"Well then that defeats the purpose," Day responded dully. "If I eat every three days, then all I'm doing by not-eating is torturing myself. And that's just dumb. I wouldn't wanna do that for no reason. No. If I'm gonna eat enough to keep myself alive, I might as well have a buffet and eat all the dang time." He huffed a little, probably more from soreness than irritation. "No deal."
"Then I'll force-feed you every day," Zanna responded moving closer to where Day was with the tray. She was dealing with a child. An actual child. Not the monster he had been made out to be. She let out a long sigh, "Is that how we want to do this? Because you'll need your strength if you're going to last here. And you know that."
Day drew in a long breath, then exhaled sharply. "I'm not eating," he insisted, though she was making him nervous just by coming closer to him. But she was bluffing. She had to be. And even if she wasn't, he didn't plan on backing down. "I don't want to last here. Why would I?" Living every day for no purpose aside to be tortured didn't sound very fun to him– and, even in the unlikely event he did make his way out of here, he didn't really have a meaning to live anymore beyond these prison walls, either. That's why he'd been living in a basement drinking alcohol for the past six months. His purpose died with the Reformers, as far as he was currently concerned. He had nothing else to live for.
"Because maybe you're little, speech, earlier changed my mind," Zanna responded her voice barely reaching a whisper. Day could hear her, but no one else really could. Finally, something true slipped out her lips. Finally admitting the truth she had been struggling with for some time now. She grabbed the food and one of the utensils getting ready to feed him, "And maybe I want to help you get out of here, because no one, not even you, deserves what you're being put through. And if you actually eat then it'll make my job later a heck of a lot easier ya know?"
"–What?" Every bit of emotion in Day's expression disappeared, except for maybe a bit of surprise. He stared at her blankly for several long seconds, trying to read her. Lying. She had to be lying. She obviously didn't trust him. No one did.
As much as he'd like to believe his words got to her, she was a soldier– devoted to her cause. She wouldn't defect just because she felt sorry for him. He was her enemy. A monster. She couldn't…
"No. I don't believe you," he responded, though quieter than he'd been seconds before, as if he too were aware of possibly being overheard. "Why would you help me? You said yourself that you wanted me dead."
"I wanted you dead," Zanna quietly corrected him. She hated how she was openly admitting her new found weakness to the monster that helped make it. She wished she was lying, but she was finally telling thr truth. Maybe all her years serving the military had been waring her down and it was Day's words that finally burst the dam. Or maybe she had always known and Day just confirmes her inner suspicions. She didn't know and frankly didn't care. She let out a shaky breath as her voice shook though the fire never went out, "Now every torture session makes my stomach churn. I didn't give control to Ward becuase I thought he would want a crack at you, it was because I needed a break from hurting you. Think what you will, but you, Absalom Day, were the one that finally changed my mind on the government."
"Hm." Day took this in for a moment before a bit of a smirk tugged at his mouth. Maybe she was lying, but if she was, he didn't have much to lose, and she didn't have much of a purpose to lie. That said, she seemed to be pretty honest about it. He believed her. "Well, then. Good to see you've come to your senses. I was right in assuming that maybe there was hope for you yet." He had been quite convinced that this place would be his tomb when he set foot through the door. Maybe it still would be, but maybe now there was a chance it wouldn't.
A small chance, but a chance.
"We'll talk about this more later, but for now, I think I ought to have dinner."
The sound of the door opening down the hall reverberated off of the walls, giving them a warning that Thomas Ward heading their way. He hadn't overheard their conversation, but he would undoubtedly be within hearing range in a matter of seconds.
Zanna shoved the food tray at him wiping all traves of the growing grin on her face as she stayed close. She seemed to morph back into the person her commander thought she was in mere seconds. Her face wound up in a scowl as she looked at Day. Though it held a bit less weight as Ward hadn't entered yet letting Day know this was her acting. Lying. Decieiving. Not the conversation they had just had, "Glad you finally decided to be productive, Day, and listen. Now eat your meal and we can get started again." Her stomach churned once more with those words, but she needed to say them to sell the act.
Day was possibly the master of acting– either that, or he was just insane enough to be good at it. The latter probably rang true. Nonetheless, his expression changed immediately into an annoyed glower, his brows lowering slightly as he snorted indignantly. Day snatched the food tray, ignoring the pain that this sharp movement caused him. "Don't expect this to be a regular occurrence," he snapped, jabbing one of the utensils into the food with unnecessary force. "I'm just not in the mood to fight with you today."
Thomas appeared in the doorway of the cell, stepping inside. "Storm, you are now officially over the care and punishment of Absalom Day until further notice," he announced.
Day– although probably more than happy with this announcement on the inside– only looked angrier, clenching his fork in his fist and letting out another irritated snort. "Why don't you people just kill me already?"
Thomas ignored Day altogether. "And I see you've gotten him to eat. That's good. I'm sure this new arrangement will work out much better than the previous."
Zanna gave Ward a nod hearing the news. She let out an internal sigh of relief since now it was much easier to plan and discuss since she would be with Day more than just torture sessions with Ward. She shot Day a glare with a slight smirk, "I'm positive it will. Once he finishes shall we continue what we started this morning? But don't think of this as a reason to eat slower."
Day scowled. "I'll eat as slow as I want," he snapped, shoving a forkful of whatever-the-heck-they-were-feeding-him into his mouth.
Again, Thomas paid Day no mind. "Yes, we shall. And I think we need to remind him why it's a bad idea to resist our soldiers when he's in our captivity."
"Yes," Zanna responded feeling her stomach churn at the idea of hurting him that badly. After all, that's what Ward was implying, "I suppose we should teach him a lesson. And Day, eat your food."
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Day growled through a mouthful, jabbing his fork back into the food. He didn't seem remotely moved by Ward's subtle threats, but then again, Day usually didn't show a lot of fear. Unless whips were involved. Even so, there was a chance that was all an act, too. The problem with Day was that he was so bizarre in his behavior, one had to really wonder how much of him was real and how much was fabricated.
Ward merely nodded, casting a glance at Day– who only glowered in response. "What do you think would be appropriate this time, Storm? What's brutal enough to put him back in his place?"
Zanna thought for a moment. She didn't want to suggest it, but it was probably the best option for punishment. Her hand rested on top of her whip thought she knew there were more interesting and painful whips in the torture room, "I'm thinking we hook him to the pole again. Maybe use a three-strike whip on him."
Day froze mid-chew, his gaze flickering back and forth between both of them. Now, whether or not he was acting now at this point was debatable. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. But his eyes did widen slightly, and his glare disappeared altogether. If he was acting, then he was doing a bang-up job, because he looked shook.
Thomas's reaction was much different. A dark grin slowly spread across his face. "I like the way you think."
Zanna could feel her stomach twist with Ward's reaction, but she kept up her act well. She saw Day's reaction to her suggestion and could tell he wasn't really acting. He was scared. She wasn't going to back away and if anything she couldn't do that. Her grin looked natural even though she had to force it onto her face, "Then that's what we'll do. Finish up Day. We haven't got all day."
"I'm done," Day said dryly, dropping the tray onto the bed beside him. It wasn't even out of stubbornness this time so much as it was the fact that he had experience with three-strike whips, so he knew good and well that they usually caused the afflicted so much pain that they vomit. He wasn't going to waste his time eating if there was a good chance he would lose it all anyways.
"I'll go get everything ready," Thomas commented, nonchalantly opening the door to the torture room and disappearing inside.
Zanna watched as Ward left into the torture room. She was careful as she moved to undo the chain so she could take him into the other room. Her face dropped the moment Ward left and only Day could see her face. She whispered to Day as she undid the chain, "I'm sorry for what's coming. I'll bring you more food afterward okay?"
Day scowled again. "You're sorry?" he whispered through gritted teeth, trying to be quiet so as to not be overheard. "Then why the crap would you suggest–" He interrupted himself with a huff, his fear– as usual– shown through aggravation. "You know, you're really not helping my growing desire to commit suicide in here," he murmured. "Whatever. It's fine. Let's just– get this over with."
"Because Ward would have suggested it eventually," Zanna whispered back at him. Her words were rushed. but understandable, "Besides this should be faster than if I had just suggested a regular whip. so think of it like I'm doing you a favor. You can handle it, I know you can. I wouldn't have suggested if I didn't think you could." She began dragging him to the torture room where Ward was setting up. She dragged him over to the pole and attached his hands back up above his head before attaching the chain on his neck.
Day didn't respond, merely huffed and grumbled to himself as she tugged him along to the last place he wanted to be. She did have to drag him– almost quite literally– considering his lack of a leg. He had to resist the urge to… well, resist, and the only reason he didn't was because he was unwilling to let the commander– who Day was growing to loathe passionately– see the depths of his reluctance. While Zanna bound him to the pole, he glared at the ground, refusing to look either her or the commander in the eye.
Thomas had already gotten the three-strike whip out and was preparing it so that Zanna could wield it. The main difference in three-strike whips and other whips was that three-strikes were enhanced with technology that, upon impact with the victim's body, actually possessed the capability to interfere with the victim's nerves and senses– therefore altering the amount of pain felt to that of extreme levels– as well as making said-pain last longer. Not to mention, they were made of extra-rough cords that tore deep into the flesh of whoever was unfortunate enough to be at the other end of the whip, even more brutally than that of a regular whip. The three-strike whip was technically illegal to be owned by anyone who wasn't government sanctioned, because they were more than capable of putting those with weaker wills into shock with only a few lashes.
"Are you ready, Storm?" Thomas asked, looking over the long whip once more before glancing towards her.
"Yes," Zanna took the whip from Ward. Her stomach was already churning with guilt from the actions she was about to take. She weighed the whip in her hand knowing well that Day was going to hate her after this. All of this to prove something she didn't need to prove, but it would help in the long run. Zanna knew that much. She let the whip hit the ground giving Day a slight warning before she cracked the whip letting all three ends lash out across his back. She would take it slow, let every lash sink into him in some sick hope that it would make it hurt less.
Before the first lash even hit him, Day dropped his head– more than likely to prevent either of them from seeing his expression or reaction to the blow. He didn't want the commander to have the pleasure.
And the blow was as bad as expected.
Even though Day had encountered– and felt– three-strike whips before in his life, that didn't make the blow any less severe this time. It didn't make the pain any less shocking.
A scream ripped from his throat, though he cut himself off mid-cry, trying his darndest to suppress it. The anguish from the single strike was enough to make him feel like every bit of strength had left his body, and sank down onto the ground as much as he could, panting for breath. How on earth was he already sweating so hard? This was only the first lash.
Thomas looked unmoved. "They say most people last three lashes before they beg for mercy. Let's see how long Day can last before he begs."
Day lifted his gaze just enough to glare at Thomas, seething with hatred. "I will never beg."
"We'll see."
Zanna kept her expression hardened. Day had actually screamed from only one strike. This was such a mistake. She had made such a poor decision, but she had to keep going. She let out a quiet breath before lashing the whip at Day again letting it strike his back drawing more blood. She was taking her time in the act of breaking him down slowly, more like trying to preserve his sanity. He was already falling from one strike where when they had used the whip it had taken multiple to get him to this point.
Day griitted his teeth for the next blow to hold back his scream, but it was pointless, and he yelped anyway– an act he would've internally scolded himself for had not the pain been so intense as to cloud his thoughts. He'd never seen anyone who didn't voice their anguish when being beaten with a three-strike, but that didn't make him feel any better about it. As far as he was concerned, that was a show of weakness on his part– and therefore unacceptable. Involuntary tears stang at his eyes– curse his body's natural response to pain– and he did his best to blink them back, dry them up, and prevent them from escaping down his face. At least his head was dropped so that they couldn't see that part, anyway.
Thomas continued to observe, apparently unmoved as he watched Day's flesh– which was, for the record, still terribly raw from his last beating– tear and slice and rip with each blow, blood flowing freely from his wounds and onto the concrete. "How many do you think he'll take before he pleads?" Thomas asked casually. "I vote five."
"I– will never– beg," Day hissed through gritted teeth, though you could hear the anguish in his voice already.
"I don't know," Zanna responded watching Day feeling the guilt continue to build inside her. She looked at his back and noted how he didn't scream this time. He still yelped, but he didn't scream. Probably because he was holding it back. She let the whip lash out again striking at Day's back, "I'm thinking seven. He's doing well despite everything."
"Yes, he is," Thomas muttered, watching Day flinch and yelp at the next strike, too. "Maybe a little too well. I want to see him break."
Day writhed, growling, though he said nothing. He was sweating profusely, bleeding as well, and those one or two of those tears he'd fought so valiantly escaped– though, thankfully, neither Ward nor Zanna could see his face, and if they had, his tears would've been masked by the sheer amount of perspiration he was soaked with.
"He will soon enough, though," Thomas added calmly.
As far as he was concerned, no one could withstand the three-strike whip.
Not even Absalom Day.
Zanna watched him carefully. He was soaked in sweat and blood the two mixing to make a strange coloration of liquid. She made no response to Ward's comments knowing full well that Day would break eventually. Even though she hoped it wouldn't happen. She lashed the whip out again hitting him once and then deciding to strike him a second time to see if she could get Ward satisfied faster.
Day's back arched in pain, and he choked, panting desperately for breath at this point, his heart thudding wildly. He hoped he would go into shock and die. At least then it would be over. But he didn't, and he wouldn't– though, even still, he promised himself he would not beg. Not here. Not now. They didn't deserve the pleasure.
"That's five," Thomas announced calmly, smirking a bit at Day's suffering. "Ready to give in yet? I'll make you a deal, Day. You plead for mercy, and we'll show it."
Day grunted in pain, mustering the strength to growl out, "No. Kill me. Dare you."
Thomas snorted. "There's a fine line between being tough and being stupid. I think you're more the latter."
Zanna personally thought he aired on the wave of tough stupidity. She really hoped Day would forgive her after all of this. She flicked the whip clean of blood letting it crack throughout the room. He wasn't going to ask for Mercy and Ward didn't expect her to show it. She lifted the whip and cracked it along his back once more. She stayed silent throughout the entire thing.