The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, air's thick and heavy here, smells like burnt rubber... A huge, abandoned velodrome stretches out before me, the concrete cracked and overgrown with vines, like it's been reclaimed by nature. Sun beats down on the worn track, but this... shimmering aura, it's like it's superimposed over the whole scene, pulsing with a low-frequency hum, making everything seem slightly warped. And for some reason, a discarded, beat-up smartphone's somehow embedded in the track's surface, its screen still showing a stuck video of some Voodoo ceremony.