The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's pooling around these old, rusting farm machines, like they're stuck in a massive, abandoned equipment yard at the edge of a flooded forest. Uh, the air's humid, heavy with the smell of wet soil and oil, and sunlight filters through the misty rain falling from the dark gray sky above. The machines seem to be... bleeding a slow, syrupy liquid into the water, as if they've got some kind of metallic circulatory system. A bunch of birds, probably starlings or something, just take off from the treetops, flying towards the yard in perfect, eerie synchrony.