Summary: By 2015 the world’s gone to hell and the only thing left for most people is to try and survive but to Marine F-18 fighter pilot Lt. Ron Stoppable survival just isn’t good enough.

A/N: This story has been on my mind for years and its one whose plotline I’ve wrestled with over for a long time. So in the end I guess I’ll just wing it – no pun intended  Rated PG-13 for violence, language, drugs, and sexuality. Also this is in the future and even though much of the military and aircraft specs are real the politics aren’t. I love China. I love Chinese food (Beef Lo Mein), I love the music, I love the culture, and I especially love the story of how the Great Wall was built and how Kung Fu was founded (girl power!). This chapter will make the country seem to be a bad apple where in latter on in the story the complete opposite will be true so please don’t be offended.

“Growing up I saw a lot of evil in the world. So when I finally became an investigatory journalist I knew that where I wanted to be was near that evil and get the word out you know? Let America and the rest of the world know just who and what that evil was. I just never thought the biggest evil would be right in our own backyard.”

-- Kim Possible, Global Independent News Media

DIMPLOMATIC IMMUNITY

First Lieutenant Ron Stoppable of the United State’s Marine Corps sat patiently in the cockpit of his Hornet as he taxied it over to runway three for takeoff.

The mission brief titled “Diplomatic Immunity” – how original – was sweet and simple: escort a fleeing Gulfstream IV carrying several American diplomats and other VIPs out of hostile Chinese airspace and back into Russia. It was oh six hundred and the sky was just starting to brighten along the eastern horizon of Vazdvizhenka airbase in the southeastern most region of Russia. The place was mostly forgotten in the grand scheme of things. But now it had become a hotspot for activity.

Or would have if the world hadn’t gotten up, forgot all about what it means to be human, and begin fighting again on a scale that hasn’t been seen since the Second World War. A war that had happened almost an entire century ago. The entire world had become a hotspot. You think mankind would’ve learned by now. But apparently one of man’s greatest faults is its ability to learn from the past.

But that’s a story for another time.

Right now me and my small squadron of fellow marine F-18 pilots had been deployed into a region called Vladivostok. Its east of China, on the western coast of the Sea of Japan, and oh yea on the northeastern most tip of North Korea.

The same North Korea that after years of fighting over nuclear weapons has finally armed herself with enough nukes to level the entire United States western seaboard. Fortunately for the western seaboard the Korean nukes still couldn’t fly that far yet. Unfortunately for me and my fellow marines we weren’t in the states. Couple hundred miles southwest and you’d be in North Korea and couple less hundred miles due west is China.

Where I would be flying to provided that that private jet didn’t get shot down before it reached the borders of Russian Federation airspace. The jet had taken off last night sometime under the cover of darkness and since then has been terrain masking and trying to stay off Chinese ground radar. But now with what had to be half the Chinese air force in the sky throwing out radar beams off of every piece of rock the airplane’s chances of escape were diminishing.

Time was running out.

“Vazdvizhenka Tower this is Razorback Two-One,” Ron said when he finally reached the beginning of the runway. “Requesting clearance for takeoff, over.”

“Razorback Two-One you are cleared for takeoff. Winds blowing from northwest at 20 knots, over,” said the Russian air traffic controller.

“Copy that,” Ron replied and pushed the throttle of his plane to full power.

The F-18 had first seen action during the 1990s Gulf War “Desert Storm” when both Navy and Marine pilots flew well over 9,000 sorties and struck at over 4,500 enemy targets. Only three Hornets were lost and one happened during non-combat. After that there was Bosnia and Serbia and then Afghanistan and Iraq when the US invaded in 2003 overthrowing Hussein’s regime. By then the Hornet had not only been enlisted in seven other of the world’s air forces but had also gone under so many new developments that it had become the premiere US Navy attack aircraft.

Upgraded to the F-18 E/F “Super Hornet” the aircraft replaced the aging F-14 “Tomcat” as the Navy’s carrier-borne interceptor. By 2010 it had taken up the role of electronic warfare retiring the EA-6B “Prowler” firmly implanting itself in aircraft history as a fighter so versatile that it could perform air combat missions against enemy aircraft, air to ground missions against enemy ground targets, or carry enough electronic jamming equipment to put the entire state of New York into a power blackout.

Maybe not the “entire” state but a pretty big damn piece of it at least.

The only real drawback was its fuel limit but even that could be expanded by adding external fuel tanks as well as air-air refueling.

It was incredible that the 4th generation aircraft could not only survive but excel in an age of 5th generation aircraft such as the F-22 Raptor, Sukhoi-47 Skydancer, the Eurofighter, and several other advanced aircraft. That’s not to say the Hornet would survive in and air-air encounter with a Raptor or anything, it would be shot down before the pilot knew he had a problem but thankfully the enemy had yet to acquire stealth fighters.

Too bad the Navy could never figure out how to navalize the F-22. It would’ve been a huge asset especially in today’s world. However even if they had managed to it was unlikely more than a precious few could’ve been built what with fuel shortages and America on the brink of depression.

The Hornet had a lot of history but its versatility, survivability, and own advanced avionics and weapons systems made it a formidable contender as well as one hell of a fun plane to fly in.

To Lt. Ron Stoppable it was freedom.

“Woohoo!” he yelled as the plane lifted off the runway and soared into the sky.

“Two-One airborne,” Ron said informing the tower of his successful takeoff.

“Razorback Two-One, inbound to waypoint Alpha bearing 270 climb to Angels 10.”

In laymans terms what the guy in the tower just said was head to your first checkpoint. The location is 270 degrees or in other words west. 0 degrees is north, 90 is east, 180 south, and 270 is west. As for Angels ten? Just another world for altitude and in this case ten thousand feet.

“Copy Vazdvizhenka, Two-One acknowledges, out.”

“Friendly Ivan this is Razorback Two-One I repeat this is Two-One do you copy, over?” Ron said over the radio and then waited a beat.

“Razorback this is Friendly Ivan I copy, over.” Said Captain Nikolai Gastchov of the Russian Air Force whom was flying the Il-76 Mainstay AWACs aircraft.

“Good to hear from you Ivan,” Ron said. Nikolai had been one of the first Russian pilots he had met since being stationed here and as far as Ron was concerned you couldn’t ask for a better friend - or a better buddy to have backing you up in a drunken bar brawl. “Can you hook me up, over?”

“Copy that initiating supplemental air-air link,” Nikolai said as he uplinked Ron’s fighter into the AWACs aircraft’s advanced radar system providing him with a much bigger picture of all the different aircraft flying within the theatre. “You’re plugged in, over.”

“Copy that, many thanks Friendly Ivan.”

“Copy that, watch your back Two-One, Friendly Ivan out.”

Ron flipped on his radar and selected it to search for targets within a fifty mile radius. Taking a quick look at it he saw that only local traffic was in the air and he knew that soon even that would be gone as the air traffic controllers were likely grounding all regional aircraft ASAP for the impending confrontation between his flight and whatever forces the Chinese had sent after that private jet.

“Razorback Two-One this is Friendly Ivan again do you copy over?”

“That’s a rog Ivan,” Ron said as he proceeded to look through his systems status to make sure nothing had been damaged during takeoff.

“Be advised I am picking up multiple contacts bearing 267 at ninety miles out. Will advise if they break airspace, over.”

“Copy that Ivan, Two-One over and out.”

“Flight lead this is Two-Two over,” came a new voice over his headset. Well not necessarily new Ron grinned. “Going to uhf secure,” the new voice announced.

“You ready for this one Cowboy?” Ron said referring to his wingman’s callsign.

“You know it Reb,” the voice replied referring to Ron’s own callsign “Rebel.”

Ron had met Cowboy, or rather Lt. Steven Michaels, when he had first transferred out of his old F-18 squadron to join up with the new 257th Marine Advanced Tactical Fighter Wing or “Rainmakers.” After years of dragging its feat (if such a thing was possible) the Corps had finally upgraded some of its older F-18s to the new Super Hornet class. Returning to the states Ron and his new squadron learned everything there was to know about the newer aircraft. Everything from the electronics, engines, weapons, the works as well as practicing runway landings at first and then “traps” or mock carrier landings. As any naval aviator will tell you landing your aircraft on a ship is one of the most dangerous parts of carrier-borne aviation.

Your plane had to come in on a prearranged descent so that it would touch down in the exact spot where the carrier’s four cables, strung over the deck, laid so that its hook could catch one of the cables and in effect “trap” the aircraft bringing it into an abrupt heart pounding stop. On a nice clear and calm-weathered day such a feat isn’t too difficult to most experienced naval aviators, and my naval that includes marines also, but when you have poorer conditions the laws of physics quickly come into a whole new light – or lack there of.

Night, fog, rain, high winds, choppy seas, can all add to a pilot’s “sphincter level.” The worse the weather the tighter the sphincter. And if the conditions aren’t too big of a problem then landing a damaged aircraft certainly would be. Damaged ailerons, a loose rudder, low hydraulic fluid, structural damage, engine overheating from no oil, or even if you’ve been wounded yourself. It’s not uncommon in wartime that a piece of shrapnel hits your arm from a close missile hit or muscle trauma from a pilot pulling to high a G-force. During his first tour as a pilot in Iraq Ron had seen quite a number of different injuries suffered both by pilot and grunt alike. Though if he had to choose between the two he would choose the cockpit any day.

Ron had seen the impacts of the missiles he fired and the bombs he had dropped but certainly not the lives he took. Up in his cockpit it was relatively safe. But down in the streets? Ron shook his head. He could only imagine the stuff those grunts must go through and he had nothing but respect for them. No matter how many bombs you drop, in the end, it’s the troops on the ground that will decide how the war ends.

Still memories of that one foggy night when an electrical outage that took down his radar didn’t really bring back fond memories especially when he recalled the landing. In the end that particular landing had been about ten percent skill and ninety percent luck. He never wanted to relive such an experience again.

“So are we in business?” Cowboy said breaking Ron out of his thoughts.

“Don’t know yet. Last Intel we got said the pilot was flying from low point to low point playing hide and seek with the radar officers.”

“Enough mountains in the area,” Cowboy replied, “might work if the pilot’s crazy enough.”

“Either way we need to get on station.”

“I hear that Rebel,” he said and Ron could just imagine the big grin on his wingman’s face.

“Let’s do this,” Ron said.

“Copy pushing throttle to full,” Cowboy said and the two Hornets brought the throttle to full power but without the afterburners. Flying at well over 400 knots was more than fast enough in both of their opinions.

“Passing waypoint Alpha,” Ron said over the radio. “Proceeding to waypoint Bravo bearing 250 maintaining angels 10.”

“About forty miles from Chinese airspace,” Cowboy said.

“Yea,” Ron agreed, “if our boy doesn’t pop up within the next ten minutes I think it’s fair to say that he was either shot down or flew into a rock wall.”

“Whoah! Contact bogey bearing 280, 48 miles,” Cowboy said.

“Yea I got him,” Ron said as he turned his F-18 north and after the unknown aircraft.

“World’s going to hell don’t even have decent SAM coverage in the region,” Cowboy muttered.

“Don’t have anything,” Ron said. “Except for the prowess of the indomitable Rainmakers!”

“Yea excuse me if I’m not jumping for joy over here.”

“Razorback Two-One this is Friendly Ivan do you copy, over?”

“Yea,” Ron said, “Razorback copies and be advised we have a bogey in our grid forty miles north.”

“Copy, probable Chinese MiGs, Russian Air Command deems engage only if it represents a direct threat to you, the diplomat aircraft, friendly military forces, or allied assets, over.”

“Copy,” Ron acknowledged, “Any Intel on diplomatic aircraft, over?”

“We’ve had intermittent contacts on our radar but noth–cancel! Confirm! Confirm contact, Iff: friendly aircraft bearing 260, sixty miles out from your locale, over!”

“Roger Ivan,” Ron said turning a knob to increase his radar range. Sure enough a little blip appeared that was just sixty miles almost directly west of them. Unfortunately there were also at least seven other blips showing up as Chinese fighters changed their courses on a path to intercept the plane. “Razorbacks inbound to Checkpoint One to rendezvous with friendly aircraft. Requesting authorization to allow them to enter Russian airspace over.”

“Copy – hold one,” Captain Nikolai replied. “Authorization given. Orders are to intercept and escort the aircraft to safety over and out.”

“Copy Ivan, Two-One out,” Ron said as he quickly put on his air mask and punched the afterburners unleashing the aircraft’s full war power.

“Lock and load!” Cowboy cheered as the two Hornets swept in.

“Friendly aircraft bearing 260 this is United States Marine aircraft,” Ron said as he hailed the friendly plane. “What is your situation, over?”

“This is flight 754 out of Beijing we have come under attack by Chinese air forces and are requesting clearance to enter Russian Federation airspace, over!” the pilot said and judging by the man’s tone Ron decided that the guy must have pissed his pants.

“Copy 754 clearance given proceed to bearing oh one hundred and descend to one thousand feet and continue terrain masking, we’ll provide cover, over.”

“Roger, descending to one thousand.”

With the afterburners the two fighters quickly sped up to over 600 knots and were almost within thirty miles of the diplomats who were just now exiting Chinese airspace. Officially, since the two recognized nations were not at war that should have sent the chasing Chinese fighters back home.

Apparently they had other ideas.

“Unknown aircraft,” a voice hailed Ron over the radio, “this is China Air Force fighter 211 currently in pursuit of a hostile aircraft. We are entering Russian airspace to pursue and advise you to divert your head to oh nine zero.”

“He seems cheery,” Cowboy said sarcastically over the comm.

“Should I even bother answering?” Ron wondered aloud.

“Who knows maybe they’ll scamper back home,” Cowboy replied.

Ron hoped so. He knew he and Cowboy were good and that you really couldn’t ask for a better aircraft than the Hornet. But they were outnumbered at least three to one.

“Chinese fighter 211,” Ron replied, “this is United States Marine aircraft alerting you that if you proceed into Russian airspace you will be prosecuted, out.”

“Prosecuted?” Cowboy said.

“Not strong enough?”

“Who knows,” Cowboy said, “but they’ve crossed the threshold.”

“Russian Air Command this is Razorback Two-One requesting permission to engage probable Chinese MiGs violating Russian airspace, over.”

“Permission granted,” the gruff voice said in quick response. Apparently not only he and Cowboy were on the edge of their seats. “Good Hunting.”

“Razorback copies,” Ron said and checked his radar.

The diplomat aircraft was passing nine thousand feet below them making it only one thousand feet off the deck. Fighter tactics 101, the lower you go, the harder it is for an enemy to get a missile lock on you amongst all the ground clutter. Ron just hoped that the pilot was at least half as good as he thought he was and didn’t end up crashing into the ground.

“MiGs are thirty miles out and closing fast,” Cowboy warned.

“Lock em’ up,” Ron ordered. “Designating lead bandit as Black One, you get the trailer Black Two, over.”

“Roger – shit! Air missile launch!”

“Drop chaff!” Ron said just as his own radar warning system started screeching out a warning of an incoming missile his way. “Breaking left, breaking left!” Ron said as he went left and dropped some chaff of his own.

“Since when did Chinese MiGs start carrying damn radar missiles?” Cowboy yelled.

Ron was wondering the same thing. Last Intel he read about the Chinese MiGs was that they worked best in close air-air combat with their high agility and heat-seeking weapons. These two MiGs where still twenty miles out and unless the Chinese had developed a heat sensor that could lock onto an aircraft’s engine from that far away – unlikely – then it had to be radar guided.

Unless of course they weren’t MiGs.

“Missile launch!” Cowboy reported when his radar warning system picked up yet another inbound missile.

“Firing missile!” Ron announced coolly as he fired his own radar-guided Advance Medium Range Air-Air Missile otherwise known as the AMRAAM. Commonly known as the “fire and forget” missile the beauty of the AIM-120 AMRAAM was that it didn’t require a constant radar lock on the target. So just as soon as he fired he locked on to the second enemy fired and launched another missile.

“Dammit I’m lit up like a Christmas tree!” Cowboy yelled as he dropped more chaff trying to spoof the incoming missiles.

“Keep your cool Marine,” Ron ordered.

“Oh you think?” Cowboy said sarcastically as he barrel rolled his fighter just missing another missile.

“Splash one!” Ron cheered when he saw that Black One’s radar signature disappeared from his screen.

Only to be replaced by another.

“Shit we got three bandits! Designating third as Black Three, over!”

“Black three, purple three, red three, who cares? I’m about to be taken out!”

“Fox one!” Ron said as he fired another missile only to see it too fail to hit the enemy aircraft. Only one out of three hit? What missile defense system are they using?

“Five miles,” Cowboy said in relief when the medium-ranged missiles stopped coming.

“What the hell?” Ron said when he at last saw the distinct shape of the enemy aircraft. “Are those Falcons?”

“What? Since when did the Chinese Air Force get its hands on damn F-16s?”

The F-16 Fighting Falcon, like the Hornet, was one of the best air to air and air to ground attack fighters employed by the United States Air Force as well as a few other countries such as Israel. Many of its weapons systems were similar to the Hornet including its missiles. Its agility was also comparable to that of the Hornet.

This was going to be close.

“Stay on my wing,” Ron said deciding it would be best that the two of them tried to take down one at a time instead of splitting up.

“Copy,” Cowboy said.

“Banking left!” Ron said when he saw the two F-16s split up. Following the one that went left Ron easily managed to get on the enemy fighter’s six. Unfortunately he was too close for a missile lock. “Can’t get a tone,” he said.

“I got one,” Cowboy said, “break right and I’ll take the shot.”

“Roger,” Ron said and immediately breaked right giving Cowboy the shot. As soon as he cleared Ron heard Cowboy’s heat seeking sidewinder missile found its way up the enemy fighter’s tailpipe.

“Splash one bandit!” Cowboy cheered.

“Hell yea,” Ron said but suddenly his IR warning lit up and he had mere moments to launch three flares to decoy the other Falcon’s sidewinder away from him. “Son of a bitch,” he growled when he felt the shockwave of the missile’s explosion could have only been fifty feet away. Turning his head Ron saw that the Falcon was still on his six.

“Okay,” he said, “how low can you go?”

Rolling his fighter over Ron went into a steep inverted dive and was half-surprised when the F-16 followed him into it. Watching his altimeter drop lower and lower it was all Ron could do in order to stay level headed, despite the huge blood rush to his head, and managed to pull out of his dive barely two hundred feet off of the ground. The Falcon’s pilot apparently did not possess such calm and ended up exceeding his max air speed and didn’t have enough lift to pull out of the dive.

“Splash three!” Cowboy said when he saw the fireball. “That’s one move for the history books!”

“Whew,” Ron said as he climbed back pup to a much more pleasant five thousand feet. “Remind me never to do that again.”

“Yea right,” Cowboy said, “And besides can you imagine the number of women you can pick up with that story?”

“Horndog,” Ron said referring to Cowboy’s other nickname.

“Hehehe.”

“Three down,” Ron said as he refocused.

“Five left,” Cowboy said as he scanned his radar.

“Ivan this is Two-One over,” Ron said over the radio.

“Friendly Ivan copies.”

“We just dispatched not two but three bandits and be advised they weren’t MiGs but F-16 Falcons, over.”

“Roger will relay to Command. Be advised another group of three bearing one-two-zero is closing in on the diplomats suggest you haul ass, over.”

“Copy Razorbacks engaging,” Ron said as he turned his aircraft south towards the pursuing aircraft. “Burners on.”

“Copy that Reb,” Cowboy said as the two Hornets once again sped up to full war power and began to quickly close the gap.

“Weapons check over,” Ron said.

“Only loosed one sidewinder back there. Rest of the time I was too busy playing decoy to get any shots off,” Cowboy said with an obvious touch of annoyance in his voice.

“Hey I’ve played decoy bunches of times.”

“Really?” Cowboy said. “There was a time when Rebel wasn’t the cold SOB we all know and love?”

“Focus,” Ron said. “Need to catch up to those bandits before they get to the damn diplomats.”

“I don’t know Reb,” Cowboy said, “another thirty miles and they’ll be within our SAM coverage. And you know that it won’t be much longer before the Ruskies get their own fighters up.”

“Damn fuel shortage,” Ron grumbled. “Something tells me that these Chinese fascists would rather die than go back home in defeat.”

“Mach one,” Cowboy reported and Ron looked down to see that their speed had indeed reached that level and broke the speed barrier. “Twenty miles.”

“Roger that,” Ron said as he locked onto the nearest enemy fighter. “Designating targets as Red One, Two, and Three – I got Two.”

“Taking Three,” Cowboy said. “Ten miles,” he reported after another minute. “I have good lock – fox one!”

“Fox one!” Ron said as he too loosed his own missile, his last AMRAAM. “C’mon,” he muttered as he watched the missile blip closed closer and closer to the target until finally the target disappeared. “Splash four!”

“He’s down for the count!” Cowboy said as he too destroyed his target. “Locking on Red One… steady lock… firing!”

As the two Hornets closed in the pilots had at last come into visual range and were rewarded with a spectacular fireball as Cowboy’s missile had finally caught up to the last enemy fighter taking it out of the sky, permanently.

“Splash six!” Cowboy yelled victoriously.

“That’s why we’re the Rainmakers!” Ron said as he too cheered.

“Two-One this is Friendly Ivan informing you that the remaining bogeys are bugging out and heading back to China, over.”

“Copy that Ivan,” Ron said feeling like he was walking on air. Three fighters apiece. Not bad for being outnumbered three to two in both engagements, although the last was more of a turkey shoot than anything else.

“Two-One you are to fly CAP along the border until relieved by Russian Suhkois you copy?”

“Copy, will fly CAP until relieved,” Ron said.

“The Golfstream also passes on their thanks from keeping them off the statistics charts. Mission successful, good job Two-One, Friendly Ivan out.”

Ron allowed himself to at last relax back into his chair and slowed his F-18 down to a more reasonable 400 knots as he and Cowboy made their way to the border to keep a check on anymore enemy intrusions.

“Falcons,” Ron muttered and took off his mask.

“I know what the hell,” Cowboy said as he formed up again.

“Last I knew China only had Fulcrums which fire the heatseekers. They hadn’t upgraded their MiGs like the Russians with more advanced radar and weapons systems.”

“They do have Sukhois and they fire radar-guided missiles.”

“Only a precious two regiments though and they’re located in the western regions”

“Yea, China never was one for aircraft construction. Always got there shit from the Russians or Ukrainians or whoever.”

“Word is they’re first aircraft carrier will be putting out to sea soon.”

“Really? What the hell are they going to fly off it?”

“I thought helos,” Ron answered. “But now I don’t know what to think.”

“We’re not even supposed to be fighting these guys,” Cowboy said.

“China isn’t the same.”

“Neither is Russia, or Europe, the Middle East – okay that’s always been screwed up – but hell even America is changing and not for the better Reb.”

“Conspiracy’s afoot.”

“Fascism’s afoot. All these bombings and tragedies lately it’s hard as hell to get any lady in bed with yah.”

“Cowboy you’re the one that’s hard as hell.” Ron said as the two arrived at the waypoint. “This is Razorback flight we are on station at the border, over and out.”

“Hard as hell?” Cowboy said and gave it some thought. “Not all the time.”

“Man your fatigues turn into a circus tent whenever Spider walks into the briefing room.”

“Not my fault she used to be a damn Sports Illustrated model,” Cowboy retorted. Ron heard him sigh. “World’s going to hell.”

“Good thing we’re marines.”

“Amen brother.”

Ron smiled.

“Booyah.”

To Be Continued…

Disclaimer/AN: No I don’t own Kim Possible or any of the show’s characters. Much of the information listed in the story I have research from Janes Military Information Group and other sources. The story and original characters are all I own so please consult with me before posting. On another note I need some suggestions for some of the “Rainmakers” pilots’ names as well as their callsigns so if you review the story add a suggestion and maybe you’ll see the pilot in the next few chapters. My email address is and for more information on my stories you can always check out my profile. Also on my profile is a poll asking for feedback as to which of three of my KP stories you would like to see wrapped up (Rising Sun, Clan Wolverine, and Crimson Tears) so please vote there too. See yah!