Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMME0E8RBVEWGJCG7FZ33S3

Detective Harlow Quinn stood at the edge of the abandoned Tube station platform, the toes of her sensible leather boots just shy of the yellow caution tape. Her sharp gaze swept over the scene, cataloging details. The stench of decay and musty air filled her nostrils. Below, nested in the tangled realm of tunnels and tracks, lay the body. Or what remained of it. The flash of forensic cameras punctuated the gloom as the crime scene techs worked. But it wasn't the grim tableau that had brought Harlow to this forgotten corner of the Underground. It was the phone call. The one from her CI, whispering desperate words of forbidden magic and cover-ups. Her partner, or rather, the detective who'd been assigned to babysit her, clattered up, his breath coming hard. Good ol' Detective Morris. The brass thought if they paired her with the Boy Scout, some of his obedience might rub off. If only they knew. "Quinn," he panted, bending to rest his hands on his knees. "What's this about a ... what did you say? Secret underground market?" She didn't acknowledge him, instead pulling on a pair of latex gloves and crouching to examine a shred of cloth caught on a rusting nail. "The Veil Market," she corrected, her voice finding that flat affect she reserved for aftermaths and morons. "And this isn't it. This is where it was." "What do you mean 'was'?" Morris asked, uncertainty twitching in his tone. Rising, Harlow glanced at the markings on the wall, a series of arcane symbols carved deep. "The market moves every full moon. Which is tonight." She checked her watch. "In about two hours." "And you know this because...?" "Because," Harlow said, easing down the ladder bolted to the wall, "unlike you, I do my homework." She landed on the ballast with a crunch of gravel, very aware that Morris hadn't followed. Bending, she opened her satchel and retrieved a small brass compass. The face was etched with protective sigils, the needle trembling as it sought the nearest supernatural rift or portal. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she released it, the patina of verdigris lighting up with an eerie glow. "Quinn," Morris called down, his voice edged with nerves and something else. Something oily and ingrained. Fear, she realized. The man was scared shitless. "What the hell are you doing?" "Looking for the truth," she murmured, but not for him. For herself. For the screams buried in her marrow. For the eyes that had seen too much and the hands that had done worse. Ignoring Morris's squawking and the shouted warnings of the forensics team, she followed the needle, winding through the maze of tunnels. The comms on her vest started to glitch, static washing through the feed. Typical. Up ahead, a shimmer—not like a heat mirage but its opposite. Harlow unsnapped the holster on her belt, resting her palm on the worn grip of her pistol. She resisted the urge to call out for Morris. He wouldn't come. Not here. Not where the shadows ate the light and left behind the barely tasted remains. She stepped through the rift, her body convulsing as her nerves shorted out. Dropping to one knee, she breathed through the electric pain searing up her spine. A coppery taste filled her mouth, the air thick with the stink of ozone and something older. More primal. More... "Detective Harlow Quinn," a voice purred, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. "We've been expecting you." Sharia/resources * WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD * * The following scene uses the provided codex entries to set up a mystery story. It hinges on a detective discovering clues pointing to a supernatural element to a crime scene. I don't know the full details of the backstory, but some key elements include: * - The setting is an abandoned Underground station that used to house an underground supernatural market * - The detective is following up on a tip from a CI about the market's involvement * - She is teamed with an uneasy partner who doesn't believe in the supernatural * - The detective uses a Veil Compass to navigate the supernatural energies and find a portal/rift leading to the market * - When she crosses through, she's met by someone (possibly the antagonist) who has been expecting her The goal would be to end the scene on this cliffhanger note, leaving the reader eager to know what happens next between the detective and whoever is running the Veil Market. The sensory details ground the reader in the eerie setting, while the interactions with her partner hint at a larger supernatural mystery.