Editing Daria 40k (section)

===Turn 15: In The Sick Sadness Of The Far Future.===
"Hey." The now-casually dressed Culexus greeted her friend as she offered a cup containing a consecrated mixed drink bearing the fabled relic known as "The Umbrella Of Guilliman". "Enjoying the festivities?"

"Oh yeah. I'm partying hearty. So how'd it go with the Dark Sorceress?"

"Funny thing, that. There I was, about to strike the killing blow, when all of a sudden, the ground opened up beneath us and we were smack-dab in the middle of a Necron Tomb! The two of us were forced to forge an unlikely alliance in order to survive the horrors of... The Catacombs of Unlife!" The young woman hammed to her less-than-enthusiastic audience. "And in the process we both learned a valuable lesson about the Power of Friendship (tm) and overcoming the boundaries between different faiths. We said a tearful goodbye, knowing the galaxy isn't ready to accept the bond between us, but she vowed to travel from daemonworld to daemonworld, spreading her message of tolerance and that not all Imperials are Emperor-bothering cunts and await the day we can return to each other."

"So you biffed the mission." The Callidus said, unimpressed with her friend's fanciful tale of heresy and thinly-veiled lesbianism.

"I was this close," She pouted, holding her thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart, "and then I went and tripped over a hunk of my idiot brother's busted-up Chaos Rhino and she hopped the last Warp Portal out. Wasn't a total loss, though, she dropped this." She said, producing a twisted staff of hellish magicks that her friend had somehow not noticed until that moment.

"I'm gonna put it on my trophy wall, right between that Hive Tyrant skull and the bionic gob attachment we pulled out from between Big Mek Barch's legs."

"Why do you keep that disgusting thing around, anyway?"

"I'm thinking of having it re-sized and wearing it on my next vacation. Cormorragh's nice this time of year. Then maybe put in for some honeytrap missions on a Slaanesh daemonworld."

"I don't think it would bother them too much. Don't they usually have spares?"

"Oh yeah."

"You're not really gonna keep that staff in your room, are you?" Asked the Callidus, returning from the non-sequitur.

"Why not?"

"Won't the constant, lurid whispers offering untold power and legions of slaves for the low, low price of your eternal soul keep you up at night?"

"Culexus anti-magic mojo, remember?"

"Oh, right. Hey, wasn't the only reason you signed up with them because those giant helmets wouldn't mess up your hair?"

"Damn, my secret origin's revealed. I was gonna wait until I was mortally wounded in battle and dying in your arms to tell you."

"Huh..." The Callidus said, awkwardly.

"Anything wrong? You don't look so good."

"I'm OK."

"Last time I saw you look this ill was on that Tyranid job on that Space Hulk, the Mauler of The Dark Millennium."

"I kissed your boyfriend." She admitted. "I kissed Inquisitor Lord Sloane. I didn't mean to."

"Hey, does that mean we can do that threesome, now?" The Culexus said, nonplussed.

"I don't think he'll be in any condition to for a while. I kicked him off a cliff when he admitted he'd been messing with your head."

"Well, that would explain the sudden onset of the desire to trade my combat suit in for a black lace teddy. I thought maybe it was just poor circulation caused by that battle mask." The Culexus said, wistfully. "So, is he dead?"

"Nah, you know how generous the wound allocation rolls are with all his perks."

"So... what now?"

"Let's get off this rock. I wanna waste some more heretics and this planet's fresh out."

"Sounds good to me."

And so, the two of them walked hand in hand to a waiting Thunderhawk, ready to face whatever fresh horrors the grimdark future had in store for them together...

For in the Grim Darkness of The Far Future, there is more than War...

There's Freakin' Friends.

----

"Owww... oh nooo... waaaait..." The battered, burnt Repentia Sister, half-buried in the shell-pounded soil cried out, her one good arm clawing at the sky as the last Thunderhawk pulled away. She collapsed in despair and lay there until a powerful hand pulled her from the ground.

"Nope, this isn't a sparkplug, either." The Noise Marine scrutinized the broken body with disappointment.

"Hmm... maybe we should just forget it and go in on a Land Raider, instead. I know a place that has used ones..."