ETHAN DRAKE: WORLD HORIZON GAMES

It was the kind of silence that wasn't just quiet—it devoured sound, pressing against my ears until my own breathing felt too loud. I floated in weightlessness, surrounded by a vast darkness flecked with faint, shifting lights. Stars, maybe. Or illusions. Either way, it was enough to make my stomach churn.

"No lobby music this time," I murmured, the sound swallowed almost instantly. "Figures."

A voice cut through the void, smooth, confident, and laced with a smugness that set my teeth on edge.

"You adapt quickly, Ethan. I expected at least a moment of panic."

I twisted, trying to locate the source. My gray eyes scanned the black expanse, narrowing as a figure stepped from the darkness. Adrian Calloway, looking just as sharp as before, his tailored suit glinting faintly with silver embroidery. A pocket watch dangled from his hand, swinging lazily.

"What can I say?" I shrugged, masking my unease with sarcasm. "Floating in nothingness wasn't exactly on my bucket list."

Adrian's lips curved into that practiced smile of his—polite, patronizing, and irritating as hell. "Consider it an initiation. Every player passes through this... liminal space before receiving their permanent talent."

"Permanent talent?" I repeated, crossing my arms. "Sounds fancy. How's that work?"

With a flick of his wrist, Adrian conjured a ripple of light beneath me. It expanded into a solid, glowing platform. Gravity returned with a jolt, and I landed on it, bending my knees to absorb the impact. I tapped the surface with my boot, testing it. Solid enough.

Adrian stepped onto the platform like he owned it, which, given his demeanor, wouldn't surprise me. "Every talent is derived from the essence of a character—a soul who once lived, fought, and died before ever becoming part of the Games. Their potential now fuels yours."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, I'm borrowing someone's leftovers?"

"Think of it more as an inheritance," Adrian replied, his tone too smooth to be trustworthy.

I took a step closer, my gray eyes locking onto his. "How many players are we talking about?"

"Countless," he said, his expression unreadable. "But only professionals or titleholders—those who earn exceptional feats—can participate in plot-related tasks. These tasks yield Horizon Points, which you'll need to survive."

"No pressure," I said dryly.

Adrian's chuckle was low, almost indulgent. "Shall we begin?"

I gestured for him to get on with it. "Might as well. Let's see this 'character profile.'"

A glowing screen materialized between us, floating in the air. It displayed my name, age, and a disturbingly detailed breakdown of my skills, personality, and weaknesses.

[### Character Profile: Ethan Drake

**Name**: Ethan Drake

**Age**: 21

**Gender**: Male

**Profession**: Private Investigator

---

#### **Personality**

- **Introverted**: Prefers solitude or intimate, meaningful interactions over crowded social settings.

- **Imaginative**: Sees possibilities where others see roadblocks, often exploring ideas that delve into hidden meanings or distant "what ifs."

- **Empathetic**: Deeply in tune with the emotions of others, prioritizing harmony and fostering understanding.

- **Adaptable**: Thrives on spontaneity, often bending with the winds of circumstance without losing focus.

- **Calm and Confident**: Unflinching under pressure, with an almost eerie resistance to stress, making him unshakable even in tense situations.

---

#### **Appearance**

- **Height**: 5'11"

- **Build**: Lean but athletic, a wiry frame honed for quick reflexes.

- **Hair**: Dark brown, perpetually tousled, as though caught in a perpetual breeze.

- **Eyes**: Piercing gray, often carrying a faraway look as though lost in thought.

- **Clothing**: Practical yet stylish—dark jackets, fitted jeans, and sturdy boots. His gear includes hidden pockets and lightweight armor beneath for unexpected confrontations.

---

#### **Backstory**

Ethan grew up in a fractured household on the outskirts of Chicago. His father, a retired cop turned drunk, left Ethan to fend for himself. His mother's early death drove him inward, and he learned to rely on his wits and adaptability. At 16, he uncovered a local drug ring, using observation and bluffing to solve what seasoned officers couldn't. It earned him an underground reputation, and by 18, he was running a freelance private investigation service out of a crumbling apartment.

He's driven by an unspoken desire for justice—not the kind bound by rules, but one shaped by empathy and understanding of human frailty.

---

#### **Skills**

- **Master of Trades**: Proficient in hand-to-hand combat, lockpicking, cryptography, and urban tracking. His self-taught expertise spans hacking, disguise, and cold-reading people.

- **Observation**: An uncanny ability to notice the smallest details, from a subtle shift in body language to an overlooked clue.

- **Combat**: Nimble and resourceful, he uses his environment to outmaneuver opponents, favoring precision over brute force.

- **Negotiation**: A natural talent for diffusing tension or twisting situations to his advantage with calm, cutting words.

---

#### **Equipment**

- **Standard Gear**:

- A lightweight, black messenger bag housing a laptop, notebook, compact toolkit, and audio recorder.

- A collapsible baton and small, concealable knife.

- Burner phones for anonymity.

- Lockpick set, smoke pellets, and a compact first-aid kit.

---

#### **Tone of Speech**

- **Wry and Calm**: Ethan's words are measured and deliberate, often laced with dry wit or subtle sarcasm, reflecting his sharp mind.

- **Pragmatic**: He doesn't waste time on fluff, cutting straight to the point while maintaining an air of respect.

- **Low and Steady**: His voice rarely rises, even under stress, giving an impression of complete control.

- **Reflective**: When discussing deeper matters, he often pauses, speaking with a tone that reveals his thoughtfulness and empathy.

- **Intimidating when Necessary**: If backed into a corner, his tone sharpens to an edge, every word precise and weighted, designed to unnerve.

**Example Dialogues**:

- *Wry*: "Sure, because breaking into a mobster's vault sounds like a Sunday picnic."

- *Empathetic*: "Look, I know you're scared. I get it. But we've got two options: freeze up or face it. I'll stand with you, either way."

- *Threatening*: "You've got three seconds to start talking, or I stop playing nice. And trust me, you don't want to see what that looks like."

- *Casual*: "Coffee first, questions later. Priorities, right?"

---

#### **Weaknesses**

- **Loner Tendencies**: Struggles to trust others, often refusing help, which leads to burnout and isolation.

- **Empathy Overload**: His deep emotional sensitivity sometimes clouds his judgment, causing hesitation in critical moments.

- **Physical Stamina**: Though agile, prolonged physical confrontations can wear him down due to his lighter frame.

- **Overconfidence**: His unshakable calm sometimes borders on arrogance, underestimating the intensity of a threat.

Ethan Drake's voice reflects the storm beneath his composed exterior, balancing sharp intellect, quiet intensity, and a surprising warmth when the situation calls for it.]

I scanned it, the corners of my mouth twitching. "Feels like someone's been peeking through my journal."

Adrian's smile widened. "You're more exposed than you realize."

I didn't look at him, my gaze fixed on the screen. "Yeah, well... I feel naked."

"In some ways, you are," Adrian said, almost too cheerfully.

He waved his hand, and the profile dissolved into motes of light. Seven orbs replaced it, each glowing faintly. They hovered between us, pulsing in time with some invisible rhythm.

"These," Adrian said, his voice dropping into something almost reverent, "are your choices. Each orb represents a talent aligned with your essence. Choose wisely, Ethan."

The orbs shifted, projecting brief, tantalizing visions:

1. Intuitive Lie Detection: A man's face twitched, his lie betrayed by subtle micro-expressions.

2. Memory Web: Fragments of events swirled, connecting like a spider's web to form a complete picture.

3. Empathic Manipulation: A tense negotiation calmed as emotions shifted, guided by invisible strings.

4. Urban Ghost: A figure melted into a crowded street, invisible and untouchable.

5. Sensory Tracking: A faint trail of glowing footprints led through shadows.

6. Silent Puppeteer: People moved like marionettes, their actions subtly influenced.

7. Instantaneous Reverse Engineering: A complex lock clicked open in seconds, tools dancing in deft hands.

I studied each projection, my mind racing. Every choice felt like a loaded question, the kind where the wrong answer could get you killed.

"'Choose wisely,' huh?" I muttered. "Real original."

Adrian's smile turned faintly amused. "The weight of destiny rarely allows for originality."

My hand hovered over the second orb. The web of fragments pulsed brighter as I focused on it, the pieces snapping into place in a way that felt... right.

"Memory Web," I said finally. "Fits my style."

Adrian inclined his head, approval gleaming in his eyes. "A wise choice. The web will guide you, Ethan. Learn its threads, and you may yet survive the chaos ahead."

"Comforting," I said flatly.

The chosen orb flared, its light enveloping me. The void began to ripple and shift, the stars blurring into streaks of light. Adrian stepped back, his voice echoing as the darkness collapsed around us.

"Welcome to the first step of many, Ethan Drake," he said, his tone almost playful. "Let's see how well you spin your web."

I tried to respond, but the words were ripped away as the light swallowed everything.

The last thing I heard was Adrian's faint, mocking laughter.