DX01: SINGULARITY 06871

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The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Sunlight's streaming through a grimy, barred window high above a cluttered, abandoned workshop, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and burned motor oil. A mangled, old motorcycle somehow lies disassembled on a rusty, metal workbench, its engine block cracked open and partially rebuilt with what looks like a World War I-era artillery shell. A massive, bloodstained, and rusted meat cleaver's lodged in a vice on the workbench, dripping with oil and casting a faint, greasy sheen on the surrounding tools... Uh, the air's heavy and still, with just a faint buzzing of flies somewhere outside.