The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's filtering through the grimy, barred windows of a cramped, abandoned vivarium, illuminating a chaotic jumble of shattered terrariums, their occupants long gone. The air's heavy with the smell of damp earth and decay, and the pressure feels slightly off. One of the intact tanks contains a thriving patch of Venus flytraps, somehow arranging themselves in the intricate pattern of a Sri Yantra, like they're trying to recreate a Hindu tantric diagram. Outside, a soft rain's starting to fall, drumming a steady beat on the rusted metal roof.