A/N: So, this is my first ever fan fiction I have written so...Criticize like mad! No, don't do that but I would like it if you people would give me some constructive criticism. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Why on earth would you think that I own Treasure Planet? It says quite clearly on the DVD case that it is property of Disney!

Prologue

The central library in the capital city of Resport on the planet Genesis was the third oldest library with the largest collection of books in the galaxy. The books had been collected, bought, and donated for over five-hundred years. Those that cherished books and had a passion for knowledge came from all over to study and read up on the texts that this great building had to offer. Those that worked there had a certain pride about the place and its contents. They cared for each of the books as if they were a member of their own family. If anyone dared mistreat a book that said person would be fined heavily and if the book was totally destroyed that person would either be asked to replace the book and pay a fine or pay the equivalent in cash.

Mr. Herbert J. Spyro was one such person. Being the head librarian of the Resport Library had given Spyro a bookish appearance and a wise atmosphere. Herbert J. Spyro was old. There was no mistaking it. His small glasses sagged down his long pointed nose and his large, batty ears drooped low on the sides of his face. His back hunched more than it used to during his days as a young man and his clawed fingers grew long and bony. His neck curved at an odd angle not seen on many younger Hulspa like himself and when he walked, he limped using an old wooden cane for support.

Though, despite his old and haggard appearance, Spyro had a habit of drawing children to him. As a young lad, Spyro had loved learning new things and it was that need to know that lead him to travel the galaxy to learn in a practical way. The children loved to hear him tell stories of his misadventures he had during his travels and Spyro loved to tell them. Remembering his past and the good times he had with all the interesting people he met was what kept him going through his not so hectic life as the librarian.

Yet, on this night, Spyro was not recounting an epic tale of how he had narrowly escaped the clutches of a mother Barthador when he was caught studying its eggs to the children who loved to hear him. In fact, at this time, Spyro was closing down the Library and locking up for the night. It was late, no later than 11:30 P.M. and the old man was looking forward to a nice quiet evening at home on his favorite chair, close to the fireplace and holding a nice, warm cup of purp juice.

The old librarian made his rounds through the library, checking each door to make sure if they were locked and looking in the drop-off box to make sure that all the returned books were neatly tucked away on their respective shelves. Walking through the seemingly endless rows of bookshelves, Spyro made sure there were no books left on the floor or plopped in piles instead of neatly placed back on the shelves. Satisfied that, for once, all the books were treated properly, Spyro began to hobble his way towards the large front doors, ears flapping against his head as he did so.

He didn't make it half way across the large entrance hall before a loud banging erupted from the outside of the doors. Spyro limped forward a little faster to see to the final costumer before locking up for the night. The banging became ever more insistent the closer Spyro got to the door. When he finally pulled the latch free of the doorframe and the door swung open, the man outside lowered his fist and shoved his way past the old man.

Spyro couldn't see the newcomers face. He kept it hidden under the hood of his cloak. Under the cloak, the man wore nothing but black, as if he didn't want to be seen by anyone on his way over there. His gloved hands were shoved in his pockets and his feet seemed to make no sound as he stalked his way through the rows of books in the large building. Spyro locked the front door before turning back around to follow the last costumer.

"Excuse me sir?" Spyro said, "Can I help you? It is getting late and the library is about to close."
The man didn't answer, only pushed Spyro away from him and continued to search for whatever he was looking for. He quickly stalked through the rows of books looking up and down the shelves. Occasionally the man would mutter something under his breath or bring out a turquoise hand and trace his fingers over the labels of the books.

The clock had struck midnight and the man still hadn't left. Spyro was growing increasingly impatient. As the bell from the libraries large grandfather clock rung, signaling the first minutes of a new day, the old curator walked up behind the man, who now seemed to be rather angry about something. Spyro tapped him on the shoulder and was about to ask the man to leave and come back tomorrow when he rounded angrily on the old librarian.

"Where are they!?" He spat, his hood shaking from his anger.

Spyro was taken aback. Caught off guard, he nearly fell to the floor as his back leg gave way. Luckily, he never hit the cold marble floor, unluckily, it was this angry man who caught him. He grabbed the old man by his collar and pulled him to his heavily shadowed face.

"Where have you put them?" He yelled so disdainfully that Spyro could have sworn he felt the venom drip from the man's very pores.

"I don't know," Spyro said in a pleading tone, "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about!"

Spyro just shook his wrinkled head and tried to pull away from him.

"Where do you keep the old texts!?" the man questioned.

"I-in the back room," Spyro pointed to the back wall with a shaking boney finger.

The man dropped Spyro to the floor and the old librarian finally collapsed to the floor. His breath came in heavy gasps and he clutched his chest. Getting his breath back, Spyro looked up just in time to see the man struggle with the locked door.

"Wait!" Spyro stood up from his place on the floor, "You don't have permission to be back there!" Spyro hoped that bit of information would deter the man and cause him to leave. He had never been so wrong in his life.

The man spun around quickly and pointed a small pistol in between Spyro's eyes. "Open it," he growled.

Spyro froze. He could not defend himself from this man. If he had been 50 years younger he might have been able to disarm him but that also would have been a rash move. His only choice was to obey the man and hope he got out of this situation alive.

Fumbling with his key ring, Spyro attempted to unlock the door. Twice he dropped them and thrice he used the wrong key.

"Faster!" the man barked and pushed his pistol into Spyro's back.

Spyro finally found the correct key and opened the door. Both men walked through the doorway and into the dark room. The old librarian flicked the light switch and the room was filled with artificial light.

Metal shelves lined the walls and stacks of books covered the center of the floor. Loose papers fluttered from the open window on the right and a blanket of dust lay over the room.

"Shut the door," the man ordered.

Spyro shut the door but didn't lock it again. He stayed near the door in case there was a chance that he could escape. Keeping his left hand on his cane, the old man stood, shaking and scared, near the exit.

The man began to shuffle through the mess causing small clouds of dust to rise in the air every time he moved something. He started muttering to himself moments after he started his search and continued lifting the old dusty tomes.

Spyro could hear the old grandfather clock chime again 15 minutes later and he could feel the fatigue creep through his bones. His cane shook in his hands and caused a small clicking sound upon the floor. He should have been home sipping his warm purp juice ten minutes ago. He silently wished for his warm fire and squishy arm chair instead of the cold back room of the library. For once in his life, old Herbert Spyro found himself wanting to leave the old and glorious library and never come back.

Lost in his thoughts, Spyro momentarily forgot about the man searching through the texts in front of him. He was jolted back to reality when the man slammed his fist against one of the bookshelves causing it to tilt dangerously. Realizing that he should have made a move much earlier than this, Spyro began to inch closer to the door as the man threw and angry fit and took out his frustration on the books and papers, ripping some apart and throwing others across the room.

The old librarian's hand touched to door knob and turned it quietly. A soft click signaled that it was unlatched and Spyro slowly pulled the door open. It was almost open wide enough for him to slip through when the hinges gave a particularly loud squeak that alerted the man of his intentions.

The man's head shot up and he yelled a rather vulgar swear word as Spyro slipped out the door and into the open library. The man chased after him in a wild and angry rage. Spyro ran as fast as his stiff legs and cane could take him. His chest heaved with the effort of drawing a breath and his left leg shot tremors of pain up his side. Making his way through the rows of books and just as Spyro was hobbling across the entrance hall, a loud crack echoed through the large open space. He heard the sound of an oil lamp falling to the marble floor, and the old man froze in his place, a look of pure terror covered his face as he slowly turned around. He saw the flickering light of a fire amongst the books and shelves.

The man walked menacingly towards Spyro, pistol held in his left hand and pointed directly at the old curator's chest.

"What have you done with them!?" the man demanded as he reached the space right in front of Spyro.

"I don't know w-what you're talking ab-bout," Spyro stuttered from fear.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" the man screamed in his face, "Don't lie to me or I swear I will kill you!"

Spyro was scared out of his wits. Never had a gun been pointed at him and never had he gotten death threats from people who actually meant it. He didn't know what to say to this man who was clearly insane. He opened and closed his mouth several times before another loud crack split the air and the old librarian twisted his face in pain. Blood spilled out his mouth as he slumped to the floor. He clutched his stomach and fell on to his back. His wound bled out over the perfectly clean, white marble floor, staining it forever red with his own blood.

Spyro looked up to see the man, now without his hood on, in black leaning over him and the flickering yellow light of the spreading fire. His vision grew blurry as the man walked out towards the front door. He couldn't identify his face, all he could see was a turquoise blur and than nothing. His vision went dark and he felt tired. The heat of the approaching flames caused more drowsiness to flow over him and he finally closed his eyes. He was so sleepy.

--

The Resport Library burned to the ground before the firefighters reached the building. Herbert J. Spyro's bones were discovered that morning when they sifted through the ashes. No one ever found out how the fire was started and Spyro's cause of death was ruled as smoke inhalation from the fire. The case remained a mystery and the mysterious man in black was never found.

A/N: So there you have it! Now, I know that Jim hasn't shown up yet but as the title says, this is only the Prologue. You have to wait for the next chapter for him to 'enter stage left'. Oh yeah, I would like to apologize in advance if I never finish this or if it takes for ever for me to come out with another chapter. I tend to loose my motivation really fast and very unexpectedly. Reviews are required! If you skip out on your review then I will have to hire special government assassins to come to your house! You Have Been Warned!!