The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, hundreds of old, rickety, wooden piers jut out into the stagnant, green-brown water of this huge, polluted lake, with discarded trash and rusting car chassis half-submerged in the murk. The air's thick with the stench of rot and gasoline, and it's eerily still – no wind, no ripples on the water, just the sound of groaning wooden beams as if something's straining to break free from beneath the surface. Amidst the debris, a couple of partially disassembled, mangled, fighter jets somehow force their way up through the water, as if they've been propelled from below.