Yipsiv spread his arms wide, his revolver spinning effortlessly on his finger as he leapt onto the higher platform of the facility. He perched there like a predator surveying its prey, the dim light catching the glint of his metal teeth as he grinned down at Nathaniel.
"Well now, Nate, it's almost poetic, ain't it?" Yipsiv drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "Two old gunslingers, once partners, now standin' on opposite sides of the barrel. But let me tell ya somethin'—this here showdown? It ain't gonna be no tall tale passed down for the ages. Nah, tonight's the end of the trail for you 'n' me. The night we part ways for good."
He chuckled low and slow, his fingers adjusting his hat as he tilted his chin up, staring Nathaniel down with a mix of pity and disdain.
"Y'know, I never would've pegged you for the followin' type, Nate. You, of all people, runnin' with a crew? Joinin' up with the Phoenix Pirates, no less—the most notorious pack of misfits sailin' the Vast Expanse? A bounty hunter who prided himself on ridin' solo, takin' orders from someone else? Tell me, partner, when did ya lose your spine?"
Yipsiv paced along the elevated platform, his boots clicking against the steel as he continued, his voice rising like the crescendo of an old ballad.
"You were the one who always walked your own path, carved your own way through the chaos. Now look at ya—caught up in the very game you used to hunt. A pirate, for cryin' out loud! You used to stand for somethin', Nate. Now, all I see is a man so tangled up in the dreams of others that he forgot how to dream for himself."
He stopped, pointing his revolver lazily in Nathaniel's direction, though he didn't fire. Not yet. The grin on his face widened as he leaned forward, the brim of his hat casting shadows over his eyes.
"Face it, Nate—you ain't the man you used to be. You've gone soft. A coward, plain and simple. Hidin' behind a crew, followin' someone else's orders like a lost pup lookin' for a master. It's downright pathetic."
Yipsiv tipped his hat back slightly, his grin sharpening.
"But don't you worry none, partner. I'll make sure this little chapter of yours ends here and now. After all, I reckon it's my duty to put down the man who forgot how to stand on his own two feet."
He spun his revolver one last time before aiming it squarely at Nathaniel, the air between them thick with tension. The sound of distant machinery clanking in the background only added to the weight of his words, a stark reminder of how far both men had come—and how far they'd fallen.
Nathaniel hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. Then, with a steady tone, he responded.
"You're calling me a coward for following orders, Yipsiv? You, a pirate yourself, throwing around judgment like that? I don't think you really understand people. I didn't join the Phoenix Pirates because I was weak or lost. Yeah, I'll admit it—when I first met Temoshí and the crew at Grim Isle, my plan was to betray them. I figured they were just another bunch of chaotic, gold-hungry pirates tearing through the world for their own gain, toppling marines and leaving destruction in their wake.
"But I was wrong. Sailing with them, especially through everything up to Castlemania, made me see something different. They're not like the rest. They're not driven by greed or selfish ambition. Sure, they're pirates, but they're also the only ones who see the world for what it could be, not just what they can take from it.
"The crew I thought I could use for a quick payday turned out to be something far more. They're not just chasing treasure or terrorizing people for the sake of their titles. They're fighting for something bigger, something that actually matters."
Nathaniel's gaze hardened, his voice steady as he stared up at Yipsiv. "You can call me whatever you want, but don't pretend you've got it all figured out. At least I'm standing for something now."
"I never thought I'd become a pirate. Truth be told, I've always despised both sides—marines and pirates. I thought they were just two factions fighting the same pointless, destructive war. But meeting the Phoenix Pirates, watching them from a distance across the Vast Expanse, seeing their names in the news as they grew stronger and kept helping people, fixing lives—they changed me. Changed how I see things.
"Don't get me wrong, I still hate what most pirates stand for, and my opinion of the marines hasn't softened one bit. But this crew? These people I'm with? They're different. They're the only ones I'd ever even consider following. My days as a bounty hunter are over, Yipsiv. And your days of chaos and destruction? They're coming to an end too.
"Our lives turned out differently, sure. But unlike you, driven by greed and a lust for power, I've found something real—a team, a crew I can actually rely on. People I can trust. I've learned that doing everything alone isn't always the best way.
"So gear up, Yipsiv. Tonight, this story between us finally ends."
Yipsiv's grin faltered, replaced by a sharp scowl as Nathaniel's words sank in. His revolver spun slower on his finger, eventually coming to a stop with a quiet click.
"So, lemme get this straight, partner," Yipsiv drawled, his voice dripping with venom. "You're tellin' me it's true? Your shiny new crew—the same one you're all so proud of—actually went and saved Chiaki from the lawmen? The girl worth more gold than any pirate could dream of? The one who could tip the whole dang world on its head? And now she's ridin' under your colors, callin' herself one of your crew?"
Nathaniel stayed silent, his gaze steady, waiting for Yipsiv to work through his anger. The tension in the room was thick, the hum of the machines fading into the background.
Yipsiv took a slow step forward, his boots echoing in the metallic silence. He eyed Nathaniel, his voice laced with mockery. "What's it like, Nate? Bein' a part of somethin' bigger than yourself? Tell me, did you even stop to think what mess you've made of yourself and your crew?"
With a flick of his wrist, Yipsiv tilted his head toward the paper Nathaniel was holding, his eyes scanning it from a distance without moving closer. "Well, partner, I sure missed a real funny thing in the news. Guess I'll just read it for myself," he muttered. His eyes narrowed as he read the bold letters, the bounty amount catching his attention.
"They want her dead, huh?" Yipsiv's voice dropped to a low growl. "And now she's officially branded one of yours?"
Nathaniel nodded, his tone unwavering. "That's right. She's marked."
Yipsiv's grip on his revolver tightened, and his jaw clenched as he read the poster once more. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered under his breath, his scowl deepening. "Guess y'all really are fools. Every last one of ya."
Yipsiv's grin twisted into something more menacing as he swiftly drew his revolver. "Then I reckon I'll be takin' y'all down, one by one, 'til I get to that little chick!" With a swift motion, he pulled the trigger, sending a high-speed bullet tearing through the air, its shriek cutting the silence.
Nathaniel didn't flinch. In one smooth motion, he flung the bounty poster behind him, his body leaning forward as his pistol rose next to his face. With a burst of speed, he dashed forward, vanishing into thin air in a blur of shadows. The space around him seemed to ripple as he shot out of nowhere, now hovering above the facility's floor.
Without a second's hesitation, Nathaniel aimed his pistol down at Yipsiv and squeezed the trigger, sending another bullet speeding toward the cowboy with precision.
Yipsiv's eyes narrowed, his revolver flashing as he pivoted on his heels. The bullet sped toward him, but he managed to deflect it with a swift flick of his cutlass, the blade singing through the air. He didn't hesitate for long; his revolver was back in his hand in a split second, and he fired off a rapid series of shots aimed at Nathaniel's position.
Nathaniel dodged the incoming bullets with an agility born of years of practice, his body twisting in midair as he darted left and right. He landed gracefully, his feet skimming the floor just as another bullet from Yipsiv tore past him, narrowly missing. Nathaniel's eyes locked on Yipsiv, calculating his next move.
"You've grown quicker, Nate," Yipsiv drawled, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "But you ain't quick enough to avoid the storm I'm about to be bringin'."
Without warning, Yipsiv kicked off the ground and shot forward, moving faster than Nathaniel expected. He swung his cutlass, aiming to slice through the air with a sharp arc, pushing Nathaniel to react quickly. But Nathaniel, ever the precise marksman, was already prepared. He sidestepped the slash, his pistol raised again as he fired point-blank at Yipsiv's chest.
The shot rang out, but Yipsiv had anticipated it. He tilted his body sideways, his coat swirling around him, and the bullet whizzed past his ribs. In the same fluid motion, Yipsiv retaliated, his revolver raised and aiming straight for Nathaniel's head.
Nathaniel instinctively ducked just in time, the bullet grazing the edge of his hair. He rolled to the side, springing back to his feet in one seamless motion, already readying another shot. Yipsiv wasn't far behind, spinning his cutlass with a flourish, using the momentum to parry Nathaniel's next bullet.
The sound of steel ringing against metal filled the air, as the two exchanged shot after shot, slash after slash. The room became a blur of movement, both men dodging, weaving, and countering with impeccable timing.
Yipsiv's voice rang out over the chaos, his drawl as confident as ever. "You're gonna have to do better than that, Nate! I'm just gettin' started!"
Nathaniel slid backward, his feet skimming the ground as he crouched slightly, his body coiled like a spring. With a fluid motion, he tugged his pistol from the holster beneath his black coat and flicked it in the air, reloading it in an instant with the precision of a seasoned gunslinger.
He didn't waste a second. In one swift movement, he thrust his hand forward, his fingers tightening around the grip of the gun. The sound of rapid gunfire followed, each shot fired faster than the last. The bullets zipped through the air, the sharp crack of each shot echoing like thunder, their trajectory relentless and precise. The final bullet, however, was different—heavier, faster, with a force that seemed to carry the weight of all the tension in the room.
Yipsiv's eyes widened slightly, his instincts kicking in as he spun on his heels, his revolver already raised. He deflected the first few shots with swift flicks of his cutlass, the blade ringing as it met each bullet, sending them skittering off into the darkness. But the last shot—Nathaniel's final, heavier round—caught him off guard. It came faster than he anticipated, and he barely managed to parry it with the edge of his blade. The impact sent a jolt through his arm, and for a moment, his grip on the cutlass faltered.
Nathaniel seized the opportunity, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat, his eyes locked on Yipsiv with a steely focus. The cowboy grinned through the pain, adjusting his stance as he readied his revolver.
"Nice try, partner," Yipsiv taunted, his voice still dripping with that trademark cocky drawl. "But you're gonna have to do more than that to take me down."
The two locked eyes, the room vibrating with the charged tension.
To be continued...