The drizzle gradually intensified, becoming heavier until it poured down, densely pounding this city.
Arthur sat by the window, from this vantage point, he could see the Dunling Tower in the rain mist, the high tower standing tall, turning into a gray-blue silhouette.
"What a tough winter."
Arthur murmured; the rain that lasted for days was getting heavier, and after it came the harsh winter, he could imagine the entire city engulfed in ice.
Having lived in Old Dunling for so long, Arthur was already accustomed to this: steam pipes bursting, streets full of puddles and mist, maintenance workers rushing back and forth, the sound of metal being struck endless, even ringing out deep into the night.
Just thinking about what's to come, the current cold no doubt added more gloom to it all.
"The evacuation has started, Arthur."
The voice of Left Garrison rang out in the communicator, hearing this Arthur sighed with relief, at least the Death Row was still proceeding orderly.
