DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

"AH-63 Apache gunship, soldier, cease your flight immediately, descend, and prepare for inspection."

The communication channel buzzed with the stern voice of the F-15 Eagle fighter pilot.

Bardi remained silent. The dense green of the forest was now in sight, but he ignored the warning and continued flying toward the Snake River.

The helicopter was currently cruising at an altitude of about 1,500 meters, with approximately 18 kilometers left to the river.

The AH-63 Apache gunship was armed with a 30mm M230 chain gun mounted under the nose and two anti-armor missiles attached to its short wing pylons. However, this wasn't the more advanced AH-64 Apache that would later dominate the world's ranking of gunships. It was an earlier version, far less equipped and not nearly as versatile.

The weaponry on board was not designed to engage a jet fighter. The chain gun would be useless against the speed and altitude of the Eagle, and firing it was more likely to scatter rounds harmlessly into the air than deal any damage.

The two anti-armor missiles, however, offered a glimmer of possibility.

Bardi ran calculations in his head, weighing the odds.

The Apache's maximum flight speed was 265 kilometers per hour, while the F-15 Eagle fighter had a top speed of 1,482 kilometers per hour—a difference of over sevenfold. The Eagle could circle the Apache dozens of times in the span of a few minutes, all while unleashing devastating firepower. Its M61A1 Vulcan cannon could fire more than 5,000 rounds per minute, and its payload included AIM-7 Sparrow, AIM-120 AMRAAM, and AIM-9 Sidewinder air-to-air missiles, making it overwhelmingly superior in combat.

Bardi frowned as he watched the radar display showing the Eagle approaching at over 1,000 kilometers per hour. His eyes flickered with determination as he considered his options.

The piercing screech of the F-15's engines roared through the air like a blade cutting the atmosphere. Within seconds, the jet streaked past the Apache, leaving a white contrail in its wake.

In a flash, the fighter banked into a wide arc and circled back, lining itself up with the Apache's trajectory. Over the communication system, the voice barked out another warning, this time sharper, more commanding.

"Warning! AH-63 Apache helicopter gunship, report your identification number and land immediately for inspection, or I will open fire!"

The tone left no room for negotiation. Whoever was in the Apache was clearly suspected of foul play.

Bardi glanced at the forest below, then shifted his gaze to the approaching fighter. His expression hardened.

In one decisive motion, Bardi pulled the control stick sharply, tilting the Apache upward. Adjusting the collective-pitch joystick, he brought the blades to a higher angle and locked the nose-mounted chain gun onto the fighter.

The Apache helicopter tilted like a dragonfly poised in midair. The 30mm M230 chain gun roared to life, its barrel spinning furiously as it unleashed a hail of rounds into the sky. Tongues of fire erupted from the nose of the gunship, accompanied by a deafening mechanical roar.

But the fighter pilot was skilled and experienced. He anticipated the Apache's angle of attack and climbed upward at the exact moment Bardi raised the gunship's nose. The 30mm chain gun rounds screamed harmlessly past the underside of the Eagle, missing their target entirely.

The fighter pilot didn't hesitate. Banking sharply, he brought his jet into an aggressive position, angling the nose of the Eagle downward to fire. The M61A1 Vulcan cannon mounted on the jet spun to life, its muzzle glowing as it spat out a stream of bullets at an astonishing rate.

Tracer rounds streaked through the air, blazing just past the Apache's cockpit. The first few rounds narrowly missed, but the continued volley tore into the ground below, carving a path of destruction through the forest.

Earth exploded upward in bursts of dirt and foliage, trees toppled over, and leaves flew into the air like confetti. The power of the Vulcan cannon was absolute, its destructive force cutting a straight line of devastation across the landscape.

The forest below erupted into chaos as a path of destruction carved its way through the trees.

Bardi felt the helicopter shudder slightly under him. The nose of the Apache gunship was grazed by the fighter jet's cannon fire, leaving several scorched and deep iron grooves along its surface. The damage was minimal, but only because Bardi had anticipated the fighter's trajectory. He'd adjusted his position just enough to avoid a direct hit. A second later, and the Apache would have been reduced to a fireball.

The near miss didn't bother Bardi. If anything, it confirmed what he already knew. There was no use trying to hide now, the fighter pilot had identified him as an enemy. But Bardi had no intention of playing defensively. The forest was within reach, and he was confident his plan would unfold before he was shot down.

The F-15 Eagle climbed higher into the sky, disappearing momentarily before banking into a wide arc. Bardi's sharp gaze followed the jet, his expression unreadable but focused.

With a calculated motion, he opened the helicopter's cockpit door. The rush of wind howled as it burst inside, threatening to destabilize the helicopter. But Bardi held firm, his control over the Apache unwavering as he corrected for the turbulent airflow.

The roar of the Eagle's jet engines grew louder, cutting through the wind's noise. The sound wasn't just audible—it was directional. Bardi's superhuman hearing tracked the fighter's movement with clarity sharper than sight.

The Eagle flipped gracefully through the sky, its sleek body twisting like a swallow mid-flight. It positioned itself directly behind the Apache, its M61A1 Vulcan cannon spinning to life. Flames erupted from the barrel as a barrage of bullets rained down, scarring the earth below. Dirt, leaves, and splintered trees exploded upward as the rounds carved another path of destruction through the forest.

But when the fighter pilot adjusted for a direct hit, Bardi had already anticipated the move. He tilted the Apache to one side, narrowly avoiding the rain of cannon fire.

This back-and-forth continued several times. The Eagle unleashed its cannon in sweeping arcs, but the Apache evaded every volley. Each missed strike tore apart the landscape below, sending shards of green and brown scattering into the air.

The fighter pilot's frustration became apparent as the Eagle broke away, flying higher and farther to reassess its strategy.

Bardi didn't hesitate. He pushed the Apache to its limits, pulling the cyclic pitch control lever as far as it would go to increase altitude. The helicopter ascended at its maximum climb rate of 16 meters per second, though it was still incomparable to the speed and height of the fighter jet.

Despite the stark disadvantage, Bardi's ability to maneuver the Apache and evade direct hits had already left the fighter pilot stunned.

Helicopters and fighter jets were worlds apart in design and purpose.

Fighter jets were built to dominate the skies. High speed, agility, advanced detection systems, and devastating firepower made them the kings of aerial combat. Armed helicopters, on the other hand, were designed for ground strikes and armored targets. Their slower speeds, limited altitude, and lower maneuverability meant they were ill-suited for dogfights against jets.

But Bardi had no intention of engaging in a traditional air battle.

The Eagle fighter completed a wide arc in the sky, circling back behind the Apache. At high altitude, the jet released two air-to-air missiles, their tails blazing as they sped toward the helicopter.

Bardi's eyes sharpened, and his hands moved instinctively, controlling the collective pitch lever, the cyclic stick, and the rudder pedals simultaneously. His movements were swift and precise, the controls responding as if the Apache were an extension of his body.

In a split second, the helicopter seemed to defy gravity. Bardi pulled it into a steep backward climb, the Apache tilting as its belly faced upward.

The M230 chain gun under the nose of the Apache roared to life, firing in rapid succession. The rounds struck the incoming missiles with pinpoint accuracy, detonating them mid-air in a fiery explosion.

The sudden turn of events left the Eagle fighter pilot in shock.

"Impossible!" the pilot muttered, his voice trembling.

Bardi followed up immediately. The Apache fired two anti-armor missiles from its short wings. Though not meant for air combat, the missiles streaked toward the Eagle, forcing the jet to dive lower to avoid a collision.

The chain gun continued its barrage, spitting rounds toward the fighter. The Eagle, with its superior speed and agility, easily avoided the gunfire and the incoming missiles.

But the fighter pilot was no less shaken.

The precision with which Bardi had maneuvered the Apache and intercepted the missiles was unlike anything the pilot had ever seen. The Apache's performance, combined with Bardi's uncanny accuracy, made it feel like he was fighting a completely different kind of enemy.

"Who are you?!" the pilot shouted over the communication channel. "Who the hell are you?!"

The Eagle fighter banked sharply, descending toward the ground to escape the chain gun's range. The pilot twisted the jet into a controlled dive, avoiding the Apache's retaliatory fire as he prepared to regain the upper hand.

But just as he was recovering, something extraordinary happened.

A dark shadow descended onto the nose of the Eagle fighter, the impact shaking the entire aircraft.

"What the—?!"

The pilot yanked the joystick to steady the jet, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Through the transparent canopy of the cockpit, he saw a tall, imposing figure standing on the nose of the fighter.

The sunlight framed the figure, casting it in sharp relief against the sky. The man's stance was unwavering, his silhouette like that of a demon descending from the heavens.

"This is impossible!" the pilot gasped, his voice trembling with terror.

***

Check the Reading List on my profile for other books i'm working on.

For every 100 PS = 1 extra chapter. Support me on patreon to read 20+ advanced chapters: patreon.com/Blownleaves.