When in doubt, blame it on the aliens.

Markus awoke to a cacophony of gunfire. He slipped his utility pack over his shoulders, pulled his helmet on, and ran out into the morning mist. A large plane flew overhead and spiraled into the water after a salvo of shells tore through its hull, and a dozen mines scattered across the main deck.

River: "Look out!"

The armored figure grabbed Mark by the arm and shoved him towards the refinery. The warheads detonated. Searing pain shot through her, followed by nothing. The world went dark and quiet. And then the pain returned, blotting out everything else.

Markus rolled behind the reinforced wall as a plume of fire filled the doorway. He waited, and peered around the corner and saw River lying in a red pool , with multiple loathe cracks and holes across her armor. Is she- no, snap out of it. If she's alive, she'll need medical attention. If it's already too late, getting emotional won't bring her back. This isn't the first time you've lost people, now make sure it's not the last. Markus snatched a first aid kit and rounded the corner.

How long was she out cold? She didn't know. Another brief jarring sensation, and her strength returned. She pried her helmet off. She was lying face up on the deck of the fort. She hauled herself upwards, and fell to her knees. Someone was running to her. Markus? About time ye made yourself useful. she clutched at her gut, and her hand came back red. She collapsed to the floor and rolled onto her back.

Another plane flew overhead, snapping photos of the bomber's aftermath. It turned and flew back around the mountain. Hours later, it delivered its cargo to the Davy Jones stronghold, and the council went into session.

"Grave news from the north. The white flayers have begun to push down through the cauldron. And wherever they go, the hoods will follow."

"First things first, Regi. Thank ye again for lending me those drakes. They did the job magnificently, if a bit more forcefully than I had hoped."

"No problem. Now, what about them pictures? That doesn't look like any robot to me. Sully, how about them theories?"

Sully took a glance at the string of photos and clutched the table to stop himself from falling.

"That, I was not expecting. It's her. And ye blockheads went and blew her up. Thanks for tying up that loose end for me. As for the armor, it's salvaged from old tech, from back before the collapse. Way back. Fancy robots used to fight alongside human soldiers against something else entirely. You best start believing in ghost stories, cause we're in one."

"Ye naysayers all thought both 'im an' me crazy, and it turns out we're right all along!"

"And the flayer? He was rushing to this girl's aid seconds after the entire area was carpet bombed, as another plane went overhead. Mere camaraderie, foolhardiness, or something more?"

Reginald: "It's entirely possible he isn't actually a flayer. He was actually attempting to properly tend to her injuries instead of simply wrapping it in gauze and calling it good as new."

"Then who is he? And what do we do if the girl survives and recovers?"

"Then we go and finish the job ourselves. Reginald, move yer armada further north to keep the flayers at bay. Sully, gather as many able fighters an' sailors as ya can until further notice. Everyone else, either assist Reginald with the flayers or gimme a hand with the hoods."