Agent 38: Choose Your Own DID Adventure

[BobaFettish1]

Hey guys!

So I had an idea for something completely different and I wanted to give it a shot. Basically this will be a sort of “choose your own adventure” where everyone will have a chance to guide Agent 38 through a brand new story.

This is how it will work:

- I will give you a multiple choice question and all of you will have a certain amount of time to answer it. The question will focus on a certain element in the story and will help guide the plot forward. For example:

“Should Agent 38; (A) go upstairs to look for a way out, or (B) search the basement for clues?”

- Once the time is up(it could be a few days or more), whichever answer gets the most votes will be selected, and I will write the next part of the story based on the reader’s selection.

I’m not totally sure how this will work as we go along, or if it will work it all. But I wanted to try it just out of curiosity. I considered using a new character, but I figured my pre-established super spy & damsel in distress OC was the perfect guinea pig for this test. If this is successful I’d like to try it with other types of characters.

—————————————————————————————————-

So, to get started, I need you guys to vote on which mission Agent 38 should take:

#1: Protect a princess from assassins onboard a speeding train.

#2: Go undercover at a masquerade party inside a mansion in order to steal something vital.

#3: Meet an informant in an abandoned warehouse down by the docks in hopes of learning some key information.

REPLY WITH YOUR ANSWERS ASAP!

[Deleted User 4493]

Number 3! Sounds like a good way to find themselves tied up!

[TightsBound]

I vote #2! Plenty of chances to be tied up in a mansion in her fancy dress.

[Caesar73]

I vote #2! Plenty of chances to be tied up in a mansion in her fancy dress.

I agree and vote also for Scenario #2!

[Ducttapelover93]

All of the choices are so good! Uh but I think that 2 would be the most fun though.

[Macher]

I choose number 1.

[FabianStr2016]

Number 2!

[Deleted User 4409]

Number 2!

[Tieup1]

I pick Number 2

[The slave]

I choose the number 2

[bob79519]

I choose number 1.

[Straitjacketed]

Hmmm... 2!

(Although 3 is also tempting.)

[BobaFettish1]

Okay! Voting is now closed for this round! Thank you all so much for the amazing response! I think it’s safe to say option #2 won by a landslide. I’ve already begun writing it and I think you guys will really enjoy it.

Side note: I realized far too late that I accidentally posted this thread in the “For Adults” forum, and I intended to put it in the “Everyone” forum.

For the record: this story will still be PG-13 as all my story have been. So if anyone wants to avoid adult content but still wants to follow along and participate, they can do so here.

[Ducttapelover93]

You could probably ask a mod to move it to the Everyone thread.

[BobaFettish1]

PART I
_________________________________________________



I can hear it in the distance.

I can feel the ground shake underneath me

I can see the plume of smoke in the distance.

It’s coming... soon.

And there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.

My hands are bound in front of me. Several rounds of thick hemp rope encircle my wrists with the palms of my hands pressed tightly together. The knot holding them is just out of reach of my fingers, otherwise I would have picked it apart by now.

More of the prickly, cream colored rope has been applied to my ankles, shins, and above & below my knees keeping my legs firmly bound together. There’s also lots of rope tightly encircling my entire body and holding it in place.

And if that was all I had to worry about I’d be fine. But for this cowgirl, it’s not just about being all tied up, it’s WHERE I’m tied, and more specifically, what I’m tied to that has me sweating bullets.

You see, my problem is much bigger than my current predicament. It all started when I got in deep with the Jameson boys. I ended up owing them a lot of money, and I didn’t exactly get around to paying my debts in a timely fashion.

It wasn’t long before I found myself on the wrong end of a gun and had to skip town a few times to avoid some bounty hunters who were hot on my heels.

One day I made the mistake of taking a stroll on the outskirts of town. I had chosen to wear a red & white checkered flannel shirt with a red bandanna tied around my neck. For my bottom half I chose a knee length dark blue skirt with a bit of lacy white fringe around the bottom edge. I topped off the outfit with my black cowboy hat and my reddish brown cowboy boots. My red hair was braided into long pigtails that hung down past my shoulders on either side.

And although I didn’t plan on using it, I also wore my trusty dark red belt with my favorite revolver in the holster, just to let everyone know I meant business.

Well, just when I thought I was keeping a good eye out, someone snuck up on me. One minute I was walking peacefully down the dirt road, the next I was sliding down it on my back. It was the Jameson boys, and they’d managed to snare my legs with a lasso and were enjoying themselves as they dragged me down the dusty thoroughfare. I immediately went for my gun, but it got knocked out of my hand mid-drag(which is lucky for them, ‘cause I never miss a shot).

After a long dirty ride they finally stopped, but before I could get up and dust myself off they had me hogtied, blindfolded, and thrown into a wagon. It was a long ride to wherever we were going, and all the while the Jameson boys bragged about how the were finally going to get their “money’s worth” out of me. I shuddered to think what that actually meant, but pretty soon I found out.

Once the ride was over they untied me briefly and took off my blindfold. I soon realized I was in the middle of the desert, surrounding by nothing but... well, nothing. Save for a few massive rock formations in the distance, this particular patch of sand was devoid of almost everything....

Except for a lone pair of railroad tracks.

The Jameson boys took to binding together my wrists, knees, shins and ankles just so. Then they laid me down crossways on the train tracks, with my head resting on one rail and my boot heels resting on the opposite rail.

The filthy gang members added more and more rope, lashing my ankles to the rail below them, as well as encircling my legs and my torso with rope and securing it all to one of the railroad ties beneath me. They even tied a noose around my neck and attached it to the rail under my head. To to top it all off they took my beloved red bandanna from my neck, tied a knot in its center, and used it to gag me.

The Jameson boys then rode off into the sunset, taunting me the whole way and promising that a train would be along anytime now to chop me up into pieces.

I knew I could eventually find a way to untie myself. This certainly wasn’t the first time I’d been trussed up by my enemies, and it wasn’t even the worst binding I’ve experienced. But I needed time... and luck. And I seem to be fresh out of both of those today.

It wasn’t long before I heard the faint whistle of a steam train off in the distance. For once, engine #38 was right on schedule, and I was right in its path.

As the train draws closer I can begin to make out the distinct shape of the engine’s boiler, smokestack and cattle catcher. The train is barreling across the dry, sandy plains at top speed. The engine and its crew are completely unaware of the poor damsel in distress that’s tied to the tracks in front of them. And even if they did know I was here, they no longer have the time or the distance to stop before turning me into a flapjack.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, banking on the slimmest chance that someone might hear me, but the scream came out as only a whimper under my gag.

The train draws closer.

I buck and rock my entire body in hopes of tearing myself free of the ropes, but they remain as tight as ever.

The trains draws closer.

I begin to struggle with rope around my hands, doing everything I can to loosen them.

The train draws closer.

Finally, I’m able to slip my right hand free of the rope, and then my left hand. I quickly reach up to untie the rope from my neck.

The train draws closer.

I’m able to free my neck and release the ropes from around my torso. I can now sit up in the middle of the tracks and observe that my legs are still throughly encased in rope, and tightly bound to the rail at my feet. And the train?

The train is moments away from bearing down on me.

I frantically began untying and ripping off pieces of rope from my legs. I reach for ankles, in hopes of removing the last bit of rope anchoring me to the rails... but it’s no use.

The train is just a stone’s throw away. It charges towards me at full force. I instinctively throw my hands up to shield myself from the incoming mass. I close my eyes and brace myself for the impact.

But nothing happens.

The train passes through me entirely, as if it were a ghost.

“Well... that was anticlimactic.” A a posh male British voice said in the background.

“Mmmppphh!” I said, forgetting the gag was still lodged in my mouth.

My entire surroundings began to draw out of focus and fade. The desert, the train, the setting sun in the distance, all of it began to disappear. All that was left was a short, 2 meter long stretch of iron train tracks in the middle of a brightly lit white room with no windows. On top of the tracks was me, still ensnared in a web of ropes.

I grabbed the red bandanna and yanked it out of my mouth.

“I said ‘dammit!’ I was really close that time.”

“Well, my dear Agent 38, ‘close’ isn’t quite good enough,” Gordon said as he stood behind a console just across the room. “Just be glad it wasn’t a real locomotive, or you really would have something to complain about.”

Gordon continued to press buttons and flip switches on his console until the machine had powered down completely. Gordon is an older, short, stocky, balding man with a booming British accented voice that defied his stature. He’s one of the Agency’s brightest minds, having been the one to originally design the holographic simulator. It’s one of the many toys our R&D department has cooked up, and many of them can be credited to Gordon(just don’t tell him that, he’s got enough of an ego as it is).

“I really don’t see why you feel the need to continue pushing yourself like this. Or why you’ve chosen such unorthodox scenarios in which to test your abilities. You already have the best escape time in the rope category.”

“Look, even I get a little rusty sometimes and I need to challenge myself. And when you’ve got a state-of-the-art holographic simulator at your disposal, I just can’t pass up making things more... interesting.”

Gordon scowled further.

“Your definition of ‘interesting’ is not the same as mine. At least the Star Wars-themed escape you attempted during your last visit was a bit more creative.”

“Trek! It was Star Star Trek-themed! They don’t wear yellow mini skirts with black boots in Star Wars!”

“Which is the one that has ball gags?”

“That was just my.... Ugh, never mind.”

During our conversation I had began fiddling with the remnants of the rope still wrapped around my body. While I had managed to free my hands and remove much of the rope holding me to the tracks, I was still far from fully escaping. The rope that had been originally applied to my to my ankles, knees and thighs still held tight, keeping my legs securely bound together.

While my imagined story had given credit to “the Jameson boys” for placing me in this predicament, in reality it was Gordon who had done most of the tying. I, of course, had helped wherever I could, and oversaw his ropework, but Gordon was incredibly skilled. In the handful of times I’ve participated in “escape tests” in the simulator, Gordon has been surprisingly thorough when tying me up to match his fake holographic perils.

“Do you require some assistance getting out of that?”

I held up a hand.

“No, no. Just because I’m virtually dead doesn’t mean I can’t still literally escape.”

Gordon shrugged.

“Suit yourself. But hurry it up. Agent 99 is scheduled to use the simulator in exactly 12 minutes. I need you out of my hair before then.”

“Hair? What hair?” I said with a chuckle.

“Next time I’m going to use chains on you.” He said with a grimace.

“Sounds like good challenge. I look forward to it.”

I was finally able to stand up and step off the tracks, still wearing my plaid flannel shirt, dark blue skirt, and reddish brown cowboy boots. I walked towards the door of the simulator room and past Gordon, who was still typing away furiously as his console.

“How do I look?” I asked, stopping and striking a pose in front of him for a brief moment.

Gordon seemed to ignore the question, but still looked me up and down with a look of distaste.

“Where did you even get those dreadful clothes?”

“In the storage area on level fifteen. They’ve got tons of clothes from every era. Don’t you ever leave this room?”

“Don’t you find it curios that the Agency would need such a wardrobe of clothing in the building?”

“I dunno... I figured we’d need them for undercover ops.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow.

“An undercover mission? In 1850’s Utah? Please...”

I wasn’t quite sure what Gordon was getting at, and I certainly didn’t have the time or patience to argue about it. I went to leave, but before I could make it to the door Gordon called to me over his shoulder.

“Oh, Agent! I almost forgot to mention, the Chief has requested your presence in her office immediately.” He said.

Gordon quickly look at his watch.

“And that was five minutes ago.” He finally finished.

I rolled my eyes.

“Thanks for the heads up, pal!” I said.

I made my way out of the simulator room and down one of the long bare hallways of the Agency’s headquarters, which is codenamed “Grand Central”. The corridors between the simulator and my personal quarters were almost completely deserted, and I was thankful for the privacy. I’m sure I would have gotten some weird looks from my fellow agents if they saw me in this cowgirl getup.

I didn’t have much time, but I also didn’t want to have to explain my western attire to my boss, so I opted for a quick change of clothes. For my top I chose a white sleeveless v-neck blouse and covered it with a black blazer. I also put on a black high waisted mini skirt that hung around my upper thighs. I complimented it all with my trusty pair of dark brown leather over the knee boots. And just for the fun of it I left my hair as-is, convincing myself that the pigtails still suited me in this new outfit.

My stiletto heels echoed down the hallway as I fast-walked to my boss’ office. At the end of the hallway I entered an elevator which carried me several stories up. When the doors opened I stepped into a large room. The area was sparsely decorated with various works of art, book shelves, proudly displayed accolades, and on the far side of the room sat a large stone desk. The stone was black as night, smooth as glass on its surface, but rough and jagged at its edges to at least partially preserve its natural feel. Behind the desk was the Chief. The older, gray haired woman was dressed in her usual dark brown pantsuit. Her hands are clasped behind her back as she gazes out of the the floor to ceiling window towards the distant skyline of a city I didn’t immediately recognize.

“Agent 38, I heard a rumor you were in the building, but I couldn’t confirm it. It takes a good spy to hide from other spies.” The Chief said.

“Well, I needed some downtime after that fiasco in Germany. I hope you understand, ma’am.” I said.

“You May call that business with the Princess of Ababwa a ‘fiasco’, but I call it an overwhelming success.”

“I’m not arguing the success of the mission, ma’am, I just... you had to be there.”

A kind smile formed on the Chief’s wrinkled face.

“Ah, yes. Being tied to railroad tracks in front of a moving train is not the most pleasant experience. But you handled yourself better than any of our other agents would have.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re speaking from experience?” I playfully asked.

With any other commander I would not have dared to ask such a question. This was a formal briefing and it wasn’t the time for chitchat. But the Chief and I had grown closer over the past few years, and I had slowly learned the boundaries of what I could get away with. I was a spy, after all, and finding inconspicuous ways to extract information from someone was my job much of the time. Being that it seemed like I was always “on” and using my talents, even in an unimportant conversation with my closest allies, was something I think the Chief admired. Although at this moment I think she took it as little more than innocent curiosity on my part.

Upon hearing my question the Chief grinned.

“Ah, yes. The classic ‘tied to the tracks’ routine was a popular one I was younger. I was on the receiving end of one of those quite a few times. Of course, for you they only used ropes. Back in my day they used chains. Trying to break out of those were... fun.”

The memory sounded... terrifying. But the chief spoke about it as if she were remembering a fond memory. She glanced my direction, probably noticing the stupid smile on my face that said, “go on, tell me more.”

“And that’s a good story, for another time.” She finally finished.

Admittedly I was a bit disappointed. The Chief had a long history with this Agency, and her wisdom and experience were invaluable. Plus, I really would like to hear how she escaped being chained to some railroad tracks... for future reference.

The Chief reached for a key pad embedded in her stone desk and input a code. As soon as she did, her “window” looking out over the city’s skyline vanished. The electronic viewscreen quickly cycled through an assortment of images, some of which were various other cityscapes and faux vistas. It finally stopped on a large computer display, filled with various holographic images, endless amounts of text, as well as a global map.

“As you undoubtedly already know, we have another mission for you. It’s going to be a delicate operation, and there’s no one else in this building I trust more than you to get it done.”

I nodded as she continued.

“Your target is Doctor Iris Blanc and a device she’s developing. She’s a French scientist living in Paris, and our intel suggests the device she’s creating is extremely dangerous.”

A photo of a blonde haired, middle aged woman appeared on the screen, labeled to be Doctor Blanc. Along with it came pieces of schematics, various documentation on the Doctor and her device, as well as a detailed map of Paris.

The Chief continued.

“Although we are currently unaware of this devices’s capabilities or its purpose, we do have a lead on her buyer.”

I immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Her buyer?”

“Leviathan.” The chief said, sternly.

“Leviathan? You mean those old ghost stories are making a comeback?”

The chief frowned in disapproval.

“Leviathan is not a ghost story, Agent. It could be our next big threat. And I hope you can learn to take it a bit more seriously.”

The chief was right, after all. I had made a habit of dismissing “Leviathan” a little too easily, and jokingly. But I stood by my original assertion.

Even before I became a full field agent I began hearing about something called “Leviathan”. A mysterious organization with indiscernible goals that’s been linked to dozens of different nefarious activities and incidents, and rumored to have a hand in hundreds more.

There very well may be some organization called “Leviathan” operating somewhere in the world, but I’ve remained convinced that people’s fear mixed with their imaginations have made Leviathan seem way more menacing(or even more real) than it actually was. Still, I had to remember to keep my opinions to myself.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. But I’ve yet to see enough evidence to confirm that it’s anything more than a wild rumor. Every lead we’ve followed over the years has led to a dead end.”

“Nevertheless, this ‘wild rumor’ has continued to persist for decades. With this mission, you may have a chance to finally break through the fog and learn the truth about Leviathan.”

That last part had me intrigued.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“According to our intelligence Doctor Blanc has major ties to Leviathan,” She said. “As you stated, our previous encounters with Leviathan have been through operatives who had limited experience with them. It’s a completely different story for Doctor Blanc. Apparently she’s within the inner circle of the organization and may have significant control over Leviathan.”

“So, If Leviathan really is a thing, then Blanc is one of the head honchos.” I said, as more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” the Chief responded. “And if you can recover her and her device, both intact, then we may finally be able to bring Leviathan out of the shadows.”

The Chief let her words hang in the silence of the room for the moment, perhaps to further emphasize their importance. Now with the questionably necessary backstory out of the way, the chief began discussing the details of my mission.

“Doctor Blanc is a well known philanthropist in France. Her primary residence is a secluded estate on the outskirts of Paris. It’s also believed to be a base of operations for Leviathan. Blanc’s personal laboratory is located somewhere in the compound. Your main objective is to extract the device and either capture or eliminate Iris Blanc before returning to the rendezvous point at zero one hundred hours.”

I nodded in understanding.

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Yes,” The chief added. “Because that was the simple part.”

“Oh boy...”

I sighed as she continued.

“The compound is heavily guarded, and getting you in and out under normal circumstances would be impossible.”

“I’ve beaten ‘impossible’ before.” I flashed the Chief a grin.

She ignored me and continued.

“You’ll need a distraction. And lucky for you Doctor Blanc has provided us with the perfect distraction. Tomorrow night she’s hosting a masquerade party, and you’re going to be attending it...”

“What dress looks best with rope?” I interrupted. “‘Cause I know I’m getting tied up at least once at this party.”

The chief glared at me, unamused by my anecdote.

“Oh, sorry. Please, continue.” I said, still sounding distracted.

“The security staff will be occupied with the hundreds of other guests at the party,” She finally said. “Once you’re inside you shouldn’t encounter much resistance.”

I suddenly snapped back into focus, remembering that I should probably be listening to this part of the briefing.

“So, wait... How exactly am I getting in?”


_________________________________________________


QUESTION TIME:


How should Agent 38 infiltrate the party?

#1 - As an invited guest, in full masquerade regalia.

#2 - In uniform as part of the party’s wait staff.

#3 - Sneak in with spy gear and a stealth suit.


REPLY BELOW WITH YOUR VOTES!!

[Caesar73]

I vote Number One!

[noggip]

Number 1 for sure, can't wait to read it!

[wrathofcon]

Number one, Id love to see what costume 38 puts together

[TightsBound]

Part of me wants option one, but I’ll say two, if only because being tied up in her waitress uniform could be fun.

[noggip]

In fact, who knows, you could even make a combination of all three.

[BobaFettish1]

In fact, who knows, you could even make a combination of all three.

To be honest, I had considered that. It would be really easy to work all three of them into the story. But for the sake of the voters and this whole concept I'm going to try and avoid doing that... as much as possible. I'm not saying it won't happen, but I will definitely give whatever you guys vote for more weight and importance.

[BobaFettish1]

Hey guys!

Over on my DeviantArt page I posted some trivia for this this story. I hope you take a moment to check it out.

https://www.deviantart.com/bobafettish1 ... -804675583

[johnbell92]

Hey guys!

So I had an idea for something completely different and I wanted to give it a shot. Basically this will be a sort of “choose your own adventure” where everyone will have a chance to guide Agent 38 through a brand new story.

This is how it will work:

- I will give you a multiple choice question and all of you will have a certain amount of time to answer it. The question will focus on a certain element in the story and will help guide the plot forward. For example:

“Should Agent 38; (A) go upstairs to look for a way out, or (B) search the basement for clues?”

- Once the time is up(it could be a few days or more), whichever answer gets the most votes will be selected, and I will write the next part of the story based on the reader’s selection.

I’m not totally sure how this will work as we go along, or if it will work it all. But I wanted to try it just out of curiosity. I considered using a new character, but I figured my pre-established super spy & damsel in distress OC was the perfect guinea pig for this test. If this is successful I’d like to try it with other types of characters.

—————————————————————————————————-

So, to get started, I need you guys to vote on which mission Agent 38 should take:

#1: Protect a princess from assassins onboard a speeding train.

#2: Go undercover at a masquerade party inside a mansion in order to steal something vital.

#3: Meet an informant in an abandoned warehouse down by the docks in hopes of learning some key information.

REPLY WITH YOUR ANSWERS ASAP!

Number One

[Tieup1]

Number one Good story, btw

[Caesar73]

The Idea is great! And it will be interessting how this story will unfold