Built for low-visibility, low-movement work — the kind of watching that happens in doorways and on broken catwalks at 03:00. The foundation is a thermal long-sleeve base in charcoal heather, heavily pilled from repeated washing in whatever water is available, the neck stretched wide and re-hemmed with a doubled strip of elastic salvaged from a Pragma Systems base layer. Over this is a structured wrap-jacket in a deep, muted rust-brown — originally a single-piece garment, now split at the left side seam and re-closed with a row of mismatched pressure snaps that allow rapid removal or ventilation adjustment. The wrap folds across the chest and ties with a wide obi-style sash in faded indigo, its ends frayed to loose threads that the wearer has stopped cutting. The sash carries two flat pockets stitched directly onto it — one holding a folded emergency mylar sheet, one with a broken-seam closure holding a small medkit. The lower half is loose trousers in near-black canvas, hem-gathered at the ankle with salvaged elastic so they don't snag on debris, the left thigh bearing a large iron-on acid-shield patch in matte gray. Footwear is a low boot in cracked synthetic suede, the toe cap reinforced with a strip of steel salvaged from a junction box cover, riveted in place with hardware-store bolts. The head covering is a wide, flat-crown wrap cap in washed linen the color of old concrete, its brim stiffened with a strip of reclaimed wire sewn into the hem. The whole palette — rust, indigo shadow, charcoal, near-black — is dark enough to disappear in Shelf shadows but not so uniform as to read as tactical.