The Immortal and the Spy (Patreon)

Agent Wanda stood naked in the dim bedroom, black sheets tangled at her feet. She smirked down at the enemy spy-woman who had just been thrown onto the bed. Every curve of Wanda’s body radiated confidence. Centuries of missions had taught her the same truth: nothing could kill her. Bullets, blades, fire, poison… all of it healed. She was immortal. Untouchable.“You’re finished,” Wanda said, voice low and mocking. “I’ve already broken every toy you brought. There’s nothing left that can stop me.”The spy-woman stayed silent. Her dark hair fell across her shoulders as she reached under the pillow. A single flash of silver appeared in her hand: an ornate dagger with a serpent-carved hilt and a dark gem that seemed to drink the light. The blade was forged from a rare metal older than most nations, the only substance in existence that could pierce an immortal heart and stop it forever.Wanda never saw the strike coming.The dagger sank straight into the center of her chest, the point finding the exact place where her heart beat. Instant heat flooded outward. Blood erupted in a sudden spray across her skin and the sheets. Wanda’s back arched high, higher still, every muscle locking as the forbidden metal did its work. A raw sound tore from her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared. The arch came again, stronger, her body lifting off the mattress as if trying to escape the blade that was already buried deep.She arched a third time, spine curved like a drawn bow, blood running in thick rivers between her breasts and down her sides. The spy-woman leaned over her, one hand still resting on the ornate hilt, watching the immortal’s only weakness finally claim her. Wanda’s mouth stayed open in a silent scream that turned into wet, broken gasps. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, then at empty air. The arrogant smile was gone. Only the wild, disbelieving pain remained.The spy-woman smiled slowly, almost gently, as Wanda’s body arched one last time and then settled. The dagger stayed locked in place, the rare metal doing what nothing else in the world could do. Immortal blood continued to spread across the black sheets while the room fell quiet except for the fading, wet attempts at breath.Wanda’s eyes fluttered once more, staring up at the woman who had found her single, fatal flaw. Then the light in them dimmed for good.The spy-woman straightened, still holding the hilt, and looked down at the still form of the agent who had believed she could never die.Outside, the city kept moving. Inside the bedroom, the only immortal who had ever been truly stopped lay motionless beneath the blade that had ended her forever.