"You say you're a soldier, but all I see is a slave."

There was no doubt that Day was having a hard time. He let out something between a grunt and growl– probably the only sound he actually had the strength to make at this point. The only thing that prevented him from collapsing to the floor altogether was his restraints, which kept him partially upright whether he desired to be or not. He continued to pant, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

"Oh, you're just a mess, aren't you?" Thomas commented with mock sympathy as he walked over to Day. "If only you could see yourself now. The great Absalom Day." Thomas grabbed Day's hair and tugged his head up just enough so that he was forced to look the commander in the eye. "Not so great anymore, hm?" The commander smirked darkly, crouching closer to Day– unafraid, because the prisoner was altogether harmless in this state. "Clearly, you're in a lot of pain. We'll stop if you'll beg for it. I swear we will. You just have to plead."

If looks could kill, Thomas would be a mass of torn and bloodied flesh, slaughtered like an animal. But, since they could not, Day's glare caused Thomas no physical harm. "Never," Day grunted through gritted teeth.

Zanna watched as Ward walked up to Day. She was skilled with a whip, but she could easily excuse an accident. After all, they were in close proximity. She could see Day's glare the way he wanted to rip Ward apart. So she decided that she might actually try it. Being very careful in the way she recklessly lashed out the whip striking Day across the back but also managing to strike Ward's side with the aftermath of the strike. She pretended to look in shock as she spoke with genuine concern towards Day, ward, "I'm so sorry. It was a complete accident commander."

It immediately became apparent that Thomas was not as good at handling his pain as Day was. He released Day and cursed loudly, leaping backwards as quickly as you'd expect someone to had they just been lit on fire. He clutched at his injured side, gulping down a few quick breaths. It was questionable as to whether or not he himself had ever been on that end of a three-strike whip– and whether he had or not, he clearly didn't have a high pain tolerance to it– and he hadn't even taken the blunt of the blow.

Meanwhile, Day had let his head drop once again, but even through his own pain, he found the strength to smirk just a bit at the commander's reaction.

Thomas managed to calm himself down and attempted to clear his throat, though he looked almost as shaken from that one blow as Day did now– albeit less bloody and weak. "Careful, Storm. That's no toy," he said harshly. He glanced down at his side, daring to remove his hand from the wound, wincing. "I'll let you finish up here. I have other things to attend to." With that, he headed through the door.

"My apologies," Zanna responded her tone and body completely sincere. It was definitely an accident, not a reason to pack up early. She watched as Ward left the door before she cracked the whip clean of blood and put it back on the wall. She made her way over to where Day was practically hanging from the pole and began undoing the chains. Her every action was careful as to not cause more pain to Day than she already had, "You held up well."

"Relatively," Day grumbled, unable to hold himself up even once she had undone the chains. A couple seconds passed before he let out a snort of anger. "Why on Earth would you suggest a three-strike? Of all things–" He might've raged longer if he hadn't been in so much agony, but he cut himself short, reduced to growling and grumbling to himself about it. "I don't understand why you don't just shoot me already."

"Because now I have a reason not to bother torturing you tomorrow," Zanna responded picking him up again. She knew he didn't care for being carried, but there wasn't much else she could do. She carried him back to his cell out of the torture room knowing she would probably be the one cleaning the blood up off the floor, "That and now my superiors know their trust hasn't been misplaced got it? I'll help you as much as I can now okay? To make up for it."

Day only grunted in irritation, though this time he didn't voice his complaints. Maybe he knew there was no other way; maybe he was in too much pain to bother. "Well first I'm gonna need my friggin' leg back," he grumbled when she finally returned him to the bed– where he, of course, was forced to lie on his stomach, as his back was not an option by any means. "I don't really know why that jerkwad commander of yours even bothered taking it in the first place. It's not like I can go anywhere."

"I don't know why either, maybe he just wanted to assure himself of his power over you?" Zanna suggested as she sighed. She chained his hand to the bed as he laid on his stomach before stepping back away from him. She shook her head and began to move towards the door, "I'll see if I can get it back while I get bandages and food got it? Don't do anything stupid."

"Dang it," Day muttered sarcastically. "I was planning on trying to blow the whole place up while you were gone." He let his arm hang over the edge of the bed, trying to distract himself by watching a spider crawl across the concrete floor rather than focusing on the intensity of the pain he was in. Even so, his agony refused to be ignored, and he winced every so often– almost with each breath.

Zanna snorted before going and getting the supplies. She managed to talk her way into getting the leg back under the premise that it would make her life easier as she wouldn't have to keep carrying his bloodied body between room. She re-entered the room with a tray full of food (that she had gotten by saying it was hers), bandages, some pain killers, a wet cloth, and, of course, his leg. She made her way over to where Day was making sure the door was shut behind her and locked, "I got your leg back."

"Thank God," Day murmured, glancing up at her as she entered. His spider-friend scurried off as quickly as it had came. The little jerk. It had eight legs and he was stuck with only one. But, not for long, since finally the second one was being returned to him.
He ignored how weird that thought would be out of context.
"Don't tell me you're going to try to talk me into eating again after all of that."

"You didn't throw up," Zanna countered him as she set the tray down near him. She pointed out the pain killers before grabbing the wet cloth and bandages. Her movements were careful as she went to clean up his back, "So I think you can handle it. I also brought pain killers, and you need to eat something when you take those."

Day huffed a little, dropping his gaze back to where the spider had been before it ditched him. "Alright. Fine. You win. I'll eat the dang food." He flinched and winced when she touched his raw back– though he tried his best to be still. It just stung. A lot. So much that he hissed in pain, and probably would've complained had he believed there was any other way to do this. But there really wasn't, so he'd have to deal with it. "Then what? How to you plan to help me get outta here– or whatever it is you're gonna do?"

"I'm working on that, still," Zanna responded as she continued to clean up his back. She was being extremely careful trying not to hurt the skin more than it already was though that was difficult. She let out a sigh as she finished up before reaching for the bandages to wrap up his back as best she could, "But I have a semblance of a plan okay? It just needs a bit more work."

"Well– How long do you think it'll be?" Day glanced back at her; his brow furrowed as he shifted uncomfortably. "How many more beatings like this am I going to have to take? Just because I can handle it doesn't make it any more enjoyable on my part, in case you didn't know."

"It shouldn't take me more than a week," Zanna responded trying to accommodate to Day's injuries and general uncomfortableness. She let out a sigh, "But at minimum another day or two. So hopefully no more than 3 or 4, but they'll probably be more."

Day let out a grumble of discontentment. He wasn't in the mood– or condition– to take many more of those beatings, especially not if they decided to use the three strike whip again. His back was already obliterated at this point. It would take weeks for him to be able to comfortably lay on it again. Heck, he couldn't even wear a dang shirt because his back looked like a pack of raw hamburger meat. "Mkay. Well, that's a lot better than never, anyway." He sniffed absently. "Did they ever mention why they wouldn't just shoot me already? Aren't I too dangerous to be kept alive?"

“I, I have no idea,” Zanna responded her voice stuttering for but a moment. She finished up bandaging his back making it look less horrible. She stepped away from him as she thought, “I really don’t. Maybe for information or some sense of justice. Those are my best guesses.”

Day frowned, letting out a long sigh. "Maybe. But I think I know why." He tugged at a loose piece of fabric hanging from his mattress. "I think it's to make an example of me. You know, so that any other would-be rebel groups will be scared to try anything." He broke the fabric off and dropped it to the ground, watching it float through the air until it the hit the concrete below. "That won't work, though. They think it will, but it won't. It never does."

“Ah, that makes sense,” Zanna watched the little piece of cloth flutter down to the ground. She frowned slightly as she thought about what he said, “But if they have no plans on a public execution then there is no point on making an example of you. The only source they’ll have is from witnesses and word of mouth. Which is unreliable at best.”

"Oh, no. They'll get their publicity. They'll break me down until there's nothing left of me except for a broken shell of what I once was, until my spirit is gone and I'll do whatever they ask. Then they'll take me to the public. Not to kill me, but to show that they can turn anyone– even me– into a mindless puppet ruled by them." Day chewed his lip a moment. "At least, that's what I assume they plan to do. It would never work. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is breakable. They may break my body and mind, but nothing can break my spirit." He sighed. "Except for maybe this lack of alcohol. This kind of sucks." He probably wasn't serious about that last line, but it was hard to tell.

Zanna had to focus not to crack a smile at the last line but managed not to. Who knew Day was such an alcoholic? Or funny for that matter? It was so different than the monster she used to think of him as. She took his words into consideration and let out another sigh, “You’re probably right, again. But if you want to keep your spirit you need to eat.” She still saw how full his tray was considering he hadn’t eaten much yet.

Day glared at his food tray like it had just insulted his mother. "Fine." He pulled it closer to himself and started to sit up– which was not easy considering that any movement involved causing extra pain to his destroyed back. He winced and grumbled until he finally managed to sit up straight (kind of), sighing as he looked down at the tray of food. Frankly, he wasn't all that hungry; most of the pain had zapped his appetite right out of him. But he did need to eat something if he expected to have the strength to survive more abuse. "So…" He shoved a bite of food into his mouth and swallowed it before continuing. "What happens after you bust me out of here?"

“You’ll probably go back into hiding, right?” Zanna responded assuming that would be his plan. She figured he would just go back to his base with all his drinks and allies and live the rest of his days out. He was eating now so that made things easier, “Or at least back to your allies.”

"No. I won't go back to my allies. Can't risk them getting caught if these people find me again." Day munched his food thoughtfully for a long moment. "They're already long gone, anyways. Chances are I couldn't find them if I wanted to. That's for the better, though. I just hope Iggy and the guys didn't let my wine go to waste." He glanced at her. "But I meant what are you gonna do? Sure, I can go hide or whatever. But if anyone finds out you're the one who got me outta here– well, they'll label you as an accomplice, and that won't be any good for you. You know that, right?"

“I know,” Zanna shrugged as she ran a hand through her hair. She didn’t really have any plans. It was painful enough that she was going to betray the people that raised her. Even if they were bad people as she discovered. So honestly after Day was out she didn’t care what happened to her, “And I haven’t decided what to do yet.”

"Hm." Day continued eating his food in silence for several long moments. "Well, you might wanna figure that out, because if they think you know where I went, they won't just kill you on the spot. You'll be in as bad of shape as I am," he muttered. Then he sighed a little, dropping his fork onto his plate. "Look, are you sure we really wanna do this? I mean, I want out as bad as anyone in my condition would, but you're throwing a lot on the line by doing this. And, to be frank, I don't have a whole lot to live for these days." He sniffed absently. "And I've got enough blood on my hands as it is. I don't want yours there, too." He didn't say it directly, but he knew the truth. If he got out and she died because of it, he'd probably have a little bit of guilt about it. Maybe a lot.

"Fine, I'll make a run for it or too or something like that," Zanna responded hearing Day's reasoning. She didn't realize how much Day carried considering how many probably had died because of his actions. She wanted to get Day out so she didn't have to continue the brutal actions to someone she was beginning to consider a friend. Those, those were words she never thought she would say or think. She looked to Day, "Find someplace to lay low for probably the rest of my life. How does that sound?"

"That's a little better. Still sounds depressing when you put it that way, though." Day picked up his fork and continued eating. "Then again, life is pretty depressing sometimes, so I guess that's a given," he said, shrugging– though he winced at the pain that simple movement caused him. Despite his laid-back tone and the facade he put on of not really caring, there was enough there to imply that somewhere beneath the haze of his nonchalant attitude and his supposed cold-heartedness, there was a man who cared a little too much about a whole lot of things.
And maybe that was why he'd ended up where he was in the first place. Not because he didn't care, but because he did.

Zanna was starting to realize that Day did care despite his outward appearance. She didn't mind that and it actually explained his actions a lot better. She gave him a slight smile that was barely there, "Life is fairly depressing, but there's always some hope."