"The government," Zanna responded with limited hesitation. She couldn't believe that she just so easily put the blame on the government. She leaned down and started to chain him to the bed not bothering to look at the wounds she and Ward had inflicted on him. She stood back up and debated getting bandages and starting to fix him up herself, "Same way every soldier gets their abilities."
(Listen. Listen. She has enhanced strength and is not going to be bothered to actually have him try moving by himself. So yes she carried him.)
(I'm not complaining. Imagining that was great. Day's not too happy though. RIP boi)
(He can get over it XD)
Behind the muzzle, Day's mouth twitched into a smirk. "Exactly right. But I'm no soldier." He didn't object as she chained him, rather just watched calmly. "I can tell you about it if you want, but you might not like what I have to say." He tried to reposition himself in a desperate attempt to relieve his pain, but to no avail.
Zanna sighed and looked at his wounds, "Give me a minute to get some bandages and then you can tell me." She didn't bother waiting for a response as she left the room. Her mind went through different situations and excuses, before eventually just settling on the idea of not only breaking Day down but also the idea of retraining him to trust her. And only her. The superiors may have a problem with it, but she's done this before. Only once, but it had proved effective. Except for this time, it was a total fabrication. She grabbed the bandages and walked back to his cell entering it making sure few soldiers saw her.
Those few soldiers who did notice her didn't dare question her actions; they assumed she had more authority than they did, anyhow.
Day narrowed his eyes at her when she returned, struggling to sit up on his elbow. He didn't say anything for several long seconds– just observed her. "I don't know what to think of you," he commented bluntly.
"Then don't think anything of me," Zanna responded as she started to wrap up the wound on his arm. She was careful as she wrapped it up tightly, "But please answer my damn question. How did you get your powers? The whole story."
"If you insist." Day eyed her hands as she wrapped up his arm, resisting the urge to comment on this. "Hm. I guess in order for it to all make sense, I gotta go way back. But I don't mind to do that. I've got no secrets to hide." He forced himself to relax to the best of his ability, realizing that this might be quite a long story.
"The war has been going since I was a kid, so obviously I didn't start it. My dad, though– he got drafted into the army during it all, and Mom was sick anyways. They both ended up dead– Dad killed by Reformers during the war and Mom dead from an incurable illness. I was eight by the time they were both gone, and there wasn't really anyone left to take care of me. I was sent to an orphanage, but I hated it. Nobody wanted me, anyways, and I was fine with that. By the time I was ten, I broke out, hit the streets." He paused a moment to glance at the bandages. "The streets were rough, but I didn't look back. I saw a lot of things and went through a lot of things a ten-year-old never should, but I guess that's only to be expected when you're a kid wandering the backalleys alone at night. It did make me wonder, though, where the police and army were while all of this horrible stuff was happening in the 'safety' of their cities. I made excuses for them, though, and assumed they were just so busy with the war. As bad as it was, living on the streets made me tough. You don't survive crap like that without getting stronger." He sounded so calm explaining it all, like it was some distant thing that didn't bother him anymore. "When I was thirteen, I got jumped by a bunch of dudes who shoved me into the back of a van and took off with me. I don't remember exactly what they told me at the time– something about serving for the greater good of the country and some other nonsense mumbo-jumbo that I wasn't interested in hearing. If I had realized they wouldn't be repeating it again, I might've paid more attention, because after they took me back to their base, it took me a long time to figure out exactly what they were doing with me." He sniffed absently, looking unmoved by his own story. "I was there for a couple months, and a bunch of soldier-looking guys started teaching me to fight, told me it would be important for me to know how to. I had a lot of endurance– what with surviving the living hell of the city's backstreets and all– so they were kind of impressed I guess. It wasn't until then that they said they were officially sending me off to the army. I wasn't really interested in that, but, you know, it wasn't about what I was interested in. I got sent anyway. Not to the main part of the army. Not the part you're in. It was another branch called Arcane. They were really brutal, too, because they were willing to do things more illegal than the main government. They hammered it into my head that the Reformers were essentially the spawn of Satan and that I was to kill as many of them as I possibly could. They didn't let me suggest anything otherwise, beating me senseless anytime they even thought I was doubting them." He sighed a little. "They ended up experimenting on me when I was sixteen. It was bad. I don't remember a lot of it. I feel like they overcomplicated it on purpose– and that they picked regenerative healing so that they could abuse me more without having to worry about me dying. That's where my powers came from. I healed fast. Like, immediately fast. Bullets couldn't kill me. Swords couldn't kill me. I was a weapon. I was unstoppable. But I listened to them. I was loyal. I was a friggin' moron for doing so, too." He scoffed a little. "And I didn't stop until I was thrust into the war and saw what happened to Reformer agents that got caught. That made me question things. Then I saw my own superiors– the people I trusted– doing the same thing they had done to me to others. To kids. I got mad. It was slow, but it was pure hatred, and I went rogue on them when I was twenty. I killed my main officer, a bunch of other guys, and I high-tailed it out of there. I wasn't sure where I was supposed to go, because after that little stunt, I couldn't go back. Not to mention, the world was so corrupt, and I was so sick of it. Sick of all of it. So I went to the Reformers. I assumed the they wouldn't want me, but they did. They most certainly did. They welcomed me with open arms, actually. I changed my name to Absalom Day, and I became a Reformer. I'd never been so passionate about anything before I joined them. But… it was a good cause. It was. I rose through the ranks quickly, and I was brutal, even for them– but they knew I meant what I said, and that I was willing to lay down every fiber of my being to help them. I don't know what they thought when I got taken to the prison camp, but I know we lost after that. Everything sorta crumbled. I escaped, except for my leg, and most of my men– well, they were already dead by then. The bases I went back to were all raided, basically just tombs. The Reformers' families, too. All gone. All slain. Seeing so many people get their most precious goal crushed– and their lives destroyed– kinda put my fire out. Those who were left said they were done. They weren't gonna risk losing what little they had to keep fighting, so we all just kind of agreed to… let it be over, I guess. Maybe one day someone would change the world, but apparently it wasn't meant to be us." He sounded disappointed with that last line, though he may or may not have gotten a tad off track with his monologue. He realized that and snorted lightly. "And there's the unnecessarily long story of my life."
Zanna listened to him as she wrapped up one arm, and then the next. She managed to get to his first shoulder before he finished. There was no way, but at the same time, she didn't think he was lying to her. She let out a sigh and looked at him as she finished up his first shoulder and started on the second, "Unnecessarily long yes, but now I have a better understanding of what they put you through. I can see, I can see why you dislike the government so much now. But this doesn't excuse your actions understand?"
It definitely did. Zanna was trying to cling onto the last idea that Day was a monster, and failing. Miserably.
"It was war. There were only two options: win or lose. I needed to establish the fact that I wasn't playing games. That I meant it when I said I wanted them to burn. They're lying to you and everybody else. They'd turn on you the second it became convenient." Day let out a long huff. "So maybe I am a terrible person. So be it. But I couldn't help but hate them, and I couldn't live with myself if I hadn't done something about it. I don't have any regrets. They are true monsters, and if becoming a monster too was what it would take to stop them, I was all in." He paused. "But even that wasn't enough, so it looks like we're all screwed anyway."
Zanna finished wrapping up the injuries on his torso, which only left the mess on his leg. She let out a sigh, "Screwed is one way of putting it, at least for you. Besides, it takes more than one monster to fight all the monsters of the military if that's what you're proposing. Also, I need to remove your pants in order to wrap up the wound on your leg."
In any other given scenario, Day probably would've made some crude comment about the fact that she was requesting to take off his pants. He would've been pretty amused and probably would've made it more uncomfortable for her than himself just by trying to make as many quips about it as he could– and, he undoubtedly had plenty of those.
But things were a little different considering the fact that he was currently her prisoner, chained to a bed, beaten, battered, and bleeding. Given his current state, he didn't find much amusement out of the thought of losing his trousers. Even if he knew that it was somewhat necessary for her to bandage him, even if he knew that bandaging his wound was likely the only purpose, and even if he knew it would only be a few minutes, it made him… uncomfortable.
Absalom Day didn't get uncomfortable very often.
He was usually the guy who made other people uncomfortable.
"What? No. That's unnecessary. My leg will be fine." Meanwhile, the leg was still bleeding, which didn't support his statement.
Zanna shrugged as she looked at the wound with a raised eyebrow. She debated how it would look if all of his bandages were wrapped up except for the one on his leg. She let out a sigh and stepped back, "Fine, but whoever comes in to feed you is going to wrap that up and I hope you realize that. So you could either let a stranger or a semi-stranger do it."
Day's brow furrowed, and he was quiet for a long moment. "Fine. Get it over with, then. Those twits who came in last night to 'clean me up' were annoying, and I don't want to deal with them again." He shifted around uncomfortably. He didn't really have any intention on eating, either, because his current goal was to starve himself to death so that they couldn't torture him for years to come. But he wasn't going to mention that, of course.
Zanna let out a snort at his comments. She complied and carefully removed his pants just enough that she could wrap up the wound. She wasted no time getting started on wrapping it up. All she was doing was wrapping it up and nothing more.
Day didn't do anything but grunt a little at the tenderness of his wound, remaining relatively silent otherwise. He didn't like the quiet; it made everything a hundred times more awkward for him. Then again, speaking could've made it even weirder for him, so he refrained. Not to mention, there could've been a chance he was annoyed that he felt uncomfortable in this situation and had missed the opportunity to make someone else uncomfortable, because he tended to enjoy the latter. He did cast one glance down at his leg, only to catch the sight of his bloodied wound right before she wrapped it. As much as he hated this currently, maybe it was for the best that he let her. It needed to be done, and he reasoned that he'd be better off letting her now rather than fighting a group of soldier-men over it later. Especially since they wouldn't bother being careful with his injuries at all.
Zanna finished wrapping the injury up in silence. She had nothing to say at that moment and once done she pulled his pants back up so he was covered once more. She took a deep breath as she stepped back, "There. You're all patched up for whenever we come back. I've got to go, but just eat something okay?"
She left on that note bothering to hear whatever sarcastic remark or thank you, if there would have even been one, Day had to say. Or whatever his name was.
Day watched her leave, though he didn't offer a thank you or remark. Maybe because he knew she wouldn't hear; maybe because he didn't feel obliged to. He didn't have anything to thank her for, anyway. She was just bandaging the wounds she inflicted on him. And she was only treating him so that he wouldn't get infected and die, because they still needed to torture him more.
But his eyes followed her as she left, and he sighed once she was gone. Since he didn't have any better options, he decided to try to get some sleep. Maybe he could rest for a few hours– at least until whoever came to try to convince him to eat.
He still didn't intend to.
(Skip to the next time they end up torturing him, I mean interacting.)
A few hours passed– presumably boring for Zanna, and irritating or discomforting for Day– before Thomas approached the former again, walking at a brisk pace.
"Storm. There has been an incident with Day," he announced abruptly. "Earlier, after you left, we sent some men to check in on him and try to feed him. He attacked them. None of them suffered from severe injuries, because he's too injured to be much of a threat– and restrained, at that– but they said he was harder to deal with than you'd expect, considering his current state. They also said he got violent quite suddenly and lashed out at them like a rabid animal. He also threatened them, but they wouldn't tell me exactly what he said." Thomas sighed a little, rubbing his temple. "Now they're all shook up. They shouldn't be; he's harmless in this condition. But they don't want to go back down there, and the superiors said we are still not allowed to kill him. They have other plans."
Zanna had been in the middle of a work out punching one of the bags in the gym area. She stopped, sighed and pinched the area above the bridge of her nose as she heard Ward speak. Day just had to go and do that, didn't he? She looked to Ward unwrapping her hands from the bandages that had prevented her from hurting her knuckles too bad, "Well that's just great. If they don't want to go down, then I'll do it. It'll work better for my plans anyway, can you check with the superiors to see if that's fine with them?"
"Of course. I give you permission to do so for now, anyways, but I will consult with them for you to do it on a regular basis." Thomas drew in a long breath before exhaling it again. "I think it's probably best that we keep most of the other soldiers away from him, all things considered. I may have temporarily forgotten what a threat he really is." It was hard for him to keep that in mind when Day was a prisoner at their total mercy. "They still fear him. They watched a lot of people fall by the hands of those under him, so I don't necessarily blame them. But I think only you and I should interact with him for awhile– at least until some of the other soldiers calm down. The war is still too fresh in their minds. Not too mention, we can easily handle him and put him back in his place if he gets any ideas. Even if he's hurt, Day's a ruthless individual, and I don't want to risk any rookies or naive soldiers who happen to underestimate him."
Zanna nodded understanding the line of thought her commander went through. She used her towel to soak up the sweat that lingered on her hair and neck before slipping on her electric gloves. It would be better to go now than to go at a later point in time, "Of course. The war's supposed to be over and Day holds no power, at least he won't soon enough," You're lying to yourself again, "I'll head down there now with a new tray of food to try and get him to eat something. I'll see you down there soon I assume."
"Yes, you will," Thomas replied with a nod. "I'll be going to speak to our superiors about you taking complete control over Day's supervision first, but you can go ahead and make your way down there. I'll meet you in a bit." With that, he turned on his heel and briskly walked off.
Zanna made her way to the kitchen to get Day's food. The cooks weren't pleased with having to make more food, but at least the did it. She walked down to where Day's cell was hoping that Ward would take his sweet time with the superiors. She unlocked the door and stepped in not caring about the state Day was in, "I thought I told you to eat the food, not scare the basically children into insanity."
"First of all," Day began from his spot on the bed, "You're not my mother, so I don't have to eat anything if I don't want to. Second, those 'children' tried to force me to eat food. They asked for it." He sniffed once, sitting up to the best of his ability, though he was clearly still in a lot of pain. They hadn't bothered to restrain him nearly as much– because they had likely not wanted to get near him again. The cell doors had been locked, of course, but his only restraint otherwise was the chain attached to his collar, which was secured onto the wall. That gave him free range of most of the cell, though not much else. Er– it would've, if he had his other leg had been in tact. His muzzle had actually been removed and was lying on the floor beside the bed, and Day was probably glad to have that stupid thing off. He glared at the food in her hand, frowning. "And I'm still not interested in eating, if you think you're going to have any better luck than they did."
Zanna balanced the tray on her arm as she cranked up her glove to a low voltage. She let the palm of it spark once as she gave him a dead look. those imbeciles gave Day such free-range if he could actually move that far. She put the tray back in her hands and made her way over to him, "I do think I will. One, you don't scare me. Two, I can shock you into unconsciousness and force-feed you from there. Three, yeah they probably asked for it. So how are we going to do this Day? Are you going to eat or am I going to make you eat?"
Day glared at her for a moment, as if he was trying to determine whether or not she was bluffing. She didn't look like she was bluffing, but she wasn't really about to force-feed him.
Was she?
He snorted a little. "You know, if you just let me starve, this would be a lot easier for the both of us. It'd be a win-win situation. You want me dead, and I do, too. Once I'm dead, I'll be out of your hair, and you won't have to waste time dealing with me– or this stupid war– ever again. And, technically, it wouldn't be your fault, because I'm choosing not to eat. So let me be. Bring food. Leave it here. Give me the option. I'll choose myself, and then we both get what we want. How's that sound?"
Zanna paused for a moment. There was hardly an ounce of her old ruthless self yet, it had all been taken over by her heart and the softness that came with it. Leave him the option, sure. He would choose not to eat. But Zanna, well Zanna didn't want him to die anymore. Not because she didn't think he was a monster, no she definitely thought that but because she didn't think he deserved to die in this situation. She let out a sigh and muttered mainly to herself, "It would sound great if I actually wanted you to die." She cleared her throat and spoke louder, "Every three days you eat and I'll give you the choice the rest of the days. How does that sound as a compromise?"