No one dared to touch her prize.
Day grunted as Zanna yanked him up, though he said nothing– only glaring at her. So much blood had ran into one of his eyes that he was forced to keep it closed. He allowed her to tug him along without objection, like a dog on a leash.
Thomas nodded, opening the door. "Follow me." He started through the opening, where they had landed inside of a large hangar. Dozens of guards and soldiers waited for them outside, weapons drawn in case the valuable prisoner would dare try to escape. They all saluted Thomas and Zanna as they exited the plane, though they were clearly impressed– and possibly intimidated– by the fact that Day had been successfully captured.
"Absalom Day–" one breathed in disbelief. "I can't believe– you got him. He's like– a legend."
Zanna puffed her chest out again in slightly false pride. She had caught Absalom Day, but she had gotten a lot of confusion from it as well. She kept the chains taught between her and Day not wanting to risk him appearing to be out fo control. Despite her outward appearance, fire in the eyes and everything, she. She didn't want to Day to get hurt anymore. Her mind excused the thought because she was the one that wanted to cause him pain. But she knew differently, "Well believe it. Is there somewhere prepared for him already? The sooner we get him there, the sooner the fun can begin." Those last words felt like venom in her mouth, but they sounded as confident as the rest.
"Yes, ma'am," the soldier replied. He eyed Day, maybe a bit afraid of the prisoner, despite the fact that he was bound. After all, the solider had undoubtedly heard stories about what Day was capable of.. "Please, come this way." He spun on his heel and started towards a door on the other end of the hangar.
"I'll be there shortly, Zanna," Thomas informed her. "I have to speak with a few of my superiors regarding the matter, and I will meet you in a few minutes. Deliver Day to his cell, and I'll find you momentarily. We'll begin the process after I arrive." With that, he briskly walked off.
"Aw, you guys have a room for me and everything?" Day inquired sarcastically. "How sweet. I'm flattered." He tried to wipe some of the blood out of his eye, but the cuffs binding his wrists together made that impossible, so he gave up. "Don't tell me you made dinner, too."
Zanna gave her commander a nod before forcing Day along after the other soldier leading her to his cell. She glared at Day as they made their way to his cell. She had a heavy scowl on her face, "Be quiet."
"Here it is, ma'am," the soldier announced upon arriving at a thick metal door with only a small, barred window. He typed in the keycode, and the door unlocked.
The cell was large and mostly empty. One portion of it was dedicated to the few necessities that are required for a prisoner– a shoddy cot, a small sink, a toilet, and a small table. But, upon further inspection, there was a second door connected to his cell. At first, Day wondered where that could've possibly led to– before he realized that it must've been the room where they'd torture him.
Hm.
Not only had they created a cell for him, but there was a special torture room.
Just for him.
The walls had places for the shackles that Day wore, in case they felt the need to bind him further. For now, it had been established that the chain on his neck would be locked to the wall, giving him only enough slack to move about– again, like a dog tied to a tree. Of course, the cell would be locked as well, so it wasn't like he would be going anywhere. Besides, Thomas would show up in a few minutes, and they would torture him then.
“Thank you. You’re dismissed,” Zanna responded as she pulled Day into the room. She knew Ward was coming soon and there were, things she needed to do. Her eyes wandered to the younger soldier watching him leave and made sure no one would be able to see or hear them. Part of her wanted to help him realizing how deep in she was the other part told her to follow orders. Each trying to convince her to join their side. It would take Ward at least a little longer to get to the cell. Meanwhile she glared at Day as she hissed quietly, “What did you do to me?”
(this looks super cool and is highkey reminding me of something i read once, think y'all could use a stalker?)
(I don't mind one bit! ^-^)
"What did I do?" Day echoed. "Hm. Well, earned you a promotion by allowing you to bring me in, I assume. You'll be famous for this, so you're welcome, by the way– but I most certainly didn't do it for you." He paused momentarily, though whether he was deep in thought or the blood in his eye was just irritating him was unclear. "Oh– but that's not what you meant, is it?" Even though the muzzle hid his mouth, it was clear by the look in his un-bloodied eye that he was smirking behind that muzzle.
“You know what I mean,” Zanna hissed again her eyes flaring. She still retained the outward appearance everyone expected her mind and heart were in turmoil. Where was the Zanna who killed and tortured others without a second thought? Who was known for being ruthless and merciless on the battlefield? Gone apparently. She took a deep breath glancing around, “So tell me, what did you do?”
"I didn't do anything," Day responded, narrowing his eyes– er, eye, because only one was blood-free. "Your leaders are the ones who have been lying to you and messing with your head. All I did was tell you that they're deceitful." He paused, working his jaw back and forth– though it was hard to tell due to the muzzle. "And you haven't even seen the tip of the iceberg yet. I'm a horrible person, but I'm not the bad guy here–" If Day had more to say, it wouldn't be heard now. He stopped mid-sentence, going silent. Several seconds would pass before it would be clear as to why he stopped– but he had overheard footsteps.
Thomas Ward had arrived.
Fortunately for Day, Thomas hadn't overheard anything he was saying. But, just to cover it, Day hardened his expression into a glare– was he acting again? It looked so real– and shot it towards Zanna.
"Storm," Thomas greeted. "Our superiors said that we can begin whenever we like. We need information regarding the Reformer's bases, survivors, plans, and anything else we're in the mood to ask about. They said we can do anything to him as long as we don't kill him or take away his ability to speak. Paralyze him, break his bones, burn him– we can do whatever. He just has to have a heartbeat and be able to form responses. Legally, he has to be able to speak for the trial, and we're not allowed to kill him until the Judges have decreed execution."
Zanna kept her hard face still mulling over what Day had said. She looked to Ward not bothering with Day. She could work out her inner turmoil later, for now, she needed to be the Storm that her commander knew. Her eyes were bright as she heard her new orders. Torture Day in whatever way they wanted as long as he could talk and didn't die. She tugged on his chains beginning to move him towards the torture room, "Of course. Shall we get started, commander?"
"Yes. Immediately." Thomas nodded, hurrying in front of her so that he could open the door for them.
The torture room was designed for no other purpose than to torture, of course, so there were plenty of less-than-welcoming devices in here. There was a chair with leather straps for the arms, neck, and ankles– for securing the prison in place so that they could do God-only-knows what to him. There was a table, too, with similar straps in place– except there was a machine situated above it. What it did, Day could only speculate, but he could guarantee it wouldn't be good. There was a pole who's immediate purpose would be a mystery to anyone who hadn't seen it before, but to someone with experience– someone like Day– it was very clearly a whipping post.
A primitive and barbaric way of torture for a society so technologically advanced.
Day didn't look incredibly intimidated, even as Thomas walked over and placed his hand over a scanner in the wall– which opened up to a variety of tools they would be welcome to use for torture.
Day had the audacity to scoff at it.
Surely he had to be afraid, didn't he? Yet no fear registered on his face. He didn't look concerned. He looked far too relaxed.
Frankly, that infuriated Thomas to the point that he gritted his teeth and let out a short huff. "What do you think we should start with, Storm? I've never been so eager to hurt anyone in my entire life."
Zanna finally was able to let her old self take over. Her eyes wandered over all the equipment feeling the weight of her whip on her hip. She kept Day close a wicked gleam in her eye that was dulled just ever so slightly, but the message was clear. She began to bring him to the pole, "Little ol' Day here isn't very fond of whips. So I think we should start there? Or maybe we should build up to it?"
Thomas smirked lightly. "I think it's your call, Storm. After all, you're the one who caught him." Though, he seemed perfectly content with the thought of scourging as a start, glancing once towards the pole in the corner. "It doesn't seem as painful as some of our other methods, but it's definitely unpleasant. And if he know he doesn't like it–" He eyed Day, who was clearly not at all pleased with the turn of events. "Then I say, why not?"
Day growled a little– and actually resisted for once. For the first time since they'd captured him, actually, aside from the little squabble of a fight they'd provoked him into back on the plane. Though he didn't get violent, though he didn't fight against her grip or even try to run, he did brace his boots against the floor and refuse to budge from his spot. Or at least, he would have, had the floor not been smooth concrete that offered him no traction whatsoever.
It could have been that this was an act, too– like his constant glares probably were, because he always seemed to be fine and peachy whenever the commander wasn't around. (Of course, it's questionable as to why he seemed fine whenever the commander left. He was still a prisoner either way. Insanity, perhaps?) But, then again, maybe it wasn't an act. With Day, who could know? The depths of his mind and the way it operated were a mystery to all.
Zanna finally got some resistance from him. She was stronger than him and the smooth floor helped as she brought him over and attached his bindings to the pole. His hands attached above his head and the collar chain attached as well. He wouldn't be getting out anytime soon. She had a grin on as she knew Ward approved. She knew there were other whips in the room, but she wanted to start with her old trusted whip. Unhooking it from her belt she let the coiled whip and metal tip hit the ground the handle in hand. She was going to have fun with this, at least that's what she told herself. With that, she cracked the whip and let it lash out against his back.
Day didn't say a word as she dragged him over and put him on the post, though he had hardened his gaze into a glare. He gave his restraints several violent yanks once she had hooked him up, though clearly it was useless. He may have been a strong man, but he was nowhere near strong enough to snap his chains.
He neither pleaded nor begged for any mercy– but it was noticable that his breathing had already quickened even before the first strike.
The rumors must've been true.
The first strike caused him to flinch– something that neither Thomas nor Zanna had seen likely seen before– and arch his back in pain. He didn't scream, but he grunted through gritted teeth, his body tensing noticably.
His shirt was torn in one place, and blood had been drawn, but this was yet the first lash– and Day's reaction was already more than Thomas would've expected.
The commander was visibly pleased with the results thus far and eager to see it escalate.
Zanna kept her wicked grin as she cracked her whip at her side before lashing it at him again drawing more blood. Her stomach churned as she continued to whip him thoroughly. Each strike drawing blood though they were never at the same pace. Some were right after each other, others were second apart. She knew Ward was pleased with this and she forced herself to think she was enjoying it. She stopped for a moment and cracked the whip at her side again to remove what blood was on it, "This all can stop you know? Just tell us what you know." After she finished gave the whip another crack at his bloodied body.
By that point, Day had sank to the ground as far as his restraints would allow, his body shuddering with deep breaths. He grunted or bit back a scream with each lash, perspiration forming in large droplets on his brow. He might've been crying, too, but it was impossible to tell if that was sweat or tears running down his face. Whatever it was, it mingled with the half-dried blood on his face and made him look even worse than he was.
But he wouldn't look at anyone, his head hanging low, ducked beneath his shoulders.
Somewhere through the mess of his ripped shirt and torn, bloody flesh, there were scars– clearly whip scars that had been there for awhile– hardly visible now that so much deep crimson had seeped from his wounds and stained his clothes and skin.
"I– told you," Day panted through labored breaths, a drop of bloodied sweat dripping off of his face and onto the concrete floor. His muzzle was soaked with both substances. "The Reformers are gone. They disbanded."
Zanna didn't believe him, but she was beginning to feel guilty for causing Day such pain. It didn't show through, thankfully, and she didn't know where it had come from. Probably from that other half that had grown in the span of the day. Or maybe it had always been there, either way, she had to kill it. Eventually. She scowled at him and lashed him again digging deeper into an already open wound, "I don't believe you. There were still Reformers at your base."
Day's breath hitched, his body tensing again as if he hadn't been prepared for that last strike. He tried to move a little, to reposition himself, but he was far too sore for that. "I'm not– lying," he insisted weakly, his head still down like a subdued animal. "They aren't Reformers anymore. They were. Now… they're just regular people trying to live their lives in peace." He paused to catch his breath. He seemed to be having trouble. "They're only staying in my place because they don't have anywhere else to go where you people won't arrest them and– do this to them." He winced, letting out a short huff. "There are no Reformers. The Reformers are gone. I'm not lying."
Thomas shook his head in disbelief, then scoffed at the bloodied man– who now looked quite pitiful, nothing like one's ideal of Absalom Day.
Zanna didn't think she could bring herself to lash him again after seeing his pitiful performance. Maybe she had gone too far too quickly. He kept going on about the same subject and insisted he wasn't lying. She looked down at him as she cracked her whip at him again forcing herself not to internally wince at her actions. She felt cruel, this never used to feel cruel, "But they are still loyal to you are they not? If so, then they are still reformers."
At this point, Day either lacked the strength or the motivation to fight back a scream, and all that came out was something between a grunt and a whine, followed by more quiet gasps for breath.
Imagine that.
The formidable Absalom Day.
Whining.
"I'm not a Reformer anymore, either," he muttered, writhing a little, his shirt sopping with blood. So much oozed from his shredded back that it ran down and stained his pants and the floor as well. "They're only loyal to me because I helped them stay safe. Didn't turn them in. Didn't let them die."
Thomas snorted out a laugh, obviously untouched and unmoved by Day's state.
Zanna however was. At least in her weakened state, she was. She cracked the whip once more, but only to clean the blood. She knew they weren't getting anything out of him, but at the same time, she knew he was so close to breaking down. She, she didn't want him to break. It's too early for that to happen, her mind reasoned with her rebelling heart. She looked to her commander, "I think that's enough for today. We're not getting anything useful out of him. Besides, I think it'll be worth it to see if he keeps his spirit rather than to break it on day one."
