Mobius 1 And Yellow 13: The Complete Ace Combat 04 Opening Story Transcript

I. Prologue: The Fall of the Stars

[Background Music: Distant, Melancholic]

Contents

I. Prologue: The Fall of the Stars II. Mission 01: Sitting Duck The Situation The Briefing In-Flight Communications III. Epilogue: Life Under Occupation

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I was just a child when the stars fell from the skies, but I remember how they built a cannon to destroy them and, in turn, how that cannon brought war upon us.

War was an abstract idea—a show on TV. As a child, I only saw it as something that happened in some faraway land. Until that final day of summer. One day, while on my way to school, I looked up at the skies. It sounded like distant thunder. In the blue skies far above me, contrails drew dizzying circles in a crazy waltz—a battle in the beautiful skies far away. I could not tear my gaze away from them.

They passed me; the fighters played the cat or the mouse in turn as they climbed swiftly into the sky. One fleeing plane fell out of the skies, spiraling and spewing orange flames to crash by the Cape—the same Cape where my family lived. Now, they only live in my memories of days past.

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The victor circled around to confirm the kill, and on his craft, there was a large number 13 emblazoned in yellow. I will never forget this.

II. Mission 01: Sitting Duck

The Situation

Four years after the planetfall of the Ulysses 1994XF04 asteroid, Stonehenge—the Erusean weapon of mass destruction—was originally built to shoot down asteroids. Upon discovering its potential as an anti-aircraft weapon, the Erusians ruled the skies over the mainland.

The ISAF’s attempts to destroy Stonehenge through airstrikes failed. As a result, strategic positions on the mainland were lost, forcing ISAF to evacuate from the East Coast to North Point.

Mobius 1 and Yellow 13: The Complete Ace Combat 04 Opening Story Transcript | Philly PI

The Briefing

Current Setrep: Effective immediately. Enemy agents destroyed our early warning radar network, allowing several Bear bombers to penetrate our airspace. In 15 minutes, we expect this bomber formation to strike Allen Fort Air Base and move on to targets at North Point.

Our air defense forces are extremely weak; GHQ is a sitting duck. It is mission-critical that you destroy the bombers and neutralize the threat before they get past Newfield Island. You are the first line of defense. The fate of ISAF lies in your hands.

In-Flight Communications

AWACS Sky Eye: “Sky Eye here. Do you read? Your callsign is Mobius 1. We’ll refer to you by this name at all times. You are now ordered on Vector 360. Intercept.”
Pilot: “Today’s my birthday… a victory sure would be nice.”
Sky Eye: “Mobius 1, engage. Bandits at 12 o’clock.”
Mobius 1: “Box 2!”
Sky Eye: “Mobius 1 has shot down a Bear.”
Ground Unit: “Our welcoming party has been hit!”
Sky Eye: “8 miles to the targets… Mobius 1, Box 2!”
Sky Eye: “That’s a roundup. Let’s go on home.”
Allen Fort Base: “Sky Eye, this is Allen Fort. Got a visual on the downed bombers. Whose kill was that? Make sure to thank him.”

III. Epilogue: Life Under Occupation

The war seemed to unfold in the blink of an eye. I don’t remember exactly when the forces from the West occupied my town. I was too busy scanning the skies day after day, waiting for Yellow 13 to reappear.

Before I knew it, everything changed. The language they taught us at school, our friendly local sheriff—disappeared and replaced by foreign MPs. In the beginning, some people secretly tuned into broadcasts from North Point on their parabolic antennas, but as time passed, the broadcasts no longer came in. Maybe the satellites were destroyed.

All non-military computer networks were shut down. Gasoline was rationed. Though we lived in the 21st century, we were reduced to using crystal radios and horse-drawn carts.

I moved in with my uncle, who used to be a taxi driver. Out of gasoline and out of work, he did nothing but drown himself in drink. I earned my keep by playing the harmonica in the town bar—the one thing I was good at. I played for sullen occupation soldiers in exchange for their charity and loose change. My uncle trash-talked the barkeep for catering to the enemy, but he never refused the money I brought home.

As for myself, I had a crush on the barkeep’s only daughter, who was a little older than me. Another day passed, yet still no sign of the fighter plane Yellow 13 in the skies above our town.