Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPCHHC4AM7EAZAYMHV9K8S

Rain lashed down on the city streets, casting a misty veil over the deserted sidewalks. Detective Harlow Quinn splashed through the puddles, her eyes fixed on the figure ahead. Tomás Herrera, a suspect in her ongoing investigation, darted down a narrow alleyway between two Soho shops. Quinn's sharp jaw clenched as she picked up her pace, her worn leather watch digging into her left wrist. As she entered the alley, the sounds of the city grew muffled, replaced by the rhythmic beat of raindrops on trash cans and dumpsters. Quinn's military precision guided her through the dark, her eyes adjusting quickly to the lack of light. Herrera's short, curly brown hair was a blur as he disappeared around the next corner. Quinn's lungs burned as she took the turn, her feet pounding the wet pavement. She had been chasing Herrera for blocks, and she was determined not to lose him. Her partner, DS Morris, had been taken from her three years ago, and Quinn still had no answers. If Herrera was involved in the clique's illicit activities, she aimed to find out. As she emerged from the alley, Quinn spotted Herrera crossing the street, dodging cars and umbrellas. She followed, her eyes scanning the crowded sidewalk for any sign of accomplices. The streets were a maze of umbrellas and hoodies, but Quinn's gaze locked onto Herrera's distinctive olive skin. He ducked into the entrance of the Raven's Nest, a dimly lit bar Quinn had been watching for weeks. The distinctive green neon sign above the door cast an eerie glow over the rain-soaked pavement. Quinn hesitated, her hand resting on the butt of her gun. Something didn't feel right. She pushed open the door and slipped inside, her eyes adjusting to the warm, smoky atmosphere. The Nest was a haven for the city's supernatural underbelly, and Quinn's presence was bound to draw attention. Herrera was nowhere to be seen, but Quinn spotted a familiar figure polishing a mug behind the bar – Silas, the owner. "Detective," Silas said, his voice low and even. "What brings you to my humble establishment?" Quinn flashed her badge. "I'm looking for Tomás Herrera. He just came in." Silas's expression didn't change, but Quinn detected a flicker of warning in his eyes. "Haven't seen him, Detective. Maybe he's in the... ah, restroom." Quinn's gaze swept the bar, taking in the patrons huddled over drinks and the shelves lined with dusty tomes. She knew Silas was hiding something, but she also knew she couldn't push him – not yet. As she waited, a tall, hooded figure emerged from the back room, a bookshelf sliding shut behind them. The air was thick with the scent of old books and something else – something earthy and decaying. "Excuse me," Quinn said, her eyes locked on the figure, but Silas intervened. "Sorry, Detective. That's a private meeting. Nothing to do with your... inquiry." Quinn's instincts screamed that she was missing something. Herrera had disappeared, and this hooded figure seemed to be the only lead. She weighed her options – follow the figure, or retreat and regroup. Her decision was made when the figure pushed back its hood, revealing a messy tangle of black hair. For an instant, their eyes met, and Quinn saw a flicker of recognition. Then, the figure turned and disappeared into the crowd, a small, bone-colored token clutched in their hand. Quinn's gut told her to follow. She pushed through the patrons, ignoring Silas's protests, and trailed the hooded figure out into the rain-soaked night. They led her on a wild goose chase, dodging market stalls and food carts in the deserted streets of Camden. Quinn's lungs burned, but she refused to give up. The figure finally stopped at the entrance to an abandoned Tube station, a rusty sign creaking in the wind. The Veil Market, Quinn realized, her mind racing. She had heard whispers of the underground market, but she had never been able to pin down its location. The figure produced the bone token and handed it to a burly man guarding the entrance. As Quinn hesitated, the guard's eyes met hers, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. This was uncharted territory, and she was alone. But she also knew that if she backed down now, she might never find the answers she sought. With a deep breath, Quinn followed the figure into the unknown, the darkness of the abandoned Tube station swallowing her whole.