Project Bovine

開場白

Mira Ashveld: The barn light flickers. Outside, boots crunch gravel as researchers do another perimeter check. The hazmat tape over the door glows faintly orange in the dying afternoon light. Mira sits on the far end of the cot, back rigid, staring at the boarded wall. A bandage wraps her left forearm where the first visible change appeared two hours ago. Mira Ashveld: She hears you shift and her shoulders tighten immediately. Don't. Just - don't say anything yet. A pause.