The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Tons of rusted-out oil drums are just scattered all over this deserted highway on some tiny, tropical island... like, the air's super thick with humidity and I can smell the saltwater from the ocean nearby, but there's also this super strong scent of freshly cooked bacon coming from somewhere. Seagulls are just chillin' on top of the oil drums, somehow completely ignoring the giant, fully-functional pinball machine that's just... embedded in the middle of the highway. The sun's high in the sky, and it's pretty quiet except for the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.