Before the world ended, locks were meant to keep people out, to separate the have-nots from the have-lots. The Latchkeys see it differently. To them, a lock is an invitation. A challenge. A confession that something is worth taking.

Born from a loose network of burglars, safecrackers, and locksmiths who survived the collapse, the Latchkeys have since become a roving force of infiltrators and thieves. What sets them apart from common looters is their craft. A good thief can take, but a great one can leave no trace. The best in the Legion can open a vault without so much as a scratch, lift supplies from under a warlord’s nose, and slip through a settlement’s defences like they were never there.

Once, Donovan was the man the rich and powerful trusted with their most precious secrets. He didn’t just build vaults he crafted fortresses of steel and silence, sealed with locks so intricate their blueprints existed only in his mind. His creations could withstand fire, war, and time itself. But when the world fell apart, Donovan didn’t cling to the old order. While his former clients suffocated in bunkers they thought unbreachable, he was already inside, cataloguing the treasures they died protecting. 

The name 'Lockjaw' came from a job gone wrong when he'd had pried open vault, unaware it was rigged with a pressure-triggered mine. The blast tore through his jaw, embedding pieces of the lock’s mechanism deep into the bone. The medics who patched him up salvaged what they could, but removing the fused steel meant certain death. And so it remained a mangled tumbler twisted into flesh. When Lockjaw speaks, it clicks like a combination lock coming undone, each word clicking into place.