Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPGKKE3F1QFGA3TQXG3YYK

Detective Harlow Quinn ducked her head under the low, crumbling arch that led into this section of the abandoned Tube station. The flickering light from her torch echoed off the worn brick walls, casting spectral shadows that danced with each step she took. The persistent smell of damp earth and rust filled the air, mingling with a faint trace of something metallic—blood. She tightened her grip on the black leather gloves she held in her left hand. "Quite the scene, isn't it?" DI Harlow's voice was like a razor dragged slowly across stone, methodical and with an edge that demanded attention. Her brown eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned the desolate corridor, taking in the finer details that her younger colleagues too often missed. Eva Kowalski, her round glasses perched precariously close to the end of her freckled nose, stood to one side, nervously tucking a loose curl of red hair behind her ear. In her arms, she clutched a thick leather satchel, its contents—ominously overstuffed—pressed against her chest. "It's...it's unlike anything I've seen before, Harlow," she murmured, her green eyes darting around as if expecting the walls to close in. "There's something...odd." "Show me," Harlow said curtly, rising to her full height and adjusting the strap of the worn leather watch on her left wrist. The weight of past failures pressed upon her, especially the unsolved case of her partner DS Morris, whose ghost she felt at her shoulder even now. She pushed the memories back. Eva led the way, her footsteps soft on the damp stone floor. They snaked through a series of derelict platforms and tunnels, each more labyrinthine than the last. Finally, they emerged into a chamber forgotten by time—a hollow cavern where the ceilings dripped with the persistent weeping of years. The sound of water trickling was occasionally punctuated by the distant rumble of trains above and the stifled murmurs of those who should not be here. The Veil Market wasn't supposed to be here tonight. Harlow ground her teeth. "Who found it?" "One of our informants," Eva replied, nodding towards a forlorn figure near a toppled market stall. "They said it was an exchange gone wrong. But—" Harlow held up a hand, silencing the stream of consciousness. She stepped forward, her eyes sweeping over the scene with cold precision. The victim lay sprawled in an ugly display of death, the chest cavity caved in as if something had exploded outward rather than in. Blood splatter patterns coated the nearby brickwork and mingled with the powdery residue on the ground, something faintly luminescent. Harlow crouched by the body, her discerning eyes narrowing in on a small brass compass half-hidden beneath the victim's outstretched hand. "A Veil Compass," she muttered, tilting the object to catch the torchlight. Verdigris streaked the casing, and protective sigils etched onto the face appeared recently disturbed. "Was it active when you arrived?" Eva shook her head furiously, another strand of hair slipping loose. "No, it wasn't. But there's more. Look at the markings around...around the body." Harlow's eyes danced around the scene, landing on faint, almost imperceptible markings etched into the concrete floor. Arcane symbols laced in patterns that seemed to pulse with a rhythm barely perceptible to the waking mind. A protective circle, breached disastrously, its power dispelled. "Detective Quinn?" A uniformed officer, young and wide-eyed, approached with a collection of evidence bags. His voice trembled slightly as he addressed her. "We found these on the body, ma'am." He handed over a small satchel of vials with swirling, iridescent liquids. "Banned alchemical substances," Harlow identified, her expression steeled. "Contraband that shouldn't have reached this Market. Someone's dealing out of turn." Eva shifted uncomfortably. "DI Harrow, if it’s okay, I’d like to check those symbols more thoroughly. I have references in my satchel." "Do it." Harlow stood, eyes surveying the surroundings like a predator on the prowl. She caught the faintest trace of movement further down the tunnel—someone watching, or perhaps something. Her hand instinctively reached down to her waist, resting on the cold steel of her service pistol. "You said the Market shifts every full moon, yes?" "Exactly," Eva replied, already deep into one of her ancient tomes, rapidly cross-referencing the symbols. "This station wasn’t on the rotation for at least another three cycles." Harlow exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. "Then whoever arranged this knew they had temporary immunity. Someone on the inside tipped them off." Her mind raced, connecting dots that others might overlook. If there were informants within the supernatural community, it implied more extensive corruption and possibly links to DS Morris’s puzzling death. Eva's exclamation interrupted her thoughts. "Here!" She pointed at an aged page filled with elaborate drawings. "The symbols denote a Binding Circle, used to contain—and possibly summon—beings from beyond our realm." "But the circle is broken," Harlow iterated, understanding dawning. "And whatever was summoned might still be here." A harsh realization carved itself in her mind. This was no ordinary murder. She straightened, giving orders with a voice laced with urgency. "Seal off this tunnel. No one in or out until we have identified and located whoever, or whatever, caused this. Inform SIU to enact Protocol Six." Eva's gasp of alarm made Harlow clench her fist tighter. "Protocol Six means..." "Containment. If this situation escalates, we'll have more than just blood on our hands; the entire city could be at risk." Harlow Quinn had always trusted her instincts, and tonight, they screamed that she was brushing against the veil of something far more sinister than a rogue alchemical trade. As she watched Eva meticulously copy the symbols for deeper analysis, she felt the familiar weight of her own sorrows pressing heavily. Three years, and DS Morris’s shadow remained a constant companion. She refocused as movement distracted her again. That flicker—had it been a mirage, the trickery of an ancient structure? She advanced swiftly and quietly, leaving Eva guarded by the uniformed officers. There, behind an outcropping of ruined wall, she spotted the shimmer of something unnatural. A ripple in reality. A portal, albeit a small one, vibrating with residual energy. "Found you," she whispered under her breath. Her breath puffed in the cold air as she signaled to an officer. "Here," she ordered. "Contain this point immediately and call Eva." Returning to the body, Harlow took one last look at the defeated compass in the victim's hand. The needle twitched slightly, still sensitive to the energies Harlow scarcely understood but always respected. "Whoever you are, whatever you were trying to achieve," she murmured to the lifeless eyes above, "it won’t end like this. Not in my city." She straightened, punctuating her resolve with the click of her calf-high leather boots. It was going to be a long night, but Harlow Quinn wouldn't rest until this puzzle gave up its secrets, and justice—cold, ruthless justice—was served.