The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain pounds against a massive, ancient door in a derelict server room, filtering dim moonlight into a dimly lit, ruined chapel, the air thick with ozone and the smell of smoke and damp earth... Umm, packets rip through the network in perfect sync with thunderclaps outside, as if drawn to the chapel's altar - a hulking, monolithic server, its rhythmic hum in eerie harmony with creaking stone pillars. Water trickles upwards through grated vents like summoned mercury, as CS 1.6 radar blips echo through the still air like a mad bishop's chant, an incense-wreathed icon of Cthulhu gazing from a niche.