Chapter 4: Shootout at Rustbone Tavern

The Burning Glass Desert earned its name from what the sun did to the sand.
Ryo learned this three hours into their journey, when Sera pointed at a patch of ground ahead that gleamed like polished mirror. "See that? Don't touch it. Don't even get close."
"What is it?"
"Silica sand, superheated by concentrated solar radiation. Gets so hot it fuses into glass sharp enough to slice through armor." She adjusted the sand-skiff's course, giving the glittering patch a wide berth. "The whole desert's full of it. That's why most people who come out here never come back."
The skiff hummed across the wasteland, its hover-jets keeping them three feet above the deadly surface. Behind them, Redwater Ridge had vanished into the heat shimmer hours ago. Ahead, nothing but endless crimson sand and a sky so blue it hurt to look at.
Ryo kept his eyes on the horizon, one hand resting on his revolver. The other clutched the map data from Mama Circuits, displayed on a cracked data pad.
"How much further?" he asked.
"Another six hours to the weapons cache. But we're not going straight there." Sera pulled up her own map, overlaying it with his. "We're making a detour."
"Why?"
"Because smart hunters don't walk into unknown territory without intel." She pointed at a location about an hour off their route. "There's an outpost. Old frontier trading post that got converted into a tavern. Place called Rustbone. It's neutral ground—no gang colors, no law, just criminals and drifters passing information."
"You think someone there knows about Zero?"
"I think if there's a supply convoy heading to that weapons cache, someone at Rustbone will know about it." Sera glanced at him. "Besides, we need to eat something that isn't ration bars. And I could use a drink before we walk into a deathtrap."
Ryo couldn't argue with that logic.
They changed course, angling toward Rustbone.
---
The tavern appeared like a mirage—a squat structure of rust-colored metal and salvaged wood, surrounded by a makeshift parking area filled with sand-skiffs, motorcycles, and one enormous six-wheeled transport that looked like it had survived a war.
Figures moved in and out of the entrance—a mix of desert travelers, bounty hunters, smugglers, and people who looked like they'd crawled out of nightmares.
"Remember," Sera said as they dismounted the skiff, "neutral ground means no killing. You start a fight in there, everyone turns on you. Tavern rules."
"What about self-defense?"
"Try not to need it." She checked her mechanical arm, making sure the weapon ports were concealed. "And keep your head down. Half these people probably recognize us from the wanted posters."
They approached the entrance—a heavy door marked with bullet holes and scorch marks. A bouncer stood guard: seven feet tall, more machine than man, with arms like industrial pistons.
"Weapons peace-bonded," he rumbled, pointing at a sign. "No exceptions."
Sera sighed and removed her revolver, allowing the bouncer to attach a bright orange tag to the trigger guard—a tamper-evident seal that would break if the weapon was drawn.
Ryo did the same with both his revolvers.
"You draw those, you die," the bouncer said flatly. "Understand?"
"Understood," Ryo replied.
They stepped inside.
Rustbone Tavern was exactly what Ryo expected: dim lighting, stale air thick with smoke and sweat, tables occupied by hard-looking people engaged in harder conversations. A bar ran along one wall, tended by a bartender with four mechanical arms working simultaneously. Music played from somewhere—distorted guitars and electronic beats that barely qualified as melody.
Every eye in the place tracked them as they entered.
"Subtle," Sera muttered. "Real subtle."
They found an empty table in the back corner, positioned so they could watch both entrances. A serving drone wheeled over, displaying a menu on its screen.
"Two beers," Sera said. "And whatever food's least likely to kill us."
The drone beeped acknowledgment and rolled away.
Ryo scanned the room, cataloging threats. Three bounty hunters at the bar—recognizable by their gear and the swagger. A table of smugglers arguing over a data pad. A lone figure in the far corner, face hidden by a hood, nursing a drink. And near the back exit, a group of five rough-looking individuals wearing the insignia of the Iron Riders—the biker gang that controlled the northern trade routes.
"See anyone useful?" Sera asked quietly.
"See a lot of people who'd kill us for the bounty if this wasn't neutral ground."
"That's Rustbone for you." The serving drone returned with their beers and two plates of something that might have been meat once. Sera took a long drink, then grimaced. "God, I forgot how bad the beer is here."
Ryo tried his. She wasn't wrong.
They ate in silence, watching, listening. Around them, conversations flowed—deals being made, routes being traded, bounties being discussed.
Then Ryo heard it.
"—convoy's leaving tomorrow at dawn," someone at the bar was saying. "Three trucks, fully loaded. Military salvage from the old FDI facility."
Sera's eyes flicked to Ryo. That was their convoy.
The speaker was one of the bounty hunters—a woman with facial scars and a rifle strapped to her back. "Word is, Zero Vance is gonna hit it. Take the whole shipment."
"Zero's a myth," another hunter scoffed. "Ghost story to scare rookies."
"Tell that to Marcus Quinn. Oh wait, you can't. Zero put three bullets in him two years ago." The scarred woman downed her drink. "I'm telling you, that convoy's cursed. Anyone stupid enough to guard it is dead already."
Sera's mechanical hand clenched into a fist.
Ryo placed a hand on her arm. "Not here," he murmured.
She took a breath, relaxing slightly. "I know."
They continued listening. The scarred hunter and her companions debated whether to take the convoy guard job—the pay was good, but the risk was extreme. Eventually, they decided against it and moved on to other topics.
"That's our intel," Sera said quietly. "Convoy leaves at dawn from Redwater Ridge. Heads north through the Scorched Wastes, then cuts east toward the weapons cache. Three trucks, probably heavy guard, and Zero's planning to hit it."
"We need to reach the cache first," Ryo said. "Set up before Zero arrives."
"Agreed. We leave in thirty minutes, ride through the night. Should get there by—"
"Well, well. Look what crawled in from the desert."
The voice was loud, mocking, designed to draw attention.
Ryo and Sera turned.
The Iron Riders had left their table and were approaching. All five of them—leather, chrome, and attitude. The leader was a man with a mechanical jaw and teeth filed to points.
"Sera Quinn," he said, grinning. "Heard you were dead. Shame that turned out to be a lie."
"Razor," Sera said coldly. "Still overcompensating with the teeth, I see."
His smile widened. "And you brought a friend. The kid with the big bounty." Razor's gang spread out, surrounding their table. "Twenty-five thousand chips. That's a lot of money for someone so young."
The tavern had gone quiet. Everyone watching.
"Neutral ground," Ryo said calmly. "Tavern rules."
"Oh, I'm not gonna kill you here." Razor leaned on their table. "That would be rude. But nothing says I can't have a friendly conversation. Maybe you two would like to share what you're doing in Rustbone? Where you're headed next?"
"Pass," Sera said.
"That's unfriendly." Razor's expression hardened. "See, the Iron Riders control the northern routes. Anyone crossing our territory needs to pay a toll. Or provide... valuable information."
"We're not crossing your territory," Ryo said.
"Everything in this desert is our territory, boy." Razor straightened. "So here's how this works. You tell us what you know about Zero Vance and his operation. We let you leave alive. Everyone wins."
Sera laughed—sharp and bitter. "You think we'd share intel with bottom-feeding biker trash? Zero would eat you alive, Razor. You're not even in his league."
The gang leader's mechanical jaw clicked. "Last chance, Quinn. Talk, or we follow you out of neutral ground and take the information from your corpses."
"Go ahead and try," Sera said quietly.
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Razor studied them for a long moment, then stepped back. "You know what? I think I will. See you outside, bounty hunters. Let's see how tough you are when the rules don't protect you."
He and his gang turned and walked out of the tavern.
The moment they were gone, conversations resumed. But now everyone was watching Ryo and Sera, waiting to see what they'd do.
"We could wait them out," Ryo suggested.
"They'll just set up an ambush on the road. Better to deal with them now, on our terms." Sera finished her beer. "Besides, I've wanted to punch Razor in his stupid metal face for years."
"It's five against two."
"I like those odds." She stood. "Come on, partner. Time to break some tavern rules."
---
They exited through the back door, weapons still peace-bonded.
The Iron Riders were waiting in the parking area, spread out, hands on their weapons. Razor stood at the center, grinning with those filed teeth.
"Smart choice," he called. "Making this easy on yourselves."
"We're not here to talk," Sera said.
"Good. Neither are we." Razor's hand moved to his revolver.
"Wait!" The voice came from behind them—the bouncer, stepping out of the tavern. His massive form blocked the doorway. "Neutral ground extends fifty feet from the entrance. You're all still inside the zone."
Razor cursed. "Then we'll take this further out."
"Or," Ryo said quietly, reaching up to tear the peace-bond off his left revolver, "we can stop pretending there are rules."
The tavern bouncer didn't stop him. Apparently, once someone broke the peace-bond, all bets were off.
Sera ripped hers off too. "Your move, Razor."
For a heartbeat, everything was still.
Then all hell broke loose.
Razor drew first—fast, augmented reflexes giving him inhuman speed. But Ryo was faster. His left revolver cleared leather and fired in one smooth motion. The bullet hit Razor's gun, tearing it from his hand before he could aim.
The other four Iron Riders drew their weapons.
Sera's mechanical arm snapped up, ports opening to reveal concealed weaponry. She fired a burst of flechettes that shredded two Riders' gun hands before they could get off a shot.
Ryo's right revolver came up, and he fired twice more—precision shots that disarmed the remaining two gang members.
Five seconds. Five shots. Five disarmed enemies.
The Iron Riders stared at their ruined weapons, then at Ryo and Sera, then at each other.
"What the hell are you?" Razor breathed.
"The wrong people to threaten," Sera said. She kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling. "Now get out of here before we stop being merciful."
But Razor wasn't done. He pulled a hidden knife from his boot and lunged at Sera.
Ryo's revolver tracked him. One shot. The blade exploded into fragments, leaving Razor holding just a handle.
"She said leave," Ryo said quietly.
This time, they listened.
The Iron Riders stumbled to their motorcycles and roared off into the desert, leaving trails of dust behind them.
Silence fell over the parking area.
Then, slowly, applause started from the tavern entrance. The bouncer was clapping—a sound like metal thunder.
"Twenty years I've worked here," he said, "and that's the best disarming I've ever seen. You two are either the luckiest or the most skilled hunters in the territory."
"Bit of both," Sera said, reloading her revolver.
Other patrons had emerged from the tavern to watch. Among them was the scarred bounty hunter from the bar.
"You're the ones hunting Zero," she said. Not a question.
"Maybe," Sera replied carefully.
The woman studied them, then nodded. "Word of advice. Zero's not like other outlaws. He doesn't make mistakes. Doesn't leave witnesses. If you're going after him..." She gestured at their weapons. "Being fast won't be enough."
"Then it's a good thing we're also smart," Ryo said.
The hunter almost smiled. "Maybe. Maybe you'll actually make it interesting." She turned to leave, then paused. "The convoy's route takes it through Dead Man's Canyon. Narrow passage, perfect for an ambush. If Zero's hitting it, that's where he'll strike. Might want to get there first."
"Why tell us?" Sera asked.
"Because someone needs to kill that ghost. Might as well be you." She walked away. "Good hunting."
When she was gone, Ryo and Sera returned to their skiff.
"That was reckless," Ryo said.
"You started it when you broke the peace-bond."
"You were going to do the same thing."
Sera grinned. "Yeah, I was. We make a good team, Kazehara."
They climbed onto the skiff. Around them, the desert stretched endlessly under the setting sun—beautiful and deadly in equal measure.
"Dead Man's Canyon," Sera said, pulling up the map. "It's about eight hours from here. We ride through the night, we'll get there before the convoy."
"And before Zero."
"Maybe. Or maybe he's already there, waiting." She started the engines. "Either way, this ends tomorrow. One way or another."
The skiff lifted off, jets kicking up crimson dust.
As they raced into the deepening darkness, Ryo checked his revolvers one more time. The Burning Glass Desert stretched ahead, full of secrets and death.
And somewhere in that wasteland, Zero Vance was planning his move.
But this time, Ryo would be ready.
This time, the ghost would face the hunter.
---
They rode through the night, the desert transformed by moonlight into something alien and beautiful. The glass patches glowed softly, reflecting stars. Strange sounds echoed across the dunes—the cry of Glass Wurms deep beneath the sand, the hum of automated defenses from buried military installations, the wind singing through ancient ruins.
Sera drove with mechanical precision, her cybernetic eye navigating by starlight and sensor data. Ryo kept watch, his revolvers ready for whatever the desert might throw at them.
Around midnight, they stopped to refuel and rest. While the skiff's generator recharged, they sat on a dune, sharing water and ration bars that tasted like cardboard.
"Tell me something," Sera said after a while. "When you find Zero. When you're standing there with your guns pointed at him. What happens next?"
Ryo was quiet for a long time. "I don't know."
"You don't know? You've been hunting him for five years."
"I know I want answers. I know he killed my parents. But..." Ryo stared at his hands. "My father built the Crimson Core. Or helped build it. If it's as dangerous as everyone says, maybe he deserved what happened. Maybe Zero was trying to stop something worse."
"You don't believe that."
"No. But I don't know what I believe anymore." He looked at Sera. "What about you? When you face him again?"
Sera flexed her mechanical fingers. "I'm going to make him regret ever touching me. Then I'm going to put a bullet in his head and collect my bounty. Simple."
"Nothing about this is simple."
"Maybe not. But revenge?" She smiled grimly. "Revenge is the simplest thing in the world. You just have to be willing to pay the price."
They sat in silence, two broken people united by vengeance, preparing for a battle that might kill them both.
"Thank you," Ryo said suddenly.
"For what?"
"For not leaving me. At the bridge, at the server farm, at Rustbone. You could've walked away. Collected an easier bounty."
Sera shook her head. "We're partners now. Partners don't walk away." She stood, offering him her mechanical hand. "Come on. We've got a ghost to catch."
They remounted the skiff and continued into the night.
By the time the sun began to rise, painting the desert in shades of blood and gold, Dead Man's Canyon appeared on the horizon—a jagged scar cut deep into the earth, the perfect killing ground.
And somewhere in that canyon, their destiny waited.
---
**END OF CHAPTER 4**
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