This is going to need a warning I think. There are mentions of rape and sexual assault but it's not graphic, it's more implied. It's quite pro-feminism, I must admit, especially since this is set in a time when feminism is very new. I've had this in my head for a while now actually and I really hope you enjoy it. c:

As her role as the only woman in the group, Seven had to be strong.

She learned this very early on. Not too long after her awakening, in fact. After a particularly nasty run in with a corpse.

Now, she was no stranger to corpses. They littered the streets. You couldn't go a couple of metres without running into one, but they didn't bother her so much. She had always been tough. Fierce. She could handle more than that. She rarely got scared in typically terrifying situations. Always kept a cool head, despite being a little reckless. She was also naturally maternal, which made her overprotective of any survivors she found. She was a protector by nature.

But there was the one time, which she had suddenly felt everything go cold. She was quaking hours after and it lingered in the back of her mind to this very day. It's one of the things that kept her going.

If there was anything she remembered clearly, it was that day. She had yet to find others like her but small tracks, no smaller than her own, alerted her to survivors, so she was to follow them. Most of the soldiers that were still lurking around would be asleep at this time, hidden away in the run down buildings, avoiding the machines.

Following these tracks, she had wandered far away from the First Room and all down the street. They had disappeared once she had reached a thin alley and she hadn't a clue where to go. Her danger-seeking senses told her to walk down the alley, and walk she did.

She regretted it soon after.

As previously mentioned, she was used to corpses, but this one stood out to her.

It was a woman. Very beautiful too. Long, flowing gold hair that cascaded around her shoulders and porcelain skin. Bright red lips and nails, lovely long dress and heels. She looked like she had been out to a social gathering before what appeared to be her untimely death.

First thing that stood out to Seven, was this was not caused by a machine. There were no bullet holes and only a small amount of blood. It was brutal, but not machine brutal. Her dress was ripped all down the middle, revealing her body, which was littered with bruises markings where fingernails had dug deep. Her eyes were glassy and looked like they were permanently full of tears. She almost had an expression of anguish, which was disturbing.

The bruises were particularly prominent on her hips, inner thighs and breasts, which raised many questions. As Seven moved closer, it became more apparent. There was smears of blood trailing up her inner thigh, large finger marks around her neck and Seven wanted to be sick.

It was a time when the inferiority of women was being challenged. It was a time when more and more women were rising up, speaking up, about the way they were treated by men. It was the very beginning of feminism.

Seven was immediately intrigued. Amongst the pro-war propaganda posters were several pamphlets published by women about feminism. For only a short paragraph, it was incredibly in depth. She'd almost wished she hadn't read it. It explained briefly the objectifying of women, how they were made to look pretty and nothing else and how they had to stand behind their husbands and be a good wife. Seven was appalled.

Then it went onto the more gruesome parts. How countless women had been sexually assaulted and raped by men with nobody to give a damn because it was their fault; 'they were asking for it' and 'they were being provocative'. How they had to deal with the after effects of rape, such as trauma and pregnancy. It made Seven absolutely furious. Why did men have the upper hand and women have to stay back? How could anyone think this was okay? Women were just as good as men, end of.

There was one time, when a rather large group of soldier came barrelling past, and she could spot a small, soft face amongst the group. Looking closer it was a young women disguised, rather poorly mind you, as a man. Apparently they either didn't notice, or had too few troops to care but Seven felt...proud nonetheless.

But that corpse had been something else. She'd seen more human men than women, as families had been evacuated and it was mainly men fighting the machines, so this was her first time and she was not impressed. This woman hadn't died by the hands of a machine.

It was by the hands of a man.

She'd cry if she could, but right now it was a mix of indescribably emotions. Anger, sorrow and fear and so many more. They were all so extreme they cancelled each other out and she was unable to react in any way. She felt like the tiny fragment of soul she possessed had died.

That was the day she made a vow.

There was no doubt the humans were near extinction. All the soldiers that remained, hiding in the town, may as well have been the last humans alive. Gas bombs had been dropped in every country at this point and the majority of the human race had been wiped out. There was nothing left.

Seeing that womans lifeless face, filled her with something...something strong. A powerful feeling. She wasn't going to let this go unpunished. Even if there wasn't a point and the human race was nearly dead, she'd carry on. She wouldn't let this happen to anybody else. She would take the pain and the memories of a life, just thrown away, with her. She wasn't surviving out her for herself.

She was doing for every woman.

And she was no longer a protector.

She was a warrior.