Ok here it is!!! The next chapter!!! And in a timely manner (I tip my hat to Wimsett). I really really hope you like this one and am really lookin forward to hearin what you readers think of it. I went all in on this one !!!
Special tribute to RT (Helped me out with aircraft knowledge) on this chapter. Hope you like it mate!!!
Please comment. Knowing what you liked or disliked on this chapter is very important for future chapters! It also helps a lot to motivate me to write faster
Demyan and Alexandyre had lifted off. They were soaring in the sky and not more than ten minutes in had the aircraft been asked to identify itself. After cooperating and informing the US airspace of our flight id, it was a relatively smooth flight. Alex could not tell how long it had been, heavily distracted by experience of it all, before Demyan shouted back that they would be leaving United States airspace within ten minutes time. With that, Alexandyre felt the need to speak up.
“Demyan; while never being beaten is certainly a good reason for being the king of MiGs, is there anything else you could tell me about it to ease my mind.” Alex put forth.
“It is stronger and faster…” Demyan paused, taking a deep breath; then continued.
“It has more powerful, Tumansky R-15BD-300 engine from MiG-25 Foxbat, which was specially constructed with titanium, so it much lighter and more durable… To fit the engine, this MiG was scaled up 15% in its total size when built. Much of the aircraft structural frame is titanium, as are the front surfaces of its wings and the other areas that will suffer most from high speed friction. Because of all the titanium used, the weight of the engine and aircraft is much lighter and far more durable. Due to the loss in weight, it can carry multiple times the fuel that it could before, so we won’t have to refuel…”
Demyan paused again to take another deep breath and was about to continue on, but was stopped by Alex’ voice.
“Ah, I think I get why it is King.” Said Alexandyre, his tone full of uneasy praise.
“Yes, the King of MiGs.” Demyan voiced resolutely and with great pride.
In the silence that followed Alex gazed at a reflection in the cockpit enclosure. The reflection was of the front area and showed of Demyan and the many controls in front of him. Alexandyres attention was caught by the control panel; some of it the original ancient dials of a normal MiG 21, but also among them some that looked far different and less rustic. Unfortunately the detail of the reflection left a lot to be desired. Alex then wanted to ask Demyan to tell more about this jet, but decided against it as he heard Demyan begin to say something. The Russian accent of the Pilot then came through the intercom of the helmets. “We have now left US airspace my friend…”
Lucy had taken a very long shower, trying to ensure that she use all that her rooms regal facilities had to offer. Once done she got out and put on the fresh diaper that she had gotten from the closet. It was the same as what she had worn for the past few days, yet even still she was very surprised at how thick it felt while still dry. Lucy knew that it would be hard to conceal and as she left the bathroom, thought of what she should wear. With that thought in mind she found her bag of clothing and started to look through her options. Not wanting to draw much attention, the clothing she decided upon was a nice flowing white skirt that reached just past her knees, and a plain white long sleeve shirt. Looking in the mirror it was clear that if someone tried hard they would probably be able to tell that she was wearing a diaper, but seeing as she had dressed to avoid drawing attention she was pretty pleased with her outfit.
Lucy had been distracted by everything so much that it was only then that she realized that the ship was moving. Slipping on some black sandals Lucy was about to leave her room to go on deck, when she remembered Alexanders bag. There was no doubt in her mind that leaving it in the room was out of the question. She picked up the black backpack and slung it over one of her shoulders, resolved that she would not let it out of her sight during her voyage. Lucy left her room, locking the door behind her and fallowed the arrows on the wall to the main deck. Upon exiting onto the deck and looking around, she saw that they must have been underway for a while, as she could not even see the mainland anymore.
Pangs of hunger led her to a cluster of fancy tables where she took a seat and was soon approached by a waiter. She ordered a glass of white wine and the Filet Mignon. After the waiter had left she opened up the backpack to withdraw some money. When she did so, she saw that right next to the metal box that contained the money, was Alexandyres gun. Seeing it did something to snap her back into the rhythm of things; back to the very real seriousness of the situation. With that she quickly withdrew a few hundred dollars and placed them in the front pocket of the backpack, where she could access it for her casual spending. She made sure that she zipped up the entire thing before placing it between her legs, waiting for her food. Lucy thought of Alex. Now that the sun had risen and the day begun, she wondered what he was doing. Was he already in the sky? If so how far along was he? Or had he not been so lucky as to get away as herself?
She was then interrupted, and happy to have been, as she did not want to think about such questions, especially the last one. It was a man in a black suite with a friendly smile. Realizing that she had not heard him he repeated his words. “May I join you miss?” He asked his voice deep and smooth.
Lucy returned to the man a hesitant nod. Seeing this he spoke up as he sat down, “Nothing to be afraid of, I am not going to hurt you.” He said with the same friendly smile.
His words had done anything but calm her nerves. It seemed like an odd thing to say, ‘I am not going to hurt you.’ In the few seconds after the man had spoken, tension grew; only broken by the waiters arrival with Lucy’ order. The waiter promptly left with a polite bow leaving Lucy and this man with a friendly smile alone once more. Not a fan of uncomfortable conversation, Lucy spoke up. “That is a strange thing to say. ‘That you aren’t going to hurt me.’” She said, her voice polite, but full of a subtle strength. She took a sip of her wine, but did not take her eyes off of the man, waiting for him to respond.
He had not taken his eyes off of her either as he spoke. “I would not think it a strange thing to you. In fact I think it would be something you would expect to hear… Miss Lucy.” His calm tone had not changed, nor had his friendly smile.
Lucy’ eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she was about to speak up, but was cut off by the man as he spoke again. “I did, however mean it. I am not here to hurt you.” He said, still maintaining his kindly expression.
Silence fallowed his words, as he calmly looked at Lucy, who took another sip of her wine and then waved over the waiter. She asked the waiter to bring the bottle and another glass. Moments of silence later, the bottle of champagne and the spare glass arrived, whereupon Lucy paid for her meal and the wine. The waiter left with a gentlemanly bow and a big smile on his face, no doubt the result of the large tip that she had given him. Lucy turned back to face the man slowly, her expression blank. “I do not know how this goes. You smile nicely and tell me that you don’t mean harm. So…Are you here for pleasant conversation?” Lucy spoke, her face blank, yet strong.
“I came to tell you to move on… Now… Up there -” The man spoke, making a small motion towards the sky. He was about to continue speaking but Lucy did not give him the chance. He had spoken the few words that could have caused her facade to crack. She snapped and before the man could utter anymore words she had already grabbed her wine glass by the base and smashed the top against this mans forehead. She then immediately grabbed the backpack and walked steadily from the table; not too fast, nor too slow, and not looking back, all the way to the door of her room.
Alexandyre and Demyan had been flying for about ten minutes before they picked up other aircraft on the radar. “Heh, comrade looks like we have our first opponent.” Said Demyan through the headset.
“I don’t see him…” Returned Alex, looking out the cockpit window.
“You won’t see him for a while. King of MiG’s has very good radar… You will see him on our right.” Spoke Demyan proudly.
It was another minute before Demyans prediction came true and a Eurofighter Typhoon broke through the mist of the clouds and appeared far off to the right. Alexandyres eyes grew wide upon seeing this.
“Demyan, that jet is-” Started Alex, but was then interrupted by Demyan.
“It is slow!” Said Demyan loudly over the intercom, as the engines of their MiG roared louder and the Eurofighter dropped back out of sight.
Demyans voice sounded once more. “Now the fun begins comrade!” Laughed the pilot.
A display in front of Alex turned on; it was a secondary display of the main radar. From here he could see that their opponent was now behind them and was failing to close the distance. Alex could not help but smile thinking about the King of MiGs. The smile was short lived though, as two more aircraft came onto the radar and were coming at them from the front. Demyan reacted quickly, engaging the thrust of the engine more and pulling their jet to a vertical climb.
Seeing that the Eurofighter Typhoon had fallen back enough in distance. Demyan then preformed an inverted flip and barreled down in the direction of the Eurofighter, firing off two R-73 Missiles instantly. The Typhoons pilot reacted on a dime, barely avoiding the first missile. But the skillfully fired second missile clipped the Eurofighters wing as it tried to roll off too the right. With that Demyan pulled back into the direction that they were going before, maintaining a steady climb to regain any altitude lost in the short dip down on the Typhoon. Alex’ heart pounded and his eyes were locked wide open. He was having trouble trying to comprehend what had just happened. In a vertical climb Demyan had flipped around and fired off the missiles, his actions flawless.
Alexandyres time for astonishment was cut short though. The other two aircraft would be right in front of them in moments. The sky was clear at this high altitude and the two aircraft finally came into view. By this point Demyan was barrelling the King in a left to right sway, trying to avoid getting locked onto. Alex was finding it hard to make out anything clearly at this point. Demyan fired off four missiles; both opposing jets maneuvered to avoid, one to the right and the other barrelling to the left. The one to the right was unlucky, as all four missiles had been aimed for it… Before it blew up Alex recognized it to be a F-16 Falcon… A very dead F-16. As though Demyan had known the outcome from the moment he fired he turned to parallel the aircraft that had turned left; blaring bullets off at it as he did so. This opponent was an F/A-18 Hornet. The Hornet pulled on a hard break to the right with amazing agility. Instead of continuing to fallow it, Demyan pulled the King into a heavy vertical climb.
“Now my friend it is time for us to show them how fast the King of MiGs is.” Yelled Demyan happily over the intercom.
Speeding up too Mach 2.8 the King of MiGs had no problem losing the F/A-18 in the dust…
Upon arriving back at her room, it was clear to Lucy that there were already visitors. She unzipped the backpack and pulled out the gun inside. She opened the door, gun first, stepping into the room. There stood three men, all dressed similarly to the one she had pummeled with the wine glass. Her gun was instinctively pointed at the one in the middle. The man to the right was lounging on her bed. The one in the middle stood in the center of the room with his left arm reaching for the gun at his side, and his right hand holding one of her diapers. The one on the far left stood, his gun pointed at Lucy.
“Well boys, looks like she got the drop on us… Not something we would have expected from someone who can’t control her piss…” Spoke the middle one, dropping the diaper on the floor and slowly pulling out his gun.
“Stop!” Yelled Lucy, seeing this. Her eyes were strong and her gun hand did not shake. Sure enough the middle man stopped dead still.
“We have the drop on you Missy… Put down your weapon.” Said the one standing to the left. The one on the right didn’t move; he just continued to lounge on the bed with a smile.
“Come now Missy, drop the gun so we can talk like civil people.” Said the middle man, sounding surprisingly calm.
Lucy made no movement. She was not about to resign. Her posture, her face, and above all, her eyes made it very clear that she was ready to pull the trigger time and time again… Her three opponents stood still, seeing very clearly, the situation at hand. For the next few moments nobody moved; death was in the air and nobody wanted to be subject to it, so they stood there. The silence was then finally broke by a click noise from behind Lucy. Against her back she felt the barrel of a gun and over her left shoulder saw an arm reach forward from behind her. She was relieved of her gun by the person behind her, who then stepped forward and showed himself to be the man she had hit with the wine glass.
“She has told us what we needed to know.” Said the man, bleeding from the forehead where she had nailed him with the glass. “He is in the air.”
Upon hearing this a combination of pain and joy hit Lucy. This mans words meant that Alex was still alive… But it also meant that she had given up the information they were seeking through her reaction… They did not know for sure if he was flying or if he was also on this boat… But now because of her, they did… She wanted to claw at her heart as it strained under the pressure of this realization.
Upon her disarmament, all of the men in suits put away their weapons, with the exception of the man in the middle, who drew his and pointed it at Lucy. The man to the left of him pulled out his phone and made a call. “Send up the Raptor. It has been confirmed, he’s in the sky.” He said, then hung up and put the phone back in his pocket.
The tables were now turned and Lucy now weaponless and with a gun pointed at her. “She has told us what we needed to know” Said the bleeding man next to Lucy.
“Yes, but she went and hurt you boss… Besides, a great body like hers, even if she pisses herself, we could have a bit o fun with that.” Said the middle man with the gun pointed at her, a big smile on his face.
Lucy moved herself up against the wall to her right, a glare in her eyes.
“Well I do like a girl with a bit of fight in her.” Spoke the middle man again, still wearing a greedy smirk on his face.
In that instant there was a huge crashing sound from the room entrance. Like a cannon ball peeling its way through the side of a wooden ship, the door splintered off of its hinges and door frame. Through the entrance came a huge Scottish beast, wielding in one hand the mass of deformed wood that was the door as he tore forward. With his empty left arm he sent the bleeding man next to Lucy flying into the left wall. Pulling the rest of his body forward with another heavy step forward. “How bout a man with a lot o fight in him!?” Yelled Cory, his muscles contorting as he brought the door hurling forward from his right arm towards the middle guy. The man got two shots off before the top of the door smashed into his ribs, hurling his body into the diaper closet behind him.
The man to the left of him tried to draw his gun, but before even clearing his holster, the Captain was upon him, sending his right arm into the man side, causing his body to taco from the force, and then grabbing him by the neck with his left, he held the man dangling in the air as though he were a doll. Next to move was the one lounging on Lucy’ bed, pulling his gun out, he managed to get off one shot before Cory hurled the body of the man he had by the neck at the man on the bed. The two collided with a thud that left them both pitching back and onto the ground next to the bed.
The only one left showing signs of life was the first one Cory had hit; the one that Lucy had nailed with the wine glass. He went for his gun, but upon grasping it, was pistol whipped by Lucy who had retrieved her gun from the floor while all the others were getting handled; the man slumped forward, unconscious.
Lucy looked to Captain Cory, who was bleeding from a wound in the left side of his torso and from just above his right eye, where the bullet must have ricocheted off. He turned to her, “Are ye ok there Miss Lucy?” Spoke the thick Scottish accent.
“Yes… Thank you Captain.” Said Lucy, her voice wavering and her hands now shaking from the adrenaline.
“No no Missy. Call me Cory. After we wollip a few gents together, it’s ok fer us te be callin by first names.” Spoke the Scottish bear of a man.
“Well then Cory, you may call me Lucy.” Responded Lucy with a uneasy smile on her face.
Cory chuckled at this. Lucy then went around, relieving all these men of the weapons, at which point the Captain picked them up and tossed them into a pile in the large tub of the bathroom; shutting the door behind him. Lucy jumped in surprise as she heard at least twelve shots resound. Moments later Cory came out of the bathroom with a grim look on his face. Lucy peered in, but the tub had its curtain drawn around it.
“Are you ok?” Lucy voiced, her tone full of concern for Cory.
“Aye, to be sure. My head aches a bit, but those potato guns ain’t goin ta kill me.” He said with a smirk.
Lucy just looked at him for a moment, her eyes of a sweet concern.
“Now Lucy, I don’t want ye to be goin an worrying bout this. Here’s the key to another room down the hall. It will be just as nice, and in the next twenty minutes will be ready same as this one.” Spoke the heavy accent of the Captain, doing his best to look reassuring.
Upon hearing this Lucy took note of the warmth she felt between her legs. She could tell right away that her diaper was extremely wet. She could feel her cheeks blush as she stood there.
Seeing this the Captain took his leave. “Well then my dear, I shall go 'ave em get the room ready.” Said Cory with a polite nod as he left the room.
The King of MiGs lost the F/A-18 with ease, its high speeds untouchable by the modern jet fighter. After about twenty minutes Demyan slowed the MiG down from Mach 2.8 to Mach 2.0, not wanting to stress the engine too much.
“This really is the King of MiGs.” Spoke Alex with a big smile on his face. He felt like they should laugh at it all. They had bested far more modern and advanced aircraft with an ancient MiG 21. Even its engine, though from a MiG 25, was ancient compared to the aircraft they had just given the slip too. The only thing that Alexandyre didn’t know to be factually a relic, was the mysterious radar that the aircraft seemed to boast.
“Yes comrade, It is!” Replied Demyan, his voice of joyful pride.
They both chuckled for a while, this was one hell of an ordeal that they had just been through.
“Demyan, just feel like I should let you know. You are better than any pilot I have ever heard of… And I watch a lot of Discovery Channel and History Channel.” Alex commented, still with a big smile on his face.
“What is this ‘Discover channel and History Channel’ you speak of?” Responded Demyan, sounding upbeat, but a bit confused.
“I am just saying comrade, that it would not be the King without you!” Said Alexandyre happily.
“Ooh, Thank yo-” Demyan started, but was cut off as his attention suddenly diverted. Reacting immediately, he pulled the aircraft up diagonally. In that moment an aircraft popped up on the radar extremely close, having gone undetected until that moment.
“Demyan! It’s right on top of us!” Shouted Alex through the intercom.
“Yes yes!” Responded Demyan as he spun the aircraft around, cutting over to the left.
In that moment the aircraft on radar flew parallel to them. Looking across Alex saw an awful thing. The opposing aircraft was an F-22 Raptor. ‘Well that explains how our radar had trouble detecting it.’ Alex thought to himself. Demyan did not waste time, immediately engaging the full thrust of the engines he catapulted the King into the sky above their opponent. They were gaining speed and altitude fast. The F-22 held fast right on their tale and soon a loud beeping noise sounded in the cockpit of the MiG. Missiles were coming their way. In a momentary effort Demyan barrelled to the left to try and shake them. Once that failed it was clear that they were heat seeking. The beeping grew faster. In the reflection Alex could see Demyan in the front part of the cockpit. His hands moved around like he were playing a masterpiece on a piano.
Suddenly a bright flash appeared for a split second in the corner of Alex’s eyes, milliseconds later it was fallowed by a loud explosion. It was clear that Demyan must have used flares to divert the missiles. The roar of the engines grew louder as they continued to push them to the limit for acceleration. Demyan rolled the King maniacally to the left and then to the right. Pulling the most unbelievable twists and turns; maneuvers that only ever found themselves in fictional theory’ until preformed by the King of MiGs. The F-22s, being the most advanced of modern aircraft was able to keep to the steps and was not shaken. Though the MiGs flight was impressive by all standards, the beeping sound resounded in its cockpit again.
Once more Demyan was able to release flares at the exact moment to avoid the missiles. The MiG pilot was doing everything he could without sacrificing the aircraft’s acceleration. Hitting Mach 2.5 the F-22 was starting to have trouble keeping up, though still managing to stay on their tale. In that moment not only did the beeping resound in the cockpit again, but the rapid firing of their opponents front guns could be heard. Demyan rolled the aircraft, rocking it side to side, something that at such high speeds could certainly not be done by any lesser of a pilot. Between the extreme skill with which the King of MiGs was being handled and the very small size of the MiG 21, they were managing to evade the gunfire of the Raptor. The beeping in the cockpit grew more frantic. In the reflection of the cockpit window Alex could see Demyan; his arm and hands moving lightning fast, yet with extreme precision hitting various controls, like he were some sort of Rocket-Surgeon.
The flares blared off, this time one set after another, after another. The fallowing sounds were that of a cacophony of explosions. Alexandyre could not help but be awestruck… Demyan managed to release each set of flares at the proper split second and he somehow know how many to release. They had lasted long enough and now the speed of the MiG-21 was one that even the F-22 could not follow. The F-22 fell off their radar, as they tore through the sky at Mach 3.0. After five minutes they slowed down to Mach 2.8 and stayed there for the next ten minutes, then slowing down to Mach 2.5, which is still slightly faster than the capabilities of the F-22 Raptor.
Once cruising at a constant of Mach 2.5 Alex broke the silence. “How did you know? How could you have known how many missiles were coming at us and how many flares to release!?” He asked, his voice making it clear that he was even still, absolutely awestruck.
“At that speed, it was his last chance to get us. So he launched everything he had, and I launched everything we had.” Spoke Demyan with a chuckle.
Alex sat there absolutely amazed. “So they gave it their all, and we gave it ours, and we won out?” Alexandyre asked, utterly astonished.
“King of MiGs comrade… King of MiGs…” Replied Demyan with a calm confidence.
“Yeah… Damn straight….” Murmured Alex, still in a state of disbelief.
They continued their flight for another thirty minutes before Demyan yelled out that they would soon be touching down at their destination.