NOTE: I can't exactly say that I'm new to Tintin since I knew who he was as a kid and owned a metal container of him, but I just didn't like him. I guess I could say that I'm new to being in the fandom in general. This is a collab fanfic with a foreign friend who helped create the OC and story together. So if we did something wrong, please note me in the reviews. We'd love for your help, Tintinologists. :)

AS FOR THE FANBOYS: Before your underwear gets caught up your butt about a cartoon character, go cry to someone TGAF. Enjoy, chil'ren.

"There he is! Get him!"

Throughout the streets of Paris, France, loud and fast footsteps clacking hard on the wet stone could be heard along with sharp, raspy breaths of air and police car sirens, colliding in a loud soundtrack of fast-paced panic. A familiar boy with orange hair and his fox terrier were sliding along the slippery ground, trying to evade a trio of men that chased them without mercy. This boy had stolen something from them. Well…he wouldn't exactly call it stealing. It's more like…"rescuing" evidence from the deranged crooks.

Tucked snuggly under his right arm in his tan trench coat was a small chest.

"Don't let him get away!" the leader of the gang shouted.

The 17 year old, Tintin was his name, and his white furry companion, Snowy, had ran into a dead end of a dark alley. After glancing back to check for the men, Tintin managed to escape the uproar by climbing over a broken stone wall. On the edge, he coaxed Snowy to jump onto the trash cans and pulled him up over the other side. He hurried and he sat on the ground before he caught Snowy into his lap and clasped his hand over his drenched snout. The small dog growled.

"Quiet, Snowy," Tintin shushed softly.

Over the wall, they could see flashlights beaming through the thick air and husky voices of the murderers; Tintin and Snowy held their breaths and sat motionless.

"Crap!" the leader hissed as he pounded his fist angrily against the cement, "The boss is gonna' have our heads!"

Another man, where Tintin thought as the youngest judging from his voice, spoke, "I-it couldn't be that bad. He only took one of them—,"

A thundering noise from a trashcan hitting the ground made Tintin and Snowy jump and their hearts dropped to their stomachs. Snowy yelped, frightened, and then his master hid him away in his coat. The leader paused to listen and whirled around for a second before he continued to scold his partners.

"Are you kidding? Whatdaya' mean, 'It couldn't be that bad'? Are you stupid or something? That's the most famous reporter from Brussels! He's always snooping around in criminals' business and rattling 'em out like some kind of rat!"

Gracious…Tintin thought; his mouth twitched to the side, a little offended at the insult.

"So?" the young one asked.

"If he finds out the secret in that chest, the boss is done for! And we'll be goin' with him!" replied a grumpy man.

"Spread out and find him!" shouted the leader, "I want the kid DEAD, ya hear?"

Tintin waited patiently as he heard the quick footsteps part ways faint away in the distraught noise of policemen. He was finally able to breathe and allowed Snowy to crawl out his coat. He was in relief with Tintin, panting heavily while his pink tongue lolled out his mouth. Tintin smiled before giving him a pat on his soft head and wiped the rain off his face that was dripping off his orange locks. The young reporter had originally intended to visit the new museum in Paris and interview the owners of the building. He had then heard the news of gruesome murders over town. When he wanted to avoid any trouble at least once in his life, he had found dead bodies of a man and woman, lying by the sewer. When he bent over to inspect, he noticed the numbers "1", "8", "7" and "2"etched into their skin by something sharp. It was too much of an itch to pass up such a crime and he decided to investigate for himself. After spying around and tracing clues, he was able to find the hideout of the killers and found out that the killings were over the trunk that he now had possession of. Well, he kind of guessed it was the reason but why wouldn't it be? He was nearly butchered himself over it, was he not?

"We're always getting into mischief, aren't we, boy?" he chuckled. Snowy barked in agreement.

Tintin lifted up the brown chestnut box in his hands and examined it. The thought that this small box he was holding caused so much death anticipated him more to find out its secrets. He removed a small trinket with a skull-shaped handle from his pocket. It didn't look like a key, more of a piece of something, like a spike off a fence. Or perhaps it was a strange lock since there were numbers that could change by simply moving the small dials on the side with his thumb.

Wouldn't hurt to try.

Tintin stuck the odd object inside the trunk's hole and tried turning it a bit. It didn't fit right; he felt there was too much space around it.

Guess that's not the key then.... A bit disappointed, he placed it back in his pocket.

"It doesn't make sense…," he said, shaking the chest, "there must be something so important inside of this for men to cause unexplainable murders of innocent people."

He then gave it one more rough shake but he could not detect the slightest of sound or movement. What was so special about this complicated contraption was beyond his understanding at the moment.

"It sounds so empty…."

All of a sudden, his mind clicked; surely Captain Haddock was back at the mansion wondering where the devil Tintin was. It has been three…yes, three days since he left. "Well, we're just going to have to take a deeper look when we go back home," he said, jumping to his feet, "let's go."

Tintin peered around every corner to check for safety. Up and down the street were police and their cars parked along the curb, recording information from many witnesses. Looking closely, he saw that the roads around him were being blocked and that some of the officers were standing over a lump that was covered by a white sheet.

"There's been another one, Snowy…," Tintin told his sidekick.

He slipped the chest in his trench coat and carefully fled the scene with Snowy at his heels.