WLKRAS

First of all, thank you all for following along, I hope it doesn't disappoint 15th of March 2023 Parole Board Office, Durham I looked at myself in the mirror. Not too bad really, considering the last thirteen years. The face was older and lined, the hair had started to do that graceful hint of grey around the temples that was slowly spreading backwards. But the eyes still showed a spark. And my old suit still fitted just fine. Benefits of a lot of free time to exercise, I guess. I was probably as fit as when I retired from playing football. I adjusted the tie one last time and turned to the guard, who had been watching my every move. “Ok, I’m ready” He nodded, opened the door and led me out of the bathroom towards the meeting room. The parole board would be waiting. My solicitor waited for me outside the room, briefcase in hand. “How are you feeling, Chris?” he asked me. “Not gonna lie, I’m nervous as hell. And I can only see this going badly. Despite what the system says, I was never a danger to the public in the first place. And I’m worried that maintaining my innocence is not going to go down too well with a group of people who want to see me show some sort of remorse for my alleged crimes” I replied. “Leave that bit to me. You just go with what we agreed” he said, flashing a toothy grin as he opened the door for me. I couldn’t help but feel he was just happy for the paycheck. The guard followed us in and took up station near the door. You know, in case I decided to make a run for freedom from a parole hearing that was hopefully going to set me free… The proceeding was mainly a rehashing of the facts of the original case. The assistant warden gave his assessment, declaring that I had been a well-behaved prisoner, despite aggression from other prisoners initially. He quoted from a report from the prison psychologist that suggested I was extremely unlikely to re-offend. Things seemed to be going in my favour until a wild-eyed man in his late thirties burst in. He was out of breath and perspiring. “Sorry!” he blurted out. “I hope I am not too late. My cab was stuck in traffic. Had to run the final half-mile”. He was holding a piece of paper full of scribblings. The lady who’d been introduced at the start of proceedings as the victim coordinator stood and showed him a seat. “Not at all, Mr Scott. Right on time, in fact. If you don’t mind, Mr Chair. Graham Scott, Evelyn’s brother would like to make a statement” The chair nodded his assent. My heart dropped. Scott cleared his throat and began. “I miss my sister. We’d drifted apart, as you do when you get older, but I still miss her. Thirteen years has done nothing to ease the ache I feel. Taken by an animal who had no regard for her or her life. He might protest his innocence, but most of us have seen, on live TV, what Chris Browne is capable of. What he can do when things don’t go his way. He snapped some young kid’s leg because he couldn’t bear getting beat. And I guess he did the same to Evelyn when she turned him away. And now I’m the only one left. My mother died not long after my sister, of a broken heart. My dad, always a worrier, succumbed to cancer after that. And now this monster wants to be set free? He’s responsible for three deaths, not just one. He should stay in a cage, where animals belong” The venom in his voice was clear for all to hear. He hated my guts. And frankly, I couldn’t even blame him. “Mr Browne. I understand you have a statement of your own” said the chair, turning to me. I nodded in return and he invited me to read it out. I drew the piece of paper from my inside pocket and unfolded it before me. I smoothed it out with the palm of my hand and cleared my throat. I hesitated and looked up at the three-man board before me. They looked at me, expectantly. I picked up the paper and scrunched it up into a ball. Then I turned to Mark Scott. “Look, I had something prepared about how I’m no longer a risk to society and whatnot and it’s all legal crap” I said, focussing myself on him. “Maybe I deserve to be locked up. I’ve brought immeasurable grief upon your family. No apology is going to change that. Or bring Evelyn back. I miss her too, but I know that’s not the same.” I took a deep breath. Steeling myself for another seven years in a box. “I know I didn’t kill her, regardless of what the law says. I’ve made mistakes in my life, more than I care to remember. And I’ve always owned up to them. I copped to everything I’ve done. And I’ve paid the price for my transgressions. On the pitch and off. I’ve taken my punishments: suspensions, fines, whatever. I didn’t kill her, but I am responsible for her death. What happened to her happened because of me. Because of my involvement with her. And for that I am sorry. If spending the rest of my life behind bars would bring her back, then I would do that. Because it wasn’t her fault. She was just trying to be a nice person to a guy with more problems than days. If I could go back and change it all, I would. But I can’t. So this is the best I’ve got.” I looked up at the ceiling. Perhaps overly dramatic given the circumstances, but it felt right. “I’m sorry”

Game info: FM 2024, England National League and up and top leagues from France, Germany, Italy, Netherlands, Scotland & Spain. The following story is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended. Please be advised that the following story may contain strong language, scenes of violence and scenes of a sexual nature, or scenes that readers may find otherwise disturbing. As such this story may contain parts that are not suitable for younger readers. If you are offended or upset by any of the contents of this story, feel free to contact me, either by commenting, sending me a PM or via email (address in profile). Finally, please drink responsibly. While it is not essential to have read the first part of The Outcast, you may find it helpful to familiarise yourself with some of the characters and happenings from the original story here This has been in the making ever since the original game died, but I've never managed to get more than a few games in on any of the previous versions of FM. But sometimes you just gotta bite the bullet and get it started. It'll take a while till we get to some actual football, so buckle in for a long haul. WLKRAS

22nd of March 2010 Old Bailey, London The courtroom was pretty packed. I sat in the dock, my barrister off to one side of me, wig and all. The prosecutor and the judge were all similarly attired in their robes and wigs. I’d have laughed if the situation wasn’t so dire. The judge was rabbitting on, reeling off the “facts” of the case, mitigating circumstances and whatnot. I’d already been found guilty by a jury. Even if they hadn’t seen THAT tackle back in the day, they would’ve known that I was a bad guy. The press had made that clear enough back in the day and again in the past few months. I was doomed from the start. “Would you stand up, please?” The magistrate looked at me sternly, his fleshy jowls wobbling as he spoke. “Chris Browne, the sentence I pass upon you is one of life imprisonment with a minimum term of thirteen years and 122 days for the murder of Evelyn Scott. From that term will be deducted the amount of time you have spent on remand, which equates to 154 days. That deduction results in a final term of twelve years and 333 days. Once you have served that term, you will be entitled to apply for parole. However, you will not be released by the parole board unless they conclude that you no longer pose a risk to the public…” I sat in disbelief. I hadn’t killed her. But I was going to prison all the same. I turned around to see Robbie Abraham smirking a grin in the front row. Behind him, Tony Keats was shaking his head sadly. Next to Tony sat Ellie Sanders, big puppy eyes wet with tears. I very much doubted I’d see any of them ever again. At the back of the public gallery, I caught a glimpse of Steve Daniels and Daniel Grocutt. Both were sporting Cheshire cat grins. “That concludes these sentencing remarks, he may go down” the judge added with a final verbal swipe. I turned back as an officer of the court approached to lead me away. I’d already done the math in my head. February 2023 would be the earliest I could apply for parole. I’d be coming up fifty that year. But I still had a life. Better than Evelyn. Someone had taken hers and I was damn sure doing to find out who. I had all the time in the world anyway. My determination wilted within the first few weeks inside HMP Frankland. I was a famous enough face to be noted by the hardened criminals in there. They were keen on some prison justice. Rapists, alleged or not, were their main targets. And while I hadn’t been convicted on that count due to ambiguous evidence, there had been enough allusions in the media to tar me with the same brush. The first year became about survival. By whatever means necessary. It wasn’t pretty. It left scars, physical and mental, deep enough that they’d never heal. If I had found the means, I would’ve tried to end it all, but considering my failed effort last time, it was probably for the best that I didn’t. It could only have gone badly. But my fight was gone. I didn’t care any more whether I lived or died. Which took the fun out of it for my fellow inmates. They quickly lost interest and set upon newer ‘fish’, leaving me to my own devices. On the plus side, I suppose prison is as good a place as any for an alcoholic. I wasn’t going to get drunk and do something stupid while locked up in a six-by-ten box with only a bed and a toilet. Cigarettes were too valuable a currency to take up smoking again and drugs had never been my thing. Time passes both slowly and quickly when you have nothing to do for yourself. After sentencing, I didn’t get many visitors. Tony Keats visited maybe a handful of times, but Durham is a long way from Essex. And he wasn’t convinced by my pleas of innocence. There was a letter, early on, from Ellie. She said she was sorry for me, but nothing more than that. Hell, she was just a kid. She had no business getting involved with me in the first place. Another drunken mistake that I couldn’t fully shake. I expected to live my days out in Frankland. Eventually, I’d be eligible for parole. Who knows, the board might even find me safe enough to release me.

Great to see you back on the horse 10-3, my own visits are into FMS are limited these days, but it's good to see a Ridgeway back in these parts.

I understand why sports would be off over the weekend, but I feel the Queen was always very much a 'the show must go on' kinda woman. So it that sense, it would be logical if it carried on.

Weirdly affected by this although it may well be related to the fact that the wife's Nana was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer a few weeks ago and given no more than a few weeks to live. The wife has gone up tonight specially not long after the news broke just to see her as she was really struggling too. Weird how grief works I guess.

Clarence House have confirmed it

He had a 20 minute breather earlier

Huw is back

Huw off the air, new guy not wearing black tie. No idea if that means anything or not. Its so weird when everything feels significant

They've had three different ones I think and they all have been in full black

Very much feels that way from the coverage. They're just filling time