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Realistic or Modern London's New Organised Violent Crime Unit (semi-literate to literate only please)

Sub Genres
Action, LGTBQ Friendly, Mystery, Realistic, Slice of Life

Plod-Along Pigeon

New Member

The Metropolitan Police have to face up to the facts - organised violent crime is on the rise in London, and there is little anyone can do to stop it. Under pressure from the media and the government, the MET have put together a new team to tackle these cases - the OVCU.

The latest cases appear to be targeting London's richest, the white-collar class - but it appears there may be more to the story. Collusion between the criminals and the big businesses means trouble for the new unit, and leads us to ask who are the real victims?

Will our new team shape up to the task, or will they struggle?

More importantly, in the face of hard cash or the threat of attack (or worse), will they all stay on the straight-and-narrow?

  • All participants must be able to write at least a paragraph per response with good spelling/grammar. Please include a writing example in your reply if you're interested!

    Depending on what people want, OOC can be done here or on Discord - being active through OOC is important!

    This will have darker/mature themes, I'd rather participants be 18+ but willing to make exceptions.

A character sheet template will be made when I've got enough interest, as will other threads relating to this RP! For now, you can express an interest in playing a character and I'll add you to the character list.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read this!
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Manic potato

James put his earpiece which had a microphone embedded in it on. He heard Roselyn's tired out thought reach him in the air. He sent out a quick text on his phone.
Stay safe. Don't overdo it. Here on out I'm using the earpiece.

Thankfully Aureas made the winds quiet down so there was nothing more than a light breeze. Usually it was windy and if one didn't control the winds it would blow out anyone's ear who tried to talk to them, making communication ineffective. The horse's steps were fast and light as they kept above the clouds but peeking through the gaps in the condensation to be able to see. "Alright I need several ground teams.. I need people to spread on the outskirts of the city. I'll be looking from above in the clouds. Out of the city we have an abandoned warehouse and an abandoned factory. Check those out"
He finally noticed a figure on a bike following a wolf along with another gifted one (presumably the one that made the ice wolf) following close behind.
Found them.
Still taking on two agents was risky.

"Casper they're near your location. They're going to be near you, sans wolf. I'll do my best to cover you. Any other rebels head there."

He raised his gun and lined up the glistening animal in the cross hairs and fired. The bullet emerged quietly since he had a silencer on the muzzle and made it's way towards the wolf. It didn't connect though. In fact it hadn't even made it midway. This was because James had slowed down the bullet using the wind and he had changed his position so he wasn't in the same location from where he shot the bullet. He was on the opposite side in a different cloud. "Aureus give me some wind." The horse complied but instead of breeze picking up everywhere, James focused on the small area surrounding the bullet he had shot earlier, one he hadn't lost track up. He increased air around the piece of metal like a swirling pattern to give it spin and focused on the pushing the air behind it like faster and faster, like an arrow. It crashed into the animal with a sound like glass breaking, shattering the wolf's skull, and blowing the icey shards of its head everywhere.
If one were to look at the direction of the bullet no one would be there. All they would see is an empty sky.
Still up fairly far away from the location it was shot from, and from the agents, James sat on Aurea, and twined his fingers in her mane.

Feral Squirrel

I'm interested too, can I get a DC character spot?

Late nights and programming, probably one of the best matches of all time, seemed to be absent on this night, the first time in a long time. Thomas was no stranger to staying awake past the dead of the night and through till the first rays of day arrived, and this meant that he felt tetchy, fidgety, and unable to sit still tonight, having nothing else to do. He did something he never thought he'd do - go out and get some fresh air. He slid his laptop into a bag in case of an emergency (everything he'd need to survive was already on it) and headed out.

The buzz of the city, as well as the many artificial light sources provided by phones illuminating faces, the occasional lamppost and the interior lights of the houses led to an overall pleasant mood for Thomas, the hubbub of the streets seemed almost soothing, especially as it wasn't bright. As he walked outside, the first thing Thomas did was whip out his phone, browsing through various social media platforms and news moguls at a rapid pace. There was no real destination in mind, and the path he took was truly random since there was no real danger in getting lost thanks to GPS technology being easily accessible by all. Plenty of news on that Resistance group, huh? The government really started to crack down on shifters... luckily I'm still in the clear. Not like I could pose any threat while shifted anyway...

The common fruit fly seeks out rotten fruit as they have often fermented, leading to the production of alcohol. In laboratory settings, fruit flies always choose food with higher alcohol content than that without, leading to a very simple conclusion: they enjoy being drunk. The somewhat sweet odour grabbed Thomas's attention and pulled him away from his phone, and he was up for a night of just downing a few drinks before heading back to his room, and the building seemed nice and quiet, with only a few patrons at the pub at the moment. Upon entering, he noticed a few people, but nothing too out of the ordinary: a somewhat awkward couple, a man with a dog, a quiet girl reading some book, and an elderly man, amongst others. Everyone kept to themselves, but one man especially stood out, seeming a bit suspicious, donning a trench coat. Seems kind of suspicious, might be bad news... maybe a drug dealer? No, don't judge people based on their appearances, just ignore him and keep to yourself.

As he thought to himself, only briefly glancing at the man, he ordered from the bartender, starting the night off easy with a few light drinks, positioning himself on a stool somewhat near the man with a dog. Cute dog, he thought to himself as he sipped his drink.


ᴹᵒᵒᵈ • Apathetic
I'm in great anticipation of this roleplay! Will we be focused on keeping genders even, or just have it be realistic in the sense that it could go either way? Asking so I know what character I may want to bring in (:

Plod-Along Pigeon

New Member
I'm in great anticipation of this roleplay! Will we be focused on keeping genders even, or just have it be realistic in the sense that it could go either way? Asking so I know what character I may want to bring in (:
I've been craving to do something with detectives/police for ages and ages, so I'm pumped for this!

I'd prefer if the genders were even, but it's not a huge deal if they're not! I know that my DS is going to be male, and my DC is going to be female. Undecided about my DCI, though I'm tempted to go with a woman!


Interested, Detective Constable.

Don't stop running.

No matter how many times she repeated those words, Alicia couldn't help but feel her legs start to slow down. It didn't help she was carrying two duffel bags filled with money through the snow. As another bullet whizzed past her head, Alicia couldn't help but tear up. The heist had gone to shit and she didn't know what to do. She turned her head around to see how close her pursuers were and her speed picked up once she saw the bright reflective tape on their uniforms shining in the darkness of the forest.

"Freeze! You can't run forever!" one of the officers yelled as the other fired another bullet from his gun.

While he was most likely right, Alicia would be a fool to give up, especially with the amount of money she had on her. If she stopped running and Desmond and the others somehow made it out, she would feel stupid. Even as she thought this, she knew her mind was not as strong as her body and she would have to do the one thing she said she wouldn't before they even arrived in Texas. Alicia made a quick turn to the right, hoping the officers would lose her in the forests' foliage.

Don't stop running.

A few more bullets hit the tall trees behind her which made Alicia smile a little. While she heard the gun, the sound of the bullets hitting the bark could no longer be heard meaning she was finally leaving the officers in her dust. Alicia turned back her head once again, noticing that the officers that were once chasing her were out of sight. Hesitantly, she came to a slow stop and hid behind a thick tree, hoping to catch her breath for a few seconds. Although she knew that was probably the worst idea she could have had at the moment, she couldn't keep running anymore. Making sure both duffel bags were on her shoulders, Alicia's leaned back on the tree, reaching in her pants pockets. Pulling out a cracked phone, Alicia's heavy breathing slowed down as she scrolled through the contacts. She ignored her literal bloody hands, the possibility of more officers or soldiers looking for her, and even the fact that they might have sent dogs. All she cared about was Desmond. She clicked his name on the screen and put the device to her ear, praying that he would pick up. After several rings, she had a feeling that her boyfriend wasn't going to pick up and that only meant that he was dead or caught. Alicia lowered the phone and clicked on the name 'Demitri', hoping that he would pick up but no answer came. Alicia shook her head and pushed herself off the tree, a low grunt escaping from her lips. It was snowing much harder now, meaning that her tracks would be covered but she still had another hour of running to do.

Not even ten minutes had passed and Alicia heard the sound of boots crunching in the snow. Her whole body turned around in fear but she couldn't see anything in the darkness. The crunching sound got louder and louder as the seconds passed by and Alicia's head turned side to side trying to determine where it was coming from. Only one set of footsteps, so if she had to deal with him, she could. She quickly pulled out her Glock 43 from its holster and tightened her grip on it and she tried to determine where her predator was coming from. As the crunching started to slow down, she saw a SWAT member with a rifle in his hands and a flashlight poking out of his helmet. Alicia hid behind the nearest tree as the soldier looked down at the tracks that she had left behind. Alicia closed her eyes and kissed her gun right before side-stepping out from the tree and pulling the tree.

The first bullet ricocheted off of the soldier's helmet and before he could react, Alicia fired two more bullets, one landing in his right leg and the other in his throat. The soldier fell to the ground, his arms reaching out as if he wanted to grab Alicia and choke her to death.

"Holy shit!" Alicia screamed. She knew that the gunshots would attract attention so she took a few steps back in preparation to run but the sound of a gunshot followed by burning pain in her left shoulder made her fall to the ground, screaming in pain. When she looked up she saw several men dressed in black with rifles all pointing at her and the sound of police sirens nearing.

Then everything went black.

Plod-Along Pigeon

New Member

Looking for one more spot for now, if it gets filled and you're still interested, still reply and I'll see if I can add some spots!


Junior Member
I'd be interested in the last position!

Sai didn't realize people could be so scared. The man, standing over him, a mask on. The smell was what felt the same to him. He knew that smell, though he didn't know where from. His whole body ached. He was tired enough to start wanting to die, just for a little release. He wasn't an after-life kind of guy, but at least he could rest. And now that the killer had a gun, it was finally time.

The gun pressed to his head, and he thought he would be thankful, but instead, the terror racked up even higher. He was going to die, without a call to his mother, who he hadn't spoken to in three weeks, or seen in almost ten years. He hadn't ever sent her money for a phone with video chat capabilities. He hadn't seen her in ten years because he was cheap. He would be dead, forever now, without seeing how she looked with gray hair. He didn't know what he had to do to make this stop, but he needed to do something, because this couldn't be his life, and it also couldn't be his death.

"Please don't," he said, tears falling down from his swollen eyes and mixing with the blood crisscrossing his body. He didn't know how to make the man listen, how to make him believe him, how to convince him that he deserved to live. Sai wasn't always sure he deserved to live anyway, but damn it, he wanted to.

"Please please don't. Please don't. I'll do anything. Please don't." He realized he was just repeating the same thing, babbling, begging, but he didn't know how to stop. His accent was showing, something that happened when he was overcome with emotion, so thick most Americans might not understand it. But he thought begging for his life might have a way of bringing him back towards his birth.

There was a loud noise he felt as if he only heard the beginning of. Then, as quick as the noise came, so did the light, and he was trying to keep babbling on without being able to breathe. The killer was saying something to him, but he heard nothing over his inner refrain of please don't, please please don't. He needed to buy his mother that phone. He couldn't die without his mother having a phone with video capabilities. It was a necessity.

When he caught his breath his chest was heaving from effort. Still, he wasn't dead. The killer must've felt some sort of remorse. He opened his eyes and there was a bright light. Was this heaven? Nirvana? Abraham's bosom? He hadn't bought into any of that when he was alive, but, for now, it was enough to stop his babbling. Wherever he was, it wasn't where he had been just moments before, and his body already felt better. Like someone had healed him.

When he looked around, it didn't look how he expected the afterlife to look, or at least how any major religion told him it would. It looked familiar, but it took him a moment to place it. The morgue. And the person who had been talking, not really his killer, but Oliver, he recognized him now. He must have somehow survived, but they brought him here, thinking he was dead. He wondered what someone coming back from the dead was meant to say.

"What-- What happened?" his voice was raspy from screaming, but he was okay. He could buy his mother that phone, today. He would get it shipped next day and be talking to her on it tomorrow. If he had to find religion to get another chance, even the religion of his parents, he would do it. He was just so thankful for a bit longer to buy that phone.

Ms MistyEye

This looks interesting, if all the spaces are taken I understand but i would love to take part. My Grandad was a detective for the Met and I live in London if you need any info :)

Taylor grew increasingly uncomfortable, the room's tension nigh tangible. The dirty looks and snide comments being shot back and forth bringing the room to boil. Despite herself, Taylor couldn't help but smirk at Winnie's comment. The extended metaphor calling to the English nerd within her. The whole scene unfolding before her brought along with it a conflict. Taylor hated animosity between people, she hated it when people failed to get along. She saw very little need for such bitterness and anger to drive people apart. Yet... There was something there, something between the words spoken by individuals with elements hidden within the intricacies of the words chosen and perhaps even the words they chose not to say. The back and forth, the emotion, the desires behind each person twisting their actions in favour of their motives. Taylor knew there was a simple word to describe the ineffable sensations she pondered; a word so basic and ingrained in human nature it has formed the basis of entertainment pretty much as long as people have had time to spare being entertained.


A word that Taylor always tried her hardest to avoid, conscience of its toxicity yet upon witnessing it now, helplessly fascinated. Of course dramatic events had occurred in her life before, but rarely did they hold such irresistible charm. As her thought process came to a close Taylor made a mental vow to remain a spectator. As interesting as drama unfolding was, Taylor was certain the the emotional battery that accompanied being at its centre would break her down in mere moments.

As these machinations made their way across Taylor's mind a slight nudge brought her focus swiftly back to reality. It had been the slightest of touches but Taylor jumped slightly none the less. She looked over at Caleb, a blush rising in her cheeks as she realised it was merely to grab her attention. Hoping her over reaction went unnoticed she followed him down the hallway, her fluttering mind focusing more and more back on Caleb with each step. She wondered whether Caleb had the same love/hate relationship with drama that she was beginning to develop. As entrancing as the drama was, she was uncomfortable in its presence and perhaps it had shown visibly enough for Caleb to notice and this welcome distraction was his method of relieving her of its stresses. The thought was comforting, and she couldn't help a sly smile flit across her lips. Whilst unlikely it was nice to think Caleb was looking out for her.

The two of them arrived at the neighbouring rooms and Taylor looked up at him gratefully. As they entered the room that would be hers her face lit up at the sight of the bookshelf. Whilst humble in size, especially compared to the behemoth of a bookcase (bookcases really) she had back home, it would suit her needs perfectly. The rest of the room was beautiful, the walls painted a delicate pearl and adorned with subtle engravings of waves. A large surf board hung along the back wall completing the ocean vibes. A queen size bed sat off to the side, a dark mahogany frame accented by the pure white linen that dressed it. The hardwood floor was somewhat rough underfoot but several rugs of varying bright hues were strewn across its surface. One wall was almost entirely taken up by a sliding door which lead out into the garden, allowing streams of brilliant sunlight to filter through the thin, almost ethereal white curtains that bordered either side. Other vitals sat against the three remaining walls; a vanity table, wardrobe, several sets of drawers and a large flat-screen TV each had its home. Despite these luxuries Taylor's eyes were glued to the ceiling which was painted in various stellar blacks and greys, blended and mingled into a cosmic palette, atop of which was painted the various constellations of the night sky in an almost luminous white. Taylor's mouth fell open as she walked slowly past Caleb to the centre of the room gently twirling to take in the beauty of the stars, each meticulously hand painted. The young woman stared wide eyed at each, unable to vocalise her awe, an unnecessary endeavour as it was painted across her face as clearly as the mural itself.

30 seconds or so must have passed before Taylor's eyes left the synthetic heavens that would watch over her sleep, drifting gracefully back to Caleb. She was sure he had said something but unable for the life of her to recall what.
"I'm sorry... I love... I just... Space." She fumbled, her mind still reeling. It was then that it slowly began to settle in that this was her room, at least for the next few weeks. It was incredible, and it was hers.
"This room is perfection!" She declared, bouncing slightly with joy, far too happy to feel the sting of nervousness that had haunted her thus far. "Thank you." She gushed to Caleb, unsure of why she was thanking him but earnest non the less.

It was then that it slowly sank in that she was with Caleb alone again, though for now her joy guarded her from any nerves and fear. The two stood a couple of feet apart and the realisation caused a subtle warmth to spread through Taylor. She couldn't help but dwell on how nice Caleb had been to her in the short time she had known him and how despite his intimidating appearance, he had made her feel more at home in moments than she thought possible. This guy was definitely worth getting to know.
"I can unpack later, should we see what everyone's up to? Y'know, assuming no one's been murdered in our absence." Taylor asked, certain her joke would fall flat but any fear was immediately overridden by enthusiasm at the thought of playing a real life version of Cluedo {I think it's just called Clue to any Americans}.

Plod-Along Pigeon

New Member
@nomuseneeded Added, nice to see you here!

@Oswald_C_Cobblepot If you could PM me with some more information about this character, then I can see what I can do!

@Ms MistyEye I'll add another DC slot for you love, welcome aboard!

Thanks for your interest all. The OOC thread is here, which you'll be able to find the other threads in!

I'm happy to add another one or two slots if anyone else is interested, please just reply and let me know if there's a demand for it!

Arabella Marie

Just Here
I'm not sure which role I'd play yet, but I'm interested in this!

Lorelai just sat alone in her dim lit office. The slight pitter-patter of rain drizzling onto the dark glass window was the only indication of the outside world as she cast a sullen look at the digital clock blinking a red "18:23." She muttered a curse under her breath, knowing good and well she'd be late. Again. She stood from the chair, swiftly grabbing a black coat and draping it around her. Click. Click. Click. Click. The sound of her heels echoed off the tile floor and rung about the empty building. She let out a heated sigh and pressed the button to call the elevator. "C'mon. C'mon," she huffed, checking her watch again for the time. Her foot, seemingly with a mind of its' own, began tapping the floor, filling the air with some type of sound once more. "Ding!" The glossy elevator doors opened and the tall blonde stepped inside. Once inside and only after she pushed the ground floor button, she dug around her pockets to pull out her phone. "Fuccccccccccckkkkk," she exclaimed upon seeing the three missed calls and 2 voicemails from her significant other Aaliyah Stones. "She's gonna be pissed," Lorelai breathed with a furrowed brow. The blonde quickly shot a "I'm sorry. Be home soon!" text to her girlfriend. She stepped out of the elevator with a brisk pace, holding her jacket close to her chest. She cast a mismatched gaze up to the front desk clerk, William, who gave her a friendly smile. "Late again, are we Lore?" he spoke with a laugh. "One day, you know she's going to kill you and then who would I tease?" Lorelai's eyes rolled as she walked past the older black gentlemen. "Hopefully today isn't the day I die!" she called as she went out the revolving doors into the rainy streets of London.


I like my coffee how I like my women [REDACTED]
If you’re taking two more slots I guess I’ll take one of them, I’ll play a DC
The anticipation was building along with his concerns. But Jack felt ready and was determined to settle his score. He walked into the pub, it was clear he stood out when everyone turned to eye him and trace him as he made his way to the bar. The bartender eyed him as well as Jack sat before him. “What can I get ya?” He asked in a raspy voice.

“Where’s Whitman?” Jack asked sternly. The bartender scoffed before insulting him. “The only people who can ask me that are friends of Whitman. And last I checked, Whitman wasn’t friends with scrawny blonde twinks like yaself.”

The whole pub laughed obnoxiously before Jack grabbed him by the neck and soon everyone in the pub started to crowd around him. “I’m gonna ask you one more time to tell me where Whitman is. Or I’ll kill everyone in this room including your sorry arse.”

The bartender once again scoffed. “Go ahead little man. What’s the worse you gonna do? Poke me eye out?”

Jack did just that has he pulled out a pencil and stabbed the bartender in the eye. He screamed as he fell to the floor in agony. As the rest of the pub attendants charged him, Jack grabbed a glass from the counter and smashed it against one of them while the rest tried to subdue him. Two of them grabbed his arms and another was about to beat him with a pool cue. However Jack was able to kick the man with the cue while he roughly bit the ear of the man to his left until he let go. With his hand now free, Jack revealed a hammer he had concealed under his jacket, he grabbed it and banged the other man on the head as he let him go immediately. Jack followed with another blow to the temple and his adversary collapsed to the floor. With seven people left, Jack was about to perform a spectacle as one man charged him with a switchblade he swung his hammer at the mans wrist and then stabbed his chin with the claw. The hammer now bloody was thrown at the man who tried to attack Jack with the cue. Which kept him down for the rest of the fight.

Now he was unarmed but that wasn’t an issue. As the next man threw a punch, Jack caught him and put him in a rear naked choke only to snap the mans neck. Two more men charged him as they both threw punches which Jack easily dodged, he then responded in kind punching each of his adversaries. When one was down he grabbed one by the scalp and arm, kneeing his ribs and throwing him down while he kicked other ones head into the pool table. The last person attempted to jump on Jack with a broken bottle, causing Jack to step back while the man landed on his back. Jack stomped on his groin and kicked his head, finishing him with his own bottle stabbing him in the neck.

The room was now a bloody mess and Jack went to retrieve his hammer. He walked to the bartender as he was trying to treat his bleeding eye. “Where’s Whitman?” Jack asked one last time.

“H-He left to Newcastle an hour ago. Said it was business.”

Jack now furious and unable to contain his rage, smashed the hammer against the bartender until he was dead. He then left the pub into the pouring rain as the blood of his victims washed off him.
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