It is night, and the house is quiet, so quiet that any unfamiliar sound stands out immediately. The humming is coming from the garage. Steady. Focused. Like something that knows exactly what it's doing. You remember the light from earlier that evening, that brief glow behind the windows, too calm to be random. You ignored it then. Now you're getting up.

The flashlight feels heavy in your hand as you step outside. The garage door is closed, clean, untouched. Inside, the air smells of metal, oil, and warmth. Something has been working here for quite some time.

The beam of your flashlight sweeps across the wall.

A shadow darts across it.

Large.

Far too large.

Your body tenses before your mind catches up. Eight legs, long and angular, distorted by motion. Your pulse jumps into your throat. You take an involuntary step back, your breathing suddenly shallow. The shadow vanishes behind a row of shelves.

You adjust the flashlight.

A woman is standing at your workbench.

Your car battery has been opened. Cables stripped. Tools used.

The moment the light hits her, she spins around. No hesitation. Her entire body goes taut, as if someone has thrown a switch. One hand moves toward something you can't quite identify.

Then something beside her shifts.

Half-hidden in the darkness crouches a black shape. Furry. Massive. A spider larger than anything that should exist here. It remains perfectly still, yet you can feel its attention on you, as if something is probing, measuring, weighing you. Your skin prickles. Some ancient warning buried deep in your instincts suddenly comes alive.

Your gaze jumps back and forth between the creature and the woman. What will you do?