Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMC9890XEEFZ0E9TPG1Y5X

Quinn's boots pounded against wet pavement as she pursued the figure ahead through Soho's neon-lit streets. Rain pelted her face, but she didn't dare take her eyes off her target. Three years of dead ends since Morris disappeared, and finally, a solid lead – she wasn't about to lose it now. The suspect darted down an alley beside The Raven's Nest, its green sign casting an eerie glow across the slick cobblestones. Quinn followed, her breath coming in controlled bursts as she maintained her military-honed pace. Her quarry was quick, but she'd been running down perps since they were in diapers. A crash of metal as the suspect knocked over a row of rubbish bins. Quinn vaulted over them without breaking stride, her worn leather watch catching the intermittent flashes of street lights as she pumped her arms. The figure ahead wore dark clothes, but she caught glimpses of something glinting at their neck – maybe jewelry, maybe a weapon. They burst out onto Camden High Street, weaving between startled pedestrians huddled under umbrellas. The suspect veered suddenly, disappearing down the steps of a closed Tube station. Quinn's instincts screamed a warning. This station had been abandoned for years; she'd passed it countless times during her beats. She paused at the top of the stairs, rain drumming against her shoulders. The entrance gaped like a monster's maw, darkness waiting to swallow her whole. Just like the darkness that had swallowed Morris. Her hand went to her service weapon, droplets running down its grip. "Metropolitan Police! Stop right there!" Her voice echoed into the void below, receiving no response except the distant drip of water. Quinn descended the stairs, using her tactical flashlight to sweep the space ahead. The beam caught crumbling tiles and graffiti-covered walls. Her footsteps echoed in the enclosed space, each one sending a shiver up her spine. This wasn't right. Something about this place felt wrong on a fundamental level. A flicker of movement caught her eye – her suspect disappearing around a corner deeper in the station. As she followed, the air grew thick and strange, carrying unfamiliar scents: incense, exotic spices, and something metallic that reminded her of blood. The tunnel opened into what should have been a simple platform. Instead, Quinn found herself at the edge of barely controlled chaos. Makeshift stalls lined the walls, their surfaces covered with items that seemed to shift and change when she tried to focus on them. Figures in hooded robes browsed merchandise that glowed and pulsed with impossible colors. Others wore faces that weren't quite human. "Bloody hell," she whispered, her grip tightening on her weapon. A man materialized from the shadows beside her – Tomás Herrera, the disgraced paramedic she'd interviewed last month about a string of mysterious injuries. His Saint Christopher medallion caught the strange light as he stepped forward. "Detective Quinn," he said, his Spanish accent thick with concern. "You shouldn't be here." "Where exactly is here, Herrera?" She kept her voice steady despite the unreality of the scene before her. The suspect was still visible, moving deeper into the market. "The Veil Market. And you need to leave. Now." He touched the scar on his left forearm absently. "You don't have a bone token. If they realize you're law enforcement..." A high-pitched whine filled the air, making Quinn's teeth ache. Several hooded figures turned toward her, their movements too fluid to be natural. "Your suspect," Tomás continued, "they're headed to the lower levels. But trust me, Detective – whatever case you're working, it's not worth following them down there. Some questions are better left unanswered." Quinn's brown eyes narrowed as she watched her quarry disappear down another set of stairs. This could be her chance to finally understand what happened to Morris. But the weight of unknowable danger pressed against her like a physical force. "Morris vanished down here, didn't he?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. "That's what you've been hiding." Tomás's warm brown eyes filled with sympathy. "Some mysteries should stay buried, Detective. The answers you seek... they come with a price none of us can afford to pay." A scream echoed from the lower levels – not of pain, but of something worse. Something hungry. Quinn's military training warred with her instinct for self-preservation as the lights in the market flickered, casting strange shadows that moved independent of their sources. She had to make a choice: pursue her lead into the darkness below, or retreat to the familiar world above where the rain fell in patterns that made sense. Her watch ticked steadily against her wrist, counting down the seconds until the decision would be made for her.