Imagine you’re sitting alone in the middle of a road. Both sides are blocked with police barricades, so there’s no exit. Everyone you know is cowering, as police batons rain like there’s no tomorrow. You are shivering, because you’re confronted by a water cannon, ready to unleash a piercing gush of murky water for the gathering to disperse. It inches towards you as the driver shouts out that you step aside, lest you’re run over. You shut your eyes and hold yourself in stubborn refusal, waiting for the worst to happen. Out of nowhere, a pair of hands appears and shields you, just as the rushing water begins to hit your body. You don’t know who those hands belong to, but you hold on so that both of you are not swept away by the force. That’s a Comrade.