Pc Mav -
He was no fraud. He was the PC-MAV. And the sky belonged to whoever flew it best.
Two micro-missiles streaked from the PC-MAV’s internal bays. One clipped the Russian’s left engine. The other shredded his vertical stabilizer. The fighter tumbled end over end, pilot ejecting just before impact. pc mav
Mav slid onto his six o’clock, matched speed, and let the targeting reticule kiss the back of the Su-57’s cockpit. “Last chance,” he whispered over the open channel. “Go home.” He was no fraud
The Russian banked west and punched his afterburners. Retreat. pc mav
Three black specks against the pale Arctic blue. Fast. Angry. Russian fighters running a silent intercept.