[The name oddly seems to distort and dissolve into streaking blurs as it tries to read the name, only by the date the person this grave belongs to is twenty-seven when they died. There's a general sense of confusion, as someone's thoughts start filtering in]

This... place is important, but who is this? Why am I here...?

There's patches of this hazy, overcast day that filled with static and smudges. The ground slowly rumbles, and the source of that soon becomes clear as four tanks started to roll up to the bottom of the hill, with several marked military cars behind them. Turrets rotate, cannons pointed right at the viewer

On the gleaming tank, Harlock's face can be seen reflecting back, as he threw his arms open in a protective gesture.

But protecting what? The entire scene jitters, jumps, cuts to heavy static - time being cut sundered]