Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQEXSDKT8FBAAFEJ6MB40E

The abandoned Tube station swallowed Detective Harlow Quinn whole. Fluorescent work lights cast harsh shadows across cracked tile and decades of accumulated grime, transforming the underground space into a clinical landscape of forensic investigation. Her boots echoed against ceramic and concrete, each step measured and precise. Three bodies lay arranged in a triangular formation, limbs carefully positioned like pieces on a ritualistic chessboard. Quinn's sharp jaw clenched as she surveyed the scene, her salt-and-pepper hair catching the artificial light. Something felt deliberately staged about the arrangement—too perfect, too calculated. "Thoughts?" she asked, not turning toward her colleague. Eva Kowalski pushed her round glasses up the bridge of her nose, leather satchel tucked close to her body. Her curly red hair was pulled back, freckled hands gloved in thin latex. "Symmetry matters here," she murmured, more to herself than Quinn. "Look at the positioning. Equilateral triangle. Precise angles." Quinn's worn leather watch caught her peripheral vision as she crouched, examining the first body. Male, mid-thirties, no obvious wounds. Pale skin with an unusual bluish undertone. Her brown eyes narrowed. "Not a typical homicide," she said flatly. Eva tucked a stray curl behind her left ear—her telltale nervous gesture. "Definitely not. These markings..." She pointed to subtle sigil-like patterns barely visible on the victims' exposed skin. The underground chamber felt thick with something beyond mere murder—a weight of intention, of deliberate design. The abandoned Tube station, normally a forgotten artery beneath Camden's bustling streets, now felt like a sealed ritual space. Quinn's military precision guided her movements. She photographed each body, noting minute details: positioning of hands, direction of feet, the subtle variations in skin tone and muscular tension. Something here didn't align with standard forensic expectations. "These aren't random victims," Quinn muttered. "They were selected." Eva nodded, pulling a worn notebook from her satchel. "The triangulation suggests a summoning geometry. But summoning what?" The detective's instincts, honed through eighteen years of metropolitan policing, whispered that this crime scene connected to something larger. Something that might relate to her partner's unexplained disappearance three years earlier. She pulled out a small brass compass from her jacket pocket—a curious artifact she'd acquired during a previous investigation. Its verdigris-covered surface caught the light, protective sigils etched across its face. The needle trembled, then spun wildly before settling in an unexpected direction. "Eva," Quinn said quietly, "this isn't a typical murder investigation." The research assistant's green eyes met Quinn's, a shared understanding passing between them. Whatever had happened in this forgotten Underground station was part of a larger, more complex puzzle—one that would require more than standard police procedure to unravel.