ETHAN DRAKE: WORLD HORIZON GAMES

RIO (P.O.V)

The mansion groaned under its own weight, a dying beast clinging to life in the dark. The marble beneath my boots felt cold, like walking over a grave. Dust swirled in lazy patterns under the weak flicker of my flashlight, the air thick with mold and something else—something rancid. Something dead.

I moved forward, pistol drawn, muscles coiled tight. Every door, every shadow, a potential threat.

"Do You Love Me," I murmured into my comm, voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me your coordinates."

"Dining room," she replied, clipped but calm. There was tension beneath the surface, though—something she wasn't saying.

"Roger that."

I reached the corridor's mouth, and the air shifted. A cold whisper curled up my spine. Instinct screamed *trap.*

Ghost's voice crackled through the line. "I'm here."

"When I signal, get to the roof with the chopper and drop the ropes. We climb out. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," he said, and the comm went silent.

I pushed forward, each step measured. The mansion's bones creaked and groaned like they were protesting my presence. The dining hall doors loomed ahead, barely hanging on their hinges. I pressed against the wall, listening.

Gunfire. Sudden. Sharp.

I froze. My grip on the pistol tightened. Heartbeat steady. Mind sharp.

*No hesitation. Kill first.* Bastard's voice echoed in my head. I slid closer to the door, knife in one hand, pistol in the other.

The door creaked. A shadow moved. Black tactical gear. A U.S. commando, rifle up, eyes scanning.

I struck fast. Knife to the throat, the wet gurgle lost in the mansion's moans. I yanked him back, his weight heavy against me, using him as a shield just as another commando turned.

Too late. My suppressed shot snapped through the hall, a clean hole where his eye had been. He crumpled, but the damage was done—his dying breath came with a burst of gunfire. Bullets chewed through the walls, snapping past my head.

I staggered back, dragging the first body with me. Wood splintered. Dust filled the air. My comm buzzed.

"Bastard," I hissed.

From down the hall, his voice was all business. "Get down!"

I obeyed, hitting the ground as a deep *thunk* echoed. The grenade launcher barked, and fire bloomed down the corridor. The force shoved me back, the commando's corpse smothering the brunt of it.

Smoke choked my lungs, but I forced myself to move, shoving the dead weight aside. I staggered up, vision swimming.

Do You Love Me appeared through the haze, her eyes sharp and assessing. "You good?"

"Where's Bastard?" I demanded, voice tight.

A hulking figure stumbled forward, blood dripping down his arm. Bastard scowled, his face contorted in pain. "Two minutes till this place comes down," he grunted.

I pulled the grenade launcher from his grip, ignoring his protest. "Go. I'll cover."

He shot me a glare, but Do You Love Me yanked him forward. "Move it, big guy."

I leveled the launcher, sending two rounds down the hall. The mansion groaned in protest, debris raining down like ash. I tossed the empty weapon and sprinted after them, pistol snapping off precise shots to cover our retreat.

---

We hit the stairs hard, feet pounding like war drums. Every step felt like a countdown. Bastard was slow, bleeding bad, but he pushed through, teeth clenched.

"Ghost, where the hell are you?" Do You Love Me barked into the comm.

Above, the low thrum of the chopper filled the air. "Dropping ropes now."

The cables unspooled from the helicopter, swaying dangerously in the wind. A way out. If we could reach it.

"Bastard's injured," I said. "You go first."

Bastard grunted. "Like hell. She goes first. She's no good in a fight."

Do You Love Me glared at him but didn't argue. She grabbed the rope, muscles tensing, and climbed.

The stairwell shuddered. A figure burst through the smoke—black tactical gear, rifle spitting fire.

Bastard snarled and fired back, his rounds punching into the first commando, but another slipped through. The shot hit Bastard square in the chest.

"Bastard!"

No time to think. Instinct took over. I fired, bullet meeting the attacker's forehead with finality.

I grabbed Bastard, hooking him onto the rope. "Ghost, pull us up!"

The cable yanked us off the ground, Bastard's weight dragging like an anchor. My grip burned, but I held on.

---

The rotors screamed. Wind whipped through the cabin. Bastard collapsed onto the floor, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Do You Love Me tore open her med kit, hands moving fast, pressing gauze to his wound.

"He'll live," she said, voice tight. Then her gaze locked onto me. "What about Ethan?"

I leaned against the wall, catching my breath, mind racing.

"Ethan will figure it out," I said, more to myself than to her. "He's... talented."

Ghost, eyes locked on the controls, didn't look back. "Where to?"

I stared at the burning mansion below, embers glowing in the darkness. *Raccoon City was a lost cause.*

"Umbrella Headquarters. New orders from Wesker."

Ghost nodded without a word, adjusting our course.

The night swallowed us whole. Behind us, Arklay burned. Ahead, more horrors waited.

And Ethan?

I clenched my jaw.

Ethan was still inside.