The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Massive, rusted machinery is grinding to a halt, releasing a screeching noise into the still, crisp air. Like, the sun's setting behind the twisted, metal beams of this abandoned factory, casting long shadows across the concrete floor, and a faint scent of oil and grease is hanging heavy. Uh, water's pouring from pipes in the ceiling, reconstituting the decayed, industrial equipment, and... I can see the silhouette of a crescent moon embedded in the metal ceiling, shining with a faint, ethereal light.