"I'm well aware of the difference," Zanna responded coiling her whip up again. She kept it in one hand and reached for Day with the other hand. Even if he had agreed to come, she wanted to keep him close to her, "But understand in front of my commander I will act like I captured you. Understood?"
Day didn't look happy about this prospect. Truth be told, he was probably unhappy in general. He had never been a man to surrender– which made his behavior all around out of character. Then again, Day was fairly unpredictable, so maybe it wasn't too out of character.
Yeah, it was.
He wasn't usually this compliant.
"Mmmff… Fine. As you wish." He stepped closer so that she could grab his shirt if she wished, though his eyes ran over his many wine bottles on the wall. "The boys better not let those precious things go to waste." He turned back to her, looking as unreadable as ever. "Well, then. I suppose we should leave. Don't want to keep that commander of yours waiting, now do we?"
Zanna was trying not to focus on how easy it was to get Day to surrender, but rather on the fact that she got it done. She grabbed his shirt and started semi-dragging him to the entrance. She glanced at the bottles of wine, "No, get a move on. The sooner we're out of here the sooner you get locked up or killed or whatever they decide to do with you."
"I prefer the latter," Day muttered dully as they left the room and headed back towards the exit. He didn't fight– not even a little– and his comrades looked up at him with visible concern as Zanna dragged him along.
"Day?" one dared to ask, his eyebrows raised in confusion. He fingered the gun on his side, his expression hardening into a glare that locked on Zanna.
That is, until Day raised his hand in a conciliatory gesture. "Stand down, my friend. The war is over, remember?" He smiled lightly, and the confused man relaxed his hand.
"But, sir–" the man objected. "What are you doing?"
"Make sure you all drink up my alcohol, alright? It's too good to just sit there, untouched. Keep an eye on Danny, though. He might get carried away." Day spoke so casually– not as a man who had just surrendered to his unquestionable demise.
The other men were speechless as Zanna left with Day, but Day walked with the calmness of a man who had not a care in the world.
Zanna glared at the others who were going to possibly attack. She was just as confused as they were at Day's behavior. Maybe it was the alcohol that caused him to be this way. She continued to drag him out of the base and to the outskirts of the shantytown. She silently prayed that the plane had stayed this long even though she had only asked that they stay an hour. Her eyes were looking out to where they had landed on not on her surroundings, a rookie mistake, but she was a bit distracted. She had also forgotten to get her gloves and gun back as well.
Day hummed to himself a little as they trekked along. A few street-wanderers nearly ventured near a few times– particularly a handful of possible prostitute women and drug addicts who probably assumed they could make a quick buck off of Day– but they turned the other way as soon as they realized that Zanna was an army soldier. They weren't quite bold enough for that.
Meanwhile, the plane hadn't budged from its spot. Thomas must've meant it when he said he would not willingly leave her. Inside, he paced the floor anxiously, whilst his fellow soldiers eyed him curiously. They once offered to search for her, but he had promptly denied them, stating that he believed in her, and she would back soon. Though, truth be told, he was concerned that she might've been killed– or worse– by that monster, Absalom Day.
Zanna was silently glad the plane was still there. She walked out of the city and over to the plane back straight and chin up. She had finished her mission with minimal effort, of course, this meant she would go back to civilian life. That was the one downside to all of this, she had to go back to her boring old life. She looked at her commander as she held Day a lot harder than before to sell that she really had captured him, "Commander. I retrieved Day."
Why Day would bother helping her sell it was a mystery to all, but he must've been, because his expression had went from looking like a happy content man without a single concern to upset and brooding in three seconds flat. He did it so convincing that it was possible he really was suddenly mad– but he was nearly impossible to read.
Thomas Ward stood in the plane's doorway, eyes wide. He looked impressed. "Storm–" His eyes locked on her prisoner. Day was neither bound nor chained. "How–?" He shook his head slightly, the awestruck expression quickly replaced by one of anger– hatred that was directed towards Day. Thomas pulled a high-powered taser gun from his belt, walking down the ramp to where Zanna was. "Good work, soldier. I knew you were more than capable of bringing him in." He kept his weapon trained on Day, and his glare soon followed. "Take him into the plane. We'll fly him back to the base immediately."
Zanna gave him a nod and began dragging Day onto the plane. She was silently grateful that Day went along with the idea of him being captured. In her mind, she hopped the commander didn't tase Day, but there were plenty of reasons for Ward to do so. In fact, she should want for Ward to tase him. She had gone soft since the war, and Zanna didn't know how she felt about that. Instead, she did her duty in finally ending the war.
Thomas turned to his other men. "Garvin, get us out of here. The rest of you, bind Absalom Day," he commanded, his tone dark when he spoke the name of his enemy.
"Yes, sir!" they said in unison.
One started the plane, whilst the other three soldiers practically yanked Day from Zanna's grasp– though their roughness meant for the prisoner rather than their fellow soldier. Day didn't fight; he merely glared at them. They grabbed his wrists and shoved them together, slapping on thick cuffs and securing them tight. Day let out a low growl as they kicked his feet out from beneath him and shoved his head down, forcing him to his knees. A thick, metal collar with a chain attached to it was locked firmly around his neck, and they even went as far as to force a muzzle over his mouth and jaw.
Whether they thought these measures were necessary or they just wished to make a point and shame him was unclear.
"There he is, sir. Bound like the beast he is," one soldier commented proudly, holding tight to the chain hooked to Day's collar.
"Good. Keep an eye on him while I contact my superior officers," Thomas instructed, walking off to make a call.
Day remained on his knees, glaring at the ground rather than anyone. It was hard to tell whether he was just acting angry or if it was true anger now.
The plane began its ascent.
Zanna let the soldiers take Day and bind him up. He was bound as he should be, a monster and an animal. She stuck with him her whip still in hand just as a reminder to both herself and Day who had the upper hand in this situation. He was outnumbered and bound, and he wasn't fighting. She knew that was apart of their agreement, but she still had been expecting him to fight a little. She wondered if the others could tell something was off like she could.
Day grunted a little, giving Zanna a glower of pure hatred– though whether he truly meant it or was merely acting was questionable.
One of the youngest soldiers did start to look a little concerned. He poked at Day's ribs with his boot, and the prisoner growled, glaring up at the soldier.
"Aw, what's the matter?" the soldier mocked, grinning a bit. "Pouting because you got caught?"
Day said nothing.
Day always had a comeback for things.
Always.
"Poor little Day. All chained up and nowhere to go," the soldier continued, hoping for a response.
Nothing.
"Huh. Weird." The young soldier's brow tightened in confusion as he looked at Zanna. "I expected a lot more from the real Absalom Day." He paused a little. "Was he like this when you found him?"
"A little more talkative, but yes. This is about as much as the great Absalom Day was," Zanna responded noting the pure hatred coming off of Day. It wasn't her order for him to be bound the way he was. She was just a slave after all. She looked at the younger soldier, "However, despite his docileness, I don't recommend poking the sleeping bear. Who knows when it'll wake up."
The young soldier frowned, looking slightly disappointed. "Yes, of course, sir." His face flushed as he realized his mistake– an error due to habit. "I mean ma'am."
"We will be returning Day to the Capitol for trial," Thomas announced as he returned. "According to my superiors, he will not likely be killed immediately." A somewhat mean smirk faintly tugged at the corner of Thomas's mouth. "There are a lot of crimes he has to pay for before we can exact the death penalty– and I have been informed that his execution will be a public one. But they wish to make an example of him, not a martyr– so I'm sure it'll be quite shameful." He hesitated, glaring down at their silent prisoner before turning to Zanna. "Our superiors have asked us– you and I, Ms. Storm– to help them determine the most appropriate forms of punishment for Absalom, if you would be willing. We will also be required to interrogate him for information regarding any remaining Reformers."
Zanna gave Ward a wicked grin in return. Though it looked natural, it felt forced as her gut churned just ever so slightly. There was no reason for her to feel bad for Day much less be sickened at the thought of having to torture him for information. What happened to the ruthlessness she had had during the war and on her way here? Gone, though the fire in her eyes still burned brightly as ever. Her voice turned to a slight purr as she responded selling the idea that she had no second thoughts about all of this, “It would be my pleasure to help. I’m sure I can think of plenty of ways to get the information out of him.” Her hand rubbed the coiled whip at her hip.
Thomas saw nothing but that fire, and it pleased him very much. "Good. I'm sure you'll be very efficient."
Meanwhile, Day did not appear pleased. He had moved a bit, sitting now with his back against the wall– though two of the soldiers still watched him closely, and he had yet to make any attempts at violence or escape. He stared at the floor, except for when he did momentarily glance up once during Zanna's response, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"We will be landing in approximately ten minutes," Garvin announced from the pilot's seat.
Thomas merely nodded before returning his attention to Zanna, still smiling. "Storm, do you realize how big this is? You just brought us Absalom Day. You've single-handedly defeated any hope of return the Reformers may have had. Not to mention, this sets an example for any other rebel groups that may decide to spring up in the future. After they see the punishments we exact on Day, no one will dare oppose us or our leadership ever again. They'll all run like cowardly dogs with their tails between their legs." His smile softened into something more sincere, and he saluted her. "You're a hero, Ms. Zanna Storm."
Zanna wanted to enjoy the swell of pride that came with the commanders words. Instead she felt a cold rush afterward the swell of pride. Her mind was still at war with itself but she had the appearance of a soldier proud of what she had done. Her eyes glanced down at Day only for a moment before going back to Ward, "I suppose I am commander. I don't feel mucb of one yet though."
"You will, Storm. Once you realize what a difference you've made, what we can do now that this wretched man is in our grasp, you'll see what a good thing you've done. You have slaughtered a monster. Slain a dragon." Thomas smiled a little more, seemingly pleased with his poet speech. "Or at least, you will have officially, once you and I finish destroying him bit by bit. I'm sure you'll feel more heroic when we finish the job for good." He cast a dark glare at the prisoner, who now raised his own gaze to watch them.
Day's expression– it was always so unreadable. Impossible to tell what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Unless he wanted you to know, of course– but he was such a good actor, how could anyone ever know what was real? How could anyone ever know what Absalom Day truly felt? He was silent for a long moment before he threw his own two cents into the mix. "Heroes." He scoffed out a laugh, his voice muffled by the muzzle he wore. "You people aren't heroes. Think of all of the destruction you've caused. All the blood that has been shed by your filthy hands. All the lies that have seeped from your poisonous lips. After all that, you dare call me the monster?"
"Watch your tongue, Day," Thomas snapped angrily, his expression hardening. His hand rested on the hilt of his knife, which was tucked securely into his belt. "Or we might just cut it out."
Zanna glared down at Day. He shouldn't be attempting to preach his cause, not here and most definitely not now. She unhooked her whip and let the end fall to the ground. It was a silent warning not to speak out again. She wasn't sure she would ever feel heroic for doing this, not after the conflict in her head, "You're a monster and you know it. So be quiet, hypocrite."
Day's eyes slowly fell to the whip, but he merely let out a small "Hm" before looking back up at her. "I never said I wasn't. I'm not the hypocrite here, because I don't deny what I am. I just wish others were as honest as I am."
"You shut up, Day. I don't think you're in any position to be speaking. The only time you're permitted to speak is during your trial, when you'll be questioned. You can defend yourself all you like then," Thomas growled. "But, it'll be pointless. We're going to have you killed, I hope you know. It'll be live. I want all of your little Reformer rats to see it."
Day snorted out a laugh. "The Reformers are gone, moron. The war is over, remember?"
Zanna said nothing glaring at Day. He had to be lying, she had been to there base. There were still plenty of people there that were loyal to Day. She was half tempted to crack her whip knowing that would probably get him to shut up, especially if she actually hit him. Though she wasn't entirely sure she would be able to hurt him, her head was still splitting.
"We're landing in five minutes, sir," Garvin announced.
Thomas drew in a long breath. "The war isn't over, Day. The war isn't over until you're nothing but a laughable memory, until you're buried and gone, a shameful reminder of what happens to anyone who dares stand up against the authorities."
"The only reason the war's not over is because you're intentionally dragging it out," Day countered. "I wasn't bothering anyone. Six months, I've been left to myself, and I haven't hurt a fly. I've been trying to be peaceful. You people are the ones trying to reignite that flame." He tilted his head, seemingly discomforted by the presence of the muzzle over his mouth. He probably would've fought with it, had not his hands been chained– but he was bound, and there was nothing he could do. "Do you think killing me, torturing me, or shaming me will stop anything? The Reformers are gone. Those who remain are no longer Reformers. They've accepted their defeat, and they're trying to be peaceful. The only thing killing me will do is prove to them why they became Reformers in the first place." He paused. "You people aren't looking for justice. You want the war back."
Thomas's fists were clenched. "Enough! Someone shut him up!"
Everything else happened quickly. One of the soldiers nearby slammed the butt of their gun into Day's temple, and his head snapped to the left. He growled, swinging his cuffed hands into the soldier's leg, the metal cuffs whacking the soldier right in the shin.
One of the other soldiers pulled a baton from his belt and took to walloping Day with it. Within seconds, a fight had broke out between the three soldiers and Day– with Day dealing quite a bit of damage for someone bound. Blood ran down his brow, over his face, onto the muzzle, but he had managed to get to his feet and was beating one of the soldiers down, despite his shackles. The other soldiers whacked him with batons and their fists, and Thomas was already readying his taser– though, he couldn't use it so long as one of the soldiers remained in physical contact with Day.
Considering his chains, Day was not winning.
But he was clearly not going to sit down and be beaten to death, either.
The moment the fight started to break out Zanna's face grew to a scowl and she cracked her whip the sound echoing through the plane. Her face was marred with a scowl for both Day and Ward. Why she was mad at Ward she could only blame the rebelling half on. They may be soldiers trained to fight and win battles, she didn't forget the intimidation that often worked better than physical violence at times. Her eyes were narrowed as she shouted out to all of them, "Stop! We are here to end a violent war, not to perpetuate one. And it seems we've forgotten that."
It seemed that everyone sort of froze at the sound of the cracking whip, and even the pilot cast a concerned glance in their direction from his seat in the cockpit.
"Storm is right," Thomas muttered angrily, though his glare was still glued on Day. "If he'll be still, let him be."
Day merely scrunched his nose up in disgust– and one of the soldier's kneed him in the stomach before shoving him back down to his place against the wall. This time, he stayed down– though he looked unhappy about it.
Despite how brief the fight had been, Day and the three soldiers all had their fair share of bruises from it. One soldier's nose and mouth had been busted and a bruise was beginning to form on the jaw of another. The third one had no visible facial injuries, but he was struggling to recover from a sharp kick that Day had delivered to an incredibly tender spot during the scuffle.
Day himself had a lot of blood on his face, running down from his busted brow. Underneath his shirt, there were probably plenty of deep bruises forming from the baton blows he took.
The plane slowly landed, and Garvin sighed. "We're here, sir."
"Good." Thomas shoved his taser back into its holster, glowering at Day.
Zanna kept an eye on him for a moment taking in the injuries the monster had suffered. Before taking her eyes off of him and coiling her whip up and reattaching it to her waist. At least she had gotten everyone to stop and possibly drawn some unwanted attention from the pilot. Once she had gotten the word they had landed she moved over to Day and grabbed at his chains hoisting him to a standing position acting like she didn't care about Day's well being. Though there was still that one part of her that did care. Her eyes challenged the rest to see if anyone wanted to try and take her prize, "Ready when you are Commander Ward."