The characters of the Pretender Series belong to the original writers, plus
NBC, TNT, and whatever station takes them as the characters of the Prey
Series belong to the original writer plus ABC, The SCI FI and whatever
station showed the series or will in the future. The characters that I
invented belong to me. As no one told us in Prey what Lewis's father was
called or in the Pretender what Tom's grandparents were named or what Major
Charles's and Margaret's parents were called, I decided to make up a
history.
When I first watched the Pretender, I always thought that the Pretender,
Jarod was really a Dominant but had been prevented through medication
introduced to him as a youngster from developing his true potential. This
novel, hopes to show the connection and to give a reason why the Dominants
did not survive until now. Yes, I know this is fiction, but who knows?
Warning: Some of the material in the novel deals with content of a sexual, violent, and mature nature, people getting killed, shootings, etc. I have tried to write it as tastefully as possible, but you had better keep this away from children under that age of fourteen.
THE HERCULES PROJECT.
A Pretender and Prey Prequel
Chapter One
March 1938: The breakout had gone through as planned. All that remained between them and freedom was a Hitler Youth Camp where dozens of Germany's finest youths paraded in their beige shirt, pants, skirts, the red sashes, signs of the future Nazis.
There had been eight when they escaped, volunteers to find out if Hitler's New Germany was a threat, but now reduced to three, namely Corporal Howard Carney, from the London East End, a Cockney whose natural intelligence and ability to scrounge had saved his comrades from many a scrape. Following him was Private Daniel Ross, born in Glasgow, a munitions expert who did not make it from Private First Class because of his temper. Guarding the rear was Sergeant Henry Reichart, born near Regent Park two months after his parents, both watchmakers, emigrated from Dusseldorf, Germany. He was the most valuable for he spoke German, French, Flemish, and Walloon perfectly.
"Looks like one of those bloody nippers going this way," said Carney.
"Get down," ordered Henry. They were all dressed in civilian clothes, berets, and worn pants and shirts, the usual garb of the foreign workers. He had worked on them, getting their accents correct, giving them a few phrases to say if anyone asked their business. He knew that often the Nazis recaptured prisoners of when the ones who knew not a word of German or French let the more proficient ones do the talking. It made the Germans suspicious.
The town where supposedly they would meet the Resistance workers was right in front of them.
"I don't believe there's some Krauts who hate Hitler," said Ross. "I wouldn't trust them."
Reichart gave the order to move ahead. "Try not to speak unless you can make an excuse of being from the North of Germany. Seems this French girl married this German soldier who has a Jewish sister-in-law. He's been handing the Resistance certain information about train schedules, and has already got some Jewish children hidden in the convent schools."
"So what if we run into him?"
"He'll have to arrest us and take us back to camps. He can't risk what he's doing. So yes, there are quite a few Germans who are not afraid of Hitler."
"What's going to happen to the girl? I hear they're bad on collaborators."
"The word went through the Resistance that her husband's sympathetic to their cause. They consider him a traitor to the Fuhrer. If we win the war that I'm sure will happen within the next year or so, he'll point out those he knows are responsible, mainly minor officials."
They were now entering the town, keeping close to the walls and the shadows and avoiding the square. A large Nazi flag flew on the post over the usual German flag. The escapees kept their heads down, trying to appear suitably subdued. For a time, they started on seeing the Swastika plastered on a wall and a post of an idealized German soldier with a blonde German woman and two children looking up to him. The message, the Sergeant translated, was 'Your Fuhrer looks after you!'
"Sssh!" said Carney as he heard young footsteps coming closer.
They were between the ages of twelve and sixteen. The two older were rapt in conversation.
"Ich habe gesehen, daß Liza heute und Plan sie aus zur Versammlung nimmt."
"Mich selbst bevorzuge, ich Helga. Sie ist sehr ein athelete."
"So lang wie kann ein Mädchen kochen, bin dann ich befriedigt."
Carney went over to Reichart. "'ere can't understand what they're babbling about. Maybe 'about their bloody uniforms!"
"The tall one's going with a girl called Liza to the assembly. It seems she's a good cook and the other one's dating this Helga who probably looks like a muscled baboon."
"And I thought it was something we could use like when Hitler plans his next invasion!" snapped Ross.
The four Nazi youths who had passed them without taking another glance, suddenly stopped their stride. The taller one whispering to his comrades. They now walked over with a determined stride.
For a few moments, the three escapees hid in the crowd coming from work, and then there were out in the open, but for a few moments. So far the Hitler youth were busy talking to another foreign working, demanding to see his pass, asking if he was a Jew, or Gypsy, threatening to turn him over to the Gestapo.
This gave Carney, Ross, and Reichart just enough time to slip into a building. They closed the door to the outside, and started to look around. The place seemed abandoned, a musty smell permeating their nostrils. A scrawny cat fled past them, and the dust seemed to arise as the three walked through the hallway.
"I'll see what's behind," said Reichart opening a wooden door. Carefully, he turned the handle, hoping to hear the creak of non-use. The door swung open, leading to a flight of stairs. "Looks like someone's been here recently. Come on!"
"Up there?" asked Ross. "Look I intended to go back to Scotland and join my outfit, not to do any sight seeing! I had enough of this war!"
"And so have we," snapped Reichart.
"Aiiee!!" The screech came from above.
"What the bloody hell's going on?" demanded Carney, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Someone's in trouble." He tried to push forward, but Reichart stopped him.
"I'll go first. I'm German. Remember our cover just in case we're questioned? I'm visiting my sister and you're both Frenchmen recruited by the Mueller Winery. .
The screams grew more intense, accompanied by what sounded like cat meowings, but Carney, who came from a large family, the meowings reminded him of something. He opened the first door, seeing a man in his forties, heavy set, bulbous nose, and red hair, the type that the old German masters had painted. They were slapping him around, two men in the typical black uniforms of the SS, both blonde haired and blue eyed Aryans.
He motioned to the sergeant who translated. "His daughter works for the Resistance. Poor guy is loyal to the Fuhrer, but that won't do him no good."
They could hear the man's protest through his bloodied mouth. "Nein nein! Heil Hitler!" and the first SS man demanding where the Resistance camp was.
Ross sniffed. "Perfume." He had four sisters. "There's women here."
Sure enough when Reichart peered into the room, he could see two girls, about nineteen and twenty and in such good physical specimens, they looked like duplicate Brunhildas of Siegfried fame. The SS men said they needed a rest and then turned the questioning over to the two girls who were not gentle. Slaps increased to blows, blows to punches, as the two females worked on the man's face, now a bloody pulp, but still he did not confess.
The British soldiers could not do anything, or they would risk the lives of others. Crossing himself and saying Hail Mary, Reichart stepped away from the door. "We can't do much for him anymore. He's almost dead."
There was another door slightly ajar, a door from which the caterwauling came from. Carney was the first to enter it. He took one look at the noise makers and whispered, "Will you look at that, blokes, it's fill of infants!"
Sure enough, in the room, dozens of cribs sat side by side, all filled with tiny babies, pink and white faces, all dressed in diapers and shirts, only a pink or blue tag in front of the crib determining their sex.
"It's a nursery!" He was just about to examine them further, when Ross gave him the sign.
Quickly Carney hid with the others behind several boxes. The woman who entered was one of the Aryan bitches who had tortured the red haired man. She came over to one of the infants, picked him up, nursed him, and in a motherly tone, said, "ooh mein kinder!" Holding him in her arms, she sang a German lullaby and when the child was asleep, laid him gently back in his crib.
Then she went back to the torture.
The soldiers started to rise, but then a nurse entered the room. She checked their diapers, changed those that needed changing, and then went back outside. It must have already been feeding time or those two German mothers would be back inside and that poor man, saved although no one had much sympathy for him.
On the table was an old school scribbler. Carney thumbed through it, but could not make any sense of the notations. "Looks like an old mathemetician's book. Sergeant."
erny Henry took it, reading silently, and then aloud. "Infant Three, born April. Mother, Helga Von Dern. Mother, Hans Werner. Looks like he's a lieutenant in the SS. Here's another list. Terminations. Reasons unfit." He then showed it to his friends. "This is a list of all successive pregnancies starting from 1928, ten years before and by the looks of it, these Nazis have been breeding some regular little Aryans."
"Like those blokes out in the Hitler youth camp," said Howard.
"Right Carney. I could beat them any time." Daniel Ross was spoiling for a fight.
"Did you see what happened to Mike when he stumbled on them? They tore him to pieces. They chased him down." The Sergeant hid the scribbler in his jacket. "I think the War Office'll want to see this." And they departed down the stairs and out the door just as quietly as they came, right into a man who pointed a lugar at them.
"Vote es dis Allied sausage makers?" he spoke in a mixture of bad German and atrocious English.
"Nein, we're foreign workers. We're looking for the Mueller Winery," said Reichart raising his hands.
With that, five other men came from the shadows.
"You have to follow us," said the first man in German accented English.
.
Warning: Some of the material in the novel deals with content of a sexual, violent, and mature nature, people getting killed, shootings, etc. I have tried to write it as tastefully as possible, but you had better keep this away from children under that age of fourteen.
THE HERCULES PROJECT.
A Pretender and Prey Prequel
Chapter One
March 1938: The breakout had gone through as planned. All that remained between them and freedom was a Hitler Youth Camp where dozens of Germany's finest youths paraded in their beige shirt, pants, skirts, the red sashes, signs of the future Nazis.
There had been eight when they escaped, volunteers to find out if Hitler's New Germany was a threat, but now reduced to three, namely Corporal Howard Carney, from the London East End, a Cockney whose natural intelligence and ability to scrounge had saved his comrades from many a scrape. Following him was Private Daniel Ross, born in Glasgow, a munitions expert who did not make it from Private First Class because of his temper. Guarding the rear was Sergeant Henry Reichart, born near Regent Park two months after his parents, both watchmakers, emigrated from Dusseldorf, Germany. He was the most valuable for he spoke German, French, Flemish, and Walloon perfectly.
"Looks like one of those bloody nippers going this way," said Carney.
"Get down," ordered Henry. They were all dressed in civilian clothes, berets, and worn pants and shirts, the usual garb of the foreign workers. He had worked on them, getting their accents correct, giving them a few phrases to say if anyone asked their business. He knew that often the Nazis recaptured prisoners of when the ones who knew not a word of German or French let the more proficient ones do the talking. It made the Germans suspicious.
The town where supposedly they would meet the Resistance workers was right in front of them.
"I don't believe there's some Krauts who hate Hitler," said Ross. "I wouldn't trust them."
Reichart gave the order to move ahead. "Try not to speak unless you can make an excuse of being from the North of Germany. Seems this French girl married this German soldier who has a Jewish sister-in-law. He's been handing the Resistance certain information about train schedules, and has already got some Jewish children hidden in the convent schools."
"So what if we run into him?"
"He'll have to arrest us and take us back to camps. He can't risk what he's doing. So yes, there are quite a few Germans who are not afraid of Hitler."
"What's going to happen to the girl? I hear they're bad on collaborators."
"The word went through the Resistance that her husband's sympathetic to their cause. They consider him a traitor to the Fuhrer. If we win the war that I'm sure will happen within the next year or so, he'll point out those he knows are responsible, mainly minor officials."
They were now entering the town, keeping close to the walls and the shadows and avoiding the square. A large Nazi flag flew on the post over the usual German flag. The escapees kept their heads down, trying to appear suitably subdued. For a time, they started on seeing the Swastika plastered on a wall and a post of an idealized German soldier with a blonde German woman and two children looking up to him. The message, the Sergeant translated, was 'Your Fuhrer looks after you!'
"Sssh!" said Carney as he heard young footsteps coming closer.
They were between the ages of twelve and sixteen. The two older were rapt in conversation.
"Ich habe gesehen, daß Liza heute und Plan sie aus zur Versammlung nimmt."
"Mich selbst bevorzuge, ich Helga. Sie ist sehr ein athelete."
"So lang wie kann ein Mädchen kochen, bin dann ich befriedigt."
Carney went over to Reichart. "'ere can't understand what they're babbling about. Maybe 'about their bloody uniforms!"
"The tall one's going with a girl called Liza to the assembly. It seems she's a good cook and the other one's dating this Helga who probably looks like a muscled baboon."
"And I thought it was something we could use like when Hitler plans his next invasion!" snapped Ross.
The four Nazi youths who had passed them without taking another glance, suddenly stopped their stride. The taller one whispering to his comrades. They now walked over with a determined stride.
For a few moments, the three escapees hid in the crowd coming from work, and then there were out in the open, but for a few moments. So far the Hitler youth were busy talking to another foreign working, demanding to see his pass, asking if he was a Jew, or Gypsy, threatening to turn him over to the Gestapo.
This gave Carney, Ross, and Reichart just enough time to slip into a building. They closed the door to the outside, and started to look around. The place seemed abandoned, a musty smell permeating their nostrils. A scrawny cat fled past them, and the dust seemed to arise as the three walked through the hallway.
"I'll see what's behind," said Reichart opening a wooden door. Carefully, he turned the handle, hoping to hear the creak of non-use. The door swung open, leading to a flight of stairs. "Looks like someone's been here recently. Come on!"
"Up there?" asked Ross. "Look I intended to go back to Scotland and join my outfit, not to do any sight seeing! I had enough of this war!"
"And so have we," snapped Reichart.
"Aiiee!!" The screech came from above.
"What the bloody hell's going on?" demanded Carney, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Someone's in trouble." He tried to push forward, but Reichart stopped him.
"I'll go first. I'm German. Remember our cover just in case we're questioned? I'm visiting my sister and you're both Frenchmen recruited by the Mueller Winery. .
The screams grew more intense, accompanied by what sounded like cat meowings, but Carney, who came from a large family, the meowings reminded him of something. He opened the first door, seeing a man in his forties, heavy set, bulbous nose, and red hair, the type that the old German masters had painted. They were slapping him around, two men in the typical black uniforms of the SS, both blonde haired and blue eyed Aryans.
He motioned to the sergeant who translated. "His daughter works for the Resistance. Poor guy is loyal to the Fuhrer, but that won't do him no good."
They could hear the man's protest through his bloodied mouth. "Nein nein! Heil Hitler!" and the first SS man demanding where the Resistance camp was.
Ross sniffed. "Perfume." He had four sisters. "There's women here."
Sure enough when Reichart peered into the room, he could see two girls, about nineteen and twenty and in such good physical specimens, they looked like duplicate Brunhildas of Siegfried fame. The SS men said they needed a rest and then turned the questioning over to the two girls who were not gentle. Slaps increased to blows, blows to punches, as the two females worked on the man's face, now a bloody pulp, but still he did not confess.
The British soldiers could not do anything, or they would risk the lives of others. Crossing himself and saying Hail Mary, Reichart stepped away from the door. "We can't do much for him anymore. He's almost dead."
There was another door slightly ajar, a door from which the caterwauling came from. Carney was the first to enter it. He took one look at the noise makers and whispered, "Will you look at that, blokes, it's fill of infants!"
Sure enough, in the room, dozens of cribs sat side by side, all filled with tiny babies, pink and white faces, all dressed in diapers and shirts, only a pink or blue tag in front of the crib determining their sex.
"It's a nursery!" He was just about to examine them further, when Ross gave him the sign.
Quickly Carney hid with the others behind several boxes. The woman who entered was one of the Aryan bitches who had tortured the red haired man. She came over to one of the infants, picked him up, nursed him, and in a motherly tone, said, "ooh mein kinder!" Holding him in her arms, she sang a German lullaby and when the child was asleep, laid him gently back in his crib.
Then she went back to the torture.
The soldiers started to rise, but then a nurse entered the room. She checked their diapers, changed those that needed changing, and then went back outside. It must have already been feeding time or those two German mothers would be back inside and that poor man, saved although no one had much sympathy for him.
On the table was an old school scribbler. Carney thumbed through it, but could not make any sense of the notations. "Looks like an old mathemetician's book. Sergeant."
erny Henry took it, reading silently, and then aloud. "Infant Three, born April. Mother, Helga Von Dern. Mother, Hans Werner. Looks like he's a lieutenant in the SS. Here's another list. Terminations. Reasons unfit." He then showed it to his friends. "This is a list of all successive pregnancies starting from 1928, ten years before and by the looks of it, these Nazis have been breeding some regular little Aryans."
"Like those blokes out in the Hitler youth camp," said Howard.
"Right Carney. I could beat them any time." Daniel Ross was spoiling for a fight.
"Did you see what happened to Mike when he stumbled on them? They tore him to pieces. They chased him down." The Sergeant hid the scribbler in his jacket. "I think the War Office'll want to see this." And they departed down the stairs and out the door just as quietly as they came, right into a man who pointed a lugar at them.
"Vote es dis Allied sausage makers?" he spoke in a mixture of bad German and atrocious English.
"Nein, we're foreign workers. We're looking for the Mueller Winery," said Reichart raising his hands.
With that, five other men came from the shadows.
"You have to follow us," said the first man in German accented English.
.