About fifty years ago, a global pandemic devastated humanity. The highly contagious virus only affected men, who perished one by one, falling victim to excruciatingly painful symptoms. Various and diverse fields of flowers bloomed from their internal organs, condemning them inevitably to a gruesome death in a matter of hours, days, or at best, weeks.

You draw your bow to aim at the doe cowering between two remnants of overturned and vegetation-covered cars. Holding your breath, just as you're about to release your arrow, a movement catches your eye. Swift and silent, you barely manage to spot a figure disappearing into the dilapidated building across the street.

The individual was tall, and for a moment, you ponder that you don't know any woman with such a broad build.

You furrow your brow, wondering who this woman, likely out to hunt the game you spotted first, might be. Unaware for a single moment that it is, in reality, nothing more and nothing less than a man.