Daria: Hunter - Strictly Business

"If the people who make the decisions are the people who will also bear the consequences of those decisions, perhaps better decisions will result."

-John Abrams

Tuesday, September 15

2172 AD

"Werewolf."

"You can't be serious."

"Absolutely serious."

"If you're not going to take this seriously, I don't think I want to play this game."

"I am taking it seriously.  Think about it.  The J crew were shapeshifters.  Sherman could heal just about any injury.  If you throw in some genetic manipulation . . . bam, werewolf.  It's the next logical step."

"What about the undynamic duo's power suits?"

"Are you saying that werewolves can't wear suits?  Do you have something against werewolves?  Are you, perhaps, a werewolf racist?"

Jane rolled her eyes and sighed.  "I'm sorry I even asked."

"Ah, but you did," Daria said, taking one hand off the steering wheel to waggle her index finger in the air, "and therein lies your mistake, because now it's your turn.  What weird thing do you think we'll be fighting next?"

"Okay, ready for this?"  Jane put her hands out in front of her for dramatic effect.  "Killer.  Robots."

"And you accuse me of not taking this seriously."

"What's wrong with killer robots?!"

"Honestly?" Daria asked.  "It's pedestrian.  The armed forces have had combat machines for years now, and we've faced some pretty nasty security 'bots ourselves before."

Jane waved her hand in the air dismissively.  "Well, I'm talking about way past state of the art, ultra-slick, kill you in three seconds flat robots!  And surely this doctor guy is getting bored with the nanotech thing.  It's time for him to do something big, right?  So, killer robots!"

"I'm not talking to you anymore."

Jane looked over at Daria with a smirk.  "I guess that means I don't get to hear how it went last night," she said.

"I guess it doesn't," Daria replied huffily.

"Aw, c'mon, Morgendorffer!" Jane begged.  "I wanna know if I can start expecting some more little nieces and nephews anytime soon!"

Daria considered putting her car on autopilot just so she could glare at her partner for the rest of the ride, but decided against it.  "It was . . . nice," she finally conceded.  "He took me to a show.  Some local band he's been thinking about working with."

"Oh, really?" Jane asked, pretending enthusiasm.  "So, where they any goo-who cares?!  I wanna hear the deep stuff!  Did you two get along?  Was there chemistry?  Are you getting back together?  Do I hear wedding bells in the distance?"

"Only if you've started taking hallucinogens," Daria said with a frown.  "It was nice.  Trent's a nice guy and it was a nice date.  But you can't just erase the previous failure of a relationship in one night."

Jane slumped in her seat and sighed.  "I know, I know," she said.  "Can't blame a girl for hoping."

"Hoping that we'll be happy together, or hoping that he'll move out of your place and back into mine?"

"I'm a big girl," Jane said.  "I've got enough room to hope for both."

"Well, I hope that this isn't going to be another big disaster," Daria commented as she turned the wheel and pulled onto the Slow Loan Bail Bonds parking pad.  "And yes, that was meant for both Trent and the meeting.  Thankfully in my case, one of my hopes doesn't immediately hinge upon the other."