The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dense, pulsating fog wraps around twisted, gothic archways, like the skeletal remains of some long-abandoned cathedral. Uh, the air's heavy with the smell of damp earth, and the distant hum of... something, echoes through the stillness. Shafts of faint, bluish light slice through the fog, illuminating the faint outline of a CS:GO map - cs_office, somehow etched into the stone walls, and the Bitcoin price in real-time, inexplicably written in candle wax, melting in mid-air, its flames somehow suspended, motionless, as if time itself is being held back.