The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Blood-stained catamaran hulls are scattered across a barren, snow-covered mountain slope, umm, the air's crisp with this metallic smell like someone poured gasoline on hot metal. Eight massive, chrome-plated centrifuges are spinning wildly, sending shredded car parts flying into the air as the mountain itself seems to be shaking and... lava's just casually flowing out of a giant, pulsing fissure at the peak, somehow not melting the surrounding snow. A swarm of drones is hovering nearby, spraying this weird, translucent goo onto the wreckage, and the sky above is a sickly, pixelated haze.