Nuclear Nirvana (SubDelta & Plamya)

The Black Warden sat on one of the silky velvet couches that semi-adorned the room she grew up in; the Warden War Room. The room was the size of a smaller house, she was told. It had a small kitchen area and a dinner table on one size, and on the other side was the sitting area. The kitchen area was producing a porridge-like aroma, which wafted into the highly acute smell-glands (Red told her it was called 'Hyperosmia') of Seraphina Richter, the delicious smell testing her will as the young Warden did her best to continue meticulously sharpen her trusty sword, which she had laid out across her lap. Her focus was instantly shattered as another body threw itself upon the couch, causing Richter's sword to slide outwards slightly. Seraphina let out a deep breath of frustration before sliding the blade back into its pearly scabbard and resting it against the arm of the couch.

"Can I help you, Blue?" Richter asked irritably.

"Y'know, Black, I was thinking; why do you bother spending all that time shining up that stick of yours when it just gets dirty again?" The familiar voice asked.

"Well..." Seraphina frowned in thought, "I guess it helps me relax, is all."

Richter looked up at her sudden company, her ultimate rival and closest thing Richter had to a frien, The Blue Warden. Blue was dressed in her usual uniform; or lack thereof. Blue wore a patchy tank top, as well as needlessly-short shorts and sloppily-tied leather boots. The Blue Warden flashed a grin.

"Yeah, I'd sure hate to have my head lobbed off by an uncleaned blade."

The two female Wardens laughed together, which was soon cut off by the ringing of a cooking utensil against a metallic pot. Both women sat upright as a tall figure strolled into the sitting area, setting important-looking documents on the coffee table that stood in the center of the U-shaped couches. The Red Warden, a towering man of regal inculcation, took a seat on the chair diagonal to the occupied couch. Red shuffled the documents into what Richter assumed was their appropriate order. He cleared his throat.

"I will keep this briefing short, Wardens. One of Warui Industries' key nuclear powered facilities has been held hostage by a large Survivor militia. Normally, only one or two of us would be sent to neutralize the enemy; but these are not normal circumstances. As such, Warui is sending four of its Elite units."

"Four?" Seraphina asked quizzically.

Both Red and Blue failed in concealing smiles.

"That's right, Richter. We're bringing a guest with us." Red leaned across the small glass table and handed Seraphina an abnormally large key. On the key dangled a leather keychain of sorts. Richter's eyes grew wide as she gazed incredulously upon the crimson-painted symbol that was on the patch.

"Now now, Black-" Blue cooed, "- it's rude to keep company waiting."

Richter nodded and, swallowing the lump that grew in her throat, kept her vision on the patch as she exited the Warden War Room and made her way down The Capitol.

Other Warui soldiers within The Capitol did everything in their power to stay out of sight from any of the three Wardens, so whether anyone saw the shocked look that failed to leave Richter's face during her descent was beyond her knowing. Seraphina's gaze finally left the patch as she reached her destination, in a Restricted area located under The Capitol. Richter stood in front of a gargantuan steel door, rocking on her heels slightly as she waited for the voice to project through.

"Who is it?" A middle-aged voice came through the intercom.

"The Black Warden." Seraphina responded plainly.

"Code, please."

Richter held the patch up to an orb-like mechanism to the right of the massive door. The voice came back shaky and wavering.

"R-r-right, you c-c-can enter n-now." An audible throat-clearing came through the mic before it was drowned out by a cacophony of different locks undid themselves in all manners within the solid wall of steel. After a good minute or so, the wall slowly parted in two, and the Warden's vision was clouded by frigid air that visibly poured out the entrance. Richter was starting to wish she had worn her battle garments down here as her boots clicked on the smooth floor, which was so immaculately clean that she saw her reflection in it. The hallway was bathed in fluorescent lighting, and steel-barred cells aligned symmetrically down the never-ending passage. Richter came across a door that stood out among the others. The door was reinforced with an extra layer of protective material, which was darker in hue than the rest of the doors. A crimson red isosceles triangle was impeccably labeled on the door, which heavily contrasted the sloppily-drawn symbol on the key's patch. Seraphina took in a deep breath of crisp regulated air, before lightly tapping the large metal key against the door.

"Subject Delta, it's Richter of the Three Wardens. I'm coming in now... okay?"

The Black Warden pressed the large button near the door, which caused its mechanics to unlock just as dramatically as the entrance door. When the door slid open, Richter stepped into the room, as the door closed behind her. The room was a large and dimly-lit space, devoid of any diversity other than the colossal man-machine that occupied it, who simply looked like a large chunk of shadow, other than the green light that shone from his helmet visor. An anti-Survivor propaganda movie was projected against the wall, the voice of a Warui narrator was speaking of the dangerous and unruly behavior of the Survivors.

"I've been sent to retrieve your aid in a mission, Delta. We can leave whenever you're ready."

Seraphina mustered a reassuring smile to the best of her abilities, a gesture no one other than Red and Blue have ever laid eyes upon.

It was hard for Johnny to completely fathom how or why Survivors were nothing more than spawns of anarchy and pestilence; furtive creatures that lurked in the radiated shadows, ambushing and brutally murdering any unsuspecting Warui patrol as they went about surveying the land. What could possess human beings to be driven towards a path hellbent on utter malevolence? How could someone commit immoral acts without blinking? These movies that were provided for him, albeit having bad sound quality and a narrator so boring Johnny could watch paint dry, spoke of these evil beings, and the boy couldn't help but wander when they could be stopped.

It was around that time that Johnny was ripped from his daydream contemplation as a light metal rapped against his door softly. Someone introducing themselves as Richter, who Johnny knew only as the Black Warden, one of the Warui's top dogs. The boy's interest was peaked as the visitor's sweet voice gave off the impression that they were of female gender, which was always a plus in the Maximillian Book. However, Johnny's brother Pete warned him of girls that, even having a cute voice, could be nothing more than psychopaths or flatchests. The visor light on his helmet turned to yellow as the reinforced doors to his room started clicking, safety locks undoing themselves in rhythmic patterns , granting the unknown visitor entry into his pad. Johnny had to blink twice, his visor light shifting from cautious yellow to a mellow green as he gazed upon the girl as her heels clicked on his reinforced floors.

His visor granted him uncanny vision in the night, and unlike the night-vision goggles he read about in the magazines he was given, his picture rendered in color, and not merely a vibrant neon green. So when he gazed upon the figure, he smiled to himself, as she was in fact female. Johnny immediately stood up, the room slightly shaking under his awesome force of weight, and tapping the dinky light fixture with a huge gloved forefinger until the bulb spewed light into the chamber. He turned to his right, now facing the Black Warden.

All he had heard was the Black Warden was a figure of immense Warui patriotism, a spearhead in the operations of the powerful organization. Though throughout all of the myths of awesome acts of duty, nowhere did it say the Black Warden was a broad, which is something Johnny Maximillian would have certainly caught. She had a slender figure, and couldn't be any taller than 5'8, with elongated silky raven hair that gleamed an ominously Stygian shade of violet. What interested Johnny the most about the Black Warden was a black eyepatch that concealed her right eye, and the boy began losing himself to mystery, piecing together ludicrous theories as to why she wore such a thing.

Richter told Johnny- Subject Delta - that she was here to pick him for a mission that required his involvement. The boy couldn't remember the last time he was on a mission for Warui; Hell, he couldn't remember if he was ever on a mission for Warui, seeming as though the boy's existence was entirely for the occupancy of Room 004. He was going to refuse the girl, since he figured it was going to be something stupid such as unloading supply crates that could break any of the toothpick-scientists and workers, but any sense of refusal was lost in Richter's smile. Pearly whites attempted a reassuring smile- but it was the acknowledgment that she was requesting something so involving of him, and to attempt a gesture she seldom acted upon as a form of apology- that nearly melted his circuits... er, his heart.

"Alright," Johnny said, his voice projecting through a speaker on his chest that always made him sound like the baseball reporter on the radio back home. "I'll take on this mission. With you, I presume? You're gonna have to lead the way, y'know. I can only lead you from this wall-" he placed his left hand on the wall behind him "-to this wall-" and then pointed it forward to the adjacent wall. The speaker projected a masculine chuckle, and Johnny placed the tip of his gargantuan drill of a right arm into one of the many accidentally-fitted holes poked into the floor.

Escorting the large automaton-like construct down the metallic corridor by a long leather leash leading from a fist-sized padlock on Delta's chest to her shaking grip, the girl had wondered if this was the feeling of taking a dog for a walk.

Many moons ago, the Black Warden had presented the idea of taking in a puppy to her colleagues. Blue was skeptical at the concept, and voiced her concern for the well-being of her leather boots. The Black Warden had smiled, as her associate's concern was well established- Richter had every intention of training the dog for a love of floppy worn-out leather boots. The tall and handsome man respected and feared as the team leader of the Wardens, Red, brought his middle finger and rested it under his nose and spanning it across his upper lip and his index finger upwards along his cheekbone- a key sign that the man always gestured when he was deep in thought or consideration.

"Well, a large majority of the canines in the area have likely died out, and the ones that are around probably serve as a host for chemical fleas..." he started. "But if you continue to carry out your duties, then I will personally look into finding you a suitable pup."

Seraphina Richter wondered if this was the 'suitable pup' Red had spoke of mystically. It was certainly suited, she thought. She immediately cast these observations on the Fourth Great Annihilator into the inky void or discard pile at the back of her mind, for fear that the godly death weapon was able to examine thought processes.

"We'll be out in the front courtyard here shortly, Subject Delta. I'm sorry for disgracing you with the leash, but it is protocol." In the last second, she had said 'protocol' in place of 'formality'.

Subject Delta had sundered an entire battalion of Panzer tanks salvaged from one of the Wehrmacht companies stationed in the western provinces during World War II and used by the Survivors. That same tank battalion had taken out numerous Warui infantry units and checkpoints throughout the Sabaku, costing the Warui a fortune in supplies and units. Richter had read in the reports that Delta approached them head-on, and managed to shoot down each tank missile mid-air. Such speed would have called for firing based on sheer assumption, the Warden thought to herself, unless Subject Delta's analysis and reaction programs were THAT strong. When each unit within the tank battalion was decimated, Delta had dragged the tanks to the nearest Warui checkpoint- the reports stated that the Crimson Phoenix was painted over the Survivor symbol in the blood of the slain crews, and the turret of each tank was decorated with the severed heads of those that opposed him.

Seraphina was summoned from her haunted recollection of the being she dared to hold by a leash to the tune of a high-pitched whistle. The girl raised her head, and before her stood her two fellow Wardens, but was even more surprised to find that she was standing outside in the front courtyard, shaded from the harsh sun by the skyscraper-of-a Capitol that seemed to stab into the heavens. Usually she had to sign out, but she noted in her head with almost weary-amusement that the clerk must have granted Seraphina a pardon, given the circumstances.

"Well," Red asked jovially as he raised his gaze towards the towering Subject Delta, as if they were a family taking a roadtrip to an amusement park, "shall we get going?"