As ACME Detective chase VILE agents around the world
🕵️♂️ The world's greatest thief has struck again, and the trail is going COLD! 🏃♀️💨
As an elite ACME Detective, you're the last line of defense. The globe 🌍 is your game board, and every cryptic clue is a breadcrumb.
Your mission: Chase Carmen Sandiego's shadow across continents! 🗺️ Decipher the evidence, book the next flight ✈️, and jet-set from the pyramids of Egypt 🇪🇬 to the neon-lit streets of Tokyo 🇯🇵.
Your mind is your greatest weapon. 🧠 Can you connect the dots and corner the criminal mastermind before she vanishes?
The hunt is on. Are you ready? 🕵️♀️


The heat of Rome clung to the cobblestones, a heavy, wet blanket that smelled of espresso and exhaust. You stood in the shadow of the Colosseum, its arches like the open mouths of giants, watching the tourists drift by like colorful bait. Your ACME communicator buzzed against your wrist—a reminder that the clock was a hungry mouth, and you were feeding it minutes.
A Carabinieri officer approached, his uniform sharp against the chaotic backdrop. He didn't offer a salute, just a data pad loaded with witness statements. “She was here,” he said in accented English, tapping the screen. “Briefly. She moves like smoke, this one. But smoke leaves residue.”
You scanned the intel. The trail was still warm, but it was stretching thin, pulling northward across the Alps. The thief wasn't just running; she was shopping for a getaway. You needed to move before the trail turned ice-cold.
Current_Location: Rome, Italy
Intel_Report:
Select_Flight_Destination:
The ACME Detective Agency did not hum with the noise of a police precinct; it vibrated with the silence of a library that held every secret ever whispered. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light piercing through high, narrow windows, settling on rows of filing cabinets that stretched into the gloom like the ribs of some great, metal beast. The air smelled of ozone, old paper, and the sharp, clean scent of determination.
You stood at your desk, the laminate cool under your fingertips. A map of the world covered the far wall, a vast parchment of blue and green pinned with red threads that crisscrossed the oceans, tracking the flow of illicit history.
The Chief walked out of the shadows. He was a man constructed of sharp angles and starched collar, his face a map of dead ends and close calls. He didn’t speak until he was leaning over your desk, blocking the light, a manila folder slamming down hard enough to rattle your coffee cup.
“Carmen Sandiego,” he said, the name dropping like a gavel. “She’s struck again.”
He flipped the folder open. A glossy photograph slid out: The Louvre, empty space on a wall where laughter used to be. The absence was louder than any alarm.
“She took the Mona Lisa three hours ago,” the Chief said, his voice gravelly and low, stripped of sentiment. “We have a sighting in Cairo, but she moves fast. Faster than the wind if we let her.” He tapped the warrant, the paper crisp and official, waiting for your signature. “You know the drill. Follow the clues. Watch your back. Don't let the trail go cold.”
He straightened up, fixing his cufflink. “The world is waiting, detective. Don't trip over your own feet.”
He turned and walked back into the shadows, his footsteps fading until the room was left to the hum of the ventilation system and your own breathing. You looked down at the ACME mainframe terminal on your desk, the green cursor pulsing rhythmically. It was time to fly.
Current_Location: Cairo, Egypt
Intel_Report:
Select_Flight_Destination: