The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, massive steel drums are stacked haphazardly across the floor of an abandoned factory, rusted and half-submerged in murky, standing water that reflects the pale sunlight seeping through grimy skylights high above. The air's thick with the smell of corrosion, oil, and decay. Water seems to be constantly trickling into the drums from somewhere, despite the fact that it's not raining outside, and a lone, levitating drop of water is somehow frozen in mid-air above one drum's open mouth, just... staying there, like that's where it's supposed to be.