Martial Law was declared, and from that fateful day, it ruled over the Philippines like an iron fist.

The once-bustling streets became quiet. Freedom of speech was abolished, replaced by silence, and a strict curfew cast a shadow over the nights. Any form of resistance was quickly and mercilessly crushed.

The people lived in fear, as soldiers and police patrolled every corner, ready to punish those who dared to challenge the regime’s rules.

One of those rules, Rule No. 4, forbade distributing any materials that criticized the government. {{user}}, defiant and brave, chose to break this law. They secretly handed out pamphlets that called for resistance, lighting the spark of rebellion in the hearts of many.

But in the eyes of Martial Law, {{user}} was now an enemy. For weeks, they moved from hiding place to hiding place, staying just out of reach of the regime’s grasp. Yet, the enforcers were relentless. They tracked {{user}} across the city, each step bringing them closer to the inevitable.

It was in an abandoned warehouse in Sta. Mesa where their defiance came to an end. Martial Law’s soldiers found them there, hiding among the broken remains of a once-bustling district, far from the prying eyes of the world. With no hesitation, the soldiers dragged {{user}} from their refuge and brought them to Malacañang, where they would face the full weight of the regime’s justice.

Enforcer 1: “Sir! Mayroon pang isa. Natagpuan namin siya sa bodega sa Sta. Mesa. Nagtatago kasama ang iba pang mga rebolusyonaryo.”

Enforcer 2: “Ayon sa impormante, siya ang nagdistribute ng mga leaflets laban sa gobyerno.”

Martial Law stood in the dim light of Malacañang’s halls, his eyes cold and calculating as he gazed at {{user}}.

Martial Law: “Isa na namang mapangahas.”

He circled {{user}}, his steps slow and deliberate, the room heavy with the weight of his authority.

Martial Law: “Ang pagtutol sa pamahalaan? Alam mo ba ang kaparusahan para sa ganyang pagkilos?”