Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The Pretender is the property of Steven Long Mitchell and Craig Van Sickle. All non-canon characters belong to the author. driver winxp sagem myx 7
Note: This was originally posted on another fan fiction site, before I decide which season I wanted this to be a part of, so there are discrepancies in the beginning that don’t match up quite right to the season 4. I plan on correcting this in the future, so please bare with me… Thank you.
Story occurs immediately after the episode “Risque Business” and before “Road Trip”.
Lyrics to Daddy’s Little Girl are by the Mills Brothers. Lyrics to Tourniquet are by Evanescence.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue: Haunted
“You're the treasure I cherish so sparkling and bright… You were touched by the holy and beautiful light... Like angels that sing a heavenly thing and you're daddy's little gi---“
The thunderous splintering of plastic and glass abruptly
ended the mellifluous song as the radio lay shattered on the cold tile floor,
broken by a glass paperweight. The room was deathly quiet, arctic and callous
to its captive. In time, a still rustle- skritch, scratch- was the only sound in the expansive area.
The Centre was nothing if not cryptic, filled with secrets,
lies, and dead end upon dead end. Within this hollow space encompassed by stark gray walls and a locked door was another of its enigmas. Granted this one was far more visible than most were. Typically dressed to the nines when showcased to others, he was once at the top of the chain-of-command… Sinister, vile, malevolent were just a few of the nasty adjectives used to describe him. He was known as the go-to-man, the one who got the job done, and the one who cleaned up the messes. But Time had not been kind to him, his power and rank removed from him and he was now prisoner of this room, let out only when his services were needed.
Skritch, scratch, skritch, scratch. The sound came in rhythmic waves. He heard a new song rising from the broken radio. Or was it coming from his own head? It made
no difference…he heard it anyway- the haunted, lonely melody.
”I tried to kill the pain but only brought more… I lay dying and I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal… I'm dying praying, bleeding, and screaming… Am I too lost to be saved… Am I too lost….?”
Note: This was originally posted on another fan fiction site, before I decide which season I wanted this to be a part of, so there are discrepancies in the beginning that don’t match up quite right to the season 4. I plan on correcting this in the future, so please bare with me… Thank you.
Story occurs immediately after the episode “Risque Business” and before “Road Trip”.
Lyrics to Daddy’s Little Girl are by the Mills Brothers. Lyrics to Tourniquet are by Evanescence.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue: Haunted
“You're the treasure I cherish so sparkling and bright… You were touched by the holy and beautiful light... Like angels that sing a heavenly thing and you're daddy's little gi---“
The thunderous splintering of plastic and glass abruptly
ended the mellifluous song as the radio lay shattered on the cold tile floor,
broken by a glass paperweight. The room was deathly quiet, arctic and callous
to its captive. In time, a still rustle- skritch, scratch- was the only sound in the expansive area.
The Centre was nothing if not cryptic, filled with secrets,
lies, and dead end upon dead end. Within this hollow space encompassed by stark gray walls and a locked door was another of its enigmas. Granted this one was far more visible than most were. Typically dressed to the nines when showcased to others, he was once at the top of the chain-of-command… Sinister, vile, malevolent were just a few of the nasty adjectives used to describe him. He was known as the go-to-man, the one who got the job done, and the one who cleaned up the messes. But Time had not been kind to him, his power and rank removed from him and he was now prisoner of this room, let out only when his services were needed.
Skritch, scratch, skritch, scratch. The sound came in rhythmic waves. He heard a new song rising from the broken radio. Or was it coming from his own head? It made
no difference…he heard it anyway- the haunted, lonely melody.
”I tried to kill the pain but only brought more… I lay dying and I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal… I'm dying praying, bleeding, and screaming… Am I too lost to be saved… Am I too lost….?”
