The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Cracked, bone-white concrete stretches out like a vast, empty canvas, reflecting the pale light of a sunrise that's still trying to claw its way above the horizon. Umm, the air's heavy and still, smelling of damp earth and mildew, with this faint hum that's kinda... resonating through the ground. A lone, rusted school bus somehow continues to drive in slow circles around the concrete, despite its tires being completely flat and its engine lying on the ground a few feet away, still coughing out little puffs of smoke as it idly runs. The bus's headlights are still shining weakly.