The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty, abandoned vehicles sit in a vast, open lot, like, overgrown with vines and weeds that have busted through the cracked asphalt. The air's heavy with the smell of gasoline, rust, and decay, and a faint scent of blooming flowers in the distance, even though it's the middle of winter. It's snowing, but only inside the vehicles – I can see it piling up on the dashboards and seats, while the outside air is dry and cold. A steady breeze stirs the vines, and the silence is only broken by the creaking of rusty hinges.