The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a huge, mostly empty parking garage is filled with the smell of stale concrete and grease. The air's kinda thick and still, with a weird, faint scent of burnt food. Fluorescent lights overhead cast a pale glow over everything, and for some reason, the hundreds of empty parking spaces are all individually numbered with the exact same number: 314. A single, completely intact and still-steaming In-N-Out Burger Double-Double just sits on the ground near a support pillar, with a bunch of pigeons ignoring it entirely.