She is a killer, Amelia. Virtually anyway.

The community worker spends parts of her evenings and weekends fighting Call of Duty: Black Ops. And sometimes talking as she does so to boys who some fear will grow in to men of violence.

“I really quite like it and I am pretty good,” she says of her gaming, with a giggle that is somehow both proud and self-mocking. “I wanted to join the army so this is next best thing.”

But it is who Amelia has been playing with matters, not how well she plays. Because she and her colleagues are on the frontline of one of Scotland’s most effective battles against serious organised crime: stopping gangs getting new soldiers.

How? By befriending, caring for and supporting children and teenagers referred to their service as being “on the cusp” of becoming caught up in things like drug-dealing, money-laundering and racketeering.

More, by providing a consistent, loving presence in the lives of young people, mostly boys, for whom this can be simply lacking.

It works. A new independent study has found that 120 of the 144 people who took part in the project over the last three years had significantly reduced offending or where not getting in to trouble at all.

The scheme, called Serious Organised Crime Early Intervention Service and managed by the charity Action for Children, began in Glasgow in 2012 and has recently been rolled out to Edinburgh, Cardiff and Newcastle and is about to start in Dundee.

Amelia and her team-mate Claire have invented names to conceal their identities for this article. They have to be anonymous. Their work, after all, is almost undercover; it is certainly is low-key. They provide one-to-one support to youngsters many people will have written off as lost to violence and crime.

Crucially, although this scheme was set up by the Scottish Government and law enforcement Amelia and Claire are not the police.

“These are young people at risk of being criminally exploited so we do community work with them and their families to divert them away from that, with all aspects of their lives, breaking down barriers,” says Claire, who like Amelia, rarely stops smiling and exudes positivity.

We start with getting them ID, open a bank account, education training, diversionary activities and some group work, which addresses consequential thinking, alcohol and drug misuse, suicide awareness.

“We are not social workers, counsellors, addiction workers or mental health workers. But we network in to all.

“We have a wee tap in to anything and everything.”

The scheme also provides peer mentoring. Young adults who have had brushes with law. The message, for young men who have little prospect and hope, little confidence: there are alternatives to being a gangland enforcer, thief or drug dealer. Even - and this is a tricky bit - if that is your family business.

Amelia praises peer mentors. It helps to know where these youngsters are coming from. “Myself, I have care experience,” she explains. “We can empathise with the young people. We can put ourselves in their shoes. They realise we are not ‘authority’. We are not the police. We are here to provide them with a bit of guidance and support. They respond really well to that.

“They can see you have been there and done it and come out the other end with a successful life. It gives them that bit of hope that they can do the same.

“We are trying to build relationships. We are not the police and we not social worker. We care about them.”

Caring does not mean not challenging.

Amelia, Clare and their colleagues are used to setbacks. The boys - and girls, 7% on the scheme have been female - can relapse, get in to trouble. But they do not give up.

“We try to be positive,” Clare says, explaining how one-on-one and group sessions talk through incidents, building empathy. “It’s about sharing these experiences. How do you think that person feels now?.How do you feel now. Being firm but fair.”

How does she keep her own spirits up? "The young people help us,” she says. “We have to be positive about the job and the young people you are working with and not let things dishearten you. It is keeping up that persistence. We can’t help them financially or take them off drugs or take them out of the area but we can try and help in other ways.”

Amelia admits the work is not easy. They come to us and we have great contact with them,” she says of the young people. “Then go back to their reality, to being in care, to anti-social peer groups or drug use. Sometimes you are doing all this good positive work with them. But sometimes you are going round in circles because of what they are going back to. It is very sad really.”

The worker knows some people will recoil from the people she cares for. Because of the things they have done. “I know this might sound difficult for some people,” she says. But they are human, after all. They have just not had a great start in life and they need that chance. People can change.”

Researchers assessing the scheme have told the stories of some of its participants, including their setbacks.

One was Kevin. Or at least that is his pseudonym. He was referred to the scheme as being at risk of getting involved in Glasgow’s gangland. He was 13, drinking, joyriding and vandalising.

“Most of his influences at home and in the community were pro-criminal, with criminal or risky activities embedded into day to day life,” researchers said. He only engaged with workers who spoke his Glasgow Scots dialect and had the same background. “They can talk to you the same way your uncle on the scheme would, it’s the same manner and lingo, but it’s a different message,” he told researchers. “I felt like they actually wanted me to succeed, not for their benefit, but for me.”

Lewis had only left his scheme once, to visit his sister in England. He said drug dealing and violence were normalised among friends and family. What would have happened to him without the scheme? “Either I would have stabbed somebody, been stabbed or been in jail,” he said. Lewis had his setbacks. He ended up homeless. Now he’s 21 and living with a girlfriend and a child. And he has a job. He’s a peer mentor in the scheme. “They changed my life just by a few simple words. I know I can do that for someone else, I just want to give a wee bit back.”

The pandemic has brought extra challenges. Clare was left organising food bank deliveries for her charges.

Asked if she was like an aunt to the boys, she replies with her big beaming face: “Yes, sometimes the boys won’t go out for a wee walk with me cos it would be like hanging about with their mum.”

Such face-to-face meetings were hard during Covid. That is when Amelia and others came up with the idea of of putting on headsets and chatting to the boys during Call of Duty.

“When you are on the game you are just talking about the game but you have a party. That is just me and the young person. We have our chats. I check in.” The scheme’s workers are still doing this. Still fighting. Never giving up.