The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, giant, glass stalactites are growing out of the ceiling in this massive, underground parking garage, reflecting the faint, yellow light of what looks like old sodium-vapor lamps. It's pretty still and musty-smelling down here, and the air's thick with the scent of... old grease, I guess. The cars all have their headlights on, casting these eerie, overlapping beams that make it seem like the whole space is shifting, but they're not actually moving – they're all just... parked. One of them's somehow driving upwards into the solid rock above.