July 4th, 1942- 9AM
It's a nice day today. Weather is clear, warm, and pleasant. Birds sing on the rooftops and the soft murmur of people begining their days can be heard as curfew breaks.
It's the day... The day the agents have arranged for you all to finally meet- to see who you all are and to finally begin your work. You only received an address, A time, and the words "At least it isn't raining"
The address leads to a Small Antique shop with a thickset man up front, his hair is red, Skin pale, and blue eyes peek out from under his hat. His face is grizzled, covered in a dark- dirty beard. When you approach, he looks you up and down, hand sliding into his jacket he nods with a smile and says "Terrible weather- ain't it?" His voice was thick; the hints of an Irish accent marring his otherwise perfect French.
Apon Saying the passphrase the man nods and let's you pass, The sign on the door saying "Sorry we are closed". When you enter the room is warm, Scented as flowers with an underlying smell of Cigar smoke. A woman sits at the counter, and elderly woman with white hair and enough lines on her face to tell her age "hello dear, Up the stairs, the Masters will be with you shortly" she nods. As you pass her, anyone who glances at her can see the butt stock of a shotgun under the counter.
Making your way up to the study you one to a room with several chairs, it's well furnished, with paintings agaisnt the walls, a fireplace on one end, sits across from a window that goes out to the street. A record player sits on one end- Currently silent. Overall- not what you expected when they said they where resistance