Chapter Text
DAY: WEDNESDAY, 17th April, 2019
LOCATION: CHHATRAPATI SHIVAJI MAHARAJ VASTU SANGHRALAYA, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India
TIME: 1403 HOURS
Julia’s eyes swept over the museum’s hall as ACME agents around her clicked photos of the area. She noticed the shattered security cameras, the paper shurikens embedded in various areas, the scroll on the floor shredded to pieces, and the broken statues along with who knew what else- and she decided that this entire scene was rather un-Carmen-eqsue.
Devineaux, however, seemed to have taken a more direct approach, striding past all of the agents and the debris with his eyes on the prize- the display, sans the Magna Carta, but with a new hole in its front glass.
He picked up a small paper bear, his features twisting in disdain.
“It seems Carmen Sandiego has found some new hobbies- arts and crafts and stealing historic documents.”
“It is origami,” Julia replied, recognizing the style, “The Japanese art of paper folding.”
Chase threw the bear away with a bored ugh, which - Julia would not lie - stung.
“Right. Dull facts, boring things.” She said, not bothering to hide the twinge of annoyance in her voice.
As they walked away from the exhibit, she added, “But Carmen Sandiego’s recent MO seems to be returning valuables to museums, not stealing them.”
“Again with the Vermeer paintings, Agent Argent?” They walk out onto a balcony of sorts, viewing the crime scene from above, and- whoa. 乱七八糟, or whatever it was her mother used to say on seeing the state of her room when she was a teenager, seemed to be an apt idiom to use here.
“That has not been proven, so please, do not romanticize the scoundrel.” Devineaux cut through her thoughts, and she decided to ignore him.
“The crime scene is also… sloppier than Ms. Sandiego normally leaves it. Wouldn’t you agree, Agent Devineaux?”
“Mgh. It does look like a monsoon hit in here,” He agreed, for once. “She must’ve been in a hurry.”
“Or a struggle.” Julia suggested. The ‘hurry’ argument would seem to be a reasonable conclusion- to someone who didn’t know (or notice!) how Carmen worked. She always, always made a clean entry and a clean exit. Gone before you knew she was even there (an intriguing trait, seeing how fond she was of making her presence known).
Devineaux shrugged, but made no effort to hide the fact that he wouldn’t consider her theory, even for a second. It was evident on his face. Inwardly, she groaned.
“Should we inform Chief-”
“WAIT,” He cut her sentence short, again. “Is that one of our agents?”
Julia peered over at the person he was pointing to. “They’re not in uniform. Definitely not ACME.”
“All the authorities have been cleared out,” Devineaux mused. “A civilian then? Is this museum not closed for today?”
Before Julia could reply, he was already on his way downstairs. She sighed and rushed after him.
She got there a little later than he did, and in that short amount of time, he had somehow managed to get into a heated debate with the stranger (who seemed to be having way too much fun with him).
“... Mademoiselle, you are not permitted to be here-”
“Mademoiselle, oh you’re French, are you-”
“Wh- yes, I am indeed.”
“So now we’re getting foreigners to investigate this place, but you won’t let a local do her damn job here, huh? You think I’m not qualified enough, ra? You white people kick up all this fuss over a British document being stolen in India, but nobody gives a shit that stolen Indian artifacts are still in the British museum, is that it, Agent-” She threw up her hands in mock anger, while Devineaux seemed to be at a loss for words, spluttering out an incoherent response. She glanced at him with a touch of pity, and lowered her hands, resting them on her hips.
“I’m just joking, calm down,” She peered behind him to look at Julia. “So, friend of yours?”
Julia (who had admittedly been enjoying this maybe a little bit) stepped forward. Up close, she could scrutinize the woman’s appearance more clearly. She had short, curly black hair, and huge, dark eyebags. She was tall, around the same height as Devineaux. She wore a bulky jacket despite the heat, with its sleeves rolled up to reveal a tattoo of a snake coiled around her right arm.
She raised an eyebrow at Julia, who quickly cleared her throat.
“Ma’am, shall I get someone to escort you outside?”
“No need for that.” She replied, sounding vaguely amused.
“Then… will you… leave on your own?” She questioned lamely.
“Never said that either.”
“Ma’am-“
“Listen, I am fully qualified to investigate this case. I’ve got a license and permission and everything, so, please.” She bent over and picked up the origami bear. She inspected it, and Julia could almost see a dialog box pop up next to her head, saying ‘Processing. Saving files.'
“Was this supposed to be here?”
“Uh, no, it was found near the display, but please, you really shouldn’t -“ A shrill beep from Devineaux’s pen stopped her in her tracks. He clicked it and let it fall to the ground.
“Greetings from Mumbai, Chief.”
Chief nodded at him. “Agents. I trust you were able to gain entry to the crime scene without in-“
“WHAT.”
Oh, right, she was still here.
Chief whipped around at her voice, gaping at her for a second, and turned right back to Devineaux.
“I thought you would’ve asked everyone to clear away.”
“Well, nice to meet you too!” Came the annoyed reply.
Devineaux grimaced. “She wouldn’t listen, Chief.”
Chief turned towards the woman, raising an eyebrow.
“Ma’am, civilians aren’t permitted -“
“I have permission to investigate,” The woman deadpanned, a finality in her tone.
“You’re an authority?” Chief asked politely. “May I see your credentials?”
“No, you may not,” She replied serenely, in the same tone as Chief.
“Then I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
“Then I’m afraid I’m gonna have to refuse.”
“Mademoiselle, please,” Devineaux interjected, “La femme rouge, she operates on an international scale-”
“Hang on, wait,” The woman’s tone changed entirely, a glimmer of interest in her eyes, “An international thief? And red? Are you talking about that lady, that- that, uh…” She trailed off, pacing the floor and squinting, trying to remember.
She snapped her fingers in delight when she got it. “Carmen Sandiego, right?”
Julia could almost hear the record scratch. Chief raised an eyebrow.
“You know who Carmen Sandiego is?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, she made the news quite a few times. Boston, Shanghai, Poitiers… even more recently in Amsterdam with the Vermeer paintings, right?”
Any retort that Devineaux had had long since died in his mouth, Julia noted with slight satisfaction.
“How do you know who she is?” She asked curiously.
If the woman was a bit thrown by the question, she didn’t show it. “She was all over the news back when she pulled off that heist in Shanghai, and I had a lot of time on my hands since getting fired, so…” She gestured vaguely.
“What’s your name?” Chief sounded slightly impressed, Julia noted, but she kept a stoic exterior.
“What’s yours?”
“You can call me Chief.”
“Chief of what?”
Chief bowed her head slightly. “ACME, the Agency to Classify and Monitor Evil. We are a covert surveillance agency dedicated to gathering data on, and monitoring, crime. I’d like to extend an offer to you.”
“And this offer would be asking me to join?”
“You’re sharp.”
“Then no.” The response was almost immediate.
“Are you sure?” Julia piped up. “You’d have the resources to solve this case easily-“
She held up a hand to stop her. “I said I’m not joining. I’m not averse to working with you, though.”
Chief smiled triumphantly. “Welcome to ACME, Ms. …?”
The woman let out a bark of laughter. “Akkineni. Anyway, you’re trying to tell me Carmen Sandiego did this? Aren’t her crime scenes usually a bit… neater?”
“Whoa.” Chief turned around to finally take a look around the museum, her eyes widening in shock.
“Who TP’d the place?”
DAY: WEDNESDAY, 17th April, 2019
LOCATION: GATEWAY OF INDIA SEASIDE IN COLABA, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India
TIME: 1646 HOURS
“That multicoloured freak show owes me a new fedora.”
A warm breeze blew through Carmen’s hair. It did absolutely nothing to provide any relief against the sticky Mumbai heat, and made her bad mood even worse. She ran a finger over the jagged cashmere of her red hat, where it had gotten damaged by Paper Star’s attack, and scowled.
“Make her take you shopping,” Player's cool voice buzzed through her comm-link. She envied him, probably sitting comfortably in his air-conditioned room while she was left to suffer on burning basalt and Mumbai's extraordinary humidity.
“I would if she'd left a paper trail.” She said irritably.
“Ha! If only.”
“We need to find Paper Star before she hands off the Magna Carta to the next operative.”
“Why not just take them back to VILE herself?”
“Standard procedure on all VILE operations,” Carmen replied, repeating the words seared into her mind after years of watching operatives train. “This way, no operative knows too much about any given job. If they get nabbed, they can only divulge so much information.”
“Huh,” Player mused, and she heard the rapid clack-clack-clack of his keyboard over the link. “Well, don’t sweat yet, Red-”
“I can't help it, it’s boiling here.”
“Very funny, dude. Anyways, I’m scanning all local surveillance and pushing my new facial recognition software to the max. If she's still in India, I'll pin her down.”
Carmen smiled. “Thanks-”
“Oh, what happened there?” A voice cuts in behind her, making her jump.
She whipped around to see a tall, dark woman with messy black hair, looking at her with a friendly smile. She had a purple jacket tied around her waist, and a sleeveless black top, which revealed muscular arms and a snake tattoo draping her right forearm.
Carmen stammered. “Oh, I-”
The woman nodded towards her hat. “Because if you're looking to get that fixed, then I know a guy who knows a guy. She'll fix it for you so well, you won't even remember it got ripped.”
“Oh, no, that's fine,” Carmen replied faintly, somewhat bemused.
“If you say so.” The woman shrugged. “So, you're a tourist?”
“Here on business, more like.” She laughed. “But I’m touring around as well, in my free time.”
“Well, then, I hope you enjoy your time here, Ms…?”
“Um, Adorni.” Carmen lied. “Rosa Adorni.”
The woman tilted her head, and Carmen was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her amber eyes seemingly staring into her soul. She felt like she was being scanned.
“Rosa Adorni,” She finally replied, a small smile playing on her lips. “You're being quite trusting to a complete stranger.”
“You asked-”
“Well, I suppose it’s only fair that I return the favour. I’m Heera. Heera Akkineni.”
“Nice to meet you, Heera.” Carmen nodded at her politely. “You're a local?”
“You could say that. I moved here from the South a few years ago.”
“Now who’s being too trusting?” Carmen teased.
Heera laughed. “Touché. Well, Ms. Adorni, if you're looking to visit the Shivaji Maharaj Museum, you’re gonna have to reschedule. It's likely gonna remain closed for a while.”
“Ah, yeah, there was a break-in, right? The Magna Carta got stolen.” At Heera's raised eyebrow, she quickly added, “It’s all over the news.”
“Is it?” She asked mildly. “It’s such a shame, really. My friend loved that place. And now, all of that valuable history, destroyed.”
Carmen nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure the Magna Carta will turn up eventually.”
“Who cares about the Magna Carta?”
Carmen just gaped. From her comm-link, she heard Player give a tiny gasp. Didn’t she just say-
“A Buddhist tapestry, an ancient Hindu sculpture, and multiple Mughal era miniature paintings,” Heera continued, a rueful smile on her face. “They meant a lot more to us than a…” Whatever descriptor she was about to use seemingly died on her tongue. “…The Magna Carta.” She amended delicately.
Carmen tried not to shrink back, just barely managing to keep her cool. With a pang of guilt, she remembered her fight with Paper Star the previous night, and the resultant collateral damage. She hadn’t paid much heed to it back then, her focus had been on getting out of there alive.
Then again, she'd always been careful about the historical artifacts that had been her target, there was no reason the others shouldn’t be afforded the same grace. She'd have to keep that in mind for the future.
Her internal monologue got interrupted by Heera muttering to no one in particular.
“నేను మీకు చెప్తున్నాను, those annoying right wing news outlets are gonna try to spin this as some sort of religious conflict. Just wait and see...”
“Oh, I didn’t know about that.” Carmen starts awkwardly. “But they can’t be salvaged?”
“The sculpture’s head was shattered to bits, the tapestry was shredded to pieces. The miniatures… I’m no history expert, but I’m not hopeful.”
“Ah.” A fresh wave of guilt washed over Carmen, but before she could dwell on it for too long, her comm-link crackled to life, and Player's quiet voice rescued her from her thoughts.
“Just sent you a photo. Check your phone.”
She complied, quickly excusing herself from the conversation with Heera, and was greeted with an image of Paper Star leaning out of a ferry.
“This was taken less than an hour ago.” Player continued. “It’s from a ferry coming into Mumbai Harbour.”
“Looks like our litterbug-” she emphasised on the insult with some vehemence, “-is still packing the Magna Cartas. Can you access the passenger list?”
“Coming your way.”
Her phone dinged, and she opened the list, skimming over the names. One of them caught her eye in particular.
Tammy Origami.
“That’s not too obvious.” Player commented dryly, sarcasm dripping through his voice.
“It’s Paper Star’s way of saying ‘Come and get me if you dare’, which suits me just fine.” Carmen muttered venomously. “Player, I need you to cross-check that name against any modes of transportation you can think of-”
“Two steps ahead of ya, Red. ‘Tammy’ bought a one-way ticket to Agra City on the 9:30 a.m express train. Guess she wants to see the Taj Mahal.”
“So fast?”
“What would you even do without me?” There is a note of smugness in Player's voice.
She laughed. “Let’s chase that paper.”
She noticed Heera still standing a distance away, staring out at the horizon, and sidled up to her.
“Again, so sorry to hear about the museum. I hadn't heard of all that.”
“Just as well you didn’t.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how many details are public information yet.”
Carmen shivered slightly, though she couldn’t tell why. “Oh. How did you know then?”
“Went in there and saw it for myself.”
“… I see. Well, I’ll be on my way then. I have a train to catch at 9:30 tomorrow and I need to get ready.”
“Ah. Going to Agra?”
Carmen froze. No normal person simply memorised train schedules like that, and it was even less likely that she’d land on the exact train she was going to catch by pure happenstance. Was this some kind of trap? Was she a VILE operative?
Her horror must have been evident on her face, because Heera laughed and patted her shoulder reassuringly.
“Don’t look so surprised, Ms. Adorni. Everyone goes to Agra- putting it crudely. Look at those people,” She jerked her head over to a flock of colourfully dressed tourists being regaled by their guide. “I’ll bet you they're going to Agra at some point as well. Perhaps they’ll even be on the same train as us.” She smiled at Carmen, and continued. “Besides, business calls me to Agra as well.”
“Oh? What do you work as?”
“I’m a private investigator.” She replied simply. “The museum let me check out yesterday’s break-in. And asked me to locate the Magna Carta if possible.”
Carmen felt her heart drop. “I see.”
“It was loaned to them for temporary exhibit, you see, so it’ll cost a lot if it doesn't.”
“Don't worry. I’m sure it will.”
“You're rather confident.” Heera nodded at her. “Well then, I’ll be on my way.”
She turned on her heel and walked away, and abruptly stopped and turned around with a strange look on her face.
“Hope you enjoy the rest of your trip, Rosa Adorni.”
DAY: THURSDAY, 18th April, 2019
LOCATION: THE ELEPHANTA CAVES, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India
TIME: 0029 HOURS
Tamiko hummed her little tune under her breath, and when she got to the end she hummed it again.
She folded a small sheep and held it up to inspect it. How pretty it looked, illuminated by the dim purple lights.
Tamiko stared at the little paper sheep, and Paper Star tore it to shreds.
She looked at the pieces of paper lying scattered around the floor of the cave, and fiddled around with the strap of her bag for a second before pulling out another piece of paper.
Footsteps echoed through the cave walls, signalling the next operative's arrival. What was his name again? Goat cheese?
He looked plain, Paper Star observed. How boring. He didn’t look very bright. No colour, no fun at all. Was he really deserving of her attention? No. No he was not.
He stared at her blankly for a second, before saying, “I see I am not the only one who admires Mumbai’s historic Elephanta caves.”
So what if he was French? His voice, she decided, was just as plain as the rest of him. She kept ignoring him.
He cleared his throat. “The fish swims at midnight,” he droned, in that infuriating voice of his. “I repeat, the fish swims at midnigh-”
A fish.
“No need to speak in code,” She cuts in brusquely. She swung the bag in front of her, so that he could see it. “Tell me where to escort this. A designated safe house outside this country’s borders, I assume?”
His jaw dropped. “What? That is not how this works. Protocol dictates that you give me the package to deliver.”
She rolled her eyes. “Protocol exists to protect VILE should an operative get caught.”
She peered at him over the paper she was folding, satisfied at his enraged glower.
“You look like an operative that would get caught.” She tacks on silkily.
His features contrort into a furious glare. She’d hit him right in the ego.
“I have completed more successful missions than you, Pippi Punkstockings!” He attempted to lunge at her. “Now give me the package!”
A quick flick of her hand. The quiet whoosh of paper. A pained yelp. Le Chèvre recoiled, sucking at his finger. All bark, no bite.
“You gave me a paper cut!” He whined. She grinned, smug.
“Puffer fish. Very lethal.” She purred. “It will give you a thousand paper cuts unless you tell me the next drop location.”
She flicked her fingers, and the paper fish expanded to reveal its spikes. She noted the ensuing fear in his eyes with relish, and threw it.
“Ouch!” His eyes widened in shock as she advanced. “No, not my hands! Not my hands!”
Agonised screams puncture the night.
Much to her delight.