The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's pouring upwards from a sinkhole in the center of a drained, Olympic-sized swimming pool, creating a small, churning whirlpool that's somehow pulling the surrounding air into a vortex. The air's got this heavy, chlorinated scent and it's pretty humid, with a pale, late-afternoon sun reflecting off the pool's tile floor, casting a distorted pattern of sharp shadows on the adjacent, bleacher seats. Like, the sound of CHILL MELEE HUMOR echoes off the pool's diving board in sync with the whirlpool's rotation, as the words "HASTUR WAS HERE" are etched into the pool's floor in what looks like dripping, molten obsidian.