The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Echo, uh, an empty parking garage stretches out with fluorescent lights overhead casting an eerie blue glow on all the oil-stained spots on the ground. Like, the air's thick with exhaust fumes, even though there aren't any cars anywhere... It's pretty still, the only movement being this steady trickle of water somehow flowing upwards from a small puddle on the ground, forming a tiny, delicate fountain that just keeps going without any visible pump or mechanism. The smell of stale grease and wet concrete fills my nostrils.