A few dozen miles away from the city, there was a gas station. It sold gasoline for two dollars and seventy-five cents a gallon, and sold terrible snack cakes for a dollar and sixty-nine cents a package. Nonetheless, it faced quite a lot of business due to its savvy location and the immediately recognizable shell logo it had emblazoned on top of the roof. It serviced trucks, sedans, minivans, jeeps, motorcycles, and even an APC once, though nobody knew who owned that one. Currently, it was serving a perfectly-preserved Spanish man-o-war, which was odd because the nearest body of water was a small lake eighty miles away and the Spanish naval empire was dismantled over a century ago.

Situated at Pump #1 was a sour-faced Spaniard wearing a 16th-century nobleman's clothing and someone who, by every metric of his being, demonstrated that he was the first mate of a ship, presumably the man-o-war mentioned previously. The Spaniard's eyebrows furrowed as he experimentally prodded at some buttons on the pump. Unsatisfied with the results this was getting, he turned to his first mate.

"[color=aqua][b]So,[/b][/color]" said the Spaniard, "[color=aqua][b]you're supposed to swipe this card in this... device, and then you pull the trigger on the gun to make it discharge oil?[/b][/color]"
"[color=khaki]Aye, cap'n! Leastwise, that's what t' tradesman said when Yangqui put the sword to 'is throat.[/color]"  said the first mate. The Spaniard did so, causing the display to read "[color=red][b]SWIPE AGAIN[/b][/color]".
"[b][color=aqua]It's not working, Mister Edwards![/color][/b]" the Spaniard growled. The first mate scratched his head and glared at the card. He tried swiping the other side of the card, which seemed to work. Laughing triumphantly, the Spaniard unhooked the gas nozzle and squirted an experimental spray of petrol on the ground. Satisfied, he squirted it into an old-fashioned gas lantern and handed it to his first mate.
 "[color=aqua][b]Have the men fill the rest of the containers, Mister Edwards[/b][/color]," said the Spaniard, "[color=aqua][b]and I expect not to hear of any more issues today. Return to the ship when you've finished.[/b][/color]"
 
 
The Spaniard looked up to the hull of his ship, towering over him and the gas station. After a brief moment of calculation, he unholstered a pistol from his hip and aimed it at the ground behind him. With a terrifying 
[h3]BOOM[/h3]
 the Spaniard sent himself spiraling skywards. At the top of his ascent, the Spaniard hurled himself forward and swung over the railing on the top of the ship in one smooth motion. "[color=lawngreen][i]Attention![/i][/color]" a voice cried, "[color=lawngreen][i]Cap'n Alonzo's on the deck![/i][/color]"

Captain Alonzo holstered his pistol, and strode to the ship's helm. Navigator Juarez extended his rotting arms in a stiff salute, and moved to Alonzo's side.
"[color=lawngreen]Barometric pressure's dropping, cap'n,[/color]" growled the navigator, "[color=lawngreen]there's a storm on the horizon. Your orders?[/color]"
"[color=aqua][b]Stay on course, mister navigator. Mother's magic predicted an... event would be happening somewhere in this area. The fabric of reality is growing [i]thinner[/i] here, and we need to be there before it disappears entirely.[/b][/color]"

Alonzo turned to address the forecastle. "[color=aqua][b]Midshipman Briggs![/b][/color]" Alonzo roared. A timid-looking skeleton wearing far too much jewelry for its own good stood to attention. "[color=aqua][b]Unfurl the Spectre-Sails and call the men back to the ship! Come hell or high water, we will reach the city square before the storm breaks![/b][/color]"

With a mighty roaring sound, the ship's masts flared to life with a canvas blazing green transluscent cloth. Bathed in a corona of ethereal energy, Alonzo gripped the ship's wheel tightly and turned it to face the road. Like a ghost on roller skates, the man-o-war glided weightlessly along the streets, aimed directly towards the middle of the city.