Testor's F-22 M

[cthulhu77]

But, the American  surveillance had not counted on the presence of new Mig 1.44's,  which roared over the sea, ripping past the Backfires, and on full burner, heading straight for the interceptors. The larger bombers began a lumbering turn, and the F-23's, though stealthy, could not completely hide from the powerful look down shoot down radars of the huge swept wing Chi-Com jets.
Lock on signals began to beep, both on the American and Chinese craft. 
The Backfires launched their Kestrel missiles as soon as they had a lock on. The Kestrel was a third generation weapon, almost able to think on it's own. Once the target was selected, it would pursue anything that matched that target with heat sensors and a highly developed visual monitor. It could take out anything it could feel or see.
Accelerating to Mach 3, they closed the distance quickly, and the 23's that were sent to take out the bombers soon had to begin jinking, and the entire formation split up.  The digital camouflage worked well to keep them from being spotted by the missiles, but the rapid maneuvering left massive air trails,  easily picked up by the Mig pilots.  The Migs began firing their 30mm cannons, and the sky lit up with the glow of tracer rounds flying all about ,  the hunter had become the hunted.
Randall was skimming the deck, just barely high enough to not leave a wake in the choppy waters as his jet slowly crept up on the bombers.  The 23 was a state of the art stealth-interceptor, and the attacking pilots had been warned of them, and had prepared for the digitally camouflaged jets.  By launching a mass of Kestrels, they had forced the Americans into wild maneuvers that left them open to a gunfight, something the F-23 was not meant for.
The F-22 eased up behind the retreating bombers, they had done their job, and now they were heading home. Randall flipped his bird, rotating 180 degrees, and as he looked at the ocean now over his head the two belly doors flung open, four missiles launched, and the doors slammed shut in just over .2 seconds. He quickly flipped back right side up, and turned hard to port.

The Backfires never had a chance. With the 23's being chased by the Migs, they thought they were perfectly safe. Even if one of them had been looking down, they would have only seen a white flash over the ocean, as the missile bays of the F-22 Mimic were revealed for a split second. 
On burner, they were sitting ducks for the  Grendel missiles heading right towards the tail end of their fast, but not fast enough, bombers.
The Grendels ate up the sky at a staggering mach 5, no fins to drag them down, and a tungsten dart core. Their range was limited, but the sabot punched through the rear exhaust of the swing wing jets, at the same time exploding into bits and igniting the fuel tanks.  The percussion from the massive blasts shook the ocean below, and was so brilliant that the Chi-Com Mig pilots thought that a nuke had been used.  They decided to break off and head back to the mainland. 
The 23's were short of fuel after having to stagger around the sky avoiding the Kestrels, as well as the firepower of the 1.44's, and Randall heard them all call the headcount to head to base.  Four pilots would never return,  and he grew angry.

[BlackOps]

Frakking awesome story Greg! 

[sotoolslinger]

Frakking awesome story Greg! 

Effin A skippy

[cthulhu77]

Thanks!  bought a new camera yesterday, and hope to post pics of the final diorama with the rest of the story soon.

[Rafael]

Diorama?

Greg, this is getting more interesting by the minute.

Rafa

[cthulhu77]

"Mimic Five, this is Mimic Seven," he thumbed his throat mike, "Approaching bandits at  Three Zero Zero."   There was a pause and then a quick reply of "Roger Five".
Far underneath the oddly shaped Migs, he closed the distance in supercruise, barely over the waves of the cold northern sea. No engine exhaust was visible, and the oddly curved angles of the jet  rendered his craft unseen to the fleeing jets.  The Chi-Com pilots knew that Typhoons would be scrambled out of Canada immediately, and spent most of their time looking around at their level, or above, for the incredibly dangerous interceptors.  With the cover of the 23's blown, they knew that the Americans could only regroup, and stiffen their defenses. This time, they may have gotten away with it easily, but the next time would be much more difficult.  On top of that, where were the Backfires they were supposed to be tailing?
One of the Migs heard a bleep on his advanced radar. "There is a craft below us!" The jet exploded into shards of composite metal, plastic, fuel and human flesh as the Raven air to air missile burned through the starboard wing.

The Raven was an advanced heat seeking weapon, with eighteen control surfaces that delivered pinpoint accuracy. Simple and effective, it turned the multi-million ruble fighter into nothing more than a ball of debris.
"Fox Five" , he thumbed his mike." Target eliminated".
Randall used the satellite sensor grid to target the next jet at the rear of the line, and waited patiently, not even breathing fast, for the tone to sound in his brain.
At only 5 feet and a few inches, the GenPilots were sometimes made fun of at the base. They were made fun of until the others saw them fly, and make impossible turns.  The F-22 had inherit restrictors that kept it from making maneuvers it was capable of, because a normal human would black out or die from the excessive gravity forces being slammed into the body of the pilot.
The stem cell research program funded by the airforce had resulted in a pilot that could handle the high g turns, though there were few of them.  They went into a squadron that flew the fastest fighter the Air Force had, the F-22M.  The jet did not have the elegance of the 23, or the pure power of the advanced F-15's and 18's.
What it did have was a roll and turn rate that was unheard of. As long as the pilot could stand it, without joints crushing and eyes popping from the skull.
Since that human did not exist, they created them. Homo sapiens ptereoaeritca.
His 10/20 vision was locked on the next target, and once again, he did the impossible belly flip, the side door flung open, a missile launched, and he flipped back over in less than a second.
His Nature Father had taught him to hunt ducks that way. " Start out shooting at the last bird, and make your way to the first".  Randall hunted ducks with a scoped Ruger 10/22, at a distance of more than 200 yards.  His NF required at least five kills per group spotted. 
He regularly brought back more than seven.
Sometimes, in the barracks, he could smell the mixture of powder, the mudlands, the very blood of the ducks themselves.

He never did care for duck meat.

It was too oily.

[Rafael]

Hats off to this build and backstory!!!!

Rafa

[sotoolslinger]

Absolutely fascinating

[nev]

mmmm.....duck....had some lovely Rahjistani Duck at work Sunday (curry night), medium hot, just the way I like it......

[ChernayaAkula]

Whoa!  The backstory is great! 

[BlackOps]

Greg, this story is great, really makes me want to take myF-22 and zoom it around the room, of course the problem is that I haven't built it yet!

Speaking of which, how about a few more pics of the 22M

[cthulhu77]

Here she is as of today:

[sotoolslinger]

Excuse me I'll be in the back room

[BlackOps]

Really cool effect Greg, I'd like to personally thank those cute cuddlyfish for inspiring your work on this 

[John Howling Mouse]

Only a bona fide artist would think of carrying over your anti-skid mat masking method onto the markings themselves.  You are one clever Lectroid, Greg!