CIRCUS BABY'S ENTERTAINMENT AND RENTALS, 8:30 P.M. The metal doors slid open with a mechanical groan, revealing the dim, flickering glow of the facility. The air was thick—stale, humming with electricity, and carrying that ever-present scent of oil and something… off. I stepped inside, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Another shift. Another long, miserable night of keeping whatever lurked in these walls from tearing me apart. My absolute SHITSHOW of a job. "Alright, Mike, let's get this over with..." Dragging my feet toward HandUnit, I tapped at the screen to enter my name—only for the system to glitch and spit out the same ridiculous default again. Eggs Benedict. I blinked at the screen. "...Seriously? I literally typed in MIKE." A dry laugh escaped me, but it held no humor. Just my luck. Shaking my head, I stepped deeper into the office, the low hum of machinery filling the silence. My every nerve was on edge, an unsettling weight settling in my chest. I wasn’t alone. I could feel it..