A/N: NONE of these characters were based off real people or anyone's OCs! So now we can safely enjoy a story full of half witted nincompoops.

A single triple gray tone Su-35S Super Flanker aligns its nose refuel port with one of the refuel nozzles of an IL-76 tanker aircraft of the Russian air Force. The pilot of the Super Flanker, however, is a nonconformist, as he was polluting the silence of the radio traffic by chanting an excruciatingly irritating tone through the radio mounted on his oversized oxygen mask.

"Macaroni,"

"Macaroni,"

"Macaroni,"

"Macaroni,"

"Put the cheese to the noodles,"

"And what do you get?"

The name of the particular pilot is Major Roman Menitsky, an extremely relaxed pilot for his rank. Although originally flying the MiG-29A Fulcrums, his high personality got him the respect of many pilots quickly and he rose through the ranks rather quickly compared to the others of the same rank. As a result, he was able to fly Russia's prized air dominance fighters- The Su-35S.

"Roman?" a familiar female voice popped in his ears. It was First Lieutenant Lena Vysotsky, his female wingman and closest friend.

"Roman, shut up!"

"Roman?"

"Roman, cut it out with that song…" Lena said, getting a little irritated.

"Roman?! Oh god…"

"YOU GET MACARONI, NOW SHUT UP!" the agitated tanker pilot said, not attempting to hide his scorn.

The confused Major snapped out of his trance and looked up to see his hands on the stick and throttle, and the fact that he totally forgot that he was in the line of a refuel tanker. He gazed to his left shoulder, where he saw his wingman trailing him closely, with her wingtip ECM pod almost touching his canopy. Her cold gray eyes looked into his like a Siberian blizzard, almost making him shiver a bit in his canopy. However, he quickly shrugged it off as he pulled out a slender grayish object from his flight suit.

"Well, well, if it ain't my sweetheart, Lena…" Roman said playfully as he was busy fiddling with his camera.

"W-wait, gimme a sec to grab something-" Lena said as she unzipped her jacket and ripped off her oxygen mask. The female aviator proceeded to yank out a barf bag and proceeded to puke a precious amount of her breakfast into the bag, being openly disgusted over her friend's horrible singing skills.

Roman, however, was still playing around with his camera. As he got the camera ready, he had it pointing towards the tanker's nozzle operator, where he gave him a clear middle finger gesture while he wasn't looking his way. After clicking around with a few more buttons, he finally managed to get the camera into the record mode and started to film his daily monologue.

"Hello guys, and take a look through my new camera!" Roman said cheerfully as he moved the camera around his cockpit before aiming the lens at his wingman. "Meet Lena, the Russian Federation's sexiest combat pilot."

"Go on, do that Tom Cruise thing," Roman said as he zoomed the camera into her flawless face. "Oh… and you know how jealous those models will be once they see your face without that helmet?!"

However, he got no response from her, only hearing more incomprehensible garbled noises and vomit sounds over the earpiece.

"Right…" the Major said as he aimed his camera at the full glass cockpit. "So what do all of these thingies do again?"

Pressing one of the buttons, he toggled the IRST, where he got a clear view through what the nose mounted sensor saw, displaying a clear image of the horizon in full color detail.

"So that's the IRST..." Roman exclaimed in half amazement. "Now how do I flip these dials back to original…"

Pressing another button on the opposite multifunction display, he managed to bring up the weapons data, which showed that he had a full Combat Air Patrol payload, stocked up with R-73, R-77, R-27 and wingtip ECM pods.

"Weapons… right on schedule," Roman said as his hands punched a few buttons under the HUD.

"Waypoints marker… looks like a calculator."

"Roman, get your face off my ass, your tanks are already past full," the agitated tanker operator cursed at the clumsy pilot as he released his refuel nozzle from his refuel probe, splashing some kerosene over his canopy.

"Alright, alright, just a second," the Super Flanker pilot replied as he aimed his camera at the fuel stain. "Could someone wipe my canopy? Yes? No?"

"Hey, Roman, goodbye." the tanker pilot replied coldly.

Roman, however, did little to regard to his cold insults and tone. He simply raised the tinted visor covering face to expose it to the bright daylight, in the meantime of when he aimed the camera at the rear end of the IL-76.

"Woo yeah, did you know that your ass looks beautiful from back here?" Roman joked at the tanker.

"You little cockroach wanker," the tanker pilot cursed again as Lena trailed in front of his cockpit view. "I was piloting airplanes when you were still sucking milk out of your mommy's breasts!"

"Chill out man," Roman said coolly as he kept the camera aimed at the underbelly of the IL-76. "Don't get angry due to the fact that you never got the fighters!"

The tanker simply gave him a scoff of scorn.

"Look," Roman said as he attempted to cheer his logistical peer up. "I'm gonna show ya something that you could never do in that fat boiler of yours."

Roman pushed the stick forwards while still aiming the camera at the belly of the tanker. He quickly strapped the camera onto his combat helmet as he slammed the side throttles to full afterburners, injecting the already hot exhaust with more jet fuel, causing the thrust vectored nozzles to splay far open. His airspeed quickly accelerated to 1350 kilometres per hour as he pulled down on the stick, lightly at first before downing it all the way. He could feel the g-forces sucking the blood away from his head and the tight fitting g-suit squeezing hard on his thighs, in an attempt to force the precious blood back to his head.

Although his vision was tunnelling, he simply watched as the digital altimeter rocket up to 55,000 feet before he slammed the throttle to idle. His airspeed dropped as he performed an almost totally controlled tail slide.

"Yahoo!" Roman chanted as his plane slid downwards towards the deep blue ocean. His cockpit was now shaking heavily as a result of excessive angles of attack caused by the deep stall he induced, forcing the plane into a wild flat spin. He took out his iPod at the moment and began to play a soundtrack on the PDA, totally disregarding his loss of control at the moment.

"Whoohoo!

When I feel heavy metal

Whoohoo!

And I'm pins and I'm needles

Whoohoo!" Roman sang along.

The altimeter kept on flashing its numbers wildly on screen as his altitude plummeted to 13,000 feet, where he has already fully recovered from the spin. He now slammed the afterburners back on as he picked up more airspeed.

"Well I lie and I'm easy
All of the time I am never sure
Why I need you
Pleased to meet you" Roman continued on.

By this time the altitude dropped down to 5,500 feet, and the altitude warning came on in that trademark monotone voice of its. It continued as the plane continued to dive, this time dropping below 980 feet. The cockpit began to shake violently as a result of the extreme speed and g-forces exerted onto the airframe when the half-witted pilot pulled back on the stick and levelled out the flight.

Still keeping the afterburner on, he kept a level flight just above the rooftops of the buildings in the local costal city near the shore of the Black Sea. He started a barrel roll as he continued on with the lyrics, before he finally stopped the roll and kept an inverted flight. Looking at the ground, he could see many civilians raising their fists at him out of sheer frustration the noise of his aircraft has caused them. Roman simply shrugged it off, as he wasn't done with his stunt yet.

.

Meanwhile…

.

A commander was driving in his UAZ jeep along with another soldier of his down the road to Anapa. They were just nearing a bridge crossing when the soldier asked his superior a relatively simple question.

"Nice day, isn't it General?"

"…and besides that?" the General rebutted.

However, Roman was preparing to make a low pass while the couple were engaging in their merry conversations. Lowering his aircraft down to the level of the local dock cranes, he positioned his nose for a low fly-by under the bridge. He zoomed his mounted camera to a ridiculously high zoom into the HUD as he prepared himself.

Positioning his aircraft properly, Roman proceeded to hit the afterburners as he continued on with the lyrics of his ever irritating singing voice, ignoring the low altitude warning the vocal warning system was giving him. The Su-35 flew under the bridge at near supersonic speed, kicking up dust, water and dirt all over the General's jeep, causing him to stop his car out of fear.

The Super Flanker pilot pitched up hard on the stick, which narrowly thwarted him from a collision with a hill right in front of the bridge. He proceeded to do a climbing barrel roll while punching out flares to show off his acrobatic feat to any people on the ground.

.

Roman turned down his afterburners as he finally caught pace with the IL-76 tanker refuelling Lena's Super Flanker. He hastily got under one of his wings as he boasted out his achievement out onto the radio channel.

"Well, what do you think?" Roman asked the short tempered tanker pilot. "Pretty impressive, huh?"

"Yeah… not bad, a little classic," the tanker replied with a strangely calm voice. Roman could only try to hide his surprise under his oxygen mask and tinted visor.

"Alright, now look at me Roman," the tanker said in a devious tone. "I'm gonna do something in my oversized boiler that you can't do in your slender pop can."

"Alright, be my guest," Roman said as he straightened up his oxygen hose from his mask.

He could only hear a simple fizzing and popping before a loud gulp was heard. He simply cocked an eyebrow at the sound.

"So?" The tanker questioned. "Did you see it?"

"See what?" Roman repeated. "I didn't see anything!"

"I just…" the tanker started, taking another gulp. "I just opened myself a bottle of vodka."

Lena simply applied the airbrakes as her jet broke away from the tanker nozzle. The tanker pulled skywards in response to the parasite hosed up onto it leaving its parent.

"Well, I'm done here," The tanker snorted as he took another chug out of his bottle. "Bye bye suckers, and cheers!"

"Alright, bye tanker," Lena said as she rejoined formation with her flight leader.

"Roman?" the female pilot asked.

"Yes, my dear?" the flight leader asked.

"Remind me to bring the vodka next time…" Lena said in a low voice, mainly due to the fact that her status of a jock fighter pilot was defeated by a tanker boom operator.

"Yeah, yeah..." Roman muttered as he returned to the CAP waypoints.

"That tanker pilot is a real shithead," Lena declared as she pushed into the afterburners in order to keep pace with her leader.

"Ya ever saw him with a chick before, sweetie?" Roman asked his wingman as he looked out the side of his cockpit.

"Nope."

"Then he's gay," Roman snickered. His wingman chuckled at the simple joke. However, she quickly remembered something and asked openly on their channel.

"Tanker, you still on this channel?" Lena asked.

"Yep..." The tanker replied.

"OK."

How is the story so far? Please review!