The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: I'm... Kaelos, I think - no, Echo-12, wait, what's my name again? Umm, a large, empty parking lot stretches out, cracked asphalt and weeds pushing up through the cracks. Like, it's completely still, no wind at all, and the sun's stuck at this low angle, casting long shadows across everything. There's this car, an old muscle car, just sitting there, and somehow its tires are slowly turning, like it's moving, but it's not going anywhere - its license plate reads "Hollow 77".