Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPFAWSJXQR7300CXG4AHTM

Detective Harlow Quinn stepped off the train and onto the crumbling platform of the abandoned Tube station beneath Camden. The dimly lit tunnel, musty with the scent of decay, made her skin prickle. A constable in a bright yellow jacket waited for her, clipboard at the ready. "Detective, PC Marsden," he said, offering a nod. "We've got a weird one here." Quinn's gaze swept the platform, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. A patch of bright blue tape cordoned off a section near the tunnel entrance. She walked toward it, her boots echoing off the tile. PC Marsden fell into step beside her. "What do we know?" "Not much, ma'am," PC Marsden replied, consulting his notes. "The market vendors reported a disturbance around three this morning. No witnesses to speak of, just a lot of shouting and commotion. The market's staff cleaned up as much of the scene as they could, but...you'll see." Quinn ducked under the tape and surveyed the area. A few scuff marks marred the worn tile. A dropped carton of juicy knock-off cigarettes lay some distance from the main scene, its contents spilled across the floor. A small crowd of camel-coated hustlers and black-clad wannabes milled around the edges, their conversations hushed. She spotted a familiar curly red head near the tunnel entrance – Eva Kowalski, huddled with her worn leather satchel full of books. Quinn's focus returned to the scene. Amidst the scattered goods, a still form lay face-down on the ground. A Veil Compass, that brass casing etched with protective sigils, peeked out from beneath the victim's splayed fingers. Her hand twitched. She made a mental note to ask Eva about it – occult researchers didn't usually attend market gatherings, but sometimes Eva dropped by to...banter, Quinn supposed. Someone had beaten this poor soul mercilessly, leaving them bleeding onto the cold tile. No visible defensive wounds, though – their attacker must have caught them by surprise. "It's a buying dispute," PC Marsden said, still scanning his notes. "Perp was likely after the compass. Either that, or our victim got in the way of something bigger." Quinn frowned. PC Marsden's theory didn't quite fit. A Veil Compass wasn't worth killing for – while useful, it was also a tool that came and went in the underground market. Anyone persistent could find another. The crime scene looked...orchestrated. Too neat. And where was the cash? This market tailored to shady deals, cash-only affairs. This victim should've had a stash on them – but nothing. PC Marsden gave Quinn a sideways glance. "You think there's more to this? Maybe our victim was just at the wrong place at the wrong time?" Quinn hunkered down beside the body, careful not to touch anything that might damage the investigation. The heart rate indicator on her watch gave a reassuring tick as she scrutinized the tile, the walls. Something caught her eye: in the shadowy recesses between the tiles, a symbol was scrawled in black, back-and-forth hatching almost but not quite random. "No, PC Marsden," she said finally. "I think we have a very precise problem on our hands. Look at that symbol. Anyone recognize what that's from?" PC Marsden fidgeted, hitting her with an apologetic look. Quinn had glimpsed that same symbol during her research into DS Morris's untimely death. Those...unexplained circumstances three years ago still lingered in her thoughts like a stubborn injury. Eva hovered closer to Quinn and PC Marsden, notebook and pen at the ready. Quinn's expression switched to weariness for an instant – PC Marsden didn't need to know about her pet theories, and she wasn't sure Eva was entirely safe in the Veil Market's current climate. When Quinn spoke again, it was without consulting the PC or her personal skeptic, however. "I need the stills, PC Marsden – full forensics on the compass, symbol validation, and–" "Detective?" PC Marsden said slowly, hand extended, twisting into the radios clipped to his belt. "CSU thinks they can manage samples for those without scaling up the resource request...ma'am?" Quinn let that undefined word drift, antagonizing PC Marsden's bubbles of fatigue with a professional calm. "I'm not leaving without everything," Quinn responded after an incessant halt on the detective's relentless slide away from insight and isolate leniency.