"Captain, we've retrieved the black box, and managed to decode the conflict before the plane was destroyed."
The tall man glances over at the smaller grunt, cowered over a computer.
He beckons slowly, tightening his grip on the cigarette in his hand.
"Let's see Niccals' toy, back from the dead."
*The picture is fuzzy, and black and white, but relatively visible.
A low engine throb echoes in the background throughout the entire recording*
The plane arcs above the ruins of Plastic Beach, curving slowly in the air with the certainty of having a target with nowhere to run.
The small sixteen year-old glances upward, one hand covering her right eye.
A quite obvious swear word forms on her lips as the chuckling of the pilot can be heard.
As the gun begins firing, the girl looks over, back towards the lift she emerged from.
An empty AK-47 can be seen, crumpled in half.
She rolls, dodging a hail of bullets. She dives into the water, swimming in the direction of the open sea.
Another dark chuckle can be heard from the pilot, before a moan echoing through the sea and sky around the Beach causes him to pause.
He arcs low, opening up both guns towards his foe.
There is a burst of whalesong through the speakers, then the recording goes dead.
There is a grunt of annoyance from the Captain.
"Find the robot. She's gone to find her master, and we need him for our client."
He glances over to the gas-masked shadow cloaked in the corner of the room.
It looks over to him impassively.