Zanna cracked her whip beside her faster than any physical reaction possibly could have. She wanted to have whipped it at him, but she couldn't instead doing it by her side. She was fuming at this point and managed to make her way towards him, "You shut your stupid mouth. Now."
Though Day didn't even flinch at the crack of her whip, his gaze did fall on it immediately. If he was afraid, he didn't show it, although it had been rumored previously that whips were his least favorite form of punishment– then again, those rumors merely sparked from the fact that the scar across his face was put there by a whip and that he weilded multiple whips himself in the past. It had been said that he had a collection– which he used to scourge disobedient Reformer agents or punish his enemies.
Whether or not those states were true, one could only speculate.
"Hm. That's funny. I clearly recall you saying that you wanted to hear what I had to say. Now you're threatening me? Well, that's just plain rude. I think you're just upset because you know I'm right."
Zanna saw his gaze go to her whip. She had heard the rumors and hadn't quite believed them. But maybe they held some truth to them. She took a deep breath her mind waging war against herself. Her gaze was cold as she looked at him, "I did say I wanted to hear your side, but not when you. Not when you speak such blatant falsehoods. Unless you can prove your point, then you are lying."
"That can go both ways. Prove me wrong. If the Reformers kidnapped those kids, then what on earth did we do with them? Our only slaves were traitorous agents, so the kids weren't slaves. We didn't kill them, because that would be a waste of both lives and our time. So if we took them– where are they? Oh, and where did you and the other thousands of child soldiers come from? Because you didn't just spawn randomly, I'll tell you that much. And you weren't all orphans either." Day paused. "Oh, but here's the real kicker. If the Reformers took all of those kids, why hasn't there been a single report of anyone kidnapped by the Reformers stepping forward and speaking out about the horrors they endured? We couldn't stop them now that the war is over. So where'd they go? Oh, right. No where. Because we never took them. And for the record, that little kidnapping spree is just one of the things you've been lied too about. There's a crap ton more." Day scratched his chin thoughtfully. "But I'm the deceiver, aren't I? Guess there's absolutely nothing suspicious going on. Your superiors– why, they're just swell. And I'm just a big ol' meanie shattering your world with my evil evil lies," he said in a mock tone, stifling a dry chuckle.
Zanna hated that he made sense. She despised it. No reports had come out from people saying they were kidnapped, but plenty of children grew up in the army. She refused to let him break her with words, but she coiled her whip back up into her hand in one swift movement still scowling. She, she needed the truth now. There was a burning desire to find out if everything she knew was lie, "I wouldn't say shatter. Fine, you win. The government may have been lying, but that was no reason to fight over such a small issue."
"Small issue," Day muttered. "None of the issues we fought over were small. Besides, I told you– we didn't start the war." He picked up his alcohol glass again and swished the drink around inside. "You consider kidnapping a small issue? Abuse of power? Experimentation on other human beings?" He watched the drink in his glass, sighing. He seemed disappointed. Not at her, just in general. "No. They forced us to go to war. We weren't ones to accept defeat– and we only quit when we did because so many people were dying and we were getting nowhere. Prison camps were the worst. They were slaying us left and right. It was monstrous."
"What about everything you did to our soldiers?" Zanna responded her eyes narrowing at him just slightly. She didn't know what had triggered this reaction in him, this disappointment, "I saw the broken look in their eyes whenever they got out of any of your imprisonments. You can call the government, bad, all you want. But that doesn't put you in the right."
"I may not be a good man, but I'm honest. Yeah, I did break down your soldiers. Stripped them apart mentally. Watched them deteriorate and only freed them once they had audibly admitted that our cause was in the right and theirs in the wrong." Day took a swig of his drink and licked his lips. "I watched so many people I loved burn that I think it might've burned the heart out of me, to be perfectly frank. I won't lie. I hated everyone who opposed us in the war. I liked seeing them squirm. I didn't need bloodshed; I was just ruthless. Was I justified? Maybe. Maybe not. But, right or wrong, I'll claim my actions as my own– unlike your twisted allies and leaders."
"What changed then?" Zanna asked him coldly. She didn't think he had changed from the war. He most certainly didn't act like it. In fact, she was still waiting for when he called in his men and she had to fight her way out of this place. It would give her a reason to leave empty-handed because she wasn't sure if she could complete her mission at the moment, "What's stopping you from doing the same thing to me? I'm just another one of those soldiers, aren't I? A slave as you say."
"Yes. You are. You're such a slave. A lap dog to your superiors," Day said absently, setting his glass on the table. "But, I'm not interested in doing the same to you. Not yet. I told you, I'm not bloodthirsty. And even though you came to me admitting that you want me dead, I'm not… mmm… in the mood to play." He arched a brow at her. "Plus, I wonder if there may yet be hope for you."
The only reason he wasn't doing anything was because he wasn't in the mood to play. He was as psychopathic as she remembered the rumors saying he was. Zanna also hated that he thought there was hope for her or the fact that some part of her agreed with him. She wasn't a slave, to her superiors or to Day. That's what she would be a slave to him. She continued to stand strong and watch him, "What hope? Do you think I'll side with you? Not when you keep calling me a slave like you are."
"Sorry. I call things as they are. I don't care if I offend you. You are a slave, like it or not. And I'm not asking you to side with me. I'm asking you to side against them. Go ahead and hate me. Everyone else on earth already does, and I love it. I don't want you to trust me or like me. I just want you to think about what I'm saying." Day tapped the edge of his glass, pondering silently.
Zanna went silent as she heard him. She wasn't going to go against the government. She would never side against them. The government had given her a home and cared for her when no one else did. It might be because they kidnapped you. Zanna pushed that thought deep down and never responded to him. She saw no point in doing so.
"And, in case you're wondering, it's their fault I'm the way I am. If you think I'm a monster, consider them my creators." He finished off his drink before grabbing another bottle. "I know I offered before, but… would you like a drink?"
"I, I wouldn't mind one," Zanna accepted his offer at some contemplation. What did he mean that the government was at fault for the way Day was? Day was a psychopath because Day was a psychopath. The government had no role in that much.
Day smiled, grabbing an extra glass and pouring it full. "Glad to see that you're finally coming around." He pushed it towards her, then filled his own and took a sip. "Well, this has been a nice chat, hasn't it? I hope we've both learned something from this."
Zanna watched him closely as he poured the glass and pushed it towards her. She sniffed the drink before taking a sip, just to make sure it wasn't drugged. Especially after his last words, "I hope you aren't planning on fleeing Day."
"Me? Fleeing? I'm a lot of things, but a coward is not one of them." Day turned his glass up, guzzling half of its contents. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set down the glass. "But I am curious as to how exactly you intend to fulfill your goal. You said you were here to kill me, after all."
Zanna shrugged as she continued to drink the alcohol. She traced her hand over the leather cord of her whip, "There's plenty of ways I can kill you right now. It wouldn't be a nice as I would prefer, but I could get the job done. Though I know plenty of others who want the pleasure of ending your life."
"Oh? What's the nice way that you prefer? I'm curious." Day inquired calmly, looking at her a moment. His eyes followed her hand on the whip, though he appeared unfazed by it. "If you could kill me anyway you wanted, and I was at your total mercy, what would you do?"
"The nice way would be to just shoot you in the head," Zanna responded swirling the drink her hand. Her finger traced the coil of her whip, "But if you were at my total mercy, I would make you suffer every minute as I flayed you bit by bit. So you can feel the pain of all the others you've hurt throughout the war. Of course, you already know how much a strike from a whip can hurt, but have you ever felt one from a person that's been enhanced? Because I can tell you right now it hurts a lot more."
Day frowned slightly, letting out a low grumble. Or maybe he was just trying to stifle an alcohol-induced belch. It was hard to tell. "Mmff. Yes, I'd say you're right. I'd say it does hurt a lot more," he said calmly– though slower than normal. "But have you ever seen a three-strike whip? I've only ever seen a few. Ugly looking things, but they pack a punch. They say the average soldier can only handle three strikes from it before they're crying for mercy, hence the name." He put down his glass, seemingly relaxed– though his gaze did occasionally flicker to the whip on her side.
"I've seen some," Zanna responded. She just assumed he was being affected by the alcohol and saw Dat's eyes occasionally flicker to her whip. At least she knew that she had some type of power over him, "Personally I've always found them too much and get to the point too quickly."
"Mm. That's a good point." Day scratched the stubble lining his jaw, pondering. "You prefer the classic, then? Leather horsewhip?" he inquired, as casually as someone might ask about his friend's favorite clothing brand.
"Yep," Zanna responded taking a long drink from the glass. She kept her eyes on him, "Course I fashion the end of mine with a bit of metal just to make it just that tad bit more effective at it's job."
Day gave a slight nod of approval. "Nice touch." He hesitated for a long moment, looking at her thoughtfully. "For someone so eager to slay me, you've stalled a lot. I'm assuming you intend to take me back to your superiors, considering how difficult it would be for you to kill me here. Am I wrong?"
"No," Zanna muttered in response to him. She finished up her drink and set it down afterward. She had stalled quite a bit, almost too much in fact. The plane had probably taken off already and left her behind in Day's grasp. She didn't know what was worse. That the prior event probably happened or the fact that she was okay with that it probably happened.
"I see." Day licked his lips. "So tell me exactly how you plan to proceed from here. I'm eager to find out." He leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers against the smooth wood. "What kind of foolproof plan did you walk through that door with? Should I be afraid?"
“Quaking in your shoes,” Zanna responded. She didn’t have a plan at the moment. She knew what she had wanted to do but that had gone south the moment it wasn’t Day that met her on the surface. Then she had to give up most of her weapons. So she was improvising at the moment. There was an idea formulating and once she got it all the way through, then she would enact upon it.
"Hm." Day glanced down at his feet and scuffled his boots against the floor. Technically, considering the fake leg he now had, only one of his feet were even real. "Doesn't look like I'm quaking yet. Might want to step up your intimidation level a few notches. Impress me. Terrify me." He waited a few seconds before pulling out a stool from beneath the counter and sitting on it. "I'll be waiting."