A middle-aged blonde man, thin and fit, with a reddish scar arcing down one cheek. He has a penchant for turtlenecks and fashionable jackets and pants and speaks without any noticeable accent.
Sea of Calm
Sean “The Shillelagh” Finnerty — former cop
The Director — Shadowy operative and Curt’s former(?) boss
Captain Christopher Rafferty — dirty cop busted by Curt during his tenure on the force
Officially, Curt Reiner came to be upon his hiring at a certain government security and intelligence agency in 1958, whereupon he did a great deal of work on behalf of the US government despite having no traceable background or childhood to speak of. In time, he left the employ of the United States—honorable discharge—and is presumed dead or missing, for his record stops there.
Unofficially, Curt grew up in late 30s/early 40s New York with an overprotective, harried mother and stories of a drunk, long-forgotten father. It was a rough, poor neighborhood, and most of Curt’s neighbors and schoolmates found themselves in more trouble than was wise. Seeing no way to distinguish himself there, Curt made his way west and cast about from odd job to odd job until he settled into the Sacramento Police Academy. The cops had been distrusted back in the old neighborhood, but Curt had always suspected they meant well enough.
Although he proved a poor marksman, Curt had a natural mind for investigation and quickly made Detective, going on to bust several drug rings around the city while working with both his fellow graduates and the “old guard” of city cops who’d been on the beat for years. When a lengthy investigation lead him right to the top of the PD, Curt stuck it out and revealed a shocking conspiracy that landed many of his fellow officers in lock-up; it looked like a fine time to get out of that line of work.
Luckily for him, that’s about when the unsigned, undated letter from Uncle Sam showed up at his doorstep offering good pay and short hours for “unspecified services.” Six months of training put Curt on the forefront of the war against Commies, Nazis-in-hiding, formative big-city gangsters, and other ne’er-do-wells, as well as quite a few more politically motivated enemies. Why, his organization even put Curt through night school while he was there! Five long years of good service ended when Curt sniffed up the wrong tree and found himself “burned” and penniless with a nasty lump on the back of his head and a one-way ticket to London in his pocket.
His talent for tracking and catching the bad guys made it all too easy to slip into London’s underworld and make a killing, and after so many years of thankless service for his country, Curt thought it reasonable to take a little for himself for awhile. And more than a little he ended up taking before a nasty scrape in Paris with Scotland Yard made him decide it might be safest to jet back to the states with a new name and an eye out for any Feds who might remember him. Maybe the West Coast would be a good place to restart his life, as it had been so long ago. . .