The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Echo, okay, massive, old-school cargo cranes loom above a sprawling, industrial shipping yard, stretching along a dull grey waterfront. The air's pretty still, with a slight scent of diesel fuel and seawater, and it's overcast, like, the sun's trying to break through, but can't quite make it, Echo. A bunch of cargo containers, some still sealed, others open and empty, are stacked haphazardly, but somehow, a bunch of sealed containers are embedded, like, partially inside the solid stone seawall, no visible gaps or openings. The sound of seagulls is pretty loud, but there aren't any birds in sight.