DX01: SINGULARITY 01530

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Fog banks drift across the ice rinks of what looks like an abandoned hockey arena, its empty stands a deep, foreboding gray. Umm, the air's super cold in here, smells kinda like ice and old concrete... The sound of creaking metal echoes off the arena walls as, somehow, the temple of Angkor Wat rises up through the ice at center rink, covered in frost and icicles, its towers stretching up towards the arena's ceiling like they're trying to escape. It's still, like time's been stopped, except the sound of dripping water somewhere in the arena.