*This is SHORT, but I wanted the first part to really just be a teaser. *g* Mean, I know, but it'll hopefully wet your appetite for more.

Disclaimer: I don't own "The Pretender" or any of its characters. Thanx for not suing! ~Oriana

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"The purpose of bringing you here was to guarantee better training," a man with graying hair was saying, leading the way down an otherwise empty hallway. "You already know that, of course. I trust you were previously prepared for the change in training techniques. This won't be like the last place you were taught; every angle of your person will be tested--your mind, your strength, your abilities. If you can survive here, you can survive anywhere--and that's exactly the point." He stopped, turned around, and looked down. "Do you understand?"

A girl of eight looked up at him steadily. "Yes." She said nothing more, and the man found himself very quickly growing uneasy under her unflinching gaze. Her dark eyes seemed to pierce right through to the center of his mind. With a small cough, he turned and began walking once again, pretending that nothing was wrong.

They were right about this one, he thought as he stopped in front of a large metal door and held it open for her to walk through. Inside, she looked about the large room, everything new, comfortable looking, and in the same shade of white. One spare second to take in every detail in an expert manner. "There's more furniture here," she observed unemotionally, then turned to face him. "Why?"

"This is more long term," he explained, having to purposely keep himself from rushing through the explanation. He felt as if he were under interrogation. "We thought a few extra things -some chairs, a sofa, that sort of thing- would make things more comfortable for you."

"Leave the bed, the sofa, the desk, and one chair. Get rid of the rest."

"Of course." He walked to the metal and glass coffee table in front of the sofa, and picked up a mahogany box. Standing in front of her, he opened it and allowed her to see inside.

She took a casual glance, then looked up at him. "My first toy?" she asked with a small humorless smile, as if it were a joke. A chill ran down his spine at the emotionless smile, and her reference to what the box contained as a "toy." She was looking at him again, as if studying every detail of him, in that unnerving style, no trace of the smile left.

She place a hand in the box, withdrew it holding a sleek new gun. A little smaller than a common gun, in accordance with her young hand, but it fit perfectly in her palm, and her fingers wrapped around it in a way too perfect, too familiar, for any normal child clutching a deadly weapon. No fright or confusion written on her face, not even interest.

And he wasn't sad, or angry, or emotional either, watching her place the gun on the table and walking directly to the desk that held a computer, already on and patiently awaiting instructions. There was only one thought going through the man's head.

Raines had taught her well.

Part 2