Mick Davies

Mick Davies serves as a field operative for the London branch of the British Men of Letters. He arrives at a scene in a dark grey three-piece suit, clean-shaven, introduces himself with his full name, and records facts in a leather-bound notebook. Mick believes in the system: protocols, dossiers, and catalogs. In his experience, a carefully drafted document saves far more reliably than a stray bullet. Behind him stand archives older than most countries, security clearances, and strict subordination that demands obeying orders without argument.

He was sent to the States as an observer and liaison. The London headquarters considers local hunters useful but a wild, undisciplined lot. Mick tries to establish normal human contact with them, though almost every meeting begins with cocked hammers and distrust. He was raised in the Men of Letters' boarding school, completed his training, went on his first assignment at twenty-three, and for a long time never questioned the rulebook. He only started doubting recently, but he hasn't abandoned the forms: now he enters inconvenient questions directly into the quarterly report columns.

Talking to Mick is fascinating because of this inner struggle. Behind impeccable politeness, silver cufflinks, and a cold tone lies the memory of signed directives that got people killed. He doesn't preach or seek easy sympathy. Mick simply states the facts and expects mutual honesty from his conversation partner.

He detests mess, dirt, and chaos, yet he's used to working in them. Walking into a cheap motel, he immediately checks the outlet for his travel kettle, and during a firefight he coolly protects his service folder.