A calm breeze carried the warmth of the serotinal sun, creating a pleasant atmosphere by the docks.

The first of their number approached the newly instaurated submersible. He wore a dissilient waistcoat over a plain white shirt, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows to accommodate the heightened temperature, yet still stuffed with a chambray crevatte. A second waistcoat, made of leather, hung open at the front.

Upon his arrival, he turned to see the General approaching, his verdant hambiliment making clear his military status, his cord of office dictating his power. He wore a thick leather belt, a pipe thrust through the center. He clutched his officer’s hat, adorned with large, thick-rimmed goggles.

Not three steps behind him limped their final member, clad in a gingham waistcoat, visible beneath a leather trench. His top hat bespoke his dignity, with its brim that curved back to follow his cranium, and welders goggled resting on the front. His cane was beautiful mahogany, capped with a brass aquila.