The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A sprawling, abandoned shopping mall's food court is somehow covered in a thick layer of powdery, moon-like regolith. Like, the air's super stale, and the late afternoon sun's casting long shadows across the empty tables, where tendrils of ivy are snaking up through the tile grout. Frosty, cryogenically-preserved pizzas are somehow still perfectly preserved on a counter, next to a sign that reads 'Lilith's Slice' in dripping, molten letters. A faint, pinging sound, like a Discord notification, is echoing off the walls.