Ruke “Tapper” Halvern runs the stills, the routes, and the Vipers with the same steady hand — until the bottle shakes it loose. He earned his nickname from his habit of “tapping the barrel” before every job (and sometimes during). Stitch, his half-mechanical mastiff, is fiercely loyal — it’s said the mutt’s the only one Tapper ever sobers up for. Together they enforce discipline, or what passes for it, among the gang.

A mangy hybrid of muscle, steel, and sump oil, Stitch is part loyal guard dog and part walking scrap heap. Originally a House Orlock enforcer unit, Stitch was nearly scrapped after taking a frag blast that shredded his rear legs and tore out half his chassis. Tapper found the hound dumped on a refuse barge and rebuilt him using scavenged servo parts, plating from broken loaders, and more enthusiasm than expertise.

Now Stitch moves with a stiff, metallic gait — each step accompanied by a whining grind of worn servos and a heavy clank that echoes down the corridors. Despite his limp and the patches of rust creeping across his frame, he’s all teeth and loyalty when it counts. The Vipers say he can smell Second Best a mile away and only bites those who refuse a drink.

To Tapper, he’s more than a pet — he’s proof that even the broken can be patched up and made mean again, if you’ve got the will (and the scrap) to do it.

Breaker once worked maintenance on the dome’s power grid until he started siphoning current to heat still vats. He’s the one who keeps the Vipers’ gear running - barely. His hammer hums with half-stolen charge, and when he swings it, you can smell ozone and singed flesh. He drinks because it helps him ignore the constant buzzing in his ears from too many arc surges.

Torch believes everything burns better after a drink. He loads his inferno shells like a bartender mixing cocktails - with style, swagger, and a total disregard for safety. He’s the loudest in a fight, often staggering through the smoke cackling and singing half-remembered drinking songs while the world burns around him.

Split got his name after a still explosion carved a jagged scar straight down his face. He swears it makes him lucky, though luck’s not what keeps him alive - it’s his sawn-off, Double Trouble, and a mean streak that never quite sleeps. He’s the first through a door and the last to sober up.

A high-flying daredevil with a taste for danger — and drink — Kree “Boomer” Malven lives for the rush of wind, noise, and violence. As an Orlock Wrecker, she darts through the underhive skies like a rusted comet, knives flashing and laughter echoing through the gantries. The Vipers joke that she’s powered more by Second Best fumes than fuel cells, but no one doubts her courage. She treats every descent as a dive into glory — or the grave — whichever comes first.

Slug’s a knife man through and through - quiet, twitchy, and mean. He’s the sort who drinks just enough to steady his hands before a fight. Never talks much, but if Tapper points, Slug cuts.

Half-Cut’s the youngest and drunkest of the lot - which says plenty. He’s eager to impress but can barely aim straight. The Vipers keep him around for errands and laughs; somehow, the little fool always survives firefights he’s too soused to realize he’s in.