A/N: It's been awhile, but I kept my promise. Here it is, WASTELAND part II. I hope those who enjoyed the first will find this entertaining as well. For those who haven't read the first, you should probably do so before reading this, seeing as how this is a sequel.

Note that I do have a life, so don't expect a new chapter every day.

That's all I have to say. Please enjoy and review. The more reviews I receive the faster this story may update (hint/hint).

NOTE: Chapter updated.

The cry of a young child. A scream of terror from his teenage mother.

The roar of an assault rifle.

"Kill the bitch!"

I slid across the dusty metal of a wrecked Corvega, slipping into cover behind its thick body as 5.56mm rounds shredded the air around me, pockmarking the already ruined automobile. I pressed my back to the car, keeping my head low as gunfire created a veil of death above me. A gloved hand held tightly to my .45 revolver, its tempered steel glistening in the afternoon sun.

"The Angel of Death? Ha! You're nothing but a little bird who flew too high. It's time to clip those wings of yours," taunted the raider leader, urging his cohorts forward. "This pathetic myth ends here."

A brave raider leaped over the car after me, shrieking a manic battle cry as he swung a metal baseball bat at my head. I rolled away from the attack, the aluminum bat clanging loudly against the rusted metal of the car where my head had just been. Now in the line of fire, I ran full sprint through the deadly barrage of bullets and towards a ruined Highwayman. I dove through the air, the tail of my coat flapping in the wind behind me. A stray bullet tore by just centimeters from my faces, taking with it several strands of straw colored hair.

Time seemed to slow as I took aim. A single gunshot brought down the raider leader, destroying his left knee with a spray of blood and bone. I landed hard on my back, skipping across the densely packed sand like a stone on water and behind the shelter of the car. I brought my gun up once more and fired twice into the chest of the pursuing raider, killing him almost instantly.

The gunfire ceased and a spent magazine fell to the ground with a soft thud. The raider, the last standing, fumbled to reload his rifle. I wasted no time in getting back up to my feet and swung myself up and over the car. The now panicking raider managed to slide in a fresh clip and took aim, but I was faster. Two shots in quick succession: one through the heart and the other through the neck. The raider fell, dead before he hit the sandy desert ground.

"Dammit!" raved the injured raider, his leg folded uselessly beneath him. "I'll kill you!"

I pulled down the ragged scarf that covered the lower half of my face. A flick of my wrist snapped open the magnum's chamber. I checked the ammo. One shot remaining. Another flick of the wrist closed the weapon. I spun the cylinder and waited for it to go still before taking aim at the final raider.

"You fucking bitch!" screamed the raider.

My voice was soft but firm. "You're just a dog who needs to be put down."

"Fuck you!" The raider reached for the assault rifle laying near him, raising it with one hand.

I squeezed the trigger. Fire erupted from the end of my weapon's barrel, the .45 bullet flying with enough force to nearly decapitate the man. The raider fired several shots uselessly into the air before he finally fell motionless to the ground, crimson blood pooling around him.

I dropped my arm, holding the magnum at my side. "Idiots."

The child was still crying, his mother's arms wrapped protectively around him. They had taken refuge behind one of the many cars that lay abandoned along the lonely stretch of highway. The mother, not much older than myself, looked towards me, fear still splayed out across her sunburnt face. She stood with her son in her arms, her dark eyes not once leaving my own.

"Thank you," she sputtered finally. "Thank you. They would have killed is like they did the others. I don't have much but..."

I raised a hand to silence her. I then pointed north along the highway. "There's a town a couple of miles down the road. Find the bar and tell the bartender what happened. His name is Ronald. He'll help you."

The young mother nodded in understanding and rushed off down the highway with her small son still wrapped in her arms. I watched her for several minutes until she was nothing more than a speck far off in the distance, and then turned to the task of looting the bodies for whatever goods I could find.

Just another day in my life.