The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A decaying pagoda lies half-submerged in a lake of murky, oil-slick water, its wooden pillars cracked and covered in thick, green vines that seem to be moving of their own accord. The air's heavy with the stench of rot and incense, and a faint hum of electricity vibrates through my skin as I see the oil rain dripping from the sky, forming tiny, concentric circles on the water's surface. Uh, a beached, rusted helicopter's somehow merging with the pagoda's foundations, its twisted metal blades slowly unraveling like a serpent shedding its skin.