. The insurgencies in Ugellas and Delarus, consequences of the last war. To him, ethnic Eruseans everywhere were under threat. Even if they weren't citizens of the kingdom, Anton D'Elise firmly believed that he had a duty to protect them. Especially since the first so-called "Arsenal Bird" had been launched. The king saw it as a major threat to national security, and in particular the reopening of an old wound for Erusea. Selatapurta had become an obsession for him. Auclair would admit to himself that even his normally objective view was clouded by what that word meant to Eruseans and ethnic Eruseans.

The land was annexed by the country in 1822 for its significant deposits of silver and rubber. Its culture had always been distinct from much of Usea, with a strong influence from South and West Verusa due to being a popular port among sailors from those areas. Erusea had brought the underdeveloped nation into the modern age. After the Great World War of 1940-45, there was a growing clamor for independence. This came to a head in 1965, when the territory was allowed to hold a referendum regarding its status. The independence movement won, and Suroso Bukit was elected as the country's first president. This was strongly opposed by Eruseans born in the country, with many leaving. Reoccupied during the war of 2003-2005, it would be the setting for a bloody counterinsurgency. One that had given Auclair the scar running down the side of his neck. After that, it'd increasingly become a puppet for the Oseans. The Arsenal Birds were obstinately a joint project between the two nations, but Auclair had long learned to read between the lines. Selatapurta, especially, would be eager to punish Erusea for its perceived transgressions.

His journey ended on the west wing of the GHQ's third floor. D'Elise was actually waiting for him in the hallway while Air Force Chief of Staff Edward LaBarthe was giving a readiness report regarding his branch. Auclair took a knee and bowed his head.

"Your Majesty, we just received a new intelligence report regarding the second Arsenal Bird. I wanted to deliver this to you personally." He explained as he stood up.

The shorter man's hawk-like features became a scowl.

"I would have preferred a phone call, General." He intoned.

"This information represents a major development in our national security. I could trust no one other than myself to deliver it."

Auclair's voice remained calm and respectful as he withdrew a folder from his satchel and handed it to the man. D'Elise took a set of reading glasses from his suit jacket's pocket and started reading what he'd been given. He paced back and forth a few times, then stopped. He turned towards the general and made another face.

"Bastards." He snarled under his breath.

"How long ago was this confirmed?" He added.

"Less than an hour. Most of that time was because of the car ride here from my headquarters." Auclair grunted.

D'Elise paced about some more, at first in a bit of rage. It mellowed out as he realized his own suspicions were now justified. He was no longer the "paranoid monarch" the rest of the world saw him as.

"...Chemical lasers, long-range cruise missiles with Heaven only knows what kind of warheads. There was once a time when I thought Harling was a man of peace. Now he sponsors these kinds of projects?"

Auclair simply nodded, and D'Elise came to his own conclusion from that.

"Is it not a fair conclusion? The man has been heavily involved in this; surely he knows enough to know about the importance of perception."

"Our focus has been on the project, your highness." He explained, choosing his words carefully.

Before the king could respond, he brought up his opinion on what the reports meant.

"I recommend the implementation of Operation Debandade, Your Majesty. This is a clear threat to Erusea's sovereignty."

That turned D'Elises's face into an impassive mask. Maybe a bit of excitement flowed through his veins, but only a little.

"Very well, General. I will inform you when I will gather my council. I expect for you to have a full briefing at this time. Both of the offensive capabilities of these Arsenal Birds and of the threat to ethnic Eruseans abroad.