Imogen York

Imogen York had the job of her dreams. Curator of the most renowned museum in the world. The Louvre. A standing monument to culture and history-a veritable Mecca of art. It had been a long difficult road to get here and not without its challenges. Many people in the French art scene were not happy with having an English woman in charge of their sacred shrine to culture...especially not one who was only 32. But Imogen was about to be faced with a challenge unlike any she'd ever known. Her assistant, Georges Milleneux burst into her office one Monday afternoon. "Madame York, I have terrible news!" "We are out of black tea," she said dismissively. "I'm aware, I checked this morning." "No madame, it is much worse than that." He said hurriedly. "The Louvre has just been robbed! The Dolphin Diamond has been stolen!" Imogen fell to her knees. The Dolphin Diamond, a large, pool-ball sized diamond with an intricate etching of a dolphin leaping from the ocean laid within. It was the life's work of artist Guillame Laurent and the most valuable diamond in the world. It was under her care and stolen under her watch. //How could I let this happen?// She thought to herself. //This is the work of Le Tempete. The Tempest. He warned me he would strike and now he has. Well, he won't be getting away with it. I'll see to it myself. I should// //[[Speak with the police.|Police]] [[Investigate the scene of the crime myself.|Scene of the Crime]]//

Imogen's conversation with the police was brief and curt. They were not at liberty to share any information with her, in face, considered her a suspect. On her way out of the police station, however, she did manage to conveniently overhear a conversation between two officers. "No chance the Tempest is still in town. He's well on his way to Morocco by now." "Morocco?" "Yeah, Casablanca. That's where he's been known to go after his heists. His favorite tavern. The Blue Macaw." //Casablanca. How fast can one get to Morocco? Two options immediately jumped to mind. She'd have to act fast. This could mean the difference between saving the diamond and her career, or going home empty-handed and a failure.// [[Go to a private airfield and try to commandeer a jet.|Airport]] [[Hitch a ride on a shipping vessel.|Boat]]

Imogen struggled to find anything meaningful at the scene of the crime. the police had already scrubbed the place for fingerprints and came up with nothing. The only thing the tempest had left behind was his typical calling card. A literal card with a stormcloud etched in it. But the police had taken that too. Probably put it in the archives with the others from the tempest's many heists. That gave her an idea. She could continue her investigation by going down to the basement to see if she could track down the tempest's escape route. Or, she could go to police archives and try to learn more about the thief's modus operandi. [[Basement]] [[Archives]]

Imogen drove to a private airfield where she knew one of her old friends, Francois, would be working. Francois owed her a favor and it was time to cash-in. A quick phone call and she was good to go. As she waited at the gate for Francois to let her in, however, a shifty looking child came along and stole her wallet, quick as a flash, before rushing off to a nearby alley. She could wait for Francois to come along to help her get the allet back, or chase after the kid herself before he got away. [[Chase after the kid.|Alley]] [[Wait for Francois.|Plane]]

It only took a few hours to drive to the coast in the south of France. Imogen knew that Casablanca was a massive port at the center of industry, the gateway to the mediterranean, and has dozens of shipping vessels go in and out every day. Upon reaching the docks she found the Mercy Major, a boat loaded with shipping containers that would be departing for Morocco in 20 minutes. She had a decision to make. She could either [[Bribe the captain for a ride in the ship deck.|Shipwreck]] [[Or sneak onboard and stowaway in a shipping container.|Casablanca]]

There was not a moment to lose. Imogen raced after the boy, leaving her car and the airstrip behind. She found herself in an alley. A dead end. And not a boy to be seen. Then she heard it. A whistle. She turned to see the way she came in was blocked by three imposing young men. Their faces obscured in shadow, but the knives in their hands were plenty visible. Her pulse quickened. A lump formed in the back of her throat. It seems this would be the end of her investigation. (text-colour:red)[THE END.]

A few minutes later, Francois arrived at the gate. Imogen quickly explained the predicament she was in, but instead of offering to help her get the wallet back, Francois ushered her into the airstrip. "You don't want to take that bait, mademoiselle," He said in hushed tones. "There are lots of unsavory characters around here. The contents of your wallet can be replaced. But your life? It's not as easy." Without much more to do, Francois loaded up his plane and they took off. [[...|Turbulence]]

(transition:"pulse")[Imogen rushed to the controls to try to help level out the plane, but it was too late. If anything, she may have been more of a harm than a hindrance. It was over before she knew it. The plane got caught in a nosedive and within seconds it collided with the ground.] (text-colour:red)[THE END.]

Imogen immediately slid a parachute on her back and threw open the emergency door of the plane. She jumped without a second thought and started tumbling through the sky. She had a few moments to focus and regain her thoughts. She thought back to her skydiving training and leveled out. She let the parachute fly and landed with a thud on hot, hot sand. The birds had thrown off the course of the plane. She was alone in the Sahara desert. She may die out here. Alone and a failure. But she could not let that happen. The plane crashed a few miles away. She knew that it would be visible for miles and eventually someone would come to check for survivors. Her options? Stay put and try to conserve her strength until a rescue party could arrive. Or trek closer to the crash so she'd be seen when the rescuers arrived. [[Stay put.|Heatstroke]] [[Move closer.|Camel]]

(enchant:?page,(background:orange))She opted not to move. Distances are always more deceptive in the desert. Besides, there was no guarantee that anyone would come. It would be best to conserve her strength. Hours passed and the heat was relentless. Her clothes were soaked with sweat and her mouth was as dry as the sand around her. After approximately 12 hours, she peaked her head over the dunes and saw a rescue party had arrived at the crash site. Like ants on the horizon. She attempted to call out to them, to draw their attention to where she lay dying. But her throat was too parched to form words. She died where she lay. Of heatstroke and isolation. (text-colour:black)[THE END.]

After a long, arduous journey, Imogen York arrived in Casablanca. She tracked down the Tempest's favorite tavern. The Blue Macaw. She suspected this would be the start of another leg of her journey, but instead, she found him with incredible ease. He was sitting out in the open, at his favorite table in the back of the restaurant. The smoking section, behind the grand piano. He was dining alone. She took the seat opposite him. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Madame York. The youngest curator the Louvre has ever seen. You did it, you tracked me down." "Give me the diamond, Le Tempete." She said, not missing a beat. "And why would I do that? I have the upper hand," he said, removing a pistol from his jacket and resting it on the table, aimed at her heart. "You would shoot me in public? In this tavern?" "Why not, I own the place." "Give me the diamond and I won't press charges." "You know, you have some gall." The tempest sneered. "I was going to let you leave here with everything intact but your dignity. You'd have to go crawling back to France as the woman who lost the Dolphin Diamond. Twice. But now you're beginning to get on my nerves. So I think I'll just shoot you." But suddenly, a third voice could be heard from behind the tempest's shoulder. "I don't think so." It was the surete. The police from Paris had made it all the way here to Morocco, to catch the jewel thief. And conveniently, to save Imogen's life. She'd be leaving the tavern with her life, but she couldn't help but think that everything she'd been through was for nothing. The police had arrived at the same place all the same. Perhaps if she had investigated on her own she could have stopped The Tempest before he left France and been a hero, instead of someone who had risked her life for essentially nothing. Perhaps. THE END.

(enchant:?page,(background:navy)) Captain Audiard was very willing to accept a bribe in exchange for the company of a dignified frenchwoman on a boat trip. After a couple of hours at sea, Imogen began to get impatient. "We have to take a faster route!" She said. Captain Audiard explained that the routes of the Mercy Major are planned out by computer to be as safe and efficient as possible, but she was insistent. For another bribe, Audiard steered the ship into a direct line towards Casablanca. But after about 40 minutes on this new route, the Mercy Major found itself in a squall, which turned into a full-on storm. Rain, like bullets, assaulting the deck of the ship. With waves, 50 feet tall, the boat capsized and ripped itself to pieces. Imogen found herself trapped beneath the ocean, unable to make it to the surface for the many tons of cargo in her way. (text-colour:red)[THE END.]

Imogen began the long, hot walk towards the crash with determination. She was not dressed for this climate nor the terrain and the desert sun quickly got the best of her. The walk became a hike. The hike became a crawl. And then, she stopped moving entirely. It felt like an eternity. But then, she was plucked off the ground and on to a large, soft surface. Then the surface breathed. She was on the back of a camel. Some traveler through the Sahara had come to her aid. Saved her life. They nursed her back to health with water and cloth to hide her from the elements. "Where are you headed?" They asked in broken english. Imogen could muster her strength to form one word. "[[Casablanca]]."

Imogen's search of the basement came up with nothing. Nothing, that is, until she noticed some cracks in the brick wall. She pushed against it and they gave way to an opening. Perhaps The Tempest has escaped through the basement into the catacombs? [[Enter the catacombs.|Catacombs]] [[Better check back upstairs.|Archives]] [[Investigating on your own is revealing nothing, so it'd be best to head to the police.|Police]]

It took some charming of the desk clerk, but Imogen was let in to the Police Archives without much issue. It looks like the detectives hadn't been here yet to read up on the tempest's other cases, so she got first crack at the records. It seems that in every case previously, the tempest has hung around the city in which he pulled off the heist. Usually, around a major landmark in order to bait in the police and make his inevitable escape all the more impressive. Finally, there was a report from a policeman who claimed to have seen the tempest in person. He said that the tempest spoke with a french accent had a noticable blemish on his right cheek. Not a lot to go off of. Paris, a city of landmarks, for sure. But there were three likely candidates. [[Notre Dame]] [[Eiffel Tower]] [[Arc De Triomphe]]

Imogen entered the catacombs. A dark, dank, tunnel with walls lined with bones, centuries old. She was beginning to doubt The Tempest would have escaped this way when she thought she saw a light further down the tunnel. Was she imagining things? Or was she on the right track? Only one way to find out. She progressed further down the tunnel, when she started to hear a dull roar above her head. The walls began to rattle and then collapse. What luck that out of centuries of being beneath Paris she shoud stumble in at the exact moment of a cave-in. If the collapse didn't kill her, she'd surely suffocate in the rubble. (text-colour:red)[THE END.]

Notre Dame seems like The Tempest's most likely destination. A location with rich history and plenty of places to hide. Imogen zipped over there as fast as traffic would allow and rushed into the cathedral. There were people milling about, going on tours and progressing through the stations of the cross. But no one that looked particularly...tempestuous. Had she chosen incorrectly? She wanted to sit down and cry. If she had picked the wrong location the tempest could be out of Paris completely. What she wanted most was to enter into one of the confession booths, just to have someone to talk to. Someone to explain her sadness to. But it wasn't over just yet. It's possible the tempest could still be here but be upstairs. With the bells. [[Explore the bells.|Bells]] [[Time for confession.|Confession]]

The Eiffel Tower. There could be no other option. The most visited landmark in the world. The symbol of Paris, of France, even. The Tempest would never consider anywhere else. It was a short drive to the Tower, but one that still took longer than she may have liked. Upon arrival, she realized the heavy foot traffic of the landmark had a negative side effect. There was a long line to take the elevator up. In theory, the elevator would be the fastest way to the observation deck, but she could skip the wait time by taking the stairs. [[Take The Stairs.|Confrontation]] [[Wait for the elevator.|Escape]]

Arc De Triomphe. Of course, he would not be able to resist something so perfect. Where else would you go to celebrate your triumph? She got into her car and sped over to the arc, one of the most heavily trafficked monuments in Europe. She'd need to wait her turn to climb the long staircase, but after several agonizing minutes it was her opportunity to do so. At the top, she looked around and did not see anyone who fit the description she'd found in the archives. On a whim, she put a quarter into one of the coin operated binoculars and pointed it to the Eiffel Tower. [[What did she see?]]

Imogen made it down the staircase in record time and scrambled to the street. She saw a young college student getting into a cab and pushed him out of the way, sliding in to take his spot. The cab driver started to protest but when she burst out, "I'll pay triple the fare just get me to the Eiffel Tower now!" he sped off without a fuss. The driver tried his best, but there's nothing like workday traffic in Paris. Imogen started to sweat, every minute in the cab felt like a year in a jail cell. Finally the cab pulled up at the Eiffel Tower and she bolted out of it, leaving a hundred euro note on the seat behind her. She pushed people out of the way to climb the metal staircase to the observation deck, but upon her arrival there it was clear she was too late. The tempest was nowhere to be found. Angered and sad, she let out a terrible cry. She was too late. THE END.

Her car was very expensive and could potentially get her to the tower faster. She noticed tire treads from her parking space going into a nearby alley. She followed them and found a garage that seemed to be full of expensive cars. Someone had a little operation going where they would steal tourist's vehicles but not take them very far. So while people went on a wild goose chase tracking it down, they could strip it for parts. But they didn't know who they were dealing with. This was Imogen York, and she didn't take things lying down. Of course, it would be dangerous to approach these criminals on hter own, but she was on a time crunch. She could (text-style:"blink")[[[Enter the garage and demand they give her back her vehicle.|Shot]] [[Or tell the police later and focus on getting a taxi to the tower.|Give up.]]]

Imogen climbed the rickety stairs to the Notre Dame loft, amidst massive, imposing bells. The home of the hunchback, in popular folklore. She found lots of people up there, admiring the view of the city, but no tempest. The sheer amount of tourists around started to get to her, mixed with the crushing feeling of defeat. Her chest started getting tight and her face hot. She was having trouble breathing. A panic attack. She eventually sat down in the corner and focused on her breathing until she calmed down. Maybe she just wasn't cut out for this adventuring stuff. THE END.

Imogen took her seat in the confession booth and let out a deep sigh. "What's wrong my dear," asked the voice on the other end in a thick French accent. "I messed up at work," she said. "Something I was supposed to protect was put in harm's way. And now I'm trying desperately to make things right but I just can't figure it out." "We all run into roadblocks now and then," the voice replied. "It can be hard to move past them. What are you struggling with specifically?" Imogen thought this probing was weird, but it would be good to get it off her chest. "The Tempest stole something from the Louvre. Our most precious diamond which was admitted to the museum under my purview. And he's escaped somewhere into the city. I thought I had tracked him here but I was wrong." "This sounds frustrating. But it's important to remember that sometimes, when a goal seems so far away, you never know how close you may have came." Imogen thought this over for a few moments. "What does that mean, exactly?" There was no reply. "Father? Father?" Still no answer. Suspicious now, Imogen frantically exited her booth and flung open the other door. There was no one there. In fact, there was nothing inside but a card with a stormcloud etched in. The Tempest! What a devilishly clever move, to use a confession booth to nebulously confess to being the perpretrator of the crime! She'd come so close...and yet the tempest had got away again. THE END.

Up the stairs she went. There were many of them, but she had long legs and could take them two at a time. She was up there before she knew it, in a crowd of people. So many people. How could she check every cheek in a crowd like this? But suddenly, by fate or by coincidence, the crowd parted. And stood against the railing of the observation deck was a man with a mustache and tightly brimmed hat. A large, unsightly blemish adorning his right cheek. He was looking directly at her and smiling. He let out a gloved hand and beckoned her approach. She walked forward slowly, almost shaking with anticipation. "Madame York," The Tempest said through a thick French accent. "You found me. Congratulations, you've managed to accomplish what the police never have." "Give me the diamond," Imogen said with determination. "Which diamond?" He asked with a sneer. "This one?" He removed a shining, baseball sized diamond from his coat pocket and tossed it up in the air. [[Try to catch it.|Loss]] [[Grab the tempest.|Victory]]

The line took longer than she thought. It was almost fifteen minutes by the time she made it up to the observation deck. Once she arrived, she was flustered and frantic, checking each person she saw with increasing desperation. She found no one who fit the description from the archive. Not a blemish in the group. But, finally, just before she made the trek back down the tower, something caught her eye. Sticking out of the railing. It was a black playing card with a stormcloud etched into it. The Tempest. She'd been on the right track, but just took too long. The Tempest had escaped. Again. THE END.

As the diamond flew through the air, Imogen tackled the tempest in rage. They collided with the floor of the observation deck, a few feet away, so did the diamond. It broke into several pieces, before Imogen could try to catch it. But diamonds don't break that easy. Of course! It was a decoy! "Your little trick didn't work," she said through gritted teeth. This display had caused enough of a stir that the tower guard rushed over to see what the commotion was. Imogen was able to explain what was happening when she pulled the real diamond out of the tempest's other pocket. The guard whisked the jewel thief away, his head held in shame. Whereas Imogen stood, atop the most beautiful landmark in the world, holding the rarest diamond anyone had ever seen. She'd done it. She'd regained her charge, solved a mystery, and, as she couldn't help but think as she looked over the city she called home, she'd saved the pride of Paris. All on her own. This was, in many ways, the best moment of Imogen York's life. (text-style:"sway")[THE END.]

The diamond tumbled through the air and over the railing. Imogen attempted to reach out as far as she could to grab it, but it was no use. It fell down to earth, 460 feet, before colliding with the pavement below and shattered into a million pieces. The dolphin diamond. The rarest gemstone in the world. The centerpiece of the Louvre's collection, the pride of Imogen's career, gone forever. Shattered to bits on the asphalt floor. But wait a minute. Diamonds are meant to be the hardest substance on earth. You'd need a laser to break it like that. That meant...that couldn't be the Dolphin Diamond at all but a fake! A decoy! She whipped around to confront the tempest on his treachery but it was too late. He'd already gone. THE END.

The flight over the mediterranean was a uneventful, though Francois became increasingly annoyed that Imogen was disinterested in catching up with him due to her relentless stress about the diamond. Once they were over the African continent, however, a flock of seabirds collided with the plane's engine. Imogen only had a few seconds to react and choose a course of action. [[She could rush to the controls to try to help Francois land the plane safely.|Crash]] [[Or grab a parachute and try to jump.|Desert]]

There were a lot of people there, too, moreso than even the arc. But in her frantic scanning, she managed to catch someone leaning against the rail. A man, with a tightly brimmed hat and a blemish on his right cheek. The same as was mentioned in the police report. He reached into his pocket and removed something shiny. The diamond! He was flaunting it in public! Taunting anyone who might be watching. She had chosen wrong, and she would pay for it in time. She had to get to the Tower. She rushed down the staircase, as quickly as she could manage. But when she made it to her parking spot, her car was gone. Stolen. Time was running out. It was time to make a decision. She could [[Forget the car for now and try to call a taxi.|Too Late]] [[Or try to track down her car before the thief got away.|Garage]]

(enchant:?page,(background:black))Imogen snuck beneath the gap in the garage door and the ground with nimble agility and crept along the floor. It was quiet and dark. She saw her car in front of her and carefully opened the door to get inside. But as she was climbing in to start it and rush out, she heard a voice behind her say, "What do you think you're doing?" She didn't even have time to cry out "wait, wait," before she felt the bullet enter her back. (text-colour:red)[THE END.]

There's no use wasting time or potentially her life on this matter. Especially while the tempest was still out there. She went out and attempted to flag down a taxi, but cab after cab passed her by. Eventually she practically flung herself infront of one getting him to stop, which resulted in a very angry cab driver refusing to take her anywhere. Tired and annoyed, she sat down on the curb, her head in her hands. It was no use. By now the tempest could be anywhere. She had failed. She'd lost the Dolphin Diamond and now her car too. Maybe she wasn't as adept as she thought she was. THE END.