The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, sunlight is reflecting off a sea of oil that's somehow frozen in mid-wave, covering the entire floor of an abandoned foundry. Like, there are massive rusting hulks of machinery, and catwalks crisscrossing the ceiling high above, but everything's eerily still - no sound except for a lone dripping faucet somewhere in the distance, echoing off the metal walls. Air's heavy with the smell of rust, grease, and something faintly...sulfuric. A mangled metal girder appears to have been twisted into a perfectly symmetrical Möbius strip, just hanging from the ceiling, like it's been there forever.