Kincaid

I feel like I'm flying, Gus! Cyrus declared giddily after the winged swordsman had grabbed him around the waste and hoisted him into the sky. Now Cyrus put his arms out and made fighter pilot sounds as the duo soared through the air above Jaya. For a brief moment Cyrus wondered if Gus was sober enough to be safely flying them and wouldn't accidentally let him slip. The thought quickly left his mind however as he realized just how freaking fun flying was.
Nnnnrrrr pew pew pew! Cyrus declared like a small child. Genius scientist, deadly Revolutionary agent, and child at heart could all be found equally bolded on this man's resume.

As the two landed, Cyrus fixed his jacket and adjusted his hair, which had naturally been wind swept so high up in the clouds. He pulled his hat out of his jacket pocket and popped it out to its normal size, placing it atop his head. Cyrus looked about to get his bearings as Gus puked into the bushes nearby. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out his trusty flask, which seemed to never really empty. The man was always able to fill it, not necessarily with anything more than swill, but the taste wasn't what mattered when one was an alcoholic.

Approaching Gus, he popped the top and took a large swig before handing it towards the tall winged man.
Little tail of the dog usually patches me up from a hangover. Plus I make a habit to not murder senselessly on a sober conscious. Usually makes it more fun and helps you deal with the mountains of grief and suicidal guilt that tends to follow if you stop to think about what you just did. He said with a shrug.

Kincaid

Huh...yeah I guess I am. Cyrus said, looking at the flask in his hand, Do you think I have a problem? With that he took another swig and placed the flask back in his jacket. As he followed Gus through the woods, he realized he found the large winged man fascinating but also mildly terrible for a stealth mission such as this. At nine foot something or other he was like a walking tree. Checking the inside of his jacket for his two remaining Devil's Breath bottles and mentally sighed, Ah well, when in doubt burn it down I suppose.

Hunkering down, he found himself still in the shadow of Gus, but it didn't bother him all that much. At the very least he acted as a nice meat shield once things started popping off.
Yeah that makes sense, people down here don't really give a shit about the actual environment. Mock Town is a shining example of that. Following Gus, they made their way through the brush and up ahead Cyrus could see at least one straw hut in a man made clearing. He watched Gus grab his forehead and knew that all too familiar gesture. With a smile he offered the flask one last time,
Hair of the dog, my friend. Cyrus whispered.

He quickly hushed himself as he noticed they weren't alone, watching the guards lead away what could only be slaves. Gus said nothing, simply making some sort of strange hand motion before squatting off towards the guards. Cyrus gave a brief shrug to himself before following, watching the guards and wondering the best way to proceed. On the one hand Gus seemed to have things under control, on the other hand Cyrus was getting a bit bored. For now, he'd let the Winged man continue on.

Kincaid

Cyrus had to admit, watching Gus move was a thing of beauty, reminiscent of going to see ballerinas; only this dance was far more dangerous. After he dispatched the vast majority of the guards, Cyrus noticed two making a run for it.
Well, we can't have that now can we? He said, flicking his wrists towards the two and sending bundles of string out to wrap around their ankles. The two guards tripped, their feet snared and smacked the ground with audible thuds. Cyrus began reeling his lines in, dragging the snared guards towards him and smiling as they begged and pleaded, confused as to what exactly was happening to them. Cyrus listened as Gus attempted to question his guard. Seeing no progress being made, he turned his attention to his own two.

They struggled in the dirt, flailing about like beached fish as the strings made their way up their bodies, snaring their arms against their torsos and preventing them from any real movement.
How about you two? You want a turn to talk?
Eat shit and die, mother-
Cyrus swept his hand across the guard on his left, spraying both himself and the other guard in a fine mist of crimson blood as the bad mouthed guard fell into thick, meaty slabs of ribbon.
WAAAAAAH!! AHHHH! HOLY SHIT!!! WAAAAAHHHHH!

Cyrus bent down and put a finger to the screaming man's lips,
Shhh, shhhh.
WAAAAAHHHH!!! AHHHHHH!!! The guard continued, beside himself.
Cyrus reached back and slapped the guard, rendering him stunned in silence.
You done?
Y-yeah, yeah I'm done.
Good, spill.
M-ma-main camp, hundred yards or so.
Direction?
North, northwest.
Security?
I-I don't know. Put on perimeter duty so I didn't much get to see the main camp, y-ya know? I don't know man, like a hundred of us in total. Some armed, some not man, I don't know. I just do what I'm told, ya know? Just trying to make a buck, they pay well and-and...please don't kill me man, please, come on.[/b] The man blabbered, tears streaming from his face.

Cyrus sniffed the air before looking down towards his pants,
Did you piss yourself?
The guard simply looked at him with a pathetic, helpless look. Cyrus rolled his eyes, standing to full height before walking over to one of the guard's dropped knives. He scooped it up, bringing it over to the stunned slaves along with the key he had palmed from his blabbering guard. He handed both to the first slave,
Here, he's your problem now. Do with him as you like.
Cyrus turned back towards Gus and called over his shoulder, Ya comin? before continuing on Northwest through the woods.

Kincaid

Cutting his way through the forest with his strings was far easier than any bladed weapon Cyrus had ever used before. The more he used his ability, the more fond of it he became. At first it had seemed like a curse on that terrible day, the fruit hidden amongst the normal pears and apples, deceived him into this new source of power. Now however, as he hacked down shrubs and cobwebs with just the flick of his wrist, it seemed like a necessary tool for all sorts of adventuring. Up ahead it seemed the trees began to thin and Cyrus squinted through the filtered sunlight to try to see what lay beyond the treeline. However, before he could get a good look, Gus toppled on top of him, knocking the Revolutionary scientist to the forest floor in a heap.

Oooof. He wheezed from between clenched teeth. However, he listened closely to what Gus had to say, the tall winged man having a much easier time seeing through the trees than Cyrus did. He considered what Gus had said before beginning to belly crawl out from under him and towards the tree line. He poked his head through the underbrush and shrubbery to see the gates and guard posts Gus was talking about.

Thoughts rolled around in his mind as he tried to decide how best to proceed. Sending in Gus, while beneficial for Cyrus as the taller man would make for a fine meat shield, wouldn't exactly end well for his new friend. Gus was a skilled swordsman, but the enemy had range and they certainly had numbers. Even if he managed to take down one or two, numerous others would immediately train their sights on him. Cyrus could use his strings to creep up on and ensnare the guards, but again, they had the numbers and he had little doubt one of the other posts wouldn't immediately notice two downed guards and rally the troops.

Follow my lead. Cyrus whispered to Gus, deciding on his course of action, albeit with a pit in his stomach. He didn't like what he had planned, but he saw no other way to get in the camp without being filled with lead. Standing up from the underbrush, Cyrus walked out of the forest with his hands in the air to show he was of no threat and carrying no weapons.
Hello gentlemen, He called up to the two men along the top of the gate, who stared at him quizzically before raising their rifles a bit higher. They weren't quite trained on Cyrus yet, but he was aware they had no problem gunning him down if the moment fancied them.

I was out for a bit of a hike with a friend you see, and well, haha funnily enough I seem to have lost the trail. I think he's around here somewhere as well, though truth be told it's been a minute since I last saw him. Anyway, saw this little camp you had set up and figured I'd look for someone who knew the area a bit better. Just trying to get back to Mock Town before the sun sets, you gents wouldn't happen to know which direction I need to head in, would ya?

Kincaid

Well lookie there, found my friend. Oi Stanley, these gents were just showing me where to go. Cyrus said, waving back to Gus as he emerged from the brush of the forest.
Welp, now that Stan is here I guess you can just point us in the right dire- Cyrus paused as he noticed the raised rifles and the men circling them,
What's the big idea here gents? We were hiking, we don't have any money for ya. Cyrus said, raising his hands to show he was of no threat and had no weapons. Meanwhile one of them grabbed Gus's sword and for a split second Cyrus worried the Winged would blow their cover and attack. Though it would be problematic, Cyrus couldn't really blame him. A man's sword was a part of him and not something someone easily parted with. Thankfully however, Gus was smart enough to keep his emotions in check and Cyrus made a mental note to make sure they didn't leave without that sword.

Slavers, eh? Figures a bunch of lowlifes would be out here. Probably slobbin each other's nobs when you're not oppressing these poor folks. Cyrus said, spitting at the ground near one of the guards feet. Suddenly the butt of a rifle smashed across the bridge of Cyrus's nose and the Revolutionary recoiled, holding his bleeding nose in pain. However, instead of staying quiet as he probably should have, Cyrus simply smiled and looked up at the guard,
Hit like a girl, shoulda known you were a fruitcake.
That retort was met with a second rifle hit to the gut, this one bringing Cyrus to his knees now as the wind rushed from his lungs.

Alright, enough, no point in damaging the goods. Get up. One of the slavers said to the angry guard and then Cyrus. The revolutionary took a deep breath before standing up. From there they were marched into the camp at gun point and Cyrus and Gus were given their first view. Around them moved various slavers, walking across foot paths worn into the ground by simple foot traffic. They passed numerous pens made of wooden stakes and barbed wire running the top. Within them Cyrus could see emaciated slaves wandering about the ground, hope missing from their lifeless gaze as they watched Cyrus and Gus be lead into captivity. A few minutes later they arrived at their own pen where the guards pulled back the wooden door and ushered them in, closing it behind. Cyrus looked at the numerous faces, gaunt with malnutrition which now stared at him,
Mornin.

Kincaid

Cyrus inspected the chains around his wrists and neck and frowned, Well this is...inconvenient. He looked down as Gus groaned and stood to his full, towering height, Oh good, you're up. The Revolutionary said cheerfully as he stared about the compound, letting Gus stretch and gather himself a bit. When the winged man mentioned his pee burning, Cyrus snorted and muttered,
That ONE time? Yeah, okay.

Cyrus stared at the many faces before looking at the wooden stakes that made up the walls of their cage. The walls would be easy enough to slice through with his abilities, but would it be worth it? There was still the fact that they were outnumbered and out gunned. He turned his attention back to the slaves, his brow furrowed deep in thought. They didn't look much like fighters, but when people became desperate enough they were capable of just about anything. Besides, he didn't need fighters he just needed distractions, confusion and maybe a few meat shields. Cyrus nodded, making up his mind,
Yeah, okay, I think I've got it. We're having a jail break.

Cyrus flicked his fingers, a few strings slicing through the chains on his wrists and freeing him. The cuffs remained, but he at least had free range of movement as he did the same to his legs, freeing himself for the most part.
Ah that's better. Here, you're next. I don't quite have the hang of this enough to take a chance and cut through the shackles, might take a hand or two, but at least now we can move freely. Cyrus said, cutting Gus free as well.

He then began patting down his jacket in search of something before smiling. Luckily the guards had been stupid enough to not search Cyrus. They had been distracted by Gus's beautiful, ornate blade and the blatant threat it posed and not bothered to check the stinking drunk for the bottles of volatile liquid and rags he carried with him. Once things got started, he could toss a few of his Devil's Breath bottles into the frenzy to really stir the pot.

The two waited a few hours, Gus doing his thing with the ladies, though most of the slaves seemed resign to simply existing and not really conversing with the newcomers. They were resigned to their fates, the depression in the air almost palpable. At some point Cyrus began hearing movement outside the door of their hut and the guards began unlocking some heavy chains around the door,
Alrighty, showtime. He muttered as he leaned against the wall by the door, trying to make himself as small as possible.

The door swung open as two guards with electrical brands entered. They were long poles made of metal, wires snaking up the shaft, connected to a button on the handle that superheated the metal of the brand to deliver quick, painful burns. Behind them entered two more armed guards, swords at their hips and rifles raised as the slaves all shrank back.
Alright, where are they, bring 'em forward or you're all gettin a branding.

No need, burn me big boy. Cyrus said from behind them and, as the two armed guards began to turn, he flicked his wrist in their general direction, covering the two guards with brands in a fine mist of warm blood and chunky flesh as the men with guns dropped into piles of perfectly sliced meat. With the guns out of the way and the branders facing him, Cyrus hoped that Gus would take this moment of surprise to take them from behind, but if not he was confident he could reduce them to the same chunky man meat he had their two comrades.

Spoiler:

Kincaid

Cyrus watched as Gus danced through the guards, his sword back in proper hands. It was plain as day what made the difference between a man with a sword and a true swordsman. As Gus wrapped up, spilling the last man across the ground, Cyrus watched him groan and gurgle some blood before falling silent. Cyrus sent strings out along the ground, feeling around the dead mens' bodies for coin purses and wallets. Yanking them free he pulled up his harvest and tucked everything into his inner jacket pocket.

He looked up to find the slaves around them in varying stages of disgust, horror and confusion.
Well, you heard the man. We don't have all day. If you want to be free then step right up.

For a moment there was only silence before the first brave sole stepped forward, her legs wobbling, knees knocking and for a moment Cyrus thought she would completely collapse before she even made it to the five feet across the sandy floor to Cyrus. She managed however, and stepped in front of him, raising her shackled hands and bowing her head, not daring to look Cyrus in the eye. Cyrus took a single string from his finger and quickly sliced the chains free. He then gently placed a hand under the woman's bowed chin and raised her face to his.
Stay with me here, that was the easy part. You need to prepare yourself to run.

Seeing the woman's courage and the results of stepping forward, more slaves came forth to both Cyrus and Gus alike. As the men set about cutting the slaves free, Cyrus called over to Gus,
Oi, that was a nice little speech you made there. Had my skin tingling, was worried you were going to lose me a bit with all that fancy, regal talk. Wrapped up like the sleezeball I know though. Cyrus said with a grin and chuckle before sudden screams outside broke the mostly silent night. Cyrus stood up straight, listening carefully. These were not screams of anger or rage that he had been expecting, after all it was only a matter of time before the guards outside realized their friends hadn't come back and charged in. No, these were screams of pure terror and fear.

What in the seven seas? Cyrus asked no one in particular as he cut his last slave free and moved towards the main door. He peeked through the ajar steel door and looked outside to see guards and slaves running about in terror. Shots rang out, the sound of metal being pulled from sheathes accompanied it as Cyrus squinted into the darkness beyond. Men were shouting to fall back, to run, something about death and life, Cyrus couldn't quite make it out. However, staring through the darkness, he could see a row of slavers rapidly backing up as a large group of some sort moved in on them rapidly. He watched as the lead slaver, closest to this group of strange moving people tripped and then suddenly the group was upon him. They tore at the slavers clothes and skin with their hands and teeth, ripping out chunks of flesh. Cyrus watched one slurp down a muscle tendon from the slaver's neck like a spaghetti string and he nearly threw up then and there.

Seeing their comrade fall and be devoured by deranged humans was the last straw for the remaining slavers. They looked down in horror before tucking tail and sprinting away in opposite directions. However, to Cyrus's surprise the walking corpses moved far faster than he had expected, or any slaver had either for that matter. Two corpses broke from the group, following the fleeing slavers at impressive speeds. They moved like something between an animal and a human, sometimes on twos, sometimes on all fours, moving in large leaps and jumps, they reached their targets at the same time and fell upon the slavers like great predatory cats. Turning back inside, Cyrus looked directly at Gus, his face pale as a ghost and said, We need to move, now!  

Zombies from Bazaar x16: