Ex-security, ex-dockworkers, ex-nobody special — until they welded on the plating. Breachers go through the door first, because someone has to, and the Trust's turrets only have so many bullets.
Every Mender learned medicine somewhere the Trust didn't approve of. Black-market nanotech, stolen field kits, and the kind of calm that keeps a squad breathing when the Spire shoots back.
No plating, no miracles — just the fastest way to make the Trust's numbers go down. Breakers close distance, spend cooldowns, and don't apologize for the noise.
The Trust runs on code, and code can be rewritten by whoever's holding the line when the patch goes out. Splicers hack drones mid-flight, turn turrets around, and make corporate infrastructure fight for the other side.
Everyone eats Trust Ration paste until a Quartermaster sets up a real stove. Ten plates to everyone else's one — and a fed guild fights a lot harder than a hungry one.
Know your role. Founding access opens the first three.
Claim Your Cut