ETHAN DRAKE: WORLD HORIZON GAMES

The heat pressed against me like a suffocating embrace, the kind you couldn't escape no matter how hard you fought. My body screamed in protest as I came to, head lolling against something solid—a shoulder. Each jolt sent a fresh wave of fire up my side.

"You know," I rasped, barely recognizing my own voice through the haze of smoke, "this hallway's seen better days."

The fireman carrying me didn't slow. His breaths came in labored, ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a cough that rattled in his chest.

"Save your energy," he muttered, though his grip tightened like he wasn't sure I'd make it to the other side.

"Energy's fine," I said, forcing a weak chuckle. "It's bad luck I'm running low on."

The hallway was a kaleidoscope of chaos, flames dancing along the scorched wallpaper, ceiling tiles sagging ominously. Somewhere, a distant crash reverberated, shaking the floor beneath us.

When he dropped to one knee, I knew we were in trouble. His strength faltered, and for a moment, I thought he'd collapse. Instead, he lowered me to the ground, his movements deliberate, though his breathing betrayed him.

"Where's your mask?" I asked, my voice sharper now, cutting through the haze in my head.

"Gave it to a kid," he said between shallow breaths, waving off my question like it wasn't worth discussing. "Partner's taking her out."

I stared at him, the stupidity of his heroism hitting me square in the chest. "Hero complex. Nice."

"Just... doing the job," he said, his tone resolute despite the strain.

The ceiling groaned again, louder this time, as if the entire building was taking a final breath. I struggled to push myself upright, my hands slipping against the soot-slick floor.

"This job's gonna kill you," I muttered, my teeth gritted as pain lanced through my leg.

"Not leaving anyone behind." His response was automatic, rehearsed, like he'd said it a thousand times before.

"Yeah, well, noble's a quick way to get dead," I shot back.

I studied him—his soot-covered face, the lines etched by exhaustion and resolve. He looked like a guy who didn't know how to quit, even when it was the smarter move.

"You got family?" I asked, trying to ground him, to remind him what was waiting outside this hell.

He hesitated. "A sister."

"Good," I said, my voice firm despite the rasp. "Then go."

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. "Not leaving you."

"Why?" I snapped, the word cutting through the smoke like a knife. "You don't even know me."

His silence stretched, the fire roaring around us. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "You helped my sister's friend. Gwen Alderidge. Solved her grandfather's murder."

The name tugged at a memory, hazy and distant. "Victor Alderidge," I said, a bitter laugh escaping me. "Hell of a mess."

The fireman nodded, his eyes somber. "Rest in peace, Drake."

He forced himself to his feet, unsteady but determined. I watched him go, his silhouette swallowed by smoke and flames.

"Rest in peace," I muttered under my breath. "Not yet."

---

The ceiling above me gave a final, ear-splitting groan. I barely had time to register the sound before it collapsed, a torrent of debris burying me in an avalanche of wood and plaster.

Pain flared, sharp and unforgiving, pinning me to the ground. My breath hitched as the weight of the rubble pressed against my chest.

The fire closed in, its heat searing my skin, its smoke filling my lungs. Each cough scraped like broken glass against my throat.

"And there's the curtain call," I rasped, the edges of my vision dimming.

---

The darkness was absolute, a void that swallowed everything—pain, heat, sound. I floated in it, weightless, my body nothing more than a vague suggestion of form.

Then, a voice. Calm. Measured.

"Strong resolve. You'll need that."

"Great," I muttered, my voice echoing in the emptiness. "Hallucinations. Just what I needed."

"This isn't a hallucination," the voice replied. "It's an opportunity."

I frowned, the sharpness of the words cutting through the haze. "Opportunity for what?"

"To survive. To become something greater."

The void shifted, tendrils of light creeping in at the edges. My body flickered, pale and insubstantial, like a broken projection.

"Do you want to join the World Horizon Games?"

The words hung in the air, strange and heavy.

I blinked, the reality—or unreality—of the situation sinking in. "Yeah," I said finally, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at my lips. "Sure. Beats dying here."

The light swallowed me whole, and I dissolved into it, my sharp gray eyes the last thing to fade.