Reserved only for the upper tier of Blackwood’s security division—personnel who had undergone advanced training, cleared higher-level assignments, and operated above standard field teams.
On paper, they sat alongside Monroe’s command structure. In practice, they were the handpicked few assigned to the company’s most sensitive, high-profile operations.
Rarely seen. Rarely deployed. Never casually present.
Designed to disappear into a crowd—yet somehow never actually did.
Every line served a purpose: mobility, precision, silence over display.
It was meant to blend in at a glance.
It never did.
It didn’t ask for attention.
It commanded it.
An understated warning in fabric form—saying without words that the person wearing it wasn’t ordinary.
And somehow, on Damien, it fit too well.
