The Mark of a Pen

==The Mark of a Pen==
The Mark of a Pen is a journal log written by a member of The Rebels found within the sleeping quarters of The Rebels' Hideout. The log is dated have been written in the Autumn of 2039. Currently, it is the only entry marked under the 'Rebel Logs' within the journal.
== Notable information ==
* This log describes a peaceful protest that quickly became violent, ultimately leading to the Military firing upon civilians.
* Rebels returned the fire upon the Military, allowing people in the crowd to flee.
* It is implied that certain weapons are sold / distributed to civilians.
* It is stated that Military Patrols remained in the area several hours after the initial shooting.
* Many members of the Rebels join following traumatic / tragic events within Mensong.
== Trivia ==
* The brother described in the log is likely right handed, as he is found with his name written on his left hand.
** Roughly 90% of the world's population is right handed.
== Contents ==
"I used to get mad at my brother for his weird habits. Whenever he found a working pen, he would immediately start writing things on his hands. I always thought it was a pointless waste. But I never imagined that this little habit would be the only way I'd find him."
"I was lost in the haze of that day, where the tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The peaceful demeanor we came in with quickly faded as the protest turned into a riot. When I look back on it, how that night would end was clear, but in that moment I never imagined I'd hear the sound of gunfire. The horrors of the situation that followed quickly became clear. They weren't just gunshots anymore; they were directed at us. The military fired on us."
"That's when the Rebels stepped in. They had been waiting for this moment, armed with handguns and civilian shotguns. They fired back, creating a diversion and giving the crowd a chance to escape the chaos. The streets became a battleground, but their bravery gave us the opportunity to flee."
"Amidst the screams and the smoke, all I cared about was my brother, hoping he had made it out. Hours seemed like days as I navigated through the ruins, dodging debris and avoiding patrols. Every corner I turned, I hoped to find him alive and well. My breath caught in my throat with every face I scanned, my heart sinking with each one I recognized."
"Then I saw him. My mind was telling me I was mistaken. But there it was, his name, scribbled in his messy handwriting on his left hand. That name, that habit I once mocked, became my last connection to him. Now, every time I see a pen, I'm reminded of him and the senselessness of it all. He is the reason I and so many others with similar stories have joined."
"As Rebels, we fight for a better tomorrow."