A head-to-toe survival layering system built for the underground transit tunnels and acid-washed overpass corridors of the Shelf. The base is a long-sleeve compression shirt in faded charcoal, fabric pilled and stress-creased at the shoulders from years of pack-wearing, with a cracked rubber collar seal at the neck — originally designed to interface with a hazmat hood, now just a relic that keeps acid mist off the throat. Over it sits a zip-front work vest in rusted olive canvas, every pocket reinforced with mismatched industrial webbing; the chest pocket holds a melted-edge transit card and a wedge of self-repair tape. The outer shell is a hip-length anorak in stained ash-gray, the hood lined with salvaged thermal mylar that crinkles when it moves. Seams along the left shoulder have been restitched three times in different thread colors — black, then tan, now a bright industrial orange that cuts across the gray like a scar. Trousers are heavy-gauge charcoal cargo pants with knee panels cut from conveyor belt rubber, stitched flat for crawling through duct access. The right thigh pocket is stuffed; the left is patched with a strip of Tenex sealant tape over a tear that never fully healed. Boots are thick-soled black work boots resoled with layered salvage rubber, the uppers cracked and sealed with weatherstrip compound, laces replaced with braided comms wire. A salvaged neural port cap — chrome, scuffed, clearly pulled from a discarded cyberware kit — sits clipped to the vest collar as a clasp, non-functional but worn like a badge.