The metas working for the government are mostly identifiable by their uniforms, their crisp professionalism, a certain brusqueness to the way they bundle away the new arrivals— and right now? They're overworked, struggling to contain it all, working quicker than ever and perhaps cutting some corners. They're rougher, grabbing every arrival even if they haven't caused any trouble yet, carting them off for processing.

At the last second, one last agent hops into the armoured van carrying Jacob, pulls the doors shut behind them, and raps his knuckles against the wall to signify they're ready to go. The van starts moving. When he settles back on the bench, it turns out it's a familiar figure.

Luther. It's Luther Hargreeves, but an inverted version of him just like the Aegis tower is inverted: he's still tall with broad shoulders, but now he's lean and trim and dressed in a form-fitting uniform rather than baggy sweaters. He moves with brisk confidence, rather than trying to shrink away into the corner.

When Jacob looks at him, there's no light of recognition in those now-cold blue eyes.