Discuss One Per Minute [MVL] Underground

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[center][SIZE=2][b]One Per Minute[/b][/size][/center]
[center][size=1][i]Absus non tollit usum[/i][/size][/center]

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[size=1] ?Bravo Golf, this is Golf Papa zero two, we have arrived at the Bailey residence?

[I] ?Acknowledged Golf Papa zero two.?[/I]

?House is well lit, front door is shut, with no answer. We are proceeding to enter the residence to investigate.?

[I] ?Acknowledged zero two. There were reports of intermingled screams from the residence. Proceed with caution? [/I]

Constable Stanley hooked his radio back onto the front of his bulletproof vest. Owing to a surge in gang violence in the area his sergeant pulled rank and ordered everyone to wear the extra protection. Many times in the cold winter?s wind he wished he was in his comfortable jersey or the waterproof jacket?but house calls like these made him feel exceptionally grateful for his sergeant?s foresight.

Stanley cupped his hands and called out to his partner, ?Constable Pickering!?

There was a moment of quiet and then a small female voice called out, ?what??

Stanley groaned inwardly. Constable Pickering was quite new and very much inexperienced. She seemed overly keen about everything, and easily elected in his mind the image of a bubbly receptionist more so than that of a garden-variety bobby. She bustled over to him, straightening her bowler styled hat and adjusting her hair.

?Back door is closed Constable Stanley,? she reported in an attempt at a formal authoritative tone. ?Lights are on, and the living room and kitchen are in shambles, cushions and feathers everywhere.?

?Thank you Sara,? Stanley nodded, ?you heard on the radio, come on. We?re going in.?

Constable Stanley marched up to the front door and hesitated. The Armed Response vehicles couldn?t be more than five minutes away. They could wait and let them take over and sort all of it out, putting the potential for a cock-up in someone else?s hands. He shook his head and raised a closed fist to knock, turning to nod to Pickering.

?What is it Constable Stanley??

Constable Stanley ignored her, his eyes were on the two squares of light illuminating the front lawn from the broken bedroom window. Couldn?t be?

?Constable??

It couldn?t be.

??Dave??

Constable David ?Dave? Stanley dashed down the steps and wrenched his head up to stare into the bedroom window. He swore loudly and charged up the landing, attacking the door with a heavy kick to the lock with his solid combat boots. The door gave way on the third kick, shattering the deadbolts loose and casting splinters into the narrow hallway.

Sara Pickering was beside herself. First call to a domestic dispute, her first night shift in a supposed quiet neighbourhood. It had looked violent inside, and the thought of being exposed to something like that terrified her. Now her supposedly unflappable senior partner was like a loose sail in a roaring gale. Composing herself, she charged in after her partner and followed him up the stairs.

The room was in the same mess as the rest of the house. Glass shards were still in the broken windows, glass on the floor from a hissing broken telly, scattered bed sheets?blood on the bed. It looked as though someone was tackled off the bed into the wall. The dent testified to the fact that someone it quite hard. Sara?s eyes followed the horrific trail of conflict around the room until they rested on the back of her tall partner. He had his hands up, untying some rope that was fixed to the curtain rod. She couldn?t see round him?but over the rapid beat of her racing heart, she heard the faint whimpering.

There was a thud, and Dave stepped out of the way, revealing a scratched and beaten man. The man was unconscious, but whimpering like a child caught in a horrible nightmare. Dave laid him on his back on the floor and checked his vital signs.

?Looks like an animal got to him.? Dave muttered, checking the gashes on the man?s chest. ?Not much bleeding, seems he?s going to be okay??

In a trance like state, Sara stepped forward and reached for the note that was neatly pinned to the man?s tattered shirt. Without thinking, she began to read it out loud.

[I]?London Metropolitan Police,

This is a man whom you have ignored for too long. This is one of the bottom feeders of the cesspits you call suburbs. He was a bank manager, a proud and upright leader of your so-called communities. He received awards and applause for ?what great things he has done for Greenwich, for London and for Great Britain!?

We show you now the man he truly is. An animal. He drank, he abused, he hurt and he broke his own home. The physical scars now on this residence pale in comparison to the emotional horror he dealt here in his supposed idyllic and happy household. Here he destroyed the lives of his wife and child. Every day they spent in squalor under this roof was a day in their own personal hell, and you did not liberate them. You were blind to their pain and to their anguish, your eyes were closed and you looked the other way while such atrocities were committed. You would not rescue them.

We have been watching. We have been noting your actions. . We have stood aside for too long while the laws that you agreed to uphold were crushed under the hand of ordinary men. You have failed to uphold the rights of the innocent, of the children. It seems that you need to be reminded of the laws you agreed to in 1946. It seems you need to be reminded of your duty to the life and rights of a child, here highlighted and taken from your so-called ?United Nations? [/I]

Sara?s eyes drew in the quoted UN charter, drawing in the details that had been highlighted. Sick to her heart she silently read of the abuse that had been committed against the man?s wife and son, by his own hand. The horror that the once sunny household contained spoke to her a sorrowful melody of shame, arrogance, blood and tears. A sob rose up her throat as she read out to her ashen-faced partner,

[I]?The child shall be protected against all forms of neglect, cruelty and exploitation?London Police, you have failed. We have taken this child from the violent house you allowed his Father to imprison him in. Because no child is to be without his or her mother, we have rescued her also. Your neglect and disregard for innocent life, will not stand. All will be held accountable.

He was not the first, nor will he be the last. This is just the beginning, there will be a reckoning??[/I]

Sara looked around the room, overwhelmed. This wasn?t supposed to be how the job went. This wasn?t in the job description. She joined up to protect people, to help them, not to discover that she had failed already.

She looked at the signature at the bottom of the note, squinting as she tried to decipher it. Trying to read it hurt her eyes. As she watched, the signature seemed to squirm and defy any attempt at translation. Sickened, she gave the note to her partner, and looked out the shattered window.

It had started raining again. The sound of a siren peaked as the Armed Response vehicle pulled up, basking the suddenly bleak streets in a spiral of blue and red light.[/size]

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[size=1]According to Amnesty International, in its ?It?s in our hands: stop violence against women? report, which detailed violence against women in public and in private;

[I]?I really don?t know what it was that evening that made me decide to call the police, but I always say it was the sight of cleaning up my own blood.?

Lorraine, a British woman, was regularly beaten by her partner for eight years before telling anybody. ?People have asked me why I didn?t just leave, but my partner made lots of threats to me which he always carried out. I was very, very frightened of him. So you get to the point where you live with it, it becomes a normal pattern of life, you adapt, you cope, you hide it.? [b]In the UK, emergency services receive an average of one call per minute about violence in the family[/b].?[/I][/size]

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[size=1]The initial domestic violence report, filed by Constables Stanley and Pickering, was filed and noted. The bruised and beaten man, Mr Miles Jeapes, was admitted into hospital in an unconscious state, which he was unable to be retrieved from. The entire time he was in the intensive care unit he whimpered and cried and screamed until his heart finally gave out and he passed away.

The note attached to him when he was found was treated as suspicious, but being an isolated case it wasn?t put in for particular attention.

Less than three days after the initial house invasion, several other homes were discovered, each ransacked in similar fashion. In each situation an adult was discovered unconscious with a note on or about their person with detailed and annotated information relating to their crimes.

All woke up after a brief hospital visit. Some, through suspected traumatic stress induced amnesia, claimed to not recall how they ended up being bound and imprisoned in their own homes. Police interrogations and mention of evidence found in the home of child and spouse abuse resulted in admission of guilt, but occasional defiance in the victims.

A majority of members of the police force, despite publicly condemning the actions of ?those who would take the law into their own hands,? secretly appreciated the results of their unsanctioned actions. Many child pornography and paedophilia rings had been discovered, on all levels on the social ladder.

Many cases were thrown out of court. The ?justice? that was so freely administered and dispensed by the vigilante, or possible vigilantes, often contaminated proof of guilt, or provided circumstantial evidence. The press condemned the Metropolitan Police and CID for their apparent inability to prevent these violent house invasions and to capture the vigilante or vigilantes responsible for such disregard for human rights.

The irony was not lost on some of the more intellectual media analysts.

No evidence was discovered in the invaded homes that suggested the identity of the invaders, and the signature and symbol that was associated with them still defied translation.

The London Criminal Investigation Department (CID) was given the task to discover the identity of the vigilantes and set up a special Vulnerability Unit. The unit was given the task of both hunting down the vigilantes as well as bringing those to justice that had been trussed and displayed in their own homes.

The more they investigated into the identity of the vigilantes, the less they uncovered.[/size]

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[size=1]This RPG is written from the perspective of two members of the CID Vulnerability Squad, who will be played by myself and [b]Sere Tuscumbia[/b]. As this is a closed RPG, there will be no official sign up thread, but you are freely welcome to comment in this Underground thread on the nature of One Every Minute.

I came up with OPM while studying for a Human Rights and Ethics examination, and the alarming amount of violence against women and domestic violence in the home lead to an interesting story idea. Fortunately for me, Sere was online at the time and helped me flesh out the story quite a lot and develop it into the rather dark crime story that you will see unfurling on the boards over the next few months.

Some of you used to my writing will find that this quite different from my other RPG ideas, but I feel it?s a natural progression of story depth [ie: plot that doesn?t centre on espionage ^_~], and it?s quite possibly going to be much more mature than my other work. We can only hope.

Any support or advice would be appreciated and can be directed to me via PM or this Underground Thread.[/size]

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[size=1][b]Name:[/b] Detective Inspector Randolph Slade

[b]Age:[/b] 36

[b]Sex:[/b] Male

[b]Previous Department:[/b] Homicide

[b]Life:[/b] Randolph Slade joined the Met when he was fresh faced and 19, beginning his life as a constable for the London central business district. After a few years and rank progression he showed an interest and aptitude for detective work and applied for a transfer to the Homicide Department of the London CID.

He quickly rose to the rank of Detective Inspector and became well known for his steady pace and dedicated commitment to his investigations. Amongst the regular police he was unofficially christened as ?Old Stoneface? because of his serious demeanour and prematurely aged countenance.

Randolph Slade married Julie Heibloem, a Court Receptionist, when he was 23 years of age in 1993. They had a happy marriage and two children, Joel and Samantha, two years apart. His transfer to the homicide department lead to longer and more awkward working hours, causing a wedge in his relationship with Julie. Late last year he returned home to find that locks on the house were changed and a few small personal items of his sitting on the front step.

For the past six months he has been living in a single bedroom town flat and has not been allowed to see his son, now 10, and daughter, now 8, in that entire period.[/size]

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[center][size=1] [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?t=55825]Ready? See [b]The Arena:[/b] [i]One Per Minute[/i][/URL][/size][/center]

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[Sere Tuscumbia]

[font=Times New Roman]My contribution to this little thread, haha.

[b]Name[/b]: Detective Inspector Chastity Llewellyn
[b]Age[/b]: 32
[b]Sex[/b]: Female
[b]Previous Department[/b]: Child Abuse Investigation
[b]Life[/b]: Chase Llewellyn was what you could have described as a ?troubled teen? before her induction into the Metropolitan police service at age 21. Taken from her mother at age 10 as a victim of domestic abuse, Chastity was shuffled to relatives that didn?t have the proper time or resources to take care of her. Deprived of a proper role model in life, Chase fell victim to the temptations of drugs and alcohol, becoming deeply involved in gang activities until the age of 18, when she moved in with a friend and underwent rehab at the friend?s insistence.

Coming out of rehab a changed person, Chastity joined the Met in 1995 with the intention of correcting past mistakes, and transferred to the Child Abuse division after several years of diligent work and a recommendation from her superiors.

Chase is still living with her friend, and they do volunteer work when Chase isn?t working. She has a tendency to smoke when she?s stressed, but is trying to break the habit.
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