Robert Reznov is a Englishman with deceiving intentions. A conman, killer, thief and part time bounty hunter. He fights alone like a lone wolf since the age of 11. But he more commonly known as the Red Wolf Outlaw. Though he has a heart of gold and...
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The slums was a mess, always was. But it was always a home for John Richardson. He was a young man born on the streets and he'll sure as shit will die on them. No matter what he had he would've survived it all. He was a poor man with little resolve left within him. His father was a drunk who wouldn't even be around for any of his childhood and only cared about his drinking or whatever he did at night. His mother was a factory worker who died of cholera when he was just 7 and his dad just drank himself to death not long after. Since then he was an orphan. A nearby orphanage didn't take him in. Claimed they didn't have enough food to feed another mouth.
But he had people around him growing up. Other people on the slums helping him out. His old mentor Fagin for example, an older harbour man would always tell him to work strong and he'd "earn his silver in a minute". Thanks to him he'd got himself a job at the docks working as a dock man transporting crates or barrels of goods.
Helping dropping off goods and trade from the British empire or other foreign countries or empires. Each delivery to the port meant big business for Liverpool. Every day he would go around the harbour listen to Fagin or any other manager and do the hard work, then eat, then work, return home to drink and sleep and the cycle continues. It was same as usual clockwork.
This day was no different. Or was it?
One of the newest ships to have entered port was the "SS Govan". It had just arrived and it was busting with many goods and cargo aboard. John just sighed in frustration but nevertheless he got on with it. Assisting in the cargo offloading to the dockside. Fagin the old goat of a man checked the list on his board before calling out to his faithful employee.
"Hey Richardson! Check that crate there, should be bottled vodka in there! And don't drink it! It's what killed your father!"
"Sure you old bag" John grumbled.
"I heard that!"
John did as he told and walked over to the large crate. Seeing as it had just came from St Petersburg, John was intrigued to see how vodka was gonna be sold to the public in England. It was heard to be very strong spirit that could knock a man out with a couple of shots. He was intrigued by the vodka but he knew better than to steal it from the harbour. Grabbing his crowbar he then ploughed it into the wooden crate. The lid creaked and groaned but the young man soon lifted the lid off the crate and it rolled itself onto the floor.
He looked in with his eyes surveying the bottles. None of them had cracked and so none had been damaged. Seeing this he'd pulled out his notebook writing down the date and ticking the boxes on the paper ensuring everything was in order.
"Hey Richardson!" Called out Fagin again.
"What Fagin? I'm sorting this out already!"
"Don't care no more. You do that and check that lifeboat on Portside . Simon said it looked off. Take a look would ya?!"
