Hm, maybe I'll actually keep track of what chapter I'm on the next fic...
Somewhere in Mclean, Virginia
A tired-looking man sat staring at a large map on the wall littered with pushpins. 37, to be exact. 37 robbery/demolitions, and the agency still had no idea what in the hell they were dealing with. You'd think a cyborg wouldn't be that hard to track down.
That was another problem. Though everyone in the counter-terrorism world knew who the character was, there were no files, no records, anywhere. The director himself had searched for them, but still nothing. this wasn't an issue of clearance; they just didn't exist. Probably more of that plausible deniability junk, he though to himself.
He was not having a good day. His marriage was falling apart- an occupational hazard he had been warned about, and the meeting earlier on in the day had brought nothing but bad news.
It turned out that files on this "Psycho" character did exist, and that the people holding them not only had pages of information on him, but also had an idea as to why there were two of him. These files were kept by an independent organization operated under control of one Jefferson Smith. The CIA had humiliated this agency earlier on in the year by snatching the case away from them, and now they were going to be needing this group's help. It was time to grovel. He hated groveling.
To be continued...
All right, this fic is sorta meandering along and just picking up random ideas as it goes. So, I'm going to have to split it up into two fics because I am only about halfway through with the storyline, and this is already too long.