Tarot sat slumped against the side of the iron box, munching away on a peach like his life depended on it. He paused for a moment, listening to the sounds of gunfire and blades clashing outside. A grin spread across his face.
"Well, at least I ain't gotta worry 'bout catching a bullet in here," he said to no one in particular, his voice a mix of satisfaction and smugness. He took another massive bite of the peach, chewing like he hadn't eaten in days.
Then, suddenly, his eyes bulged as he gulped down the fruit a little too quickly. His throat seized, and for a moment, he looked like a fish out of water, gasping and choking as if the peach had suddenly turned into a brick.
"Cough... choke... Ahh!" Tarot sputtered, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to catch his breath. He clutched his chest like it was the only thing holding him together. "That peach... that peach almost killed me!"
After a dramatic pause, he slapped his chest and gave a weak thumbs-up, trying to act cool despite his near-death experience. "But hey, at least I'm safe in here, right?" He took another bite, this time slower and with much more caution, like he had learned a valuable life lesson. "It's all about survival... and peaches."
Nathaniel and Yipsiv charged at each other, their movements synchronized in a deadly dance. The clamor of the metallic facility echoed around them as they locked eyes for a brief moment, each knowing the stakes.
"Been waitin' a long time for this, Nate," Yipsiv drawled, a wide grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "This time, I ain't just gonna be the better shot—I'm gonna show ya what it really means to face the fastest gun in the Vast Expanse."
Before Nathaniel could even adjust his stance, Yipsiv blurred into motion. The air seemed to ripple with the force of his speed as he darted toward him, faster than a snake striking its prey. Nathaniel reacted instantly, his pistol snapping up and firing in a rapid succession of shots. The bullets sliced through the air, but Yipsiv was already gone, his body a ghost-like blur that left Nathaniel shooting at nothing but the emptiness where his old partner had been.
With a sudden crack of boots hitting the floor, Yipsiv appeared behind him. Before Nathaniel could adjust, Yipsiv's boot slammed into his back, sending him sprawling across the floor. He crashed hard, pain lancing through his chest as he was thrown toward a massive spinning gear. Its massive, jagged teeth gleamed in the dim light, the edges sharp enough to cleave a man clean in two.
Nathaniel's heart pounded in his chest as he saw the wheel's deadly edge rushing toward him. The space between him and certain death closed rapidly, but he was too quick to be caught. In a heartbeat, he spun mid-air, his body twisting like a blur as he fired off a shot directly into the core of the spinning mechanism.
The bullet struck its center with an ear-splitting bang, and the sound of grinding metal filled the air as the gear came to an abrupt halt. Sparks flew from its exposed gears as the once unstoppable force shuddered and stopped dead, leaving just enough of a gap for Nathaniel to dive through.
He rolled as he hit the ground on the other side, skidding to a stop in a low crouch. His breath was steady, and his mind was razor-focused. He sprang up without a second thought and dashed around the still-immobile wheel, positioning himself to strike from an unexpected angle. The silence in the room felt like it was building up to something monumental as he lined up his shot.
He fired again, a single, precise bullet aimed straight at Yipsiv. The projectile whizzed through the air, its path unyielding and deadly. But Yipsiv was already in motion, his body weaving under the bullet with the ease of a dancer avoiding a trap. He didn't miss a beat—he dashed forward, cutting the distance between them with an unnerving speed.
Nathaniel barely had time to react. Yipsiv was already on him, his cutlass raised high, flashing in the dim light. The blade gleamed with deadly intent as Yipsiv's eyes locked onto him, his grin widening with manic excitement. His movements were swift, lethal, the cutlass a blur of steel as it descended with a deadly arc aimed straight for Nathaniel's neck.
Nathaniel's instincts kicked in. He ducked low, rolling under the arc of the blade just in time to avoid the deadly strike. But Yipsiv was relentless—he spun, twisting his body in mid-air, preparing for another slash. His cutlass cleaved through the air again, aiming for Nathaniel's ribs this time.
Yipsiv's cutlass slashed through the air with an unrelenting roar, but Nathaniel was already a step ahead. With a sharp intake of breath, Nathaniel leaped backward, flipping cleanly in the air, the blade just missing the top of his head as it whistled past. He landed gracefully on his feet, rolling backward into a crouch, only to spring back up in a fluid motion.
The moment his boots hit the floor, Nathaniel was gone—vanishing in a blur of movement so fast it left a trail of afterimages hanging in the air like ghosts. He blurred from one corner of the room to the other, each movement a quick, calculated step, weaving between the spinning gears, vaulting over obstacles, and reappearing in different spots all at once.
Yipsiv's eyes widened as the world around him became a chaotic whirlwind of afterimages. Every direction he turned, Nathaniel's figure was there, his body flickering like a mirage, making it nearly impossible to pinpoint where the real Nathaniel was. Yipsiv's eyes darted frantically from one afterimage to the next, his mind racing as he tried to calculate his next move.
"Where are ya, Nate?" Yipsiv growled, his hand twitching near his revolver, his cutlass still in hand. "I ain't gonna be fooled that easy."
But Nathaniel was a ghost in the wind—there was no sense to it, no discernible pattern. His speed, his timing, and his control over the environment were beyond anything Yipsiv had anticipated. Every afterimage seemed real, every movement felt genuine. For a brief moment, Yipsiv's sharp instincts, honed over years of battles, were thrown off course.
Then, without warning, Nathaniel appeared in front of him, a split-second flash of real flesh in the chaos of speed. Yipsiv's reaction was immediate, swinging his cutlass upward, but it was too late.
Nathaniel's body flickered once more, disappearing just as quickly as he had appeared. Yipsiv's sword cleaved through nothing but air. He was left standing, his face a mask of frustration as the afterimages melted away into the shadows.
"Can't keep up?" Nathaniel's voice echoed around him, coming from all directions at once. It was a disorienting effect, one that made it impossible to track where the next strike might come from. "Can't even trust your eyes now?"
Yipsiv gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around his weapon. He spun in place, slashing through the air wildly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Nathaniel in the swirling chaos of movement. But he couldn't catch him. He couldn't catch anything.
Then, suddenly, the afterimages dissipated, and there was Nathaniel again—standing still, calm as ever, a mere few feet away. His gun was raised, pointed directly at Yipsiv.
"Now, you're in my world," Nathaniel said coolly, his voice steady and controlled, despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through him. "Let's see if you can dodge this one."
Before Yipsiv could react, Nathaniel fired.
Yipsiv's eyes snapped to Nathaniel's outstretched arm, the unmistakable gleam of the barrel reflecting the faint light as he pulled the trigger. Time seemed to slow for a moment as the bullet shot through the air with deadly precision. Yipsiv's instincts flared, and in a heartbeat, he swung his cutlass toward the incoming projectile, his blade poised to deflect it with a swift, practiced motion.
The bullet collided with the steel edge of his cutlass, but instead of merely ricocheting off, a sudden and deafening bang erupted. A shockwave of force blasted outward as the bullet detonated mid-air, the explosion sending a violent ripple through the air. The force of the blast caught Yipsiv off-guard, hurling him backward with such raw power that he couldn't brace himself in time.
His body flew across the room like a ragdoll, the sound of his boots scraping against the metal floor mingling with the thunderous explosion. Yipsiv smashed into the large cage where Tarot was still locked up, the bars bending under the impact as his body collided with them.
The cage rattled violently, its structure creaking as Yipsiv slid down the bars, disoriented from the blast. He landed in a heap, groaning from the force of the collision, his cutlass slipping from his hand and clattering across the floor.
Inside the cage, Tarot was jolted violently, rolling around like a peach in a tumble dryer. He flailed, trying to find some stable footing as the sudden shock threw him off balance.
"W-whoa! What in the world is going on?!" Tarot yelled, his voice rising in surprise as he bounced around inside the cage, limbs flailing. "I was just minding my own peach-eatin' business!"
Yipsiv groaned from the floor, pushing himself up slowly, his vision blurry. He spat a mouthful of saliva onto the floor, muttering curses under his breath. "Damn it, Nate... Not a bad shot."
With a sharp grunt, Yipsiv forced himself to stand, his body swaying from the blast's aftereffects, but his eyes were burning with fury. He glared at Nathaniel from across the room, his hand reaching for the cutlass that had slid away. His body was battered, but his resolve was unwavering.
"I'm gonna make you regret that, partner," Yipsiv growled, his voice low and dangerous. He started to pick up speed, despite his injuries, and readied himself for the next round.
Meanwhile, Tarot continued to roll inside the cage, finally managing to get his bearings, a wide grin spreading across his face despite the chaos. "I'm not sure if this is my kinda fight, but hey, at least it's something interesting!"
The two gunslingers locked eyes again, the tension thickening in the air as they prepared for their next move. With lightning speed, both Nathaniel and Yipsiv blurred into motion, their bodies phasing through each other in a blur of calculated precision. Their movements seemed almost impossibly synchronized, shifting and weaving as they exchanged positions with uncanny speed.
In a flash, they pivoted and turned on a dime, both drawing their guns and firing simultaneously. The sound of the gunshots echoed through the facility, but only one bullet would find its mark.
Nathaniel's shot tore through the air, just grazing Yipsiv's coat as the latter expertly dodged. But as Nathaniel steadied himself, he felt a sharp, searing pain—Yipsiv's cutlass had slashed across his hip in a fluid, almost imperceptible movement. The blade cut deep, but not enough to bring him down. The sudden rush of pain caused Nathaniel to wince, and in that split second, the bullet he fired veered dangerously close to his skull. He ducked instinctively, narrowly avoiding the deadly shot.
Yipsiv, still standing, gave a low chuckle. "Ain't it somethin', Nate? You think you got me, but we both got too close for comfort. I took the chance while we were in each other's space. A little cut here and there, and I'd say we're even."
He flicked his blade with a flourish, eyeing Nathaniel with that familiar grin, his confidence unwavering despite the near-miss.
To be continued...