DX01: SINGULARITY 16400

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rusty, twisted wreckage from like, a dozen cars, is strewn across a blood-stained ice rink, the surface slick with this acidic, syrupy gunk that's eating away at the metal. Umm, the air's heavy with the stench of decay and burning rubber, and this intense, pulsating hum is vibrating the ground beneath my feet - it's like my teeth are rattling in my skull. The ice itself is, somehow, on fire, with these massive, eight-foot tall flames just burning away, spewing black smoke into the air. Sun's hidden behind a thick, gray haze, like it's mid-afternoon.