Adjusting

Adjusting
Following the Great War, a band of veterans who cannot adjust to civilian life and hold down normal jobs decide to lead a life of crime. Even in doing so, they find they cannot escape their past. Nor will certain forces let them.
The war changed everyone who fought in it, in various ways. PTSD wasn't really recognised then, and admitting you had a problem like that was considered by some to be shameful. Yet it was undeniable, men who fought in France and North Africa came home and were unable to function in a 'normal' manner.
This is the story of those who no longer cared to try to be 'normal', of those who couldn't hold a steady job for whatever reason and decided turning to a life of crime would be more profitable, accompanied by their former comrades-in-arms.
If anyone wants to play Terry Fisher, his ideas for crimes are mostly non-violent in nature, breaking into empty houses and stealing valuables, stealing cars, etc. The most violent he's willing to get is robbing a bank, but that would have to be done without harming bystanders. That's Terry, he's up for grabs.
I'm looking for between three and five other players for this. You don't have to have perfect knowledge of the era, but please remember the obvious stuff, like circa 1918-1920, they did not have digital watches.
I'll allow one female player character, either Red Cross or an army nurse who was deployed to France in the war. Other than that, this is a guys' group.
Remember, no one likes a god-modder, and most importantly: Have fun!
Characters
1. Nicholas Weaver- Valeriya
2. Terry Fisher- Valeriya/up for grabs
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~*~*~
The train door closed with a loud slam. Nicholas Weaver, Niko to a very few, started violently in his seat. Just the train door...Just some idiot who can't close a door, he tried to reassure himself. He attempted to take a deep, steadying breath, but his throat felt too constricted. He felt as though he was going to choke. His hands were shaking too, he noticed. Angrily he gripped the armrest of his seat until the trembling stopped. Gradually, he found he could breathe normally again. He shut his eyes for a moment. I hate that. I hate it, I hate it, he thought uselessly, over and over again. He opened his eyes again to stare out the window of the traincar. Slowly the train began to move, then to pick up speed. At first he watched the scenery pass, but he found his mind turning back to Terry's offer. "If things don't work out with your family, you can always drop by my flat for a few days. I havc... an idea in the works that I could use a few people from our old outfit in." Nicholas wondered what precisely Terry had planned. Terrance Fisher, formerly Private Terrance Fisher had been the idea man of the little group he'd gathered about himself. He'd had a good education, his family had some money, but they'd disagreed on a few key issues. Going to war had been Terry's attempt to get back in their good graces. Nicholas went because it had been expected of him. When at last the train pulled into Victoria, Nicholas disembarked and set off for Terry's flat.

It was in the East End of London, in a building that looked like it had seen better days. Slightly surprised, Nicholas glanced at the paper Terry had given him. No, it appeared to be the right place. He straightened out of the slight stoop that even three years of the service hadn't managed to knock out of his habits, and opened the door of the building. It was five or six stories tall he thought, and on one of the upper levels someone was talking loudly.