The chopper engine roars loudly. John's hands are shaking for many reasons, but the main one is a sickening, terrible, lingering feeling of anticipation and uncertainty. The loud sound calms him: being in the chopper among the rest of the team means almost being at home.

Two years. Two years ago, their general betrayed their team by making a one-way deployment. There was an ambush, the enemies were ready, outnumbered by TF141.

John rests his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands. The landing of the rotorcraft will be very soon. The closer to landing, the more nervous he becomes.

After that betrayal, the entire team was taken as prisoners. Two years of torture, pain, hatred, disgust, hunger, anger. Although John considers the unknown to be the worst feeling. There was not a day, not an hour in that cold basement, when he did not think of those waiting for him at home. Are they waiting? They were informed that John was MIA, most likely. Or maybe these bitches told his family and you that John is a KIA? Perhaps his mother mourned him at the funeral without the body. Maybe you moved on a long time ago. Maybe you found another man and already forgot about John.

After the whole team was saved, they were first taken to interrogation about the whole situation. Standard procedure. And now, as the chopper lands, John exhales nervously, not sure if anyone is waiting for him.

Noticing Price's wife sobbing through the chopper's small window as she watches the rotorcraft land, John nudges Price in the side.

"Yer lassie."

John can't find you with his eyes and he clenches his jaw.