Agent 38: A Perilous Report (F/F, M/F)

[BobaFettish1]

Hello there, everyone!

It's been a while since I've posted anything here, even though I've enjoyed reading everyone else's stories. You may recall a few years ago I debuted my own OC Agent 38 on this site, and since then I've had the opportunity to expand her story into various other writings that I've bee posting over on DeviantArt. Most recently I've begun releasing weekly chapters of my new Agent 38 prequel series "A Perilous Report", which has been a ton of fun.

So, as a thank you to everyone on this site for helping me get started writing all those years ago, I wanted to drop the prologue and first two chapters of my new story here for all of you to read and enjoy. And if you wanted to read more, I would love it if you visited my DeviantArt page to check out the rest of the chapters as they come out!


Agent 38: A Perilous Report

Prologue

William Price was more on edge than usual. Press conferences were never fun, and being the Chancellor of Parker University meant he was subjected to a ridiculous array of questions from the media. Relations between the Chancellor and news outlets had become especially heated over the last few months. Those pesky reporters had been out for blood even more than usual as of late. Price was hoping and praying that he could get through at least one media flogging without one of those topics being mentioned.

Chancellor Price was a Caucasian man in his mid-50’s with graying blonde hair. He ran his hand over his head, being careful not to disturb the delicately styled combover which did its best to hide his large bald spot. He was dressed to a T, wearing a light gray business suit and blue striped tie. His brown eyes were narrowed in an effort to pretend he was deep in thought about the questions he was being asked. In reality he couldn’t care less to waste any meaningful brain power on the these bottom feeding vultures that called themselves “journalists”.

As it turned out, this particular press conference was nearing its end, and most of the reporters seated in front of him had behaved themselves so far. Price took what he assumed would be the last question from an older man near the back of the room. It was merely a follow up question concerning the new library being built across campus. The inquiry was probably the least controversial topic the Chancellor could discuss and internally he breathed a sigh of relief while answering it. Just as he finished speaking he began to move to his left to exit the stage, but before he could one dainty hand shot up in the air from someone sitting in the front row.

“Mister Price!” A female voice called out.

Price hesitated and glanced towards the source of the voice. He immediately said a few expletives in his mind, cursing himself first for not ignoring the call out, and doubly cursing this annoying girl for wasting his time. Although those emotions faded when he caught sight of who exactly it was who was asking the question.

It was a thin young woman with pale freckled skin and bright red shoulder length hair held back by a black headband. She wore a white turtleneck sweater that was just tight enough to perfectly accentuate her exceptional chest area and trim waist. She quickly and confidently stood up to address the Chancellor, showing off a black & red tartan pleated mini skirt that fell to her mid thighs, and the heels of her black suede knee high boots made distinct clicks on the floor as she did.

Price wondered why he hadn’t noticed this radiant beauty before now. He always made a mental note of the most attractive reporters that worked for the local media. Her voice may have sounded like nails on a chalkboard to Price’s ears, but at least she was easy on his eyes. She was quite nerdy, but in a cute way. Despite her good looks and sharp dress, Price could tell she was out of her depth in this environment. He imagined she was just like the rest of them; a sexy, talentless coed who got the job because of her boobs instead of her brains.

“Yes,” Price acknowledged. “One final question.” He added pointedly. He was going to make sure this was the end of it.

“Since it wasn’t mentioned earlier,” she began, using one of her fingers to slightly adjust her black rimmed glasses that outlined her deep blue eyes. “I was curious if you had any comments concerning the recent developments regarding the ongoing embezzlement scandal that has plagued your administration.”

Internally Price cringed and rolled his eyes. She was really going there, wasn’t she? This cute little ginger who looked so naïve and innocent was just as out for Price’s blood as all the others.

“As I’ve stated previously,” Price began. “There is an ongoing investigation into the alleged cases of mishandled funds. If and when we find something, those of you in the media will be first to know.”

Price was once again looking for a way out of this awkward exchange, but the reporter wasn’t having any of it.

“A recent report suggested that over 38 thousand dollars have gone missing over the past two years. Would you like to address that accusation?”

“That’s absolutely false news!” Price retorted. “If there was any so-called embezzlement happening, it’s certainly not nearly as dramatic as some people have made it out to be.”

“Okay, what about the alleged drug ring that’s been operating on campus recently?”

“Oh, come on now! This is preposterous,” Price said, chuckling as if he had heard a hilarious joke. “A drug ring? Where are you getting this stuff from? Next you’ll tell me you have a scoop on me selling pirated DVDs outside the corner store!”

Price laughed at his own joke and most everyone else in the crowd snickered along with him. The only one who wasn’t laughing was, of course, the gorgeous but annoying redhead in the front row, who now had a look on her face that could only be described as a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Price was now more comfortable, feeling as though he had successfully avoided the questions and simultaneously managed to turn the room against this overzealous reporter. But his confidence quickly disappeared when he heard the next thing out of her mouth.

“Were you planning to tell you wife about your mistresses, or were you just going to wait until it hit the papers?”

Price was stunned. He couldn’t believe this annoying girl had said such a thing. What was even more maddening was that it was absolutely true. How the hell did she know that? Price was now concerned he had even more leaks in his administration than he previously realized. But right now he just had to steer this PR dumpster fire in the right direction. Unfortunately the room had fallen dead quiet, the rest of the journalists surrounding him seemed just as surprised as he felt about what the girl had said. But Price was not just disturbed that they'd heard what she said, it was the fact that they might actually be considering if it was accurate. This girl had managed to publicly humiliate him, but if he kept up the back and forth with her she would surely say something else that could potentially be even more damning, and worse, probably true. It wasn’t often a reporter got the better of him, and he almost admired this one. Almost. Maybe there was more to her than just a pair of great legs, but he figured she had just got lucky today. And he wasn’t about to allow her to continue her lucky streak.

“No further questions.” Price finally said with the best eye roll he could muster. He hoped that was enough to satisfy any further curiosity into the matter, but he knew better. He also knew this would get him a lengthy tongue lashing from his wife later tonight. But it’s not like that wench was clueless, she was only concerned about her own public image being tarnished. Price had given up on having such luxuries. Although another disaster of a press conference like that and he was likely to lose a lot more than that.

As he quickly walked outside to his waiting limo, Price made a mental note to find out more about that irritating redheaded reporter. He would look forward to dealing with her later, one way or another.


Chapter 1

For most people it would be an alarming experience to find yourself tied to a chair with no escape.

But for Laura Kam it was just Monday afternoon.

On this particular Monday Laura happened to not have any classes to attend, which meant it was a free day to do whatever she wanted. A “normal” college student might stay in their dorm room and read a book, or perhaps binge watch The Office for the tenth time. But Laura was as far away from being “normal” as you could get, and her idea of a fun afternoon was quite different than your average sophomore.

After lazily waking up late in the morning, Laura had thrown on a white & black striped short sleeved shirt along with a black romper that featured overalls and short-shorts. She then accented them by slipping into her favorite pair of purple wool footed tights. She had recently decided to grow her hair out, and now her thick black locks — the tips of which were dyed hot pink — now fell halfway down her back. After finishing her homework she had gotten bored quickly and decided to have a little fun, quickly winding her hair into a long ponytail. A few minutes later, she couldn’t move. Laura was seated in a straight backed wooden chair, the one she had been sitting in all morning to study. Thin red rope had been used to tie each of her ankles independently to the corresponding chair leg near the floor, rope cinched tightly around her slender ankles. Oppositely her knees had been bound together leaving her legs in a restrictive scissored position. More of the red rope had been wrapped around Laura’s torso at her waist and chest, keeping her body firmly lashed to the back of the chair. Her wrists were pulled behind the chair back, each wearing a leather cuff that were pinned together with a small padlock. The device was a timer lock, a popular tool for self bondage enthusiasts such as Laura. It ensured that Laura would be properly trapped in her bondage, but only for the amount of time she chose. A digital screen on the front of the padlock indicated that Laura had only 15 minutes and 31 one seconds before the lock snapped open and she would be free. Until then, she was completely bound and helpless, and she was going to enjoy every moment.

Laura was a fair skinned 19 year old Asian American woman of Korean descent. Her parents had only recently emigrated to the United States when she was first born and they had done their best to raise their daughter in the most typical American way possible. It’s why she had been given a very American sounding first name and had been fed almost exclusively American culture when she was young. She was in her early teens before she finally began to understand and appreciate her family’s culture and way of life. Laura’s family just wanted her to be normal, but unfortunately for them it seemed that just encouraged the girl to upset all the norms she could. Everything from her personality to the way she dressed was as far from ordinary as possible, and she was fine with that. Laura thought it best to just be herself. To her it seemed like the most miserable people in the world were the ones who were obsessed with trying to be something that they weren’t in order to impress people they didn’t even like. Laura never understood the logic.

Of course, this attitude often made Laura the “weirdo” in every friend group — at least when she had friends that is. And nothing represented that view more than her biggest infatuation. The one thing that had been a constant throughout her entire life; bondage.

For as long as she could remember Laura had enjoyed being tied up. Well, “enjoyed” might be underselling it a bit. It had been an all out obsession since for most of her life. Laura had driven her siblings and her mothers crazy when she was younger, so much so that Laura was sure she had been bound and gagged a number of times just to give her family some peace. It was just as well for Laura who couldn’t get enough of being restricted in any way shape or form. It took her a long time to understand exactly why she enjoyed being tied up, and if Laura was honest, she still didn’t fully understand it. All she knew was that never felt more satisfied and exhilarated than she did when she was trussed up with ropes, belts, chains, or whatever else she could get her hands on. Of course, as time went on the amount of people around that were willing to tie her up had dwindled and Laura was forced to take matters into her own hands. Self bondage was the alternative, and after years of practice Laura had gotten pretty good at it.

The art of self bondage is a tricky one, forcing the participant to walk a thin line between helplessness and control. The goal is to tie one’s self up enough to feel as absolutely helpless as possible, while simultaneously maintaining enough control to be able to escape whenever you needed to. This tightrope walk produced mixed results even for the most experienced bondage enthusiast. For Laura it had been a learning curve, and sometimes a particularly rough one to learn considering that even the smallest mistake could leave you bound and gagged without escape for an unexpectedly long time. Laura had had more than her fair share of close calls, and a handful times where she needed to be rescued from being self kidnapped. Laura had never been ashamed of her bondage fetish, but even she had to admit it was fairly humiliating to have a next door neighbor uncuff her from her bed while only wearing a red swimsuit. That incident in particular had taught her a valuable lesson in bondage etiquette, namely to follow the golden rule; always have a partner nearby. Although Laura occasionally bent this rule, she always has a backup plan.

“Caity!” Laura said happily as the door to her dorm room suddenly flung open and another young woman of similar age rushed in. Laura had shared a dorm room with Caitlin James for almost three semesters and the two had become close friends. Caity was a freckled face 19 year old of average height and build with light colored skin, blue eyes and fiery red hair.

“Hi.” Caity said, barely acknowledging Laura as she shuffled past her seated and bound friend. Out of all the people Laura had known in her life, Caity James seemed to be the least bothered by her bondage fascination. In fact, it seemed that most of the time the redhead barely even noticed when Laura was tied up in her presence. For her entire life Laura’s friends, her classmates, and even her closest family had judged her and even shunned her for her unique desires. But not Caity.

Caity had easily been the most open minded person Laura had encountered concerning bondage. Caity obviously didn’t have the same affinity for tied up that Laura had, but she also didn’t seem to mind it either. There were plenty of times when Caity obliged Laura by tying her up in various interesting ways, and Caity herself eventually became willing to be a guinea pig when Laura wanted to test her tying skills on someone else. It was not lost on Laura that Caity had been the one person who not only accepted who she truly was, but supported her.

Today Laura was caught off guard by Caity’s appearance. Sure, the redhead obviously had natural beauty, but she always seemed to try and hide how attractive she was underneath baggy t-shirts and sweatpants. Caity was an introvert and never seemed to want to draw attention to herself. But today something had changed. A slim fitted white turtleneck sweater and black rimmed glasses was something that Laura imagined a sophisticated businesswoman might wear, but certainly not Caity James. Yet here she was, wearing just that with her red hair cut into a neat bob that fell to just above her shoulders, held back by a black headband, and bright red lipstick applied to her lips. Laura was also surprised by how much leg Caity was showing off by wearing a super short red & black plaid mini skirt which left most of her smooth ivory colored thighs exposed. But what made the entire ensemble pop were the shoes; A pair of black suede knee high boots with high heels. It was an outfit that would certainly turn some heads. Laura didn’t want to admit it, but she couldn’t help but admit that Caity looked — dare if she say it — quite sexy.

“Wow,” Laura said as she continued to admire her friend’s choice of clothing. “What are you all dressed up for?”

“Oh, I went to the press conference! I managed to talk to Chancellor Price and I am so close to breaking this story!” Caity said excitedly as she moved around the room, seeming to search for something.

“Wait, hang on a second,” Laura said. “You went to the Chancellor’s press conference? I thought only legit journalists were allowed into events like that.”

“Yeah, they are.” Caity said, matter-of-factly. Laura’s face took on an unamused expression.

“Well, then do you want to tell me how a simple coed like Caitlin Rebecca James managed to get into an exclusive press event and speak to the Chancellor of the University?”

“Oh, you know...” Caity responded absentmindedly. She suddenly shifted aside some papers and exclaimed “Yes!” picking up her camera and stuffing it into her dark brown messenger bag. Laura had never caught Caity lying to her, but she had noticed that the girl had the uncanny ability to avoid responding to a question she didn’t want to answer. But Laura wasn’t about to let her get away with this one.

“Caity, look at me.” Laura said, putting more force in her voice this time. Laura’s deep brown eyes were unblinking as she stared at her friend. Caity, perhaps realizing she had been caught, slowly turned to face Laura. “What did you do?” Laura demanded. The Redhead let out a deep sigh and responded.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I just hung around outside the building before it started and...” She hesitated, sheepishly, “I might have snatched a press badge off one of the reporters.”

“You what?!” Laura exclaimed.

“It’s not that bad!” Caity defensively countered. “They didn’t even look at the picture. They just scanned it and let me in.”

“It’s exactly that bad! You stole a badge and impersonated a journalist!”

“Excuse me?" Caity sounded offended. "Impersonated? I am a journalist!”

“No, getting an unpaid temporary internship with the Parker Tribune doesn’t make you a journalist!”

Caity had come to Parker College specifically with a passion for journalism. On top of being her major, she had already gotten the jump on a potential career in her desired field with the local newspaper. But it appeared she had been taking this a little too seriously, or perhaps not seriously enough.

“Have you forgotten how many butts Natalie had to kiss to get you that internship?” Laura said, referencing their mutual friend Natalie Drake. Natalie was a fellow student with connections to the Parker Tribune and had pulled several strings in order to get Caity an internship with the publication. “If they find out what you’ve done,” Laura continued. “You’re going to get fired!”

Caity smirked.

“When they find out what I’m going to do they’re going to give me a promotion!” Caity countered.

“Going to do? What do you mean by that?” Laura asked, a sense of dread crept into her brain.

“What I mean is, I’m close! I’m really close, Laura!” Caity said in a pleading tone. “These money laundering and drug ring fiascos has been going on for months and no one has been able to nail Chancellor Price with some hard evidence.”

“And you can?” Laura asked, clearly skeptical.

“Yes! I have a source who gave me some really crucial info about Price and what he’s up to.”

“You? Have a source?” Laura asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I… met someone… in a Facebook group.”

“Oh, brother.” Laura said, rolling her eyes.

“And!” Caity said, raising her voice in an attempt to drown out Laura’s skepticism. “He gave me a scoop about Price and his mistress.”

“Oh, you mean a rich dude is cheating on his wife?” Laura asked sarcastically. “What a surprise!”

“Laugh all you want, but that little tidbit was a secret until I broke the news during the press conference,” Caity was almost giddy saying the words. “Man, you should have seen his face when I dropped that bombshell! Not to mention all my colleagues…”

“You mean all the real journalists?” Laura cut in, but Caity ignored her.

Laura had heard a lot about Chancellor Price during her time at Parker College, and almost none of it was good. She really didn’t know what a college Chancellor’s job was, and she didn’t much care. All she knew was Price was supposed to be the head honcho of the University, and it seemed like he really sucked at his job. At least that’s what everyone was saying anyway. From the few times she had seen Price on TV or at the occasional school function he seemed like a real creep, on top of being the usual egoistical a-hole you’d expect to hold such a position. The allegations of fraud and drug trafficking had been all over the news for months, and while Laura was inclined to believe them, she knew the media was notorious for sensationalizing every little thing. Politics, on both a local and national level, seemed to always be either painfully boring or way too complicated for her to understand.

“But that isn’t the half of it!” Caity continued on. “The source said that Chancellor Price is going to be attending a secret meeting at the old Sawmill outside of town. He said Price might be meeting with some of his cronies to strike some under the table deal.”

“So?” Laura asked quizzically. This prompted a lopsided grin to develop on Caity’s face and it somehow said everything Laura needed to know.

“You can’t be serious.”

Caity shrugged in response.

“You’re serious?!”

“Why do you think I need my camera?” Caity continued. “If I get some clear shots of Price doing something dirty it’ll be everything I need to impress the Tribune and-”

“Have you lost your mind?” Laura blurted out, cutting her off. Caity was clearly taken aback by the question, and Laura immediately felt bad for seeming so harsh. Both went silent for a moment, then Laura spoke, with less force.

“Caity, think about this for a second; You don’t know what you might be walking in on. What if you’re wrong and Price isn’t a bad guy? This could be a wild goose chase, and if you’re caught spying on him you could get arrested.”

“Well, I’m not planning on getting caught.” Caity said with a side eye.

“Or,” Laura loudly continued, ignoring the interjection. “What if this guy really is as bad as you say he is? Who knows what he might do to you!” Laura did her best to put a twinge of emotion in her voice, desperate to express how truly worried she was about her friend’s wellbeing. After she had finished Caity didn’t immediately have a rebuttal and chose to stay silent. Laura couldn’t tell if she was truly getting through to Caity, or if it was just taking longer than usual for her friend to concoct a witty retort. Either way, Laura wasn’t going to give her a chance.

“Caity, you’re not a superhero, or a secret agent or whatever. You’re a sophomore cheerleader. This kind of stuff is over your head. You need to slow down.”

“But I’ve come so far, and I feel like I’m so close to breaking this wide open.” Now Caity sounded like the one who was pleading.

“Look,” Laura said. “If you really think something illegal is happening, why not just call the cops and let them handle it?”

“Isn’t that what they say in movies, right before the bad guy does something really terrible and the police don’t do anything?”

“Maybe. But they also say it in movies right before the overconfident heroine goes off and gets herself into big trouble.”

Caity wasn’t having it.

“No! The Cops could be in Price’s pocket. I can’t risk telling anyone else.”

Laura was desperate now. She wanted to tackle Caity, tie her up and leave her like that until she came to her senses. Unfortunately for Laura she was still tied up herself, and it would be a number of minutes more before the timer on her cuffs released. In the meantime she had to think of something, anything that might stall Caity from leaving too soon.

“Wait, are you really talking about snooping around that decrepit Sawmill wearing a mini skirt and high heeled boots?” Laura feigned a scoff, hoping her fashion critique would get under Caity’s skin more than her other protests.

“You’re right!” Caity said in response. “I really should put on some sneakers and tights.” For a moment Laura thought her strategy might have worked, but then Caity said; “But I’ve got no time to change!”

“Wait,” Laura was stammering, looking for anything she could say that would keep her friend from making what was clearly a terrible mistake. “Can you at least call Sam or Natalie? Have someone go with you!”

Caity scoffed. “Yeah, so they can also talk me out of this? No thanks.”

“Well... then... untie me!” Laura demanded, shaking her hands that still hung behind her back. “I’m not going to let you go alone!” Laura knew she had around 10 more minutes before the timer lock released on her handcuffs, and if she was going to get Caity under control she would have to act fast. Thankful Caity stopped what she was doing and threw her hands up in a sign of defeat.

“Alright, alright! We’ll have it your way.” Caity walked behind the chair Laura was seated in, presumably to use the physical key to undo the timed padlock. “But don’t think for a second you’re going to talk me out of this.” She added, now out of Laura’s sight.

“If you think I’m just going to shut up and let you MMMMPPPHHH!” Laura suddenly felt a large piece of plastic being shoved into her mouth, rendering the rest of her sentence a muffled wail. It was her beloved red ball gag, which she usually enjoyed wearing under normal circumstances, but this was far from normal.

“Yeah, I actually was thinking you should rest that mouth of yours for a bit.” Caity said coldly, her voice taking on almost a sinister tone. She tightened the buckle on the back of Laura’s neck, securing the device firmly in her friend’s mouth.

“Mmmppphhh?!” Laura pleaded, equally surprised and confused.

“Look, I have to do this,” Caity suddenly sounded apologetic as she moved in front of Laura. “I don’t expect you to understand or to approve. I do, however, appreciate the fact that you did me the favor of tying yourself up nice and tight so I don’t have to worry about you doing anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“MMPPPPHHH!” Laura continued to protest, but her gag talk fell on deaf ears.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Caity returned to the back of the chair and Laura’s heart sank as soon as she heard the distinct beeping of the electronic padlock’s buttons being pressed. “I think an extra hour or so added to your cuffs should at least give me a good head start, don’t you think?” Laura jerked away from Caity and began violently thrashing in the chair attempting to free herself. But Laura knew her restraints well enough to know that escape would be no easy task.

“I would add some more rope just to make sure you stay put, but I’ve really gotta go.”

“GRRRR!!” Laura raged from under her ball gag as she used her bare woolen-covered feet to pound on the floor of the dorm in protest. Caity quickly and casually grabbed her satchel and headed for the door. She stopped briefly in front of Laura who was still glaring at her with all the disdain she could muster. Caity responded by leaning down and kissing Laura on the forehead.

“Have fun. I love you. Please don’t hate me.”

Too late for that, Laura thought as Caitlin James swiftly exited the dorm room, leaving her friend — or perhaps former friend — behind, bound, gagged and helpless.


Chapter 2

Caity pulled her car onto the shoulder of the desolate road. It was approaching dusk and she was anxious to get to the Sawmill in time. Unfortunately driving all the way up to the building would attract too much attention, so she would have to hike the rest of the way. She knew it would suck, but it was necessary to make sure she didn’t blow her cover.

As she got out of her car she felt an unexpected rush of exhilaration. She had never done anything like this before in her life. Caity realized she should be nervous or scared. Or perhaps she should have even had second thoughts about her current “mission”. The truth was, at least some of what Laura had said earlier was true, and what Caity was doing was pretty crazy. She was literally about to break into a privately owned building to spy on the highest ranking official at her own college. And not only that, it seemed likely that the Chancellor was meeting with some seriously shady and potentially dangerous individuals.

Caity grabbed her brown leather messenger bag, slung it over her shoulder and began hiking down the two lane asphalt road. The walk was only a half mile, but it felt like an eternity. By the time she got to the entrance to the Sawmill’s driveway the bright sunlight of the afternoon was starting to fade as the Sun slowly dipped behind the trees surrounding her. The Mill was hidden within a wooded area a few hundred feet from the road and a long unpaved driveway led up to the massive building. After only a couple of minutes of trekking up the driveway Caity began hating herself due to her choice of wardrobe today. She had chosen to dress as “sexy” as possible in an effort to distract the Chancellor, but she now realized this outfit was highly impractical for her current activity. Walking on gravel in heels was excruciating, and with the air growing ever colder due to the approaching night, she felt dumb for wearing a mini skirt without tights or pantyhose. The exposed portion of her legs between the bottom of her skirt and the top of her boots — which was unusually large due to the extremely short skirt she had chosen — was covered in chill bumps. Nevertheless, she wasn’t going to let any amount of discomfort get in the way of doing what she needed to do.

As Caity approached the Sawmill she was taken aback by how large it was. She had only ever seen the building from afar previously, but standing in front of it made her feel tiny. It was at least three stories tall and the length of at least two football fields. Several humongous smoke stacks poked out from its roof and high into the air. There were also an array of loading docks and large chutes where goods would be moved in and out of the factory. When fully functioning the Sawmill would have been bustling with activity and noise, but now it was deathly still and quiet. Caity had heard that the Mill had closed down a few years ago, shortly before she had moved to the area for school. It had been one of the largest employers in the county and the local economy had been suffering ever since it was shuttered.

Caity approached the building carefully and made her way around to its right side. Peeking around the corner she caught sight of two large black SUVs parked near one of the loading docks. “They’re already here?” She whispered to herself. Caity had planned to sneak into the building and get into position before Price and his goons arrived, ensuring she couldn't be seen and wouldn’t miss anything. But it appeared now that she had arrived too late and it would make her job that much harder. A part of her subconscious cursed her for not getting here sooner, and Caity could only imagine what Laura would say knowing that her fool’s errand had just become more foolish. They were already holding their meeting inside the sawmill, Caity realized, so she would have to be extra careful and extra stealthy about getting into the building… in a mini skirt and heels.

Caity would have to find a completely different door if she didn’t want to be seen, and there were none in sight. Thankfully she spotted an alternative just a few feet away in the form of a large air vent embedded in the wall of the building. The vent had originally been covered by a thick metal grate, but now it lay on the ground, rusty and broken. Perhaps it had been torn down by vandals, or had simply succumbed to the elements. Either way, Caity was thankful she had a less conspicuous pathway inside.

Caity carefully stepped into the gigantic air duct which was large enough for her to stand in at her full height. The once shiny chrome corridor has been dulled by rust and dirtied with thick layers of sawdust. The air duct creaked and rattled under her weight, and her high heels added loud metallic taps to each of her footsteps. She moved as slowly and carefully as she could, but she was still concerned she was making enough noise to alert the Chancellor and his thugs. But thankfully the air duct was short and she stepped through without incident, successfully making her way inside the building.

Caity took a moment to take stock of her surroundings. She was in a massive room which appeared to be one of the primary work areas inside the Sawmill. It was an oblong space approximately 150 feet long, 50 feet wide, and approximately three stories tall. The interior metal walls were stained with rust and mildew, and more than half of the windows in the space were shattered. The bottom level was a large open floor surrounding one large conveyor belt in the center that stretched from one end of the room to the other. On one end of the conveyor was a doorway, one seemingly big enough to feed logs through from the adjacent room, and at the other end was an enormous saw blade. Caity imagined a large log traveling down the conveyor, all the way across the room, until it met a large vertical blade positioned in the center of the belt that would split the wood right down the middle into two pieces. In its prime this room would have been bustling with dozens of workers and would have processed countless pieces of wood in a short period of time. Sadly those days were long gone, and the room was now peaceful and quiet. The floor of the workspace was covered in a thick layer of sawdust and littered with scraps of wood, rusty saw blades and other bits of refuse. Just above her was a second level that featured several former offices right behind a set of balcony areas on either side that overlooked the ground floor. And just above that was a small loft area.

Caity glanced around in awe of the decrepit structure. She wasn’t the type to do any urban exploring, so seeing a building in such a state of deterioration was oddly fascinating. In her amazement she slowly spun around while trying to take in the entire room. While doing so she took a few steps backwards and absentmindedly bumped into something large directly behind her. Caity quickly turned around and saw that it was a large wooden pallet with at least a hundred small packages stacked on top of it, all of which were shrink wrapped together into giant bundle that was as tall as she was. Caity was taken aback when she noticed that the individual packages appeared to be bags of white powder. Could it be? Caity thought to herself, examining the neatly wrapped bundle closely. Although the packages had no markings on them, and she certainly didn’t have any experience identifying such things, if she had to imagine what a large shipment of cocaine looked like, this is exactly what she would have pictured.

Was this it? Had she actually — quite literally — stumbled upon Chancellor’s Price’s secret drug smuggling operation? Caity couldn’t believe her luck. The evidence needed to put Price behind bars was now right in front of her. She briefly considered tearing a hole in the plastic and snatching one of the bags to keep as evidence, but immediately quelled the thought. Carrying a bag of illicit drugs in her purse was an easy way to end up in handcuffs if she happened to be pulled over on the way home. Her best bet was to attain as many photos of said evidence as possible while she could. Caity reached into her bag and rummaged around for her camera. But before she could find it she suddenly became startled at the sound of voices nearby. Soon after she heard footsteps, and they were coming in her direction. Caity ran towards the conveyor belt and ducked behind it just as a shadow appeared in the door on the opposite side of the room.

“…You drive a hard bargain, mister Price.” One unknown man said. Caity peeked over the top of the conveyor to see a group of four well dressed men glide into the room.

“What can I say, I’m a businessman.” Caity couldn’t mistake the voice of Chancellor Price. Although his voice sounded considerably different than how it was at the press conference earlier in the day. Price was infamous for working the media like a politician would, using a lot of patronizing language and hyperbole to wear them down. Here he sounded as if he were speaking to a friend, or, as Caity interpreted it, a friend he was trying to lure into a ponzi scheme.

“Besides,” Price continued. “Ask any of my colleagues, I always treat my partners well.”

“That may be true, Mister Price,” The man walking directly behind Price spoke up with a thick Australian accent. He was Caucasian and was approximately 30 years old, Caity guessed. His greasy black hair was slicked back and the black dress shirt he wore was sloppily unbuttoned. He wore matching black pants, a gray tweed jacket, and black loafers. “But my employer is concerned about the high profile nature of this operation. I mean, you’re the head bloke of the local college. It’s a good gig, but you’ve been sloppy about cleaning up your messes lately.”

“I concur,” another man said in a deep accented voice as he trailed behind the Australian. “I saw part of your press conference this morning. It would appear the media doesn’t to want to let your more recent mistakes go unnoticed.” Caity guessed this man to be African. He was about a head taller than his companions and had dark brown skin, black hair woven into exquisite braids, and deep brown eyes. He wore a simple yet elegant long black tunic accented with green, yellow and brown kente cloth.

“C’mon, now. Really?” Price retorted, nearly cutting him off. “You’re really worried about a few reporters getting in the way of our grand plans? They won’t be an issue for us, trust me.”

The group stopped just a few feet away from the conveyor belt and they formed a semicircle as they continued their conversation. As they did the third man in the party came into view, and Caity immediately recognized that it wasn’t a man at all, but was in fact a woman. She had a stocky muscular frame and her blonde hair was styled into a short pixie cut. She wore a black leather jacket, a black tube top, and matching tight fitting black jeans with black leather thigh high boots. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she scowled in Price’s direction. She was clearly the most skeptical of the three, and didn’t hide her feelings.

“I’ve got plenty of connections in the media,” Price continued. “I’m sure they’ll forget all about those controversies they keep babbling on about.”

“If you’re so well connected, Price, then why the hell are we meeting in this dump?” The woman said, a hint of a Russian accent present in her voice.

“For confidentiality, of course,” Price said smugly. “Did you really expect me to host my most distinguished guests in the middle of a public park or something? No, no. This place may not look like much, but it’s secure. It’s been abandoned for years. I bought the place a few years back. So you don’t have to worry about any nosy reporters coming around to ruin our fun.”

“And if they do?” The African man questioned.

“Well, we always have contingencies” Just as Price said the words, he glanced behind him and two other men emerged from the shadows just a few feet away. Both wore black business suits and carried large rifles in their hands. There were noticeable wired earpieces in their ears and they both wore dark sunglasses. Upon Price’s signal, one of the bodyguards stepped forward and cocked his rifle, the metallic sound echoing through the large empty space. Caity’s breathe caught in her throat. Fear began to grip her as the reality of the situation solidified in her mind. It seemed that she was right about at least one thing; Price’s influence was far reaching. And as much as Caity hated to admit it, Laura was also right; Price was a dangerous man who was willing to do terrible things to anyone who stood in his way. If Price caught her here who knows what he might do. She had to get out of the Sawmill, but there was no way she could make it back to the air vent without being seen now.

“My friends, how about we take a load off and continue this conversation over a drink?” Price motioned in the direction of the conveyor and the whole group began moving that way. Price stepped forward and grabbed a hold of a small section of the conveyor belt which was hinged and lifted it upward so he and his potential business partners could walk through to the other side. Unfortunately for Caity, this meant that they would now be on the same side of the conveyor that she was, and there was a strong chance they would see her in her current hiding place. She had to make a move, and fast.

Thinking quickly, Caity got down on all fours and crawled her way in the opposite direction of where Price was moving, keeping close to the conveyor. She crawled only a few feet before she saw a crawlspace underneath the conveyor belt that opened to the opposite side that was just big enough for her to squeeze through. She crawled her way under the conveyor, being careful to make as little noise as possible, and positioned herself on the other side of the conveyor, her back now firmly pressed against its metallic chassis. She took a moment to catch her breath, all the crawling had thoroughly worn her out. She then took a chance and eased herself up to the top edge of the conveyor hoping to catch a glimpse of what Price was up to currently. She could now see that amidst the rusty and broken machinery there sat an elegant wooden table with several chairs. The seating arrangement had been sitting just on the other side of the pallet of drugs, opposite of where Caity had just been standing. Price grabbed a chair and sat down, making himself as comfortable as if he were in his own living room.

“Please, have a seat.” Price motioned for the rest of them to sit down while his bodyguards stood ominously behind him. Price then snapped his fingers in the direction of one of the guards who was carrying a briefcase. The guard immediately walked over, placed the briefcase on the table, and opened it, revealing what appeared to be a crystal bottle of whiskey inside and several glasses. It appeared Price’s foreign guests were aware of the Chancellor’s sleazy ways and didn’t seem all that thrilled with the idea of being inebriated while trying to close a serious business deal with him. Nevertheless, they all reluctantly humored him by sitting down at the table. One by one the guard dolled out glasses and filled each one with the golden brown liquid.

Caity returned to her crouching position behind the conveyor belt. With her entry route compromised she would have to find another way out of the Sawmill. The only option she saw in her immediate vicinity was a doorway to her right that led out onto the loading dock just beyond the cutting room she was in now. It has been the same doorway that Price and his friends had entered the room from. She could see sunlight streaming in from that direction and knew she could get out there, but it was no use. Going that direction would force her to walk, or crawl, past the table of thugs, putting her in direct view of Price and his new drinking buddies. Not to mention she had no way of knowing if any more guards lurked around the corner from which the group came. It was way too risky.

To her left she noticed a stairway leading up to the second floor of the building, and it appeared to be mostly obscured from Price’s view thanks to a large support pillar nearby. Perhaps Caity could find a less conspicuous way out on the upper floor? It was far from ideal, but it was the only option she had at the moment. Caity got on her hands and knees once again and crawled towards the pillar, taking cover behind it before hopping to her feet. She carefully peeked around the edge of the pillar towards where Price was sitting. He was casually sipping on his glass of whiskey while trying to woo his captive audience.

“…I mean, who watches the news anymore anyway?” Caity heard Price’s voice echo through the room. “It’s all fake news these days.”

Caity scampered towards the stairway when it appeared none of them were looking in her direction, and then she began climbing. Unfortunately the metal stairs were more rickety and noisy than they first appeared. Caity was forced to move slowly and carefully up the stairs to avoid making too much noise. Of course, this was made excruciatingly difficult due the high heeled boots on her feet. She had to stay on her tiptoes constantly to avoid allowing her heels from creating their signature tapping on the metal. And about ten steps up she nearly broke her ankle narrowly missing stepping into a large rusty hole in the metal. She managed to recover and finally made it to the second floor, but not before tripping over the very top step of the stairs. She nearly fell face first into the floor but was able to catch herself with her hands. It unfortunately didn’t stop her from making a loud racket when she landed. Caity froze for a moment, thinking for sure the thugs downstairs had heard the noise and would be coming for her. Staying on her hands and knees she crept up to the railing and peered down at them, confirming they actually hadn’t moved from where they were seated. Somehow Price and his friends hadn’t heard the heard noise and Caity finally let out her breath, not realizing she had been holding it all this time.

Caity spun around and sat on the floor, just out of sight of the bad guys, and glanced around. She was now on one of the two balconies that lined the second story of the enormous room. To her right, towards the end of the room where Price was sitting, the balcony wrapped around the outer wall and connected each opposing balcony with a short catwalk. That would certainly take her in the direction she wanted to go, but Price and the other brigands would surely see her. Looking left she saw that the balcony dead-ended into a window. Sunlight from the outside streamed in through a couple of the window panes that had been shattered to pieces. Caity carefully moved towards the window and got a closer look. The broken panes were too small to crawl through, but a small latch on the window allowed Caity to fully open the door-sized window. And to her amazement, just outside the window, was a fire escape. A metal catwalk attached to the outside of the building was connected to a staircase that led all the way down to the ground. This was it! She had a way out. And Price would never even know she had been here. Just then, she heard a voice reverberate through the building.

“….Now, let’s get down to business.” Price said loudly and cheerfully. The Chancellor was about to put the finishing touches on his evil plan, and Caity wanted so badly to catch him in the act. She glanced back longingly, knowing it would be a bad idea to even think about going back in. But then she saw something; a ladder. Her gaze followed it upward and noticed that it was used to access the loft on the third floor of the building. The loft mirrored the balconies on the second level, being that they hung over top one another on the left and right, but the loft was much more crude. It featured no guard rails and there were noticeable holes in the floorboards.

Hanging horizontally in the middle of the room, just a few feet below the loft, was a large 10 by 10 beige net that was covered in cobwebs and dirtied with soot. It was pulled tight at its four corners by rope that had been tied on and ran through a pulley system attached to the four largest support columns near the center of the space. Caity imagined that the net and pulleys were used to transport heavy items from the ground floor up to the loft. The loft itself appeared to be too small to be a proper work area. Now it was even less useful for woodworking, but it would be a perfect spot for someone who wanted to do some spying without being seen. Caity could tell it was just high enough that it would be nearly impossible for anyone standing in the loft to be seen from the ground.

Caity could again hear Laura’s voice screaming at her to wake up, that she was in way over her head. That she should quickly climb down the fire escape, run back to her car and get the hell out of there. She felt bad for leaving the poor girl bound and gagged back in their dorm room. But she now realized she was too close to give up now. Besides, if she ran away empty handed all of this effort would have been for nothing. She had to try. Besides, taking a few photos would only take a minute, right?

After a long and tiring climb up a shaky wooden ladder, Caity finally arrived at the loft. The loft’s floor was made up of thick wooden planks that were packed tightly together. Unfortunately some were looser than others, and a few were missing completely. She would have to watch her step, it was a long way down.

Caity approached the ledge of the loft and peered down towards the floor, which was at least 3 stories below her. She wasn’t necessarily afraid of heights, but such a long distance down made her stomach churn. Still, she pressed on, kneeling down on the wooden planked floor of the loft as she pulled her leather messenger bag off her shoulder. She peered down to the ground floor and could see where Price and his buddies were sitting clearly. The gleaming polished surface of the table they encircled stood in stark contrast to its filthy surroundings.

She pulled the camera out of her bag and took aim at her unknowing subjects. She zoomed and began snapping photos, getting close enough to get clear shots of the faces of everyone seated at the table, including Chancellor Price. She also snapped some wide shots, making sure that Price was in the frame with the bundled contraband to further incriminate him. After only a handful of minutes Caity stopped taking photos and thumbed the buttons on her camera, examining her handiwork. Glancing at the photos she wasn’t sure if she was satisfied with how they turned out, or was just overeager to finish up. Either way, she decided she was ready to leave.

Caity quickly rose up from her kneeling position to her full height, slipped her camera back into her messenger bag and placed the bag on her shoulder. She stepped backwards in an effort to spin on her heel and head for head for the exit. But as she did she suddenly felt her left foot sink into the floorboards below her. Caity gasped, at first believing that one of the wooden planks had given way under her weight. To her momentary relief she realized that the sharp heel of her boot had slipped in between two of the wooden boards. Panic began to set in once again when Caity tried to pull her heel out from between the boards, but she found she couldn’t. It appeared that the two planks were pressed tightly together, and the heel had wedged itself firmly between them.

With one of her feet stuck to the floor Caity quickly became unbalanced. She struggled to regain her balance by hopping around on her still free right foot, but that still didn’t stop her from nearly falling over forwards. She swung her arms wildly in an effort to get her balance back, but doing so made her satchel slide off her shoulder and fall onto the wooden planked floor at her feet. The weight of the camera and the rest of her belongings inside, combined with rattling of the floor boards, created a loud thud that echoed through the Sawmill. Caity suddenly stopped struggling and froze, hoping and praying no one had heard the bag fall.

“Hey, what was that?” The Australian said.

“Sounds like it came from upstairs!” Another voice responded.

“Oh no,” Caity said in a panicked whisper. “I’ve gotta get outta here, now!” She said to herself, her heart beating quicker. She then spun around the best she could with her foot stuck to the floor and, with a shaky grip, reached down to her left foot and grabbed her black suede boot by the ankle. She planted her right foot firmly on the floor in an effort to get as much leverage as possible. She quickly braced herself, then gave the boot a violent yank upwards. As soon as she did Caity realized she had perhaps put a bit too much effort into the action as her boot heel finally slid free of its entrapment between the floorboards. The force sent Caity tumbling backwards and, to her horror, over the edge of the balcony.

Before Caity knew it she was in mid-air, falling down in rapid velocity towards the bottom floor. The fall seemed to go in slow motion, so much so that more than a few thoughts flashed through Caity’s mind. She thought how a fall from this far up would most likely leave her severely injured, if not dead. She realized that if she did survive Laura would have every right to say “I told you so”. And she also mentally kicked herself for wearing high heels during this idiotic misadventure.

Suddenly, Caity felt something soft at her back, an she instantly knew it wasn’t the hard concrete floor of the Sawmill. At first the soft surface seemed like it was falling with her, then it began to slow her descent. As it did, she could suddenly feel it all around her, as if it were swallowing her up. As soon as she caught a glimpse of it she couldn't believe her luck. It was the large net she had spotted earlier. Instead of falling straight to the floor, Caity had fallen directly into the net and it had effectively saved her life. Instead of a quick and painful fall, she was experiencing a slow and comfortable descent towards the bottom floor. But Caity quickly realized that what had saved her was also entrapping her. Looking directly above she could see the edges of the net slowly closing together. The ropes and pulleys that held up the net were now tangling together as she fell, making it so that thick net tightened around her body. She thrashed around inside the net, perhaps in a futile effort to climb out of the slowly shrinking web of rope. But the more she struggled the farther she fell, and the farther she fell the tighter the net became around her. Pretty soon her high heels snagged on the rope and became tangled in the sides of the net which raised them upwards towards the ceiling. The net continued to tighten until Caity was hanging upside down, her arms pinned to her sides in awkward positions, her legs tangled in the net above her, and her face pressed into the squares of rope at the bottom of the net. Finally, now completely trapped and unable to move, Caity stopped falling.

A moment of reprieve from her violent descent from the third floor left Caity gasping for air as her heart beat quickly in her chest. She glanced around the best she could and realized she was hanging just a few feet above the concrete floor near the conveyor belt. The seemingly endless falling feeling had stopped, now replaced by a slow and tedious spin. She was now facing the conveyor but continued to spin until she had an upside down view of the table. A lump formed in her throat when she saw that no one was currently sitting at it anymore.

“My, my... What do we have here?” Chancellor Price said. As Caity spun she came face to face with the man she had traded verbal barbs with just a short time ago under significantly different circumstances. Despite her being completely upside down, the net kept her at almost eye level with the Chancellor who Caity could see was already adopting a sickening grin to his face. Whenever Caity had seen Price previously he had always exuded a sense of calm enthusiasm. He always seemed to present himself as a kindly older man that was nothing but pleasant and decent. Here, however, Caity instantly felt uneasy and fearful in his presence. Gone was his professional kind persona, replaced with an unsettling, almost evil smile on his face. Caity instantly knew that everything she had heard about the man, from his dirty under the table deals, to the money laundering scheme, were absolutely true.

Caity soon found herself surrounded by all of the shady individuals she had previously observed from afar. Some of them eyed her with curiosity. Others held a look of contempt. Price simply continued to grin.

“Looks like we caught ourselves a little spy,” The Chancellor laughed to himself. “Or more accurately, she caught herself.”


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[Fandango]

This is really well done. I certainly won't be able to stop here. I'm going to have to see how this one progresses.

[BobaFettish1]

This is really well done. I certainly won't be able to stop here. I'm going to have to see how this one progresses.

I hope you do! I’ve had a ton of fun writing it, and it’s just getting good started.