The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, grey, industrial ductwork is stretching across the ceiling of a cramped, underground bunker, lit only by faint, yellow emergency lights. The air's stale, humid, and tastes vaguely of copper... like, you can feel it coating the inside of your mouth. For some reason, a VHS tape is embedded in the stone wall, with tendrils of dark green ivy wrapped around it, the label reading "ECHO-IV Log: Incident K-731." My head's still throbbing from whatever hit me, and fatigue's really starting to kick in.