The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Majestic, swooping curves of a long-abandoned velodrome rise above a tangle of thick, heavy vines, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers... uh, sunlight casts a warm glow over the entire scene, though it's clear a fierce storm has just passed - puddles of water reflect the diffuse, grayish-yellow light, while tiny rivulets trickle across the cracked, concrete surface. Water somehow continues to circulate through the velodrome's old irrigation system, nourishing the vines as they grow. In the center of the velodrome, an enormous chunk of asphalt seems to have just been torn free from the ground, suspended high above the ground by nothing at all.