Nathaniel stood firm, his pistol aimed steadily at Yipsiv. The faint glow of the artificial lights in the grand theater's underbelly cast dramatic shadows across the room, illuminating the bars of the cage that trapped Tarot behind him. The air was thick with tension, a charged silence lingering between the two former comrades.
Yipsiv, clad in his rugged cowboy attire, adjusted his hat with a casual flick, his revolver holstered but his hand never straying far from it. A slow, cocky grin spread across his face. "Well, ain't this a sight fer sore eyes. Never thought I'd be facin' ya down, Nate. Life sure does throw a curveball, don't it?"
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "Cut the pleasantries, Yipsiv. You know exactly why I'm here. But I didn't expect to see you like this—working for a scumbag like Aurelio. What happened to you?"
Yipsiv chuckled, a low, gravelly sound. "Happened? Nothin' happened, partner. I just saw the world fer what it is. Y'see, SFA taught us a lot, didn't it? Taught us how to fight, how to survive, how to do the dirty work fer folks who wouldn't even tip their hat in thanks."
Nathaniel clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his pistol. "We fought for something bigger than ourselves, Yipsiv. We believed in justice, in protecting the innocent. You used to believe in that too."
"Justice?" Yipsiv spat the word, like it was a bad taste on his tongue. He began pacing slowly, his boots clicking against the metallic floor. "Justice's just a fancy word fer control, Nate. The Marines—hell, the SFA—they used us. All that talk o' protectin' the innocent? It's just a cover fer the real game. We were nothin' but pawns, and I ain't no pawn no more. Now, I play my own hand."
Nathaniel shook his head, disappointment in his eyes. "You've twisted everything we stood for. Sure, the agency wasn't perfect, but we made a difference. We saved lives."
Yipsiv stopped pacing and turned to face Nathaniel, his expression colder than a desert night. "And what did it get us, huh? A pat on the back? A medal? Nothin' but scars and memories o' folks we couldn't save. I got tired o' fightin' fer scraps, Nate. So I changed the game."
"And joined forces with Aurelio?!" Nathaniel's voice rose, frustration clear in his tone. "You're no better than the people we fought against. Look around you, Yipsiv. You're part of the problem now."
Yipsiv shrugged, his demeanor unbothered. "Call it what ya want, but Aurelio gave me power, a purpose. The Marines did the same thing—they gave Aurelio his start. Don't ya remember? The man worked as a spy fer the Marines before he became who he is now. But here's the thing—he's weak. And I'm tired o' bein' under his thumb."
Nathaniel's eyes widened as the truth hit him. "You're not working with him—you're plotting against him."
Yipsiv grinned, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "Ya catch on quick, Nate. I've had enough o' Aurelio and his little empire. This island, this whole setup—it's all his, but it should be mine. I ain't gonna be no second-rate cowboy no more. I invited the Phoenix Pirates here 'cause I know they've got the muscle I need to take that fella down. They don't even know it yet, but once I take the reins, this place'll be mine, partner."
From behind the cage, Tarot interjected, his voice filled with confusion. "Wait, wait, hold up. You two were... spies? Agents? This is insane! Why didn't anyone tell me we had secret agents on the crew?"
"Not the time, Tarot," Nathaniel muttered without takig' his eyes off Yipsiv.
Yipsiv smirked, tipping his hat slightly. "Your new crew don't know much 'bout ya, do they, Nate? Betcha didn't tell 'em 'bout our little escapades. How many times did we cheat death together? How many lives did we take?"
Nathaniel flinched but didn't lower his gun. "I'm not that person anymore. I left that life behind for a reason."
Yipsiv's grin widened, and he slowly reached fer his revolver. "And that's why you're weak. You let guilt and ideals weigh ya down. Me? I shed all that baggage long ago. That's why I'm gonna come out on top."
Nathaniel steadied his aim. "This isn't about winning, Yipsiv. It's about stopping you before you hurt anyone else."
Yipsiv chuckled darkly, his hand resting on the grip of his gun. "Talk's cheap, Nate. Let's see if ya still got that killer instinct."
The room fell silent, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Nathaniel could feel his heart pounding in his chest, readyin' himself for what was coming. In the cage, Tarot clutched the bars, watchin' anxiously.
Yipsiv tilted his hat, his fingers twitching over his revolver. "Let's dance, partner."
Yipsiv grinned, his metal teeth glinting as he bit down on a bullet and snapped it into the chamber of his revolver. The cocking mechanism clicked sharply, breaking the tense silence. Without hesitation, he fired, the shot ripping through the air like a thunderclap.
Nathaniel darted to the side, the bullet narrowly missing him and embedding itself in a thick pipe with a metallic screech. He raised his pistol in a fluid motion and fired back, the round streaking toward Yipsiv, who casually sidestepped, his coat billowing as he swung his cutlass. The blade deflected the shot with a ringing clash, sending sparks cascading into the dimly lit space.
"You've still got some fight in ya, Nate," Yipsiv drawled, spinning his revolver back into place. "But this ain't no clean shootout. Welcome to my playground."
The room was a labyrinth of old, creaking machinery—piston engines, rusted catwalks, and rows of steam valves hissed ominously in the background. Nathaniel ducked behind a massive gearbox as Yipsiv fired again, the bullet slamming into a steel beam and ricocheting off with a sharp whine.
Nathaniel peeked around the corner, spotting Yipsiv moving among the shadows like a phantom, his revolver gleaming under the flickering lights. Nathaniel waited for the perfect moment, then fired, his bullet aimed at Yipsiv's shoulder. But Yipsiv had already anticipated it, twisting to the side and using his cutlass to redirect the shot harmlessly into a hanging chain.
"Too slow, cowboy," Yipsiv taunted, his voice echoing off the metallic walls.
Nathaniel shifted his position, climbing onto a narrow ledge overlooking the cluttered room. From his elevated vantage point, he had a clearer view of the battlefield. He spotted Yipsiv ducking behind a stack of iron crates and fired, the bullet slicing through the air.
Yipsiv dove into a roll, narrowly avoiding the shot, and sprang to his feet with practiced ease. With a quick motion, he grabbed a lever on a nearby machine, pulling it hard. The mechanism sputtered to life, releasing a thick cloud of steam that obscured the battlefield.
Nathaniel cursed under his breath as the white mist enveloped the room. He crouched low, his senses sharp as he listened for movement. The hiss of escaping steam and the hum of machinery filled the air, masking Yipsiv's steps.
Out of the fog, a shot rang out, the bullet narrowly missing Nathaniel's side and embedding into the metal floor with a loud ping. Nathaniel leapt back, landing behind a series of pipes. From his new cover, he reloaded his pistol, his movements precise and calm despite the chaos.
A shadow moved through the mist, and Nathaniel fired, the bullet whizzing toward Yipsiv's silhouette. The shot grazed Yipsiv's hat, knocking it off his head as he fired back, forcing Nathaniel to retreat further behind the machinery.
"Nice shot, Nate," Yipsiv called out, his voice carrying an amused tone. "But you're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna keep up with me."
Nathaniel scanned the room for an advantage. His eyes fell on a set of swinging chains hanging from a rig above. With careful aim, he fired at one of the chains, the bullet snapping it free. The heavy chain dropped, crashing to the floor with a deafening clang and scattering the steam in its wake.
Yipsiv lunged out of the dissipating fog, his cutlass gleaming as he slashed downward. Nathaniel sidestepped the attack, firing at close range. Yipsiv deflected the shot with his blade and swung again, forcing Nathaniel to duck and roll away.
The two men circled each other in the open space now cleared of steam, their eyes locked. Nathaniel fired twice in quick succession, aiming for Yipsiv's center mass. Yipsiv parried one shot with his cutlass and dodged the other, his grin never faltering.
With a quick motion, Yipsiv grabbed a nearby pulley and yanked it, sending a section of the rig above crashing down. Nathaniel dove out of the way, landing hard behind a pile of crates as the debris slammed into the floor.
"Stay sharp, partner," Yipsiv called, his voice dripping with mockery. "This ain't over yet."
Nathaniel's breath was steady as he reloaded again, his mind racing.
To be continued...