CITIZEN DOSSIER

Hopps built his name the hard way—through clean kills, impossible escapes, and a reputation for flying like the ‘verse is a puzzle only he can see the edges of. He doesn’t posture, doesn’t preen; he just steps into a cockpit and turns danger into geometry, carving through hostile space with the calm precision of someone who’s already mapped every outcome before the first shot is fired.
Behind the mercenary veneer sits a tactician who treats every contract as doctrine refinement, sharpening instinct into something closer to art. He thrives in that narrow space where calculation meets predatory intuition, reading threats like scripture and rewriting the battlefield to suit his will. Crews don’t follow Hopps because he’s loud—they follow him because when the void starts to close in, he’s the one who flies them back out.