A Duel of ImmortalsMature

Paris was beautiful by sunset.

Everett Wen watched from the top of the Eiffel Tower as the great blazing orb descended, a crooked grin showing his jagged teeth in the reflection of the glass as he sat comfortably. He caught sight of two shadows moving behind him - of course they would be here, he thought. They would want to avenge that tiresome little mortal. He allowed his mind to reach out to theirs - the youngest was unarmed, whilst his old ally wielded a sharpened rapier. 

"It's not exactly a fair fight, is it, Sanguina?" he laughed before deftly ducking beneath the blade swung for his head and sending the chair he was on flying towards the girl - he watched as she transformed and tore the thing in half as she moved forwards. But Wen was prepared. He drew a small silver dagger from his back pocket and sent it soaring straight for Esme's heart. "There is, after all, only two of you."

The smile from his face fell away as Esme plucked the dagger out and smiled at him scornfully, transforming back to reveal only a slight cut. The Contessa, however, saw red. Her irises changed from amber to crimson, the small fangs elongating and her pristine fingernails extending to become razor sharp black claws. Wen quickly extended his arm, sending the black tendrils flying towards her - but it wasn't fast enough. A few quick slices, and the tendrils lay severed on the floor, writhing their last.

"Don't you ever," she said as she slashed across his face, showing thin golden streams, "ever," she continued as she stabbed him in the heart, releasing a jet of golden ichor, "ever dare to hurt her again." She sliced off one ear, and launched a high heeled shoe into his groin, causing a slight yelp and a stumble before he stood again.

He simply grinned again, and launched a punch on her nose - she stayed perfectly still, ignoring the force applied. He kneeled, picked up the ear and slammed it back into place - a slight glow appeared as it stitched together again, with the wounds seeming to melt away with a golden flash. He stood again, good as new, and smirked.

"Very well, Sanguina. You've made your choice. A shame, really," he said as he smirked sickeningly. "You'd have made a beautiful queen."

The Contessa swung out, catching him again and again as the golden flashes repaired him over and over, until she finally got hold of him by the lapels. 

"Everett Wen - Pietro Caliban - go and fuck yourself."


A shattering of glass was heard that night, and a strange splatter of gold was found at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, which seemed to trickle off towards the Louvre. Witnesses mentioned two women - one in full Victorian regalia with a parasol, and the other was said to be recognised from several automobile repair spots around the city. 

The End

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