Maxine worked fast. The unconscious iNFiNiTY Pawn wouldn't be awake anytime soon -- their mindhack virus put him fast to sleep for the next five or so hours. No, they worried more about the troopers looking for him. They slid into the slick material of the soldier's undersuit. iNFiNiTY might've been an omnicorporation but they supplied comfortable ZTP suits for their agents. They were truly one-size fits all variants, built with memory fabric that readjusted based on the wearer's particular body type. Only the extremes of the spectrum presented difficulty for ZTP suits, and Maxine's figure fit perfectly into the gear. They snapped the chest harness on, fitting well with their chest binder. With the mask flipped down, Maxine might just fit in with the rest of these corporate stooges.
They slid the hood and the face-covering mask piece over their head, flattening their hair and adjusting the headset -- they'd become accustomed to the way these corporate drones talked, and immediately responded to the supervisor. "Sentry Number Five-Six-Seven, reporting." They slipped into a helpful masculine cadence, to which the supervisor ignored. iNFiNiTY were about covering their asses. Not thorough investigation.
Maxine pulled down their face shield, straightened their shoulders, and walked like they'd shoved a broom up their butt. They'd be out of the iNFiNiTY offices in no time and up one fresh Pawn uniform for future infiltrations. Sometimes stealing stuff was its own little reward.
