30th April 1941
The April day was cold, and the Aarhus clock tower was ringing out at one o'clock. Rasmus, his chin nuzzled into his coat, wandered through the bright street, looking around at his childhood memories, as a gust of wind blew its way through the small crowd of pedestrians. Finding his way through the people, Rasmus came to a vista, its door older than most of the people around him, and pushed his way through, stealing a puff of wind which blew grit into the house behind him. The long stairwell of the place was always annoying to traverse, but Rasmus made do, pushing himself upwards, a large in hand, glancing nervously at the other apartments that littered the sides of the path. Suddenly, from one of these entrances, a figure, carrying an empty shopping bag, burst into the hallway. Blonde-haired and walking in a calm, yet surefire way, she let out a yelp when seeing Rasmus, grabbing her chest out of surprise.
"Oh, Rasmus, you scared me."
Rasmus, hiding his shock, forced a smile as he slowed his stride, trying to slip by this sudden interaction.
"Sorry, Mette", began Rasmus, forcing a laugh that transformed into another fake smile as his grip tightened around his briefcase, "didn't mean to."
"It's quite alright, dear" Mette grabbed Rasmus's arm for reassurance, to which he flinched backwards, not quite enough for Mette to notice, but enough that showed he was visibly discontent with the interaction. After an awkward beat, Rasmus began moving further through the house, finishing with a polite: "Well, a good day to you, Mette."
"Wait Rasmus, I was wondering if you wanted to come around for dinner this week, after Reinhardt moved in I feel like I don't see my neighbours much anymore."
Rasmus froze in his tracks, his face turning white, as he felt his stomach drop. However, he knew he needed to at least hold a guise of neighbourly feelings towards Mette, and thus, still turned away from her, responded with: "Yes, that would be nice, I'll let you know the date, shall I?"
"Oh, perfect, that would be brilliant."
Rasmus's apartment was on the top floor of the small building. It had a nice view facing out towards the harbour town, and it provided a nice insulation against the cold outside. It was well decorated, with various trinkets and decorations covering the walls and shelves. A picture of an elephant hung on the wall by the door, and a small Danish flag on a tiny flag pole protruded from the nearby shelf. It was also very neat, which was a rarity for apartments inhabited by people of Rasmus's age. The shoes were pushed up against the wall by the entrance. The kitchen was well laid out with no dishes in the sink. The bathroom was pristine, and the bed was neatly made up, its sheets tucked in comfortably into its frame. It was all pristine, except for the man sitting on the living room sofa, sipping a beer that was cooling on the balcony. Rasmus knocked a pattern on the door before he entered, two fast knocks followed by one short one before entering, which put the man inside at ease, as he relaxed back into the sofa.
"You took your time."
"I was careful." Rasmus quickly shut the door behind him as the man on the sofa looked up to see what he was carrying.
"Good news?"
Rasmus nodded as he placed the briefcase on the dining room table, and the man on the couch got up. Rasmus then slowly opened the case to reveal a radio. It was roughed up, and last year had clearly done a lot to it, but it worked. Rasmus handled it with great care, making sure to handle its wires with great attention and detail.
"Jesus, that thing's nice, where did a small fellow like you get that?"
Rasmus ignored the borderline insult and continued to gently fiddle with the device.
"You know how I said I had that friend in the army?" Rasmus continued before waiting for a response. " Well, he is looking for people to look after some of their devices for them, and he gave me this."
"Look at you, Rasmus, moving up in the world." The man went to clap Rasmus on the shoulder, but Rasmus stopped him, grabbing his hand before it reached its target.
"Don't call me that."
"What? Your name?"
"Yes, this is heavy stuff. Look, from here on we use code names, okay?"
"Rasmus, your name is on the door outside."
Rasmus got a tad flustered at this objective fact: "Okay, in here we use them, but outside, try not to?"
"So what do we use instead?"
"I don't know, just don't say names, or make something up, I don't know."
"That is wildly impractical", as he spoke, the man who was previously on the couch began lighting a cigarette in his mouth, drawing his attention away from Rasmus's request.
"Look, Lars, please, can we do this?"
Lars sighed, took a drag on his cigarette and looked up at Rasmus again, who was slowly moving to get onto his hands and knees in a praying-esc manner. "Okay, Rasmus, I won't use your name."
"Thank you, Lars."
Rasmus was a short, caucasian, brown haired man, wearing glasses which neatly hung off his nose. They were round, small, nerd-ish-looking glasses that complemented Rasmus's dorky complexion very well. He was typically wearing cotton jumpers, which combated the Danish cold nicely. Lars, on the other hand, was similar to Rasmus except he was larger and did not wear glasses. He wore similar clothes, however, they were more ragged and torn, and while he presented himself as strong, in truth, he was relatively weak in strength. He told others that he would always be the first to punch in a fight, but in truth, he was unwilling to engage at all.
There was then a silence that fell over the room, before Lars began gazing at the radio.
"So, who are we going to contact first?"
Rasmus was quick to retaliate at this comment: "No". He said this firmly and assertively, assuming command over the room with the singular word. "I was told I need to wait before I report anything."
"God, some resistance we are." Lars got up, still sipping on his beer with one motion and puffing his cigarette with another, and wandered towards the kitchen. Rasmus also neglected to respond to the quip, as he slowly shut the briefcase's lid.
"Where should I hide this?"
Lars responded with a huff of unknowingness as he ruffled around the drawers in the kitchen, searching for some manner to make food. Therefore, Rasmus decided to take the initiative.
"I'm putting it with your stuff, that good with you?"
"All fine" came a sing-songy response from a busy Lars.
Lars's room could not be more different to Rasmus's. It was messy, small, warm and dark, and thus made the perfect place to stash stuff that was better off unfound. Rasmus shoved the radio underneath Lars's bed, where it sat alongside various books and writing equipment. They were all communist readings, with Das Kapital and the Manifesto sitting there, half read, next to various printings of the local communist newspaper. The highlight of the collection was a small hidden pistol that Rasmus tried to ignore, and as he precisely pushed the case into its place, he was sure to shove the pistol to the side, hiding it further beneath the bed.