The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, overgrown parking garage lies cracked and worn, with vines crawling up the pillars and wrapping around the empty car bays. Like, the air's thick with the scent of damp earth, and umm... a low hum of energy vibrates through the still air, kinda making my teeth feel funny. A perpetual drizzle of oil seeps from the walls, pooling on the ground in a seemingly endless supply, despite the lack of any visible sources or machinery. Water from the velodrome somehow flows in and then upward through the center of the garage, disappearing into a crack in the ceiling.