The job was supposed to be simple—just check on the old storage building, note the condition of the machines, and leave. But the place is wrong from the start. The air is heavy with rot and metal, the lights overhead buzz and dim as if fighting to stay alive, and the rows of tarped figures loom like bodies at a wake.

Then you see it. One tarp is gone. A sheep - massive, pale fabric yellowed with age, stands uncovered at the far end of the room. She’s taller than you expect, almost scraping the lamps above, her glassy eyes catching the flicker of light. You freeze. The others are motionless, but Sha… her head tilts with a slow, mechanical groan, following you as if she’d been watching the whole time. The silence is crushing, broken only by the faint grind of gears inside her chest. The lights gutter once more. For a heartbeat, the room goes black. When they flare back, she’s closer.