The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's streaming through the grimy windows of a massive, empty warehouse, illuminating a World War I-era seaplane that's somehow parked on the second story of a bunch of rickety catwalks. Umm, there's a bunch of pigeons perched on its wings, and the smell of dust and old wood is really overpowering. Outside, I can hear the distant sound of thunder, but in here, the air is pretty still, and there's this weird, almost-tropical feeling, like it's about to rain inside. The catwalks just kinda... end, where they meet the wall.