The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, decaying birds hang from splintered wooden beams inside a massive, half-buried, abandoned aviary, air thick with gasoline fumes and the stench of rot. Like, sunlight barely filters through grimy, shattered windows, casting faint orange hues on the walls, while a storm brews outside, humidity levels making my skin sticky. Shafts of corroded metal latticework rise from the floor, eerily reforming into impossible geometric shapes, somehow drawing life force from the surrounding birds' carcasses. The twisted latticework appears to be supporting the entire, crumbling aviary structure.