Ace Combat Equestria (ACE): Infernal Skies
“You and I are opposite sides of the same coin. When we face each other, we can finally see our true selves. There may be resemblance, but we never face the same direction.”
-Larry “Pixy” Foulke-
Prologue: A Brother-in-Arms
Highland Apartments
Upper Manehatten, Equestria
August 5, 2102
I wasn’t used to having visitors.
That Tuesday could’ve been like any other Tuesdays but on that particular Tuesday, a pony named Quill Weaver showed up at my apartment door. By the way she dressed and how she had a pencil stuck behind her ear, I was sure she was a journalist looking for some news to report on.
“Go away,” I said in a gruff manner. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Please, Mr. Goodwing, I only wish to have a moment of your time. I’ll be on my way after that,” said Quill Weaver.
I knew what she wanted. They wanted my slice of the Great War story. There were no fond memories for me in that godforsaken war; only a feeling of pain, hatred, and hopelessness. I’ve changed my identity so many times, moved from place to place…and yet these journalists tracked me like a bunch of enthusiastic bloodhounds.
Like any disobedient (and annoying) mutt, I gave them a good telling off. Quill Weaver was just another addition to a growing pack of annoying journalist bloodhounds. I was hoping that staying in Highland Apartments was good enough to ward them off but this intrepid journalist didn’t seem to have a problem going through a darkened street full of druggies, muggers, and thugs.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I admire her for coming this far just to interview me. In fact, I was surprised she actually got through Saddlethorn Street. Either the “residents” were away or they were just uninterested in her. Quill Weaver was a rather pretty pony and I doubt any thug would wanna pass the chance to jump on her and have their way with her. Wearing a red jacket was one very bad way of advertising yourself to them.
I don’t like journalists trying to milk me for stories but I can’t exactly let a mare fend for herself in a thug-infested street in the dead of night. This was the first time I actually invited a journalist into my apartment. She promptly thanked me and entered. I quickly closed the door and locked it, just in case anyone tried to barge in and cause trouble. Trust me, you’ll see all sorts of shit going on when you stay in Highland Apartments.
“Don’t mind the mess of my apartment. I wasn’t expecting visitors,” I said to Quill Weave as I walked towards the kitchen. “Nor did I expect to let someone the likes of you in,” I added softly.
There was a carton of chocolate milk in my refrigerator. I grabbed it and poured its content into two glass cups. I didn’t bother to put the carton back in the refrigerator. Quill Weaver seemed rather interested in my medals I hung so proudly on the wall above my television, each of them polished and framed. Many may think they were a testament to my skills…but I saw it as nothing more than decorative metal awarded for killing innocent folks.
What kind of ace am I anyway?
“Here,” I said and handed her a glass of chocolate milk, “it’s for you.”
Quill Weaver smiled warmly at me and accepted the cup. I liked her smile…it was like an understanding smile but I never trusted such smiles. While she sat on the couch, I sat on a sofa opposite of her. Between us was a wooden coffee table with pages from an old newspaper spread on it. Light from the quay opposite of the apartment shone through the living room window, lighting up an otherwise dim room. Quill Weaver was irritated by the bright harbor lights so I pulled down the shades to filter the lights.
“You have a very nice medal collection there,” Quill Weaver said after a while.
Striking up a conversation I see. Quite unlike some journalists that tried to interview me.
“Thanks,” I remarked softly. “It ain’t much.”
“It speaks volumes about your achievements. You were a distinguished ace from the Griffon Air Force, weren’t you?” she asked.
“More like a glorified pawn,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Even the mercenaries are better off than creatures the likes of me.”
I took my cup of chocolate milk and drained it all in on big gulp. It didn’t help reduce my frustration but it did quench my thirst. I was hoping to enjoy a glass of fine brandy tonight that one of my friends gave me a few days ago. There’s no way I’m sharing it with anyone else. Quill Weaver continued to observe my room and me. Her magenta eyes scanned my face for signs of emotions other than a grim look that announced my annoyance.
There was a moment of silence between us as I waited for her to ask some questions. Quill Weaver looked like she wanted so say something but nothing came from her mouth. A few times she wanted to speak up, she closed her mouth instead. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t annoyed. Having an unwanted visitor was bad enough but having one that doesn’t know what to ask really pushes the limit. Instead of waiting for her to formulate questions in her mind, I made the first move.
“Why’re you here?” I asked, my voice barely hiding my annoyance, “I didn’t think you’d come this far to praise me.”
“I’m sorry captain…I’m kinda new to this job. Takes me a while to get the right questions to ask,” Quill Weaver answered.
Kinda new. That explains it all, I thought sarcastically.
I turned around to look at the clock hung next to my medal display. It was past midnight and here I am, wasting my time with a newbie journalist when I can be having a good time with my brandy. Turning back, I saw Quill Weaver hold the glass of chocolate milk with her hooves and drank. After she was done with that, she retrieved a notepad from her jacket pocket. She couldn’t hold a pencil with her hooves so she used her mouth the grab the pencil instead. She wrote something on the notepad and when she finished with whatever she was writing, she turned her attention to me and smiled.
“I know what to ask now,” Quill Weaver said. She leaned closer towards me and asked, “Captain, do you know about the Demon Lord?”
The Demon Lord…a title I haven’t heard for a very long time. “Oh, him? Yeah, I know him. It’s gonna take a while…it happened years ago.”
