Yipsiv stood face-to-face with Nathaniel, his grin wide and unyielding, the metallic gleam of his teeth catching the dim light as he adjusted his ten-gallon hat.
"Now, partner, when it comes to escapin' the mist, you might as well be rollin' the dice. Ain't no sure way outta this, not for folks like your friend. She took a gamble, and it didn't pay off. Fell right into the fog, and with it, she lost her mind. That's the thing about the mist, see? It don't just take your body—it takes your thoughts too, turnin' you into somethin' twisted, somethin' hungry. A brain-rotted critter, just itchin' to slaughter anythin' in its path."
He leaned in closer, voice low and steady, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "And the real kicker? It ain't her doin' the killin'. No sir. It's the mist callin' the shots. If the fog decides you're done for, then well… you're done. Ain't no fightin' it. The mist gets what it wants, and when it wants you dead, it'll make sure it happens. No mercy, no second chances."
Nathaniel breathed in deep behind the bandages, the air cool against his skin as he reminded himself that as long as he kept his mask tight, he was safe from the mist. But the weight of Yipsiv's words pressed on him, like a slow-rolling storm on the horizon.
Yipsiv, never one to let silence linger, broke it with a lazy grin. "But I'll make this quick for ya, partner," he drawled, spinning the rifle in his hand with a flick of his wrist, the weapon gleaming in the dim light. He leveled it casually at the side of Yumiko's crimson-burning head, the barrel steady as he aimed. "I could put a bullet through her head, right here, right now. End it all quick-like, let you walk away free and clear, my old friend."
He shifted, flicking the rifle forward with a snap, and in an instant, it was trained on Nathaniel, the cold steel now pointed directly at him. "Or... well, I could just make a bullet with your name on it instead, Nathaniel," he added with a wicked chuckle, his grin never faltering.
Nathaniel didn't flinch, his eyes locked on Yumiko, his pistol ready but running low on bullets. He knew he'd have to reload soon, but killing Yumiko wasn't why he was here—he'd come to save her.
"Yipsiv," Nathaniel growled, his voice steady but edged with the weight of years of questions. "Tell me how to pull her back from this. I know you used to be a better man. Is this mist your creation? Did you bring this hell down on the island? Was I fool enough to believe in you, only to find out I've been playing right into your lie? You've turned into something… despicable."
As he spoke, Nathaniel's fingers worked quickly, reloading his pistol with practiced ease. His eyes never left Yipsiv, never letting him catch a glimpse of the movement.
Yipsiv chuckled, a dry, gravelly sound, and gave Nathaniel a lazy glance, tipping his hat back just enough to make eye contact. "Well now, partner," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, "Bingo. You got it. I took over this ol' island, built me a little army, set up a nice factory, and gathered every last scrap of data I could find. Hell, I made sure I set a trap for every poor soul who wandered in here. And that trap?" He leaned in a bit closer, a wicked grin curling on his lips. "It's your favorite little mist, the one that done swallowed your friend up like a hungry coyote. That's my work. My masterpiece."
He straightened, tipping his hat back down, eyes gleaming with a twisted pride. "It's all been part of the plan, Nathaniel. And now, you're just another piece in it."
In the dense shadows of the Murky Woods.
Codey stood with Xasha, the commander, and what remained of their marine force, each struggling to keep their wits as the mist poisoned their lungs.
"It's all gone exactly as we planned," a voice echoed, cutting through the oppressive air. A woman appeared from the fog, her presence commanding, like a new level of authority had descended upon them. "And now we've caught ourselves a real prize—especially you, Admiral Codey. We knew trying to corner you in a place with no traps would be impossible. But now, weakened by the mist, you're all just sitting ducks."
Codey's breath was labored, every inhale more painful than the last. Sweat beaded on his brow, his body wracked with heat as he tried to focus on her.
"Are you… working for Yipsiv?" he forced out, his voice strained with the effort.
The woman's lips curled into a smirk, as cold and sharp as the fog around them. "The name's Parthena. I answer to Yipsiv, yes. As for the others..." She swept a hand toward her companions, "We're just the ones carrying out the final task. The contract Yipsiv signed—one he entrusted to me to finish."
Xasha, struggling to breathe through the thick mist, stumbled forward, her hand clutching at her nose in a desperate attempt to block out the poison creeping into her lungs. Her voice wavered, but the anger in it was clear. "We've heard talk about this damned contract. What's it really about? Anyone who'd sign a thing like that must've lost their mind. Did your boss sign it just for sport? Was he trying to become some kind of criminal? What the hell is this contract, really?"
Codey's vision swam, each breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His chest felt tight, the heat searing through his body, and the dizziness made it feel like the world was tilting beneath him. He fought to focus on Parthena, his eyes narrowing against the fog that clouded both his thoughts and his sight. His body trembled, but he refused to let his gaze waver, even as the weight of the mist bore down on them all.
Parthena's smile was a cruel twist of satisfaction. She watched them, unmoved by their suffering, her voice cold as she spoke, "This contract doesn't concern you. Especially not savages like the marines you are." She let her words hang in the air, each syllable sharp, deliberate. "All you need to know is we won the gamble of the roulette, and that's what earned our boss's respect. That's all there is to it."
As she spoke, the mist thickened, and Codey's vision blurred further, his head swimming. The pain in his chest intensified, and his arms felt like lead. He could barely hold himself upright, the weight of his body pressing down on him. The figures around him seemed distant, even distorted, the woman's silhouette still unclear through the suffocating fog.
The air felt thick, alive, choking them slowly. Every breath felt like a struggle to pull in.
And yet, no matter how much they tried to fight it, the mist was winning.
To be continued...