ETHAN DRAKE: WORLD HORIZON GAMES

The rain had been relentless, battering the cracked windows of the Arklay Mansion and mingling with the distant echoes of creaking hinges. I pressed my back to the cold marble wall, pistol steady in my grip. The air was damp, thick with a cocktail of mildew and something far worse—the unmistakable tang of death. Moonlight filtered through the grime-streaked glass, carving pale scars into the polished floor.

A faint cry, sharp and fleeting, ricocheted down the hallway. A shadow darted across the edge of my vision, and my breath hitched, the pistol's weight a steady reminder of my purpose.

The comm device crackled to life, static-ridden but familiar.

**"Main team's closing in on the Hive. Red Queen is active,"** Rio's voice carried that measured authority I'd come to expect from him, though it was laced with irritation. **"Stay clear; this isn't for our ears."**

I pressed the comm closer. **"Who signed off on this mission?"** The question wasn't casual, not with the stakes as high as they felt.

A pause. Then, grudgingly: **"Officially? Albert Wesker. Unofficially? We're answering to factions. Keep your head straight, Ethan."**

Static cut the line before I could respond. Typical. Everyone's got their secrets, I thought, clenching my jaw as I shoved the device back onto my belt.

From deeper in the mansion, a glass pane shattered. I snapped into motion, footsteps muffled against the marble, my eyes sweeping every shadow. The hall opened into a storage room, its door slightly ajar. Through the slit, I saw the scene unfold like a grotesque stage play.

Alice was on the floor, her crimson dress a stark contrast against the dust and grime. Umbrella commandos loomed over her, their rifles angled with military precision. A second figure—male, restrained and wide-eyed—struggled against his captors. Their leader, Rain Ocampo, barked an order I couldn't make out.

I gripped the doorframe, calculating. My fingers tightened on the pistol as Rain turned, her sharp gaze locking onto mine.

"We've got a straggler," she growled, raising her weapon.

Adrenaline spiked, and my instincts took over. I fired, deliberately wide, the shot grazing past her head and slamming into the wall. She flinched—just enough. The flashbang was in my hand before I could think twice, the pin clinking to the floor as I lobbed it into the room.

"Eyes!" I barked to no one in particular, shielding mine as the detonation erupted. Light and sound collided into chaos. By the time their disoriented shouts began, I was already moving.

The first commando barely had time to react before my boot met his chest, sending him sprawling. The second tried for his radio, but I silenced him with an elbow to the jaw. The third had a gun halfway raised before I yanked Alice upright, spinning her into a human shield. My pistol pressed lightly against her temple. Calculated, precise.

"Nobody move," I said, my voice cold, measured.

The commandos hesitated, weapons trained but uncertain. JD, one of their heavies, stepped forward, shotgun leveled. "Drop it. Now."

I shifted, slamming my head backward into his hand. The shotgun clattered to the floor. Without missing a beat, I snatched it, wielding it alongside my pistol.

The room stilled, tension thick enough to suffocate. Then, their leader—James "One" Shade—removed his mask. His expression was unreadable, but his tone carried suspicion.

"Umbrella," he said flatly. "Who the hell are you?"

"Ethan Drake," I replied, holstering the shotgun with deliberate calm. "Field Agent, Biohazard Containment Team. Sent by Wesker. And Isaacs."

Their tech guy—Kaplan—was already typing furiously on a tablet. He glanced up. "Credentials check out," he admitted reluctantly. Then, nodding toward the restrained man: "But he doesn't."

The man—Matt—shuffled, his voice shaky. "New transfer. Raccoon City. No time to update the records."

I raised an eyebrow but let it slide. The mission demanded focus, not infighting.

"Fine," I said. "You do your job, I do mine. Alice stays under my protection."

Rain muttered something under her breath, but One stepped in. "Fine. But interfere, and you're done."

I nodded, returning the shotgun to JD, whose eyes burned with barely restrained anger. I knelt, pulling a field kit from my belt, and cleaned his wounded hand. The commandos watched in silence, tension palpable.

"This guy's nuts," Rain said, her voice low but not low enough.

"Kaplan," I interrupted, rising. "Open the Hive door. We're on borrowed time."

Kaplan nodded and set to work. My gaze drifted to Alice, slumped against the wall, her expression unreadable. She stared back, unblinking. Her silence felt louder than the gunshots had.

Rain broke the stillness. "So, do we interrogate him? Or her?"

I smirked faintly, almost imperceptibly. "You can try. But we've got bigger problems."