forum "You say you're a soldier, but all I see is a slave."

Started March 01, 2020 by @Moriarty

tune

No time was wasted in preparing for the hunt. Hunt may have been a rather harsh term, but Thomas was thoroughly convinced that nothing was too harsh when it came to Absalom Day. Absalom was purely an animal– a monster if there had ever been. He was to be tracked down and slain like one. Personally, Thomas longer for a more brutal punishment– a long death, one that rivaled the punishments that had been given out by Day himself during the war.
Thomas glanced at Zanna from his seat on the Tempest– the high-tech, military aircraft vehicle that was transporting them to the last location where Day had reportedly been seen. "Do you want the boys to go with you, or would you rather handle this one on your own?" he inquired, nodding towards the "boys," a squad of four highly-skilled agents that Zanna had probably worked with before. They seemed to be minding their own business– one piloting the Tempest, another cleaning his gun, and the other two engaged in a serious conversation. "I'm sure Day's not alone, so maybe you shouldn't be, either."

Zanna hadn't been in military uniform in so long and it felt shockingly good to be back in one. She was ready to go after Day her muscles wound up like coils. She was adjusting her electric gauntlets though she hoped he never got close enough that she could use them. That would be too close to the monster for her comfort. Zanna glanced over at the others at Ward's offer, but shook her head. This whole matter was too personal for others to get involved, besides she had put herself in riskier positions, "No, I'll go alone. If I'm alone it'll make Day more likely to approach me, hopefully. Besides this is the mission you gave me, and I don't want anyone else to suffer at that monster's hands."

"Understandable." Thomas gave a slight nod. "I respect your choice. Just remember what kind of man you're going up against. Be careful, and don't underestimate him. I know you won't do anything foolish." He paused momentarily, drawing in a deep breath. "And– my superiors have requested that, if at all possible, you bring him in alive. If you're in danger, please don't hesitate to kill him, but– they say it's important that they get him back alive. Not necessarily in one piece, just… breathing." The Tempest shook a little.
"Five minutes until landing," the pilot announced over his shoulder.

Zanna nodded along flexing her gloves sparking just slightly. She let out a sigh and stood up getting ready to leave the aircraft. Bringing him in alive was going to be harder than bringing him in dead. She had a plan and now it was shifting just slightly becuase she couldn't shoot him on sight, "Understood. I'll do my best to bring him in alive." She felt the plain land on the ground and looked to her old commander, "I'll see you soon. If I'm not back within the hour, don't send someone after me. Just leave"

"No promises." Thomas stood up, walking over to the door. "I'll do what my superiors tell me to, but you bet my right arm I won't leave you if I can help it." He grabbed the lever and yanked it down; the door hissed, sliding open. He peered through the opening, out at the world beyond.
They had landed in a large field, right outside of what appeared to be the shabbiest looking city Thomas had ever seen. City wasn't the right term. It was a little smaller than that– but probably even more dangerous. Casinos, bars, night-clubs, and anything else a decent person like himself would try to avoid.
"Hmph." Thomas leaned out to look at the sky, which was grey with the presence of clouds. "I never expected Absalom to hide in a public place," he muttered, stepping back into the plane. "But it's no wonder we never found him here. This place is off-the-radar. Nothing but a crime-city. I don't know where you'll find him. Maybe ask some of the locals if they know where he could be." He sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor momentarily before looking Zanna in the eyes. "Good luck, soldier. Stay alert."

Zanna looked out at the mass of buildings that resembled a city. She gave Ward a sharp nod understanding his words clear. Steeping off the plane she began to make her way towards the city. Her whip was on one hip her gun on the other. She was careful as she made her way towards the city frowning at the mass of illegal activities dotting the streets. Ward hadn't been joking when he said this was a crime city. She kept her guard up trying to find Day in this mess of a city, or at the very least the outskirts of it. Going deeper in was too dangerous and at least on the outskirts as long as one hand stayed near her gun no one came near or batted an eye at her. At least that she could tell.

"Heyyy, lookie here," a man's voice commented from the doorway of a nearby store.
It wasn't Day.
No. This man was far scrawnier and less-threatening. His pale skin was covered in bright blue tattoos that matched the color of his dyed hair and his bright eyes. He had numerous piercings– at least half a dozen on each ear, two nose rings, and even one in his left brow. Around his neck he wore a mock shackle– a thick metal cuff with a short chain dangling off of it. "What brings you here, soldier?" he inquired, daring to take a step out of the store– which was apparently supposed to be some sort of "legalized" drug store.
Yeah, right.
Nothing was legal around here.
A smug grin spread across his face, revealing a shiny silver-capped tooth."Lookin' for a fix, sweetheart?"

Zanna removed her gun from its holster on her hip. She stared the man down knowing he wasn't Day, just some drug dealer. She could kill him and leave the world a slightly better place, or just ignore him and let him live his life. Eventually she decided that a gunshot would draw to much attention and slipped the gun back into its holister. She said nothing to the man as she walked away going back to search for Day. Filthy man didn't deserve a response.

The street-rat of a man didn't pursue her any further, but rather scurried back to his drug shop.
On the streets, there didn't seem to be much to find. Shifty looking individuals eyed her from a distance, but her appearance as a soldier kept them at bay. Thieves, drug-addicts, prostitutes, and even worse kinds of people lurked on every street corner. After awhile, they seemed to whisper to one another at the sight of her and shrank back from the weight of her gaze.
A good half hour passed probably, but there wasn't much for her to find besides a never ending stream of low-lives wandering about.
But then someone approached her.
It wasn't Day, but it was a survivor of the war– and he had the tattoos of a Reformer agent and the scars to prove it. Young man. Looked like he'd been through heck and back. He stopped a few feet short of her, looking her square in the eye.
"You're here for Day, aren't you?"

Zanna had been getting frustrated at her lack of finding him. She was at least somewhat glad when the other low life's backed off recognizing that she wasn't one to trifle with. When the man with Reformers tattoos stepped up to her she finslly founf some releif. She had hoped it would have been Day, but she would settle for him. Her hand rested on her gun ready to fire off if need be. This whole area was hostile and she didn't trust someone who looked like they had been on the frontlines at some point, "I am. I'm guessing you can lead me to him?"

His gaze dropped to the weapon on her side. "I can. Doesn't necessarily mean I will. And, before you think about threatening me into it, that would be a pretty big mistake. I'm not really afraid to die. And don't think we didn't see your little squad plane land right outside." He wet his lips with his tongue. "Don't think we don't have the weapons to blow it to smithereens if you decide to go blowin' my head off." He paused. "But don't worry. Just a little warning in advance. We're not looking for trouble. War's over, after all. Speaking of which, why you here for Day, if the war's over? Shouldn't you be vacationing? Celebrating your victory, maybe?"

"War's not over until Day is dead," Zanna responded calmly. She wasn't sure if he could follow through with his threat, but wasn't going to take the chance. There were people on that ship she somewhat cared about. Yes, she also realized she made a direct threat against his current leader, but she wasn't going to shy away from the truth. She scanned the surrounding to see if Day was watching from the shadows or if anyone else was there before looking back to the man.

"That's funny," the man murmured. "Because it seems to me that Day's not the one dragging this war on now that it's over." He crossed his arms over his chest, thinking a moment. "Tell you what. If you want to go see Day, I'll take you, but you can't bring those weapons." He eyed the gun on her side and the gloves on her hand. "Not the long-distance ones, anyway. You can keep your whip. I won't make you go in helpless. But I'm not a moron, and Day's not bothering you people now, so you've got no right to kill him. He paid his debt for the war just like everybody else." The man uncrossed his arms and scratched the back of his head. "If you don't wanna see Day, that's cool with me, too. You can scamper on back to your little plane and fly the heck out of here. Forget Day exists. Go back to your life. No more war. No more fighting." He dropped his hands to his sides now. "I don't care which one you choose. Just pick."

Zanna frowned as he listed his demands to see Day. She flexed her hand as she debated her options. Go with his crazy demands and see Day with nothing but a whip, or go back to the plane and admit her failure. She paused for a moment before removing and dropping her gun on the ground before peeling off her gloves feeling bare with only the whip on her hip. Her mind didn't believe that Day had truly paid his debt for the war, not with all the atrocities he's done. She looked at him, "There. Now take me to Day."

He smiled, tilting his head to the side. "As you wish."
He led her down a winding alley, where the people were more scarce. A rat scurried across their path; a scrawny stray dog ate old bones from a trashcan. Garbage littered the walkway– needles and empty beer cans galore. "Charming little place we got here, don't you think?" the man asked with a chuckle. Farther and farther they got from the public part of town. This area was even more foreboding than the criminal-filled streets.
He stopped behind an old building, turning to face a metal door with no handle. It was bit rusted, but it looked nearly impenetrable– as did the entire building. He placed his hand over a scanner off to the right of it and looked Zanna in the eye. "I bet he'll be excited to see a soldier coming after him. He hasn't dealt with any of you guys in months."

Zanna mapped the way into the heart of the Reformers territory. She needed to know the way out for when she eventually ran with Day. In fact, she definitely couldn't kill him now, she had no lethal weapons on her person. Other than herself of course, but that required getting close. She stayed calm and silent even as the other man tried to goad her into reacting or being afraid. She only glared at him with her fire-filled eyes. She wasn't afraid of Absalom Day, even though there was a small part of her that said she should be. He was just like one of the rats that scurried about the place, something to be eradicated.

After a couple of seconds, the scanner beeped, and the door slid open. The man led the way, stepping down several concrete stairs into what the basement of the sturdy building.
Inside, two guys sat at a round table, playing a game of what was presumably poker. Much like the man who had retrieved Zanna, their arms were covered in Reformer tattoos– and scars. A boombox on the floor beside them quietly played music– rap, to be specific. Behind them, a television played the news, though no one seemed to be paying any mind.
As the man entered with Zanna, the men at the table glanced up.
"Iggy found a soldier," one of them commented gruffly, sounding far too relaxed.
"Been awhile since I seen one of those," the other mumbled.
They continued their game of cards casually.
"Where's Day?" the man– Iggy, apparently his name was– asked. He sure didn't look like an Iggy.
"The back. He's waitin' for you."
Iggy nodded for Zanna to follow him and started down a dark hallway. The place still didn't look like the kind of place an enemy of the government would hide. Maybe an alcoholic, but not a national villain.
Iggy stopped in front of another door and tapped his knuckles against it. "Day? You've got company."
The door swung opened, and the man behind it was unmistakable. That scar across his face. Those dark eyes. The smirk of a man who knew no mercy.
Absalom Day.
He looked the same. Olive skin. Jet-black hair– though a little shaggier than it had been in the past. Broad-shoulders. Tattoos that snaked up his arms and around his neck, disappearing beneath his sleeveless shirt. He seemed completely intact–
Except for one thing. His leg, from the knee down, had now been replaced with a cybernetic one.
Absalom smiled at Zanna– an odd thing, considering the fact that they were enemies.
"My, what a pleasant surprise."

Zanna kept her head up looking around. She hadn't expected their base to look like this, then again what should she have expected. These men were criminals and thought they had no reason to worry. She wasn't going to bother with them as her target now stood in front of her, though not completely intact. His leg was cybernetic now, and the first question that opped to her mind was where did he get that. She kept quiet and was even shocked that he had smiled at her considering they were enemies. She kept her bare hand on her whip eyes studying his movement, "You seemed to be expecting me, so I wouldn't call it a surprise. Day."

"Okay, well– You got me there. I'm not surprised. Not even a little." Day tilted his head to the side, observing her. "But I am flattered that you'd come all this way just to see me. Especially since the war is over and such. Miss me, did you? I'd say you were here to kill me, but…" He paused, licking his lips lightly. "Nah." His gaze dropped to the whip at her side. "Oh. Is that for me?" His smirk widened just a bit. "Worried I might get too rambunctious?"

Zanna's violet-blue eyes flared at his implication. It was the only outward sign at her inner rage because how dare he imply such a thing like that. She kept her eyes trained on him and only him. This man was more twisted than Zanna could have ever thought, "It's a precaution. However, you would be wrong in that I am here to end your life, for the good of the rest of the world."

Day chuckled dryly. If anything, the flash of anger in her eyes only made him smile more. "Well, then, why are you here?" he inquired, nonchalantly venturing back into the room. He left the door open for Zanna to follow if she liked, though he never implied that she had to. It was a rather large room, open– resembling what you'd imagine someone's personal mini-bar to look like. A counter, a wall full of the finest drinks, a pool table, a couch, and a massive TV on the wall. He probably had a lot of free time on his hands nowadays.
Ah, but the most noticeable thing in the room was his signature sword– one he'd been known for using during the war– that was mounted on the wall. The blade was as shiny and clean as ever, looking almost as if it had never been used.
But, oh– how many lives that single weapon had ended.
Day didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he pulled a bottle down from the wall and popped the cork out of it, pouring the contents into an empty glass.

Zanna followed him into the room not wanting him to leave her sight. She was almost disgusted at how cushy his living quarters were compared to the rest of the city. Her eyes caught on his sword for a moment, before tearing themselves away. That one weapon had killed so many yet it sat there shiny and new. If anything that disgusted her the most. She spoke bluntly as she repeated herself, "As I said, I'm here to kill you. Plain and simple."

"Then what are you waiting for? Do it, hero. Kill me. Strike me down. I'm unarmed." Day calmly took a swig of the alcohol in his hand. "Ah. Wait a moment. I thought the war was over, soldier?" He thoughtfully scratched the stubble lining his jaw. "If the war's over, then… what exactly makes you think that you can waltz into my home and threaten my life?" He stared at her, though there was no fear in his dark eyes. He was almost unreadable. Maybe he was insane. Or maybe he had just mastered the art of appearing absolutely unafraid.