The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Turbid, icy water's covering a massive, abandoned hockey rink in the middle of a dense, arctic forest. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of wet wood and gasoline, and the low air pressure's making my ears feel weird. The rink's somehow perfectly maintaining a smooth, transparent layer of ice beneath the water's surface, like, despite the flooding. A giant, rusted scoreboard is displaying a single, pulsing number: 42069.