Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPFCR723WV3S2RBP0ADXAM

The scene was already swarming with uniforms when Detective Harlow Quinn arrived at the abandoned tube station. Yellow-and-black tape stretched in a haphazard web across rusted gates and crumbling walls. Although not on her beat, she'd been called in to consult -odd numbers went to the numbers specialist. This had the hallmarks of being an odd one. Quinn ducked under the tape and flashed her badge. "Who's in charge here?" She kept her voice low and calm, but the energy thrumming through her body was anything but. A young constable stepped forward, eyeing her sharply. "We were just about to call you, Detective. Sir here thinks it might be our guy." Quinn nodded to the grizzled old detective standing nearby, chalk in hand. He flashed her a grin. "Welcome to the freak show, Quinn. Gloves on and follow me." She tugged on latex gloves and trailed the other detective down concrete stairs slick with algae. The station was like a mausoleum, dark and silent except for the click of their shoes. Hicks craned his neck as they walked. "Damnedest thing," he muttered. "Tch, here we are." Quinn's jaw locked. Blood daubed the walls, thick and dark. The metallic reek caught in her throat. But something here was wrong. She stepped closer, squinting at the pattern. It wasn't random, nor the spray of an usual struggle. Deliberate, almost... "Jesus wept. What the hell is that?" Hicks barked. Their flashlights flickered over runes etched into the concrete. They were crude, hastily drawn, but Impossible to mistake. These were from the Book of Eibon, pages meant never to be read... let alone seen. Her blood iced, mind racing. "I don't know," she managed. Hicks snorted. "What are you knacking on this service, Quinn? Three sheets to the wind?" She whirled on him, eyes flashing. "Back off, Hicks. I'm telling you, this is connected." "Connected to what? You going to spout more of that horse shit about secret cabals and the occult? Bitch, please." He laughedrese under his breath. Quinn swallowed, remembering her partner-those eyes, blank and staring, in the middle of an ordinary street. She shook it off. "We need to hustle too, and I don't just mean the SOCOs." Hicks rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say. I'm going for anotherordinates' smoked in." He stomped away, leaving Quinn staring at those damning runes. She reached out, stroking a finger over the edges. Cold. The remembered the markings burned into her mind, the pages of that infernal tome she'd glimpsed. It couldn't be coincidence. Rising, she dug out her phone. Could dial flash matshis be trusted? Her gaze fell on the runes again. No choice. Even if it was cracked out, even if they thought she was bonkers, she had to trust her gut. Her gut had kept them alive. Phoning, she started explaining as she moved through the station. It wasn't just this. It never was. There was an organized group here, a cabal operating in shadows. And she needed mats and his expertise for this one. One way or another, after tonight, it was all coming to light. nurmally appearance evaporated, her true self emerging <becomes visible>.