Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPBG5M4VEF9QR9NZ5HT0JQ

The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and something else—something metallic that clung to the back of Detective Harlow Quinn’s throat as she stepped into the abandoned Tube station beneath Camden. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast a sickly pallor over the scene, illuminating the chaos that had unfolded in the shadows. A body lay sprawled on the ground, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, a pool of dark crimson pooling around it like a grotesque halo. Quinn’s sharp jaw tightened as she surveyed the area, her brown eyes narrowing. The victim, a young man in his twenties, wore a leather jacket that had seen better days. His face was pale, eyes wide open in a final expression of terror. She knelt beside him, her worn leather watch creaking softly as she leaned closer. The blood was still fresh, glistening under the harsh light, but there was something about the scene that felt off. “Detective Quinn,” a voice called from behind her, breaking her concentration. It was DS Markham, a colleague she had worked with on several cases. He approached, his brow furrowed, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. “What do you think?” Quinn straightened, her gaze flicking to the scattered debris around the body. “Looks like a mugging gone wrong,” she replied, though the words felt hollow. “But the blood… it’s too clean. No signs of struggle.” Markham scratched his head, glancing around the dimly lit station. “You think it’s something else?” “Something else,” she echoed, her mind racing. “Look at the way he’s positioned. It’s almost as if he was placed here deliberately.” She gestured to the body, noting the angle of his head, the way his jacket lay open, revealing a glint of metal beneath. “And that.” Markham leaned in closer, squinting. “A knife? Or a—” “Not a knife,” Quinn interrupted, her heart quickening. “It’s a bone token.” She reached out, carefully lifting the edge of the jacket to reveal a small, intricately carved piece of bone nestled against the victim’s chest. The markings were faint but unmistakable—sigils she recognized from her own research into the occult. “This isn’t just a murder. It’s a message.” Markham’s eyes widened. “A message? From who?” Quinn stood, her mind racing through the possibilities. “The Veil Market,” she said, her voice low. “This is connected to the underground market. Someone wanted him dead, and they wanted it to look like a simple crime.” “Why here?” Markham asked, glancing around the station, his expression shifting from confusion to concern. “Why not somewhere more… public?” “Because this place is hidden,” Quinn replied, her thoughts sharpening. “It’s a perfect location for a transaction gone wrong. The Market moves every full moon, and it’s likely they were meeting here to exchange something.” She turned, scanning the walls, the remnants of old advertisements peeling away in the damp air. “But what?” “Maybe he was a buyer?” Markham suggested, his voice tentative. “Or a seller?” “Or a pawn,” Quinn said, her mind racing. “Someone wanted him out of the way, but they needed to make it look like a simple mugging. They didn’t count on us finding the token.” She stepped back, her gaze sweeping over the scene again. The body, the blood, the token—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit together. She needed more information, something to tie it all back to the Market. “Let’s check his pockets,” she said, moving toward the victim’s jacket. Markham hesitated but followed her lead, his hands moving with a practiced ease as he rifled through the man’s belongings. “Wallet, ID,” he muttered, pulling out a small leather wallet. “Name’s Jamie Carter. No priors, just a regular bloke.” He frowned, flipping through the contents. “No cash, though. Just a few cards.” “Nothing unusual?” Quinn pressed, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of a struggle. “Just a library card and a membership to some gym,” Markham replied, his brow furrowing. “Wait—what’s this?” He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, the edges torn and stained. Quinn leaned in, her heart racing as he unfolded it. The paper was covered in hastily scrawled notes, symbols that made her pulse quicken. “These are sigils,” she breathed, recognizing the markings from her studies. “He was researching something—something dangerous.” “Or he got in over his head,” Markham suggested, his voice low. “Maybe he was trying to buy something from the Market and it went south.” “Or he was trying to warn someone,” Quinn countered, her mind racing. “We need to find out who he was meeting. If he was involved with the Market, there’s a chance he wasn’t the only one.” Markham nodded, his expression serious. “I’ll get the forensics team down here. They’ll want to take a look at the token and the notes.” Quinn waved him off, her mind already racing ahead. “No, I need to go to the Market. I need to find out what he was involved in before it’s too late.” “Quinn, wait—” Markham started, but she was already moving, her military precision guiding her steps as she made her way toward the exit. The Veil Market was a place of shadows and whispers, a hidden world beneath the surface of London where the supernatural thrived. She had been there before, but tonight felt different. The air crackled with energy, and she could almost feel the pulse of the city beneath her feet as she navigated the winding streets. As she approached the entrance, a chill ran down her spine. The bone token felt heavy in her pocket, a reminder of the life that had been snuffed out. She had to find answers, to uncover the truth behind Jamie Carter’s death. The Market was alive with activity, stalls overflowing with enchanted goods and alchemical substances. Quinn moved through the throng, her eyes scanning the faces, searching for anyone who might know something. “Detective Quinn!” a voice called out, and she turned to see a familiar figure emerging from the shadows. It was Eva Kowalski, her childhood friend and an occult researcher. “Eva,” Quinn said, relief flooding her. “I need your help.” “What’s going on?” Eva asked, her green eyes wide behind her round glasses. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “Worse,” Quinn replied, pulling the bone token from her pocket. “I found a body. He was connected to the Market, and I need to know what he was involved in.” Eva’s expression shifted, concern etched on her freckled face. “A body? Here? That’s… dangerous. You shouldn’t be here alone.” “I don’t have time for that,” Quinn snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I need information, and you’re the only one I can trust.” “Okay, okay,” Eva said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Let’s find a quieter spot. I might know someone who can help.” Quinn nodded, her heart racing as they moved deeper into the Market. The shadows seemed to close in around them, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. But she had to push through. Jamie Carter’s death was just the beginning, and she was determined to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.