Disclaimer: I am no way the owner of this wonderful franchise, but I do express that I wish I was of the genus mind who helped make it.
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Proulog: Cliches Already?
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The universe is a vast and wonderous place. That much I can say for certain. It's beautiful, it's a miracle, and it's also very dangerous. It's full of tin men, cruel Nazi-esque machines, and the adventures of a strange man who can change his face.
This man... he looked like me once. He sent me into a dark, nightmarish abyss...
And I can't say I didn't deserve it. I mean, I was probably the embodiment of evil. But it's been a long while since then. It does not acquit me of my crimes, especially with all the evidence against me. Still, it's near impossible for the authorities in my realm to catch me without outside inside assitance.
Unless I found myself back there...
The last thing Salamander saw was a clear blue Australian sky. But suddenly, with a flash of stinging pain in his head, it changed to the dank and dark scene of a prison cell.
Slowly, he sat up, his skull still aching from whatever and whoever had hit him. The sky outside had changed from a lighter to a darker color, so he must have been out for some time. He tried to raise a hand to feel his head, only to find them placed together in front of him with handcuffs. Apparently when he was arrested, the police went to precautionary measures. As he was about to get off the wooden cell bed to get a better look around to see if he could determine exactly where he had been taken, he heard voices and quickly pretended to still be out, keeping his out-of-view eye opened.
"How much longer?" a voice asked. It was familiar, as if he had heard it once before some time ago, but it sounded matureer.
"We don't quite know, Dr. Redmayne," another came. "Your wife gave him quite a good blow to the head. Perhaps we should just be lucky it was a hollow cricket bat she hit him with."
A cricket bat. Well, that was a terrible cliche.
"Well... how do you know it didn't give him bleeding in his brain?" Redmayne replied. "After this long, he could be dead."
The other man sighed, and the sound of the cell door opening followed by heavy footsteps echoed throughout the room. Just as the steps stopped and a finger barely touched where his right jugular rested under his skin, Salamander jumped up, ridding the officer of his gun and pointing it at the two men. They both raised their hands in defeat, realizing he'd trapped them.
"Really, if you're going to keep an unconscious man in handcuffs, you could at least take a further precaution in keeping them behind his back," the Mexican sneered.
"Not everyone has the cunning it takes to evade the World Zones Authority for ten long years," a third voice, this one feminine and easily recognizable, replied hauntingly. From behind, Salamander was unarmed and his arms were pulled up and over his head. The officer turned him around to see his defeater. The face had grown some years older, but it was still beautiful, and he could never forget the voice, the curly blonde hair and green eyes, and the Ferrier air of pride.
"Astrid."
"Oh good," Astrid smiled. "You're awake and fully conscious. We were waiting. Officer, please follow me with him to the interrogation room."