Dorian slips in before the door slams shut. And it is blatantly obvious that he is out of his comfort zone. He's wearing some clothes that are obviously designer. One hand grabs one of the handrails inside the armored van, another hand holds a small yet expensive looking video camera. As the van lurches to a start, he turns to one of the armed guards.

"Try to actually win if the transport gets hit. Do a good job and I'll put your face on a poster."

If the casual condescension didn't give away his allegiance, the government issued ID card clipped to his suitjacket lapel certainly does. As the guard makes a noise of acknowledgment and rolls his eyes, Dorian turns his attention to the rest of the Metas.

"Well, aren't you all a sorry looking lot. Still, the Porter never really had good taste--present company excluded, of course," he says as he gestures to himself with the hand holding the camera.