Grand Central Station. A bustling hub of activity. People coming and going to and from work or wherever. Among the many faces there was one waiting and watching. A new face, created by a master plastic surgeon from Korea whose work was immaculate and costly. The surgeon shared something else with the new face that watched the crowd. Mutation. The surgeon was so expensive due to her country's stance on mutants and the fact that her mutation could change your face. She could put her hands on your face and move the skin and even skull around to fit whatever prototype you paid for.

Roland knew it was money well spent. He had been hesitant to come here, to the main stage of mutant activity. He knew if he was going to be any type of real player in any games of worth though, this was the place to play. This location had a material necessity as well. His fingers slid into his coat pocket and pulled a small key out. His contacts overseas had left him this key for his arrival in America.

He made his way down the stairs and walked to the locker in question. He had waited for a distraction, in this case, a group of Eco-protesters doing a sit in near the main terminal. Something about X-rays being evil. Whatever moved security away from him. He opened the locker and found a nice cache. A paper bag containing passports, IDs and even an NY PD badge. The badge must have been a present. There was also a nice bundle of cash inside, around ten thousand dollars. More than enough to start.

He put the key inside the locker and closed it, placing the empty bag under his arm. The money was securely fitted into his money belt, with a small portion in a gold money clip in his pocket. The IDs were already in his wallets, three of them. One in his back pocket, one in his interior breast pocket with the badge, and one in his side pocket.

He made his way out of the station, inhaling the grime and grit of the city. His eyes panned the crowd. It was habit, but no one would be looking for him. It was a nice change of events. He hailed a taxi and stepped in, directing the driver to his next location. Cache number two.

Arriving at an exclusive hotel on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, Roland paid the driver and stepped out, walking towards the grand entrance and the doorman, who was rightfully kowtowing and greeting, waiting for a tip he hadn't earned. Roland breezed into the lobby and walked up to the concierge. Donning his practiced American accent-less accent and pulling one of his wallets from his pocket, he stepped up to the desk. A young woman, polished and equally practiced at hiding things greeted him with the wonderfully artificial enthusiasm that her position demanded.

" Hello. Raymond Jennings. I have a reservation and some packages." He dropped the proper identification and a crisp hundred in front of the clerk.The extra cash helped her enthusiasm become slightly more genuine. Her eyes flashed with greed, wondering if there was more to be had. Roland seemed to read her mind, adding, "There may be more for you if you could step up the pace a bit, dear."

It was more than enough to motivate the young woman. She quickly started nodding and smiling, returning Roland's ID and having the packages brought around. She wished to escort Roland personally to his suite, which suited him well. As they headed up the elevator, she made several veiled attempts at innuendo. Roland would be sure to pay her well for all of her services, he assured her. He started to wonder if the chiseled good looks that the Korean had given him really made much difference when he had money.

By the time the various crates and packages were delivered, the clerk had already brewed some coffee as Roland sat idly by watching. He paid all of the handlers well and then dismissed them. The clerk served him his coffee and stood patiently waiting for her tip. Roland eyed her and placed five hundred dollar bills on the table. She seemed to hesitate and then leaned over, picking it up, lingering long enough to give him an eyeful. "Was there anything else you wanted , Sir?", she said, a sly grin on her face. "Only what you'd like to offer, dear." Her blazer and blouse came off with practiced efficiency and speed. If only everyone was so efficient.