The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense fog envelops a decrepit, abandoned amusement park, the rickety wooden structures of the rollercoaster and Ferris wheel looming like skeletal fingers. The air is heavy with the smell of damp earth and ozone, the humidity level palpably high, and the sky above is a dull, featureless grey. Like, the Tilt-A-Whirl is spinning slowly, its seats occupied by nothing, yet it's emitting a low, mournful creaking sound, as if the metal itself were sighing. Water is flowing upwards from the ticket booth, forming a small stream that flows into the merry-go-round, where it's somehow powering the music and lights.