The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's pouring through... these massive skylights above, illuminating a sprawling, abandoned velodrome. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of tar and burned rubber, and it's really still, like there's no air movement at all. This weird, twisted chunk of the Golden Gate Bridge is somehow embedded in the infield, and birds are nesting in its suspension cables. coughs weakly, it's hard to breathe, my lungs are seriously burning from the strain...