Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPFS5HBQN2CDTCCZ8PX0RS

Detective Harlow Quinn stepped off the last rung of the rusted ladder, her boots landing with a soft thud on the damp concrete floor of the abandoned Tube station. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and something else—something metallic and sharp that clung to the back of her throat. She paused, taking in the scene before her with a practiced eye. The Veil Market, usually bustling with the clandestine energy of traders and buyers, was eerily silent. The stalls, draped in shadow, stood empty, their wares hidden beneath tarps and cloths. A single bulb flickered overhead, casting a sickly yellow light that danced across the walls, highlighting the faded graffiti and the grime that had accumulated over decades of neglect. Harlow adjusted the collar of her coat, the fabric brushing against her sharp jawline, and glanced at the worn leather watch on her wrist. It was just past midnight, the hour when the Market should have been alive with the hum of whispered deals and the clink of coin. Instead, it was a crime scene, cordoned off with police tape that fluttered like ghostly banners in the stale air. "Detective Quinn," a voice called out, echoing off the tiled walls. Eva Kowalski emerged from the shadows, her curly red hair a fiery halo around her freckled face. She clutched her leather satchel tightly, the strap cutting into her shoulder. Her round glasses caught the light, reflecting it back in a way that made her green eyes seem to glow. "Eva," Harlow acknowledged, her tone clipped but not unkind. She had known Eva for some time now, their paths crossing more often than not in the tangled web of the supernatural underworld. "What have we got?" Eva tucked a stray curl behind her ear, a nervous habit that betrayed her unease. "It's strange, Harlow. The Market was supposed to move tonight, but something went wrong. The traders left in a hurry, and there was... an incident." Harlow's eyes narrowed, her instincts prickling. "An incident?" Eva nodded, gesturing for Harlow to follow her deeper into the station. "A body was found near the central stall. No one saw what happened, but there are signs of a struggle. And something else—something I can't quite explain." They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. As they approached the central stall, Harlow's gaze swept over the scene. The body lay sprawled on the ground, a man in his late thirties, his features twisted in an expression of terror. His clothes were torn, and his hands bore the marks of a desperate fight. Harlow crouched beside the body, her eyes tracing the lines of the man's face. "Who is he?" "Name's Marcus Hale," Eva supplied, consulting a small notebook she pulled from her satchel. "A known trader in enchanted goods. He was well-liked, as far as I know." Harlow nodded, her mind already piecing together the fragments of information. "And the cause of death?" "That's the thing," Eva said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "There's no obvious cause. No wounds, no signs of poison. It's as if he just... stopped." Harlow frowned, her gaze shifting to the ground around the body. The concrete was scuffed, the marks of a struggle evident in the disturbed dust and debris. But there was something else, something that caught her attention—a faint, shimmering residue that clung to the air like a veil. "What do you make of this?" Harlow asked, pointing to the residue. Eva leaned closer, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "I've seen something like this before, in the archives. It's a residue left by a supernatural rift, but it's unusual. It shouldn't be here, not in the Market." Harlow's mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle shifting into place. A rift, here in the Market, where none should exist. It was a dangerous anomaly, one that could explain the traders' hasty departure and the man's inexplicable death. "Do you have a Veil Compass?" Harlow asked, her voice steady despite the unease that gnawed at her. Eva nodded, reaching into her satchel and producing a small brass compass. Its casing was etched with protective sigils, the needle quivering as it sought out the nearest source of supernatural energy. She handed it to Harlow, her fingers brushing against the detective's. Harlow took the compass, its weight familiar in her hand. She watched as the needle spun, its movement erratic before it settled, pointing toward a darkened corner of the station. "There," she said, her voice low. "That's where the rift is." Eva followed her gaze, her expression thoughtful. "But why would a rift open here, now? The Market is protected, hidden from the mundane world." "That's what we need to find out," Harlow replied, rising to her feet. She slipped the compass into her pocket, her mind already working through the possibilities. "Someone wanted this rift here, and they were willing to kill to make it happen." Eva shivered, her eyes darting to the shadows that loomed around them. "Do you think it was one of the traders? Or someone else?" Harlow considered the question, her instincts telling her that the answer lay in the details, in the things that others might overlook. "I don't know yet. But I intend to find out." They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the mystery pressing down on them. The Market, once a place of secrets and shadows, had become something else—a battleground in a war that few understood. Harlow turned to Eva, her expression resolute. "I need you to dig into the archives, find out everything you can about rifts and their connection to the Market. We need to know who could have done this, and why." Eva nodded, determination in her eyes. "I'll start tonight. There's bound to be something in the restricted section that can help." Harlow watched as Eva disappeared into the shadows, her satchel bouncing against her hip. She turned back to the scene, her mind already sifting through the evidence, searching for the thread that would unravel the truth. The Veil Market was a place of secrets, but Harlow Quinn was no stranger to secrets. She had spent her life uncovering them, peeling back the layers to reveal the truth beneath. And she would do it again, here in the depths of the abandoned Tube station, where the air was thick with mystery and the promise of danger. As she stood there, the flickering light casting long shadows across the walls, Harlow knew one thing for certain: the game was afoot, and she was ready to play.