User:RichTee
'So, what's the story sunshine?'
Prior to the outbreak
Richie Taylor, or RichTee as in the popular biscuit is a Detective Constable in the 'Flying Squad' of London's Metropolitan Police Force.
He comes from a long line of policemen protecting London's inhabitants, right back to the Bow Street Runners.
Born in Bow, he was distracted from school and college by low level crime and misdemeanour’s, mainly rebelling against his father, DC Frank Taylor and the family history. He also spent a fair amount of time at York Hall and Repton Boxing Club.
Following more than one close brush with the law and worrying connections to several crime families through school friends his desperate family gave him an ultimatum, leave the city with his family turning their back on him, or join the force and make amends. Passing out of cadet school in the top five percent he spent three years as a beat booby in several London boroughs and Manchester.
While liking his time on the beat, he decided if he was going to make a go of his career he needed something with a higher pace. So followed two years of motorway patrol having excelled in high speed pursuit driving and four years in SO19 (now CO19) Specialist Firearms Unit.
With the retiring of his father an opening was made in the Flying Squad. With a sense of history leaning on him Richie requested to join, and was accepted attaining the rank of Detective Constable.
In his third year Richie was finding that the face of London crime was changing from his father and grandfathers day. Rumours of co-ordination amongst the now mainly foreign gangs and the new willingness to kill and intimidate law enforcement led to Richie and his father Frank doing some off the books investigating.
What they found was while many of the local crime families of old had gone quiet or simply moved away it was possible that just one could be responsible form bringing the new gangs together in cooperation. Inevitably cages were rattled. Richie faced censure and reprimand from his superiors leading to suspicions of corruption in his squad, or even higher up.
On an hot afternoon July 2005 Frank called his son saying he had a break through from an old lag just released from prison and went to meet his father at The Approach pub next to Victoria Park. The air was dry and humid as Richie walked up to the pub. Parking was always a nightmare in this part of town. The usual noise of the city was all around, traffic, distant sirens and various music from open windows too loud and yet indistinct at the same time.
Frank met his son on the street outside, he had a stride in his step and a glint in his eyes like Frank was back on the job. Franks expression slipped from his face as the high pitched revving from a fast street bike boomed up the street between the tall Victorian houses.
Suddenly stepping into the road and putting himself between his son and the path of the now coasting bike Detective Frank Taylor, retired, took both barrels as the twin booms of a sawn-off shotgun deafened those near. In vain he raised arms to ward off the attacker.
The biker hastily stopped and fumbled to reload as the air filled with screams.
Richie snapped from the horror before him, with only one thing to do, close the distance. Swiping the barrels of the now loaded shotgun with his left and throwing a fast flat right hook to the back of the helmeted biker losing his grip as his head rocked forward.
Sensing all was not going to plan the biker gripped the throttle,dumped the clutch and booted it. Richie's hands slipped on the leathers unable to find purchase. He screamed in frustration.
Turning to his stricken father he rushed to Franks side, cradling him. He pleaded to the remaining people in the thrall of shock and sudden violence to call an ambulance then looked to his father.
'Dad.....dad...talk to me dad!'
Franks eyes blinked, the blue of his eyes shining in the sun contrasting against the all glistening blood.
'The......gun.....its a..a message son......'
'What dad? Save your strength....save your...'
'No...no time...the gun....old school....find..find the armourer.....give y-you the....shooter....'
'I will, but you...'
'Listen.....Granger.....you knew his....his boy...he knows son, he.....knows!.....I sent him down..... but....protected his boy, he owed.......me.....'
Franks blooded hands closed and griped. Richie felt paper crumple.
Frank coughed, his hands loosed their grip on his sons, his bloodied chest settled, the rasping ceased and the famed bright blue of Franks eyes narrowed and diminished as he died in Richie's arms as they lay together on one of the many streets they had both patrolled.
A day later the bike was found abandoned, caked in blood. Forensics would later confirm not one, but two counts of DNA, that of Frank Taylor, and that of a known eastern European, and now suspected ex-trigger man. Price of failure runs high in these circles.
Consumed with rage and not only barred from his own squad, not trusting his chain of command and put on leave with an impending investigation, Richie was forced to take matters into his own hands. Finding old man Granger was no problem, a dog walker already had, supposedly mugged and battered. It didn't matter, it wasn't the father that he wanted.
As Richie got off the train at Brownsell Plaza Railway Station he pulled the bloodied paper from his pocket, his dads neat writing across the slip.
'Johnny G, Malton'
The apple didn't fall far from the tree after all Richie thought thinking if of his old school friend, the didn't he do well, the good job he never turned out like his dad, the one and only well to do and made it in the city businessman Johnny Granger.
He crumpled the paper, and thought of the shotgun, stolen from evidence, in his bag.
Johnny was going to get it back, two barrels at a time.
Post outbreak
12th October 2009 - I am to embark on a tour of every pub in Malton to spread the word of The Rambling Drunks, could this be the longest Pub crawl in Maltons history?
Standing down as leader of The Drunks 10/09
Appointed 'Fearless Leader' of the Rambling Drunks 02/08 - It's an honor ladies n gents, Cheers!
SUPPORTER OF THE Biertag FESTIVAL!
I can recommend McCloud's Pub for quality hospitality and beer!
|
The Rambling Drunks!!! |
| This user enjoys a good drink with The Rambling Drunks |
|
Sacred Ground Policy Supporter |
| This user or group supports the Sacred Ground Policy and acknowledges that all Cemeteries in the city of Malton are considered Revivification Points. |
 |
Uniform Barricading Policy Supporter |
| This User or Group supports the Uniform Barricading Policy by actively maintaining barricades according to local plan or UBP standard. |
 |
Proud Sponsor of Urban Dead! |
| This user or group decided to stop being a cheapskate and donated to Urban Dead. So what's your excuse? |
 |
Fine Art of Malton Supporter |
| This user or group supports the Fine Art of Malton movement & acknowledges that all museums are PK ceasefire zones, heal points, and are to be a barricading priority. |
