An Incan curse, breaks the fourth dimension.
Time.
The world is now in the hands of a ginger haired reporter with a weird tuft, an alcoholic sea captain, a young snarky scientist, a partially deaf professor and a white fox terrier.
What can possibly...
It is a beautiful evening, sunsetting in the fields of Marlinshire, colouring the sky and a cool breeze flowing through the meadows. A faint noise of a car engine can be heard in the distance, and grows louder and louder.
A green convertible car emerged from the bend, heading towards the landmark of the countryside, The Marlinspike hall.
Bright coloured leaves flew to the sides of the road as the car passes by.
The car enters the estate through large iron gates and make its way towards the main entrance, making the gravel rustle. It stops in front of the main doorway of the great mansion.
Multi coloured leaves flew in the chilling Autumn breeze.
The young driver turned off the engine, opens his door and out he came and his white fox terrier.
He inhaled the cold breeze and exhaled deeply.
'Ah! Feel it Snowy, the autumn breeze' he hummed closing his eyes.
The dog starts to sniff the air and looked back at his master as if to say he's enjoying it.
'Tintin is that you laddie?' A scruffy voice called out from a nearby window.
'Hello captain!' said the ginger haired boy in return.
With a 'click' the green main door was opened by a middle aged butler who gives the young man a warm smile.
'Good evening sir, I hope you had an enjoyable ride?' he asks as he nods in respect.
'Yes indeed, It's breathtaking!' Tintin said as he came inside while removing his dark brown leather hand gloves. Snowy trotted along with him.
'The master is in the drawing room upstairs sir, he is very busy reading about the big expedition' said Nestor the butler.
'An expedition? That's sounds like good news to me!' said Tintin as he quickly went upstairs.
As he entered the drawing room, a man with a full beard turned around.
'Ahh ..There you are, Come on in! Look what I found in the latest Paris Flash!'
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The captain was reading the magazine and had a glass of whiskey in his hand.
'The sanders -hardimon team has gone in that thundering expedition again!' He said.
'Again? But how can they find anything interesting when the Incas are hiding it?' Tintin asked.
