The room Sector Zero had given him was narrow, clean, and bright in the way only bunker rooms could be, all white walls, steel fixtures, and a mirror so spotless it felt accusatory.
Jagger stood in front of it wearing the black bodysuit and forgot, for a moment, to blink.
It covered him from neck to hands to feet in a seamless layer of skintight black material that looked matte in some angles and faintly liquid in others. It clung to every line of his body without bunching or wrinkling, thin enough to feel like a second skin and dense enough that he could sense the engineering in it every time he moved.
He lifted one arm and turned it slowly beneath the light, mesmerized.
"Military personnel actually wear things like this," he murmured. "I thought it was all just brochures, old ads, and bullshit recruitment propaganda."
