Roy's consciousness slowly emerged from a vast expanse of white. Before he even opened his eyes, the roar of turbulent air reached his ears.
It was the sound of air churned up by the rotating blades of a GTI troop transport helicopter. Roy had flown on helicopters like this for thousands of missions; he knew that noise better than anyone.
"Ugh—"
Roy opened his eyes and found himself sitting in the familiar rear seat of a helicopter. The familiar cabin interior was exactly as he remembered it. Looking out through the nearby window, the familiar lands of Azshara stretched out beneath him. Roy knew this route well. They were flying south, and their destination was once again the spaceport.
A faint pain pulsed through his chest and left ribs from time to time. Roy touched his chest and found his body completely intact. Then, by instinct, he pulled a photograph from his breast pocket.
"..."
Roy had long since memorized the people in the photograph. His daughter's and wife's faces had been engraved deeply into his mind, yet seeing them again—even if they were only motionless figures in a photograph—still made two streams of tears spill uncontrollably from his eyes.
On the verge of breaking down, he pressed the photograph of his family to his chest. He raised his head and leaned back against the seat as tears silently rolled down his face. Then Roy suddenly felt the pain in his chest worsen.
"What's wrong? Missing your family?"
A deep, powerful voice sounded behind Roy. He knew the owner of that voice all too well. It was Instructor Deep Blue.
The masked Russian giant rose from the rear row, squeezed through the cabin, and sat in the empty seat opposite Roy.
Roy discreetly wiped away his tears, forcing himself to