Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPB2E11V0RXXQYMMDFRS3A

Detective Harlow Quinn stepped out of the unmarked police car and onto the cold, damp platform of the abandoned Tube station. The air was thick with the scent of mold and the faint echo of distant dripping water. Her worn leather watch ticked methodically on her left wrist, a constant reminder of time's relentless march. She glanced around, her sharp jawline set in a determined line. The place was eerie, a relic of a bygone era, and the darkness seemed to cling to the old brick walls like a shroud. Detective Quinn’s boots echoed as she walked, her eyes scanning the dimly lit area. The platform was littered with debris, and the tracks themselves were overgrown with weeds, a stark contrast to the polished, bustling stations above. She paused, her gaze narrowing as she noticed the bone tokens scattered on the ground, each one an entry ticket to the Veil Market. She picked one up, turning it over in her hand, and then slipped it into a plastic evidence bag. “Detective Quinn.” The voice was hesitant, and she turned to see Eva Kowalski, her childhood friend and an occult researcher, standing a few feet away. Eva’s curly red hair was tucked behind her glasses, a nervous habit that always gave her away. Her freckled complexion was pale, and her satchel, full of books, hung heavily on her shoulder. “Eva,” Quinn acknowledged, her tone measured. “What are you doing here?” Eva adjusted her glasses and took a deep breath. “I’m part of the task force now, Detective. The Met has been getting more and more calls about supernatural activity, and they needed someone with my expertise. I’ve been helping with the investigation.” Quinn’s brow furrowed. “And what expertise is that, exactly?” “I have a background in occult research,” Eva explained, avoiding Quinn’s gaze. “I can help you understand what we’re dealing with.” “Occult research,” Quinn repeated, her voice flat. “I see.” Eva bit her lip. “It’s more complicated than you think, Harlow. The Veil Market isn’t just a black market. It’s a nexus for supernatural activity. And whoever we’re looking for is deeply involved.” Quinn nodded, though she didn’t entirely agree. She turned her attention back to the crime scene, her senses on high alert. The body lay a few yards away, partially obscured by the shadows. A young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, her face frozen in a mask of terror. Her clothes were torn, and there were marks on her skin that Quinn couldn’t quite place. She knelt beside the body, her fingers gloved as she carefully examined the wounds. “Any preliminary conclusions?” Eva asked, her voice low. “Not yet,” Quinn replied, her eyes scanning the area. “But something’s not right. The wounds are inconsistent. Some look like they were made by a knife, others by something more … unnatural.” Eva nodded, her eyes widening with understanding. “Like something supernatural. There are sigils etched into the walls, and the air feels different here. It’s thick with residual energy.” Quinn stood, her gaze following the etchings on the walls. They were crude, but they were there, and they spoke of something ancient and powerful. She picked up a small brass compass from her coat pocket, its face etched with protective sigils. The needle spun wildly, pointing in all directions before settling toward the body. She frowned, her mind racing. “Detective Quinn!” A voice called out, and she turned to see DS Morris’s replacement, DS Thompson, approaching. The younger detective was eager, his enthusiasm almost tangible. “We found something you should see.” Quinn and Eva followed Thompson deeper into the station, the darkness closing in around them. They came to a small alcove, and Thompson pointed to a pile of papers on the ground. Quinn knelt, her fingers carefully lifting the top sheet. It was a map, hand-drawn and marked with intricate symbols. The symbols were unfamiliar, but they were clearly part of some ancient ritual. “What do you make of this?” Quinn asked, holding the map out for Eva to see. Eva’s eyes widened. “These symbols … they’re from a long-forgotten language. It’s a map to a hidden portal, something that connects different supernatural realms. If someone’s using this, they could be accessing powers beyond our understanding.” Quinn’s expression grew stern. “And who would do that, Eva?” Eva hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone who wants to control the Veil Market. Someone who’s been using it to gather power and influence.” Quinn stood, her mind piecing together the puzzle. “We need to find out who’s behind this. And we need to do it fast. This isn’t just a crime scene. It’s a gateway to something much more dangerous.” She turned to Thompson. “I want a full lockdown of this area. No one in or out without my say-so. And I want every bit of evidence processed immediately. We need to know who’s behind this and what they want.” Thompson nodded, his eyes wide with determination. “Yes, Detective.” As they worked, Quinn’s thoughts drifted to her lost partner, DS Morris. The case that had taken him had been shrouded in the same kind of supernatural elements. She had never understood what had really happened that night, but now, as she stood in the abandoned Tube station, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Eva was right. This was more than just a crime. It was a web of darkness and power, and someone was at the center of it all. And Detective Harlow Quinn was determined to uncover the truth, no matter where it led.