Agent 69- Stroken, Not Stirred Read online

  Agent 69: Stroken, Not Stirred

  A Choose Your Own Erotic Story

  By Callista J. Hawkes

  @CallistaJHawkes

  Text Copyright © 2015 Callista J. Hawkes

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be copied or reproduced in any format, electronic or otherwise without prior written permission.

  Cover photo © Newphotoservice / Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

  Cover font effect © deviantART

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All persons portrayed in this eBook are 18 years of age or older.

  This eBook contains sexually explicit situations and terms and is intended for a mature audience only.

  Introduction

  As a choose your own Erotic story, this book contains multiple paths leading to several different endings. At the end of each section, you will generally be given two or more choices. To progress, simply select your preferred option to continue the story. (No need for the page-flicking back and forth of similar books of yesteryear!) When you reach an ending, you can either skip back to the previous choice or choose to go to the chapter menu. Here you can start the story from the very beginning and enjoy an alternative path through the whole story, or skip to a later section to see how events might play out differently.

  The wind howls around you as you plummet towards the churning, ice cold surface of the Atlantic Ocean. You grit your teeth, thankful for the protection of your black HALO suit. A warning message flashes up on the visor of your helmet.

  ‘OPEN PARACHUTE IN 10 SECONDS’.

  You watch as the number counts down: 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0. The zero begins to flash impatiently at you followed by:

  ‘DANGER! SAFE PARACHUTE THRESHOLD EXCEEDED!’

  You grin before finally pulling hard down on the parachute toggle. Your body is abruptly jerked upwards, making you wince in pain as the black parachute above you opens and dramatically slows your descent. You tilt your head forward, looking past your dangling feet at the peaks and troughs of the waves rushing up to meet you. A split second before you plunge into the water, you release the parachute which flies off into the moonlit night sky. You grimace as the cold of the ocean envelops you before your body quickly grows accustomed to it as you dive down into the depths. A waypoint appears on your visor. You are on target. You just have to hope that the small tank of oxygen in your enclosed helmet is sufficient to get you the rest of the way there. The darkness consumes you and you concentrate on keeping on course for the waypoint, conscious that it would be easy to become disorientated with no visual guide and consume precious oxygen swimming at a tangent. The air in your helmet is already thin and you try not to think about what would happen if you use it all up before you reach your target. You kick your legs harder, driving yourself further down into the depths, the pressure building painfully in your ears. Just as you are beginning to fear the worst, you see a grey shape before you, vast like a sleeping leviathan. You breathe a sigh of relief and swim towards the conning tower of the stolen nuclear submarine.

  Moments later, you cycle the airlock and hope that no one is within earshot as the water is pumped out. You pull off your helmet and breathe deeply, filling your lungs with air. You discard the helmet and reach into your watertight backpack and pull out your pistol, a Walther P99 and a silencer. As you screw the silencer in place, you glance at the remaining contents of the backpack: two bricks of C4 high explosive. Plan B. One way or another, it’s time to deal with the errant Captain Frost. You have to admire the audaciousness of his plan: Steal your own nuclear submarine while simultaneously kidnapping the daughter of the man capable of authorising its destruction and putting her on board as a human shield. With the apparent ease of his daughter’s capture, the President had feared that Captain Frost had a source close to him and couldn’t trust anyone within his inner circle. Calling in a favour from the Prime Minister, he had passed on the submarine’s tracking code and asked that England send their very best man. Twenty-six hours later, here you are.

  You carefully open a hatch at your feet, training your pistol through the opening but finding only a ladder dropping down to a dimly lit grey painted corridor beneath. You cautiously descend the ladder until you are standing in the empty passageway. Before you rescue the President’s daughter, you need to make sure that the submarine is neutralised. The bridge is just aft, through a door at the end of the corridor while the torpedo room is forward. You listen at the bridge door for a moment, trying to determine how many men are inside. At least six. Tough odds. Still, you have the element of surprise and they may not even be armed.

  Plan A: Take the bridge

  Plan B: Plant timed explosives on the torpedoes

  Though successfully taking the bridge would mean saving the submarine, it’s too high risk given the stakes. Better the clandestine approach. You move through the narrow corridors and companionways of the all but deserted submarine. The emergency lighting is on, bathing everything in a dim red light, adding to the eeriness of the vessel. You tread lightly, your silenced pistol held out in front of you. With the majority of the skeleton crew of the captain’s most trusted men on the bridge, you make your way forward without incident. You cautiously approach the forward torpedo room, peeking around a corner. Two guards wearing body armour and helmets flank the door.

  Use the element of surprise and shoot the guards

  Try to lure a guard towards you and deal with them one at a time

  You duck back around the corner and tap the steel wall with the butt of your pistol. The dull clank echoes down the passageway.

  “What was that?” You hear one of the guards say.

  “Probably just the hull creaking from the pressure.” The other tells him.

  “Maybe.” The first guard replies doubtfully. “I’d better check it out anyway.”

  “Suit yourself.” You hear footsteps approach and you duck into a shadowy alcove. The guard appears, cautiously holding his submachine gun out in front of him. You step out of the shadows and shoot him point blank before he has a chance to react.

  “Anything?” The second guard calls out after a moment. “Dude, that’s not funny.” Comes the reply when he doesn’t reply. “If you’re dicking around, I’m going to shoot you in the ass.” He grumbles, his footsteps approaching. You duck back into the alcove. As he turns the corner, his eyes widen as he sees the corpse of the first guard. You step out and repeat the process, shooting him point blank.

  The final obstacle removed, you enter the torpedo room. You glance around at racks of long, gleaming cylinders filled with fuel and explosives and reach into your bag for the bricks of C4. You fix them onto the body of two torpedoes and set the timer. You set them for ten minutes, which should give you just enough time to find the president’s daughter and get to one of the escape capsules located in the submarine’s dorsal side before it ends up at the bottom of the Atlantic. Any longer and you risk the explosives being discovered and deactivated. You could allow a few more minutes, but you always enjoy the perverse thrill of leaving barely enough time. You check your watch and step out of the torpedo room, walking quickly but silently towards the brig.

  Continue

  You spring out from cover and fire at the two guards. You get a headshot with the first, but the bullet pings off the helmet of the second. You empty the rest of the clip into him, but he ducks, denying you a second opportunity and the bullets hit only his body armour. He looks up, grinning as he hears the tell-tale click of your empty pistol and raises his submachine gun. Your eyes have just enough time to widen before a burst of gunfire shreds through your chest.

&
nbsp; THE END

  Go back a few moments and rethink your actions

  You pull open the hatch, hoping the element of surprise will be enough to swing the odds in your favour. You gently ease it open, praying the hinges of the heavy hatch are well lubricated and won’t squeak. The bridge is bathed in red emergency lighting with banks of screens at the various control positions. The broad chrome cylinder of the periscope hangs down from the ceiling and you recognise the renegade Captain Frost standing next to it. There are six other crewmen on the bridge and though they haven’t yet noticed you, they are all armed with pistols. Frost’s eyes widen as he sees you just as you take aim. Your silenced pistol takes out four of the crewmen before they have a chance to react. The captain takes cover as does one of his men while the other fumbles for his pistol. He joins his treacherous shipmates in a pool of his own blood. The remaining armed crewman blind-fires from behind cover, screens and control stations shattering to your left as you move into the room, keeping low as you move into cover.

  “Seems we have ourselves a Mexican standoff here.” Captain Frost calls out in his native Alabama twang. “Why don’t you give up son? No need to be a hero. I’ve got a sub full of nukes and the President’s daughter on board. The President will cave in a few days and anyone who stands with me will be wildly rich and lying on a beach in a country with no extradition. So how about it son? I could use a man like you.”

  It’s a tempting proposition. Join the renegade crew

  Try to talk Captain Frost into surrendering

  Spring out from cover and shoot them

  You spring out from cover and open fire on the remaining crewman, the bullets tearing into the control console he is cowering behind. He panics, reaching up and blind-firing over the console, the unsilenced weapon deafening in the enclosed space. You smile as you hear his pistol click empty.

  “Don’t shoot!” He begs, tossing his weapon away and standing up, his hands raised as you move closer, your pistol aimed at his head. You get in close and pistol whip him, sending him crashing to the deck unconscious. You turn your attention to Captain Frost who is busily working at a control station.

  “Step away Frost. It’s over.” You tell him. He ignores you, his fingers feverishly tapping at the keyboard.

  Shoot Frost

  Drag him away from the control station

  You quickly move behind Frost and drag him away from the console. He flails an elbow back at you, crunching hard into the side of your head. It’s a lucky shot and momentarily stunned, you loosen your grip for a split second. Frost maybe in his fifties, but he hasn’t forgotten his military training. Taking his opportunity, he slips from your grasp and wrestles the gun from you, twisting it around and pulling the trigger. The bullet rips through your gut and you fall to the floor, clutching at the wound.

  “Looks like I won’t have to threaten to scuttle my sub after all.” Frost tells you, deactivating a countdown on the screen of the control station he was working at. “Not your day son.” He adds grimly as you bleed out, your vision darkening before you slip away.

  THE END

  Go back a few moments and rethink your actions

  Realising he may be inputting nuclear launch codes, you shoot him twice in the back. He drops to the floor, his face contorted in pain as you stand over him. He smiles grimly up at you, blood trickling from his lips.

  “You win son, but I won’t die alone.” His eyes flick up to the screen at the control station. “I’m scuttling the sub. The detonation codes are already locked in and will explode in ten minutes. You and that spoilt bitch will be joining me at the bottom of the Atlantic.”

  “Disarm it Frost.” You tell him angrily, but as Frost’s face relaxes and his glassy eyed stare looks right through you, you realise he’s already dead. “Shit.” You curse, checking your watch and hurrying from the bridge and back into the passageway beyond. Less than ten minutes to rescue the President’s daughter and get off the doomed sub.

  Continue

  A career as a field agent tends to shorten a man’s lifespan considerably, so you are more than tempted by Captain Frost’s proposition. Besides, the President will have to see sense and pay whatever ransom Frost has demanded. No one else need be harmed.

  “Ok Frost.” You call out. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “You won’t.” He replies. “Toss your gun away so we know this isn’t a trick.” You get to your feet and drop your pistol on the floor, raising your hands. The Captain and the one remaining crewman on the bridge cautiously emerge from behind cover.

  “You made the right call son.” Frost grins at you. “Unfortunately not the right call for you. Take him out.”

  Your eyes widen as the remaining crewman grins wickedly as he raises his gun. The last thing you see is the flash of the muzzle.

  THE END

  Go back a few moments and rethink your actions

  “It’s over Frost!” You shout. “Order your men to stand down and I’ll see to it you’re given a comfortable life in prison. No one else needs to die.”

  “No son,” Frost calls out, “One more person needs to die. Take him!” The remaining crewman springs from cover and opens fire, bullets shattering the control console you are crouched behind. He steps towards you, grinning maniacally as he aims at your head. You grin back, recognising a Beretta M9 in his hand. You’d counted nine shots. He pulls the trigger, his smile instantly fading as the weapon clicks empty in his hand. You raise your own pistol and fire once, the crewman snatched back as the bullet tears through him. You get to your feet and train your weapon on Frost, who is hunched over one of the control stations. He thumps a button and turns to face you, a smug expression on his face.

  “I’m scuttling the sub.” He tells you. “The detonation codes are already locked in and the sub will explode in ten minutes. Your only chance is to hand me the gun.” You shoot him in both legs. Frost howls in pain, dropping to the floor and gazing up at you in disbelief.

  “Who said I wanted to save the sub?” You tell him coldly. “I’m here to neutralise the threat and retrieve the President’s daughter.” You put another two bullets into the control station, the smashed screen fizzing and sparking. “You’ve just done the first part for me. Time to go down with the ship Captain.”

  “Goddamn you!” Frost hisses through clenched teeth as you turn your back on him and stride from the bridge.

  Continue

  You drop down a level, walking cautiously towards the brig and peering around the corner along a corridor. A single guard leans lazily against the wall next to the cell door and is quickly dispatched with a muffled pop from your silenced pistol. You move silently towards the door and stoop to collect the cell key from the guard’s belt. You turn it in the lock and pull open the door to find a young woman sitting on the bench at the back of the featureless cell. Her dark hair is dishevelled, her face and white blouse a little grimy, but you recognise her immediately.

  “Miss West?” You ask, somewhat redundantly as she glances up at you, her brown eyes widening in surprise. You saw her photo in the mission file and as the US President’s beautiful daughter, you would know her face anyway. Never one to shy away from the limelight, Elise West had been a constant fixture in high society social gatherings, where her looks and famous father had made her quite the media darling. Ultimately, her high profile contributed to the ease of her kidnap when she was taken from a charity gala at the Naval base where Captain Frost’s submarine was moored.

  “Yes.” She replies, eyeing you suspiciously.

  “I work for British Intelligence. I’m here to rescue you.”

  “Thank God!” She jumps up from the bench.

  “This way Miss West.” You tell her, ushering her from the cell and move swiftly down the corridor to a staircase at the end.

  “Time is of the essence.” You tell her impatiently as she trots behind you in her high heels. “Here, give me those.”

  “Why?” She asks suspiciously, leaning on the stai
rcase railing as she slips them off her feet and hands them to you. You immediately drop them down the stairwell, the shoes hitting the deck below with a thud. “Those were designer!” She squeals in anguish, leaning over the railing.

  “I’m sure daddy will buy you some new ones, now come on!” You grab her arm and pull her with you just as a loud boom echoes down the corridors of the submarine.

  “What was that?!” She asks fearfully.

  “Our cue to leave.” You reply grimly.

  You both rapidly climb the stairs, the submarine already listing quite dramatically as you reach the deck above.

  “Quickly!” You tell her as you move down the narrow corridor towards a ladder bolted to the wall.

  “What’s happening?” Elise asks you, looking bewildered as she grasps the wall for balance. You hear a sound like distant thunder rolling in, quiet at first until it builds to a crescendo. Suddenly, a wall of water rushes towards you down the corridor. Elise shrieks in fear.

  “Grab hold of something!” You shout, grasping the ladder, the wall of water almost upon you. She freezes, her eyes wide with panic. “Shit.” You curse.

  Let go of the ladder and grab her yourself

  Hold on to the ladder and hope you can grab her when the water hits

  You release your hold on the ladder and reach the panicking Elise just as the wall of water reaches you. You hold her tightly as the force of the water knocks you both from your feet, the physical force combining with the shock of the icy cold seawater to leave your senses reeling. You are swept along the corridor, tumbling through the doomed submarine. Finally you are smashed into the wall at the end of the corridor leaving you dazed and disorientated. You both struggle to your feet, breaking through the surface of the churning water to take deep, rasping breaths.