Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNEVGT2PF2WCQBC6DWZE944

The air in the abandoned Tube station tasted of dust and damp concrete, thick with the weight of decades of neglect. Harlow Quinn stepped over the yellow police tape, her sensible shoes clicking against the platform edge with military precision. The forensic team had already marked the scene—numbered cones dotting the grimy tiles where evidence had been collected. "What have we got?" she asked, pulling on latex gloves. PC Davies, a young officer who still looked like he belonged in secondary school, swallowed hard. "Body in the tunnel, Detective. Third one this month with the same... symptoms." "Symptoms?" Quinn's brow furrowed as she followed him toward the dark mouth of the tunnel. Her worn leather watch caught the dim light—ten minutes past midnight. The station had been decommissioned in the sixties, its existence scrubbed from most maps. Perfect place for secrets. They found the body thirty feet in, sprawled across the tracks. The victim was male, mid-thirties, dressed in what had probably been expensive clothes before the decay set in. His skin had taken on a peculiar gray pallor, veins standing out in sharp relief beneath the surface. But it was the eyes that made Quinn pause—completely white, as if the irises had been bleached of all color. "Petechial hemorrhaging?" she asked, kneeling beside the corpse. "None, Detective," Davies replied. "No signs of strangulation. No defensive wounds either. It's like he just... collapsed." Quinn pulled out a small notebook, its pages already filled with observations from the previous two cases. Same location. Same symptoms. Same lack of obvious cause of death. She snapped on a flashlight and began examining the tunnel walls, running her gloved fingers along the grimy surface. "Detective Quinn?" A familiar voice echoed down the tunnel. "I heard you were working this one." She straightened, recognizing the red curls first as Eva Kowalski emerged from the shadows. The occult researcher carried her worn leather satchel, the one that always seemed to hold more books than physically possible. Round glasses caught the light as she approached. "What are you doing here, Evie?" Quinn kept her voice neutral, though her jaw tightened. She'd hoped to avoid this particular complication. Eva shrugged, tucking a stray curl behind her left ear—a nervous habit Quinn had noticed during their previous encounters. "Same as you, probably. Looking for answers that don't add up." Quinn gestured to the body. "This is police business. You shouldn't be here." "Police business that's been keeping me up at night," Eva countered. "Three bodies in a month, all found in locations tied to the Veil Market. That's not coincidence." "The Veil Market moved locations three weeks ago," Quinn said, though her stomach tightened at the confirmation. She'd been trying to keep that detail out of the official reports. "This station hasn't been active in decades." Eva knelt beside the body, pulling out a small magnifying glass from her satchel. "Tell me, Detective, have you noticed the pattern in the decay? It's accelerating. Each victim shows more advanced symptoms than the last." Quinn watched as Eva examined the corpse's hands, noting the peculiar gray discoloration that seemed to emanate from beneath the nails. "What are you suggesting?" "I'm suggesting someone's experimenting," Eva said, standing. "Testing the limits of whatever they're using. And they're getting better at it." A theory began forming in Quinn's mind, pieces clicking together like a puzzle she hadn't known she was solving. She moved to the tunnel wall, running her fingers along a particular section where the grime seemed... different. More concentrated. "What are you looking for?" Eva asked, joining her. Quinn pulled out her flashlight, angling it to catch the wall at a specific angle. There, barely visible in the grime, was a pattern of scratches—five parallel lines, repeated at intervals. She pulled a small evidence bag from her pocket, using tweezers to extract something from between the tiles. "What is it?" Eva leaned closer. Quinn held up the small brass object—a compass, its casing tarnished with verdigris, protective sigils etched into its face. The needle spun wildly, never settling on north. "I've seen this before," Eva breathed. "It's a Veil Compass. They're attuned to supernatural energy, used to navigate between realms." Quinn's mind raced back to her partner's disappearance three years ago. Morris had been investigating similar deaths, had found a compass just like this one clutched in a victim's hand. She'd always assumed it was a red herring, something to throw them off the trail. But now, standing in this abandoned station with three bodies and a pattern that refused to make sense, Quinn felt the first real crack in her carefully constructed worldview. "Where does it point?" she asked, watching the needle continue its erratic dance. Eva took the compass, holding it away from the metal rails. The needle jerked, then steadied, pointing deeper into the tunnel. "That way. But Detective..." She hesitated. "The Veil Market doesn't just move locations. It moves between realms. If this compass is leading somewhere, it might not be anywhere on Earth." Quinn's military training screamed at her to dismiss such nonsense. But her detective's instincts, honed over eighteen years on the force, whispered that Eva might be right. The evidence was right here, defying explanation through conventional means. She pulled out her radio. "Davies, I need the tunnel sealed. No one comes in or out without my authorization." The response crackled back, confused but compliant. Quinn turned to Eva, noting how the researcher's green eyes had gone wide behind her glasses. "You believe me," Eva said, almost wonderingly. "I believe the evidence," Quinn corrected, though her voice lacked its usual certainty. "But I need to know everything you know about these compasses. And about the Veil Market." Eva nodded, her fingers already reaching for her satchel. "There's something else, Detective. Something I didn't want to say in front of the others." She lowered her voice. "The decay pattern on these victims—it's similar to what happens when someone crosses between realms without proper protection. Like their bodies can't handle the transition." Quinn felt a chill that had nothing to do with the tunnel's temperature. "You're saying these people were trying to access the Veil Market directly?" "Not just access it," Eva said grimly. "I think they were trying to control it." The compass needle twitched in Quinn's hand, spinning faster now, as if responding to their conversation. She slipped it into an evidence bag, sealing it carefully. "Then we need to find out who's conducting these experiments," Quinn said, her voice hardening with purpose. "And why they're leaving bodies behind as they perfect their technique." Eva fell into step beside her as they made their way back toward the platform, the weight of unspoken understanding settling between them. For eighteen years, Quinn had built her career on facts, on evidence that could be measured and cataloged. But standing there, with the compass's wild needle pointing toward secrets she'd spent three years trying to forget, she realized some truths required a different kind of investigation. One that might lead them far beyond the boundaries of conventional police work. And possibly beyond the boundaries of their world entirely.