The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Rain-soaked tennis courts stretch out before a dilapidated, concrete grandstand, like, covered in thick vines and moss, water cascading off the upper tiers. A weird, completely silent storm is raging overhead, massive lightning bolts crackling through the air but somehow making zero sound, like the audio's just been turned off. The air's heavy with the smell of ozone-free petrichor, and it's cool and humid as hell out here, but... somehow the rain's not getting the tennis courts wet, it's just kinda beading up on the surface and rolling right off. Umm, the sky above is a weird, milky white color.