'Prop that one up just there.'

The streets were mostly empty. A few cars slid back and forth between the crossroads. Some drivers poked their heads out a little, vaguely interested in the small gathering of women on the sidewalk.

Shailene shivered, clutching her woollen jacket a little tighter around her shoulders. Her online campaign had gotten so many upvotes and signatures, she had expected an army of female protesters. Instead they would be lucky to break one hundred, and half of those held their signs and chanted with muted tones, darting eyes around feverishly for fear of police or Bluenorth thugs.

'We are here to get noticed!' Shailene moaned angrily to her daughter, Ellie, who had taken shelter under the picket stand on a deckchair, hands tucked deep into the warm pockets of her duffle coat, 'if they don't want to be seen, we might as well not be here!'

Ellie said nothing in reply, staring off into the mid-distance as her breath misted on the air. She looked so much like Shailene, black hair and pale skin with those fiercely green eyes, that it pained Shailene to see her so apathetic about women's issues. She had had to almost force her daughter to get up for the protest, and by the looks of it would have to pin her down just to keep her out of the house.

Another car drove past slowly and Shailene led the chants.

'Free our girls!' She yelled, and the small gathering gradually picked up the call, 'Close the compounds! Free our girls! Close the compounds!'

The chanting died off as soon as the car was out of sight. Shailene shook her head, dropping into the seat beside Ellie.

'Maybe today wasn't the day.' She sighed and poured herself a coffee from an urn.

'Maybe no day is the day.' Ellie made a snorting noise and began playing with her TabPhone. Shailene snatched it off her.

'What does that mean, young lady?'

'Its all over nothing, mom. The only women who get caught are the ones who make noise.'

'So, we just stay silent about everything? Just let it all happen?'

'No, mom, they don't lock women up for no reason. Only the troublemakers, you know. Women who do this.'

'I don't believe you,' Shailene's voice shook as she spoke, 'you sound like one of them.'

'Yah, mom, everyone is against you, that's what you're about. I can't even speak my mind when I'm around you.' Ellie huffed and got to her feet, storming off to a side-alley.

'Hey, young lady, don't go too far! You have to be careful!'

She flipped her off just before disappearing. Shailene's heart sank. Teenagers, she thought bitterly. What part of this made her daughter resent her? She was trying to ensure her freedom, for God's sake!

Noise building nearby distracted Shailene's attention. There were voices, lots of them, from a few streets over. She jumped up, certain that this was the real crowd she had been promised online, and they would make a real stand.

'Everyone, signs up so they know where we are! Here come our sisters-in-arms!'

But what emerged around the corner made her step back in horror. A throng, ten times the size of their protest, made up of men carrying signs that read 'Get back where you belong!' and 'Age of Man!' emerged from two separate streets, bearing down on them. They were faces full of rage, their chants loud and their passion terrifying. Shailene turned to look at her girls, many of whom were screaming. A few had already started to run, dropping their signs and throwing their sashes on the ground.

Shailene's heart was outpacing her mind. They were getting closer, and they seemed to be carrying crowbars, bats and nets. All around her women were screaming and running, abandoning the protest completely.

'Wait!' She yelled at them, 'don't go!'

Her nails bit into her scalp as she grabbed her head in frustration and denial. The mob was almost upon her, and she saw them each individually, angry, hateful and thirsty for revenge. Shailene's nerve failed her and she ran.

She ducked into the alley behind the main street and pelted as hard as she could along wet asphalt, her footfalls ringing on metal grilling and butchers' back doors. Her thin legs wore out quickly from standing so long. When she stopped she realised she was alone; the others had either been caught or had gotten well away by now.

Shailene threw herself behind a low wall with a trash can in front of her, listening hard. She could hear wails and screams far away, the continuous chanting of the anti-protest and the roar of cars as onlookers and passers-by sped away from what was quickly becoming a riot.

Her mind was not on any of that, but on Ellie. How far had she gotten before the men arrived? Had she come back when she realised what was going on? There must be some way out of this, thought Shailene. There's always a way out.

Then someone stuck their enormous hand on her throat and yanked her out of her hiding place. She screamed, kicked and punched at the men dragging her along the filthy alleyway; her dress caught on a nick of steel and it tore along her thigh. Before she could grasp to cover herself a woolen sack was forced over her head and everything was blackness, pain and fear.

'Let this meeting of the Special Vigilante Council for Female Control come to order. I the elected Chairman do report that Shailene Lucille has been brought before this council to be tried for feminism. If all members concur, I will open proceedings.'

There was a murmur of assent. Shailene darted her head left and right. She felt shackles on her wrists binding her to the small stool she had been placed on. They had not removed the hood, so all she could do was listen; there seemed to be many voices and by the sounds of it they were all around her. She was penned in.

'Firstly, we are obliged by the New Constitution to read the accused her Amended Rights. The defendant, being female, does not have the right to speak in her defence or summon legal counsel. The defendant may not speak unless called upon, or else face an automatic conviction. Appointed debatees will issue opening statements, followed by open floor discussion. The debatees may proceed. And someone take that damn hood off of her.'

The veil was whipped back and Shailene found herself sitting in the middle of a round table, a perfect circle of polished pine, and outside of it were seated thirty men each dressed in suits of charcoal and grey. Their eyes were obscured by a leather mask and their hands were gloved. Upon the walls of the grand room were oil paintings and carved wooden symbols, some of greek gods, others of spears, orbs and lightning bolts. Shailene had never been so terrified in her life.

'Thank-you, Chairman Rathers,' a young man said as he stood, blond locks coiling over his mask. He picked up a sheaf of notes and stacked them neatly in front of him as he addressed the assembly as a whole, 'This debatee, appointed to argue for restraint, has chosen to request a simple compound-allocation sentence.'

'Noted, Brother Dyer.' said Chairman Rathers, the man who had spoken while Shailene had been blindfolded. Now she saw him he seemed older than she had thought, but held a certain stern energy like that of a military man, or perhaps a cop. 'Brother Simmons?'

'Thank you, Chairman,' a middle-aged man of asian descent looked across the gulf between himself and the opposing counsel. He was thin and gangly, thought Shailene, but from the sound of it she ought to be as afraid of him as she was of anything else. She was about to speak herself when he said, 'Appointee for the argument of severity asks that this body convict the accused and sentence her to execution by hanging.'

Shailene caught her tongue and almost swallowed it. Her skin turned ice cold. From what she had seen she was being tried by some kangaroo court set up by these vigilante justice bastards, and if she spoke she would likely be executed. Her fingers wrapped around the shackle cuffs hard and she clenched her jaw.

'Very well,' said the Chairman, casting his hand toward the "restraint" debatee, whatever that meant, 'proceed.'

'Thank-you,' said brother Dyer, 'in the case of Shailene Lucille, hereafter to be referred to as FM-08891, a casual observer might believe that her actions are without doubt the worst of any case relating to the issue of feminism. She has spoken publicly and on television about female equality, has published articles and books relating to the support of this lie and has even donated to funding for female education and empowerment. This the casual observer sees, and yet we are not appointed to be casual observers.'

Dyer stepped away from the table and began to circle the room as he spoke. Shailene tilted her head to follow him, body trembling, hoping he had more to say. They know my whole life, she screamed inside her head.

'What I see here is an opportunity. By recommending this woman for caging in an appropriate compound, we can demonstrate the fact that it is not feminism we oppose, but womanhood. If we sentence FM-08891 for womanhood primarily, and feminism second, this sends a strong message. As stated in the New Constitution, womanhood shall mean permanent incarceration within an appointed compound. As such, this sentence exists for us to demonstrate restraint, and treat each female with severity in every case, regardless of action; the message must be that feminism or anti-feminism makes no difference to the freedom of a woman.'

Many of the masked men nodded and murmured agreement, but several others were shaking their heads. Shailene was racked with fury, insane at the injustice of it. She wanted to speak, and she meant to, if only to defy that asshole's horrific words and sentence herself, but her tongue was stuck inside her dry mouth.

Dyer sat back down having made a full circuit of the room. Simmons got back to his feet and straightened his glasses which were propped strangely over his mask. He cleared his throat.

'Thank-you, brother Dyer. In this matter I believe the evidence is incontrovertible. While we may wish to show restraint, to my mind this is only in cases where small elements of feminism are to be found. In this case however, restraint would only encourage similar action by those women who remain free, who might think feminist acts to be worth the risk if the result of being sentenced will be no more severe than that for being female.'

More nods and sounds of agreement this time. Shailene dug her fingernails into the chair hard and closed her eyes. She was so screwed.

'The Council thanks both debatees for their points. Verdict will now be debated.'

The discussion was hushed. Shailene could see them whispering across the desks but hear almost none of it, only snatches, words like 'feminist' and 'make an example'. After a few minutes the discussion fell to a hush, the Chairman stood and addressed the council as a whole.

'FM-08891 has been determined to be deserving of a severe sentence by this body. As such she will now be issued to an appropriate compound where the Bluenorth Authorities will determine the exact nature of her fate. It is also worth noting that the one-hundred-thirty females also present at the feminist rally have been sentenced by a secondary body for execution, which they have been permitted to carry out immediately.'

There was a round of applause. Shailene felt herself sinking into the floor, body aching as if she had just been beaten with sticks.

Ellie...