He throttled up on his Baby Girl, sending the custom trike roaring with life, as she sped down the dead highway. It was still hard to comprehend that the world was not what it once was, not that it ever had been for him since that day long ago.

No, this world was different than even those days after. The War had done much to change things. Now, there was nothing but ruins where once mighty cities had held ground, dominating the horizon. But now, those cities were returning to the sands of the world, Mother Earth taking back that which was taken from her.

He had learned much before the War began, but that one turn in History changed much for everyone, and he learned more of his trade than they had ever wanted him to. It was a price that many would never regret. Yes, he was a wanted man, but those that sought him out had learned the hard way what it was to hunt their prey. Their brethren had learned with their lives, while their sisters learned with pain.

He was not a man who would outright kill a woman in cold blood, but it was not above him to teach them what it would cost them if they continued their line of work. Many had begged him to kill them when he was finished. Yet, he sat there calmly, stitching the surgical incisions back up after taking what he needed from them and setting the controlled acid to work on the rest of what was left of what he took. Perhaps it would have been better to kill them. He had, after all, taken away their created purpose in life? to bear children.

That did not stop the hunt, however. It only enlightened the hunters what they were really dealing with, and those that hunted him now were smarter for it? but they were not as smart as they needed to be. He had spotted them a week ago, playing at surveillance as he left the Ammo Shop two towns back, Bandera, a little run down place that had started to rebuild.

Even after the War, ammo was in plenty, but it was the guns that were hard to find. He would buy those guns that he needed, and usually all the ammo in the place. He had learned that any thing could be turned into what was needed, even the different calibers for different guns.

But guns were not his preferred means of combat. That is not to say he didn?t know how to use one, indeed not for he sported a twin set of old .44s strapped to his body, and his Baby Girl had her share of various shotguns and pistols. No, his preferred method of combat was in the stealth, in the outwitting and out playing of the opponent. Of getting so close to them that they could feel you breathing down their neck, but never knowing where that threat was coming from. Seeing their eyes as they come to understand in that last moment where the poison was in their tightly nit group as it touched their tongue.

He spotted a rest stop, more of an extended shoulder on the old paved road, and decided it was time for a rest. He had done this for the majority of the week he had been on the road. It was a game he played with his pursuers. It only took a few hours, in truth, to get to San Antonio from Bandera, but he was in no hurry, and those that followed were slowly going mad with the constant stops and long rests between.