WHAT FOLLOWS: S1.E01.3
When the first hot drop hit his face, he flinched in surprise as it burned him and brushed it from his cheek before it had the chance to run down it at all. He then ventured a brief glance up at the clouds, so heavy with snow that they sagged below the tops of the massive factory cranes to either side. The second drop hit his nose and he brushed it off just as quickly, turning his face down and lowering the brim of his hat. He pulled his weathered gloves a bit farther onto his wrists, the greyish cards dangling from his coat sleeves – three each – clattered together like cardboard wind-chimes. Then the drops fell a bit faster, and the men around him began to shuffle and close up their own clothes to keep the scalding raindrops from working their way in.
The policemen-soldiers had moved concrete partitions into the spaces between the parked vans, using both to form a solid wall that fully blocked all lanes of the highway. Their riot shields were propped against the wall, ready to be heaved into place above it to form the upper half of a taller wall, one that they would move and fluctuate as they needed it to. It looked a bit as though they'd carved a trench from concrete and plastic, an archery pit where knights in suits of black silicon carbide and canvas armor would fire bolts of lead and metal and ballistics, slugs with exploding arrowheads, at an oncoming enemy.