Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNEXK4P9GEXRVED96HHJ3DC

The rain lashed the London streets likea thousand tiny whips, turning the pavement into a mirror that reflected the sickly yellow glow of streetlamps and the blurred neon sign of The Raven’s Nest—a green beacon in the Soho gloom. Detective Harlow Quinn, her salt-and-pepper hair plastered to her skull beneath a soaked fedora, moved with the predatory silence of a stalking panther. Her worn leather watch ticked steadily on her left wrist, a metronome marking the seconds as she closed the gap between herself and her quarry. The man ahead, Tomás Herrera, a former paramedic with olive skin and a scar like a livid worm on his forearm, stumbled over a puddle, his breath coming in ragged gasps that mingled with the drumming rain. “Harlan!” Tomás wheezed, his voice raw. “You don’t understand what he’s done!” He fumbled in his jacket, fingers trembling as he pulled free a small, worn medallion—Saint Christopher, its bronze surface slick with rainwater. “He’s not human, Detective! He’s—” Quinn’s boot struck the pavement with a sharp *crack*, sending a spray of dirty water up. She didn’t break stride. “Human or not, he’s a killer, Herrera. And you helped him.” Her sharp jawline was set in a line of grim determination, her eyes, brown and unreadable in the gloom, fixed on his back. “Where is he?” Tomás’s eyes darted wildly, landing on a narrow alley choked with overflowing dumpsters and the stench of decay. “Through here! He went down!” He pushed through a sagging fire escape ladder, pulling Quinn after him. The rain grew heavier, a curtain of water that blurred the world into streaks of grey and black. They burst into the alley, the sound of the city receding behind them. Tomás stumbled towards a crumbling brick wall, his movements desperate. “The Veil Market!” he gasped. “He’s got a bone token! He’s got to get in!” Quinn’s hand shot out, catching his arm just as he reached for a seemingly ordinary brick in the wall. “Bone token?” she demanded, her voice low and dangerous. “What kind of token?” “For the Market,” Tomás panted, his breath coming in short bursts. “For the Veil. It’s—” He froze, his eyes wide with terror as he saw the cold, unwavering gaze fixed on him. “He’s waiting for you there, Detective. He wants you to come in.” The Veil Market. The hidden supernatural black market beneath Camden, moving locations every full moon, accessible only by a bone token. Quinn’s mind raced. Her partner, DS Morris, had died under unexplained circumstances three years ago, a death she suspected was tied to this very underworld. The supernatural origins she didn’t yet understand clawed at the edges of her consciousness. But the man ahead, the one who had orchestrated Morris’s death, was down there. And Tomás Herrera, the man she’d been chasing, was his key. The brick wall before them wasn’t just brick. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer played across its surface, like heat haze over hot tarmac. Tomás’s fingers brushed the medallion against his chest, a silent prayer. “He’s waiting, Harlan. He knows you’re coming. He wants you to follow him into the Market. It’s a trap.” Quinn’s gaze swept the alley, searching for any sign of the entrance. The rain hammered down, obscuring everything. The decision hung in the air, thick and heavy as the damp night. Follow the suspect into the unknown, into the heart of the supernatural underworld she suspected was responsible for her partner’s death, or cut her losses and let him vanish into the shadows? The bone token in Tomás’s trembling hand seemed to pulse with a faint, unnatural light. “Where’s the token?” Quinn asked, her voice cutting through the rain’s roar. “Show me.” Tomás hesitated, then pulled the Saint Christopher medallion free again. He pressed it against the shimmering brick wall. A low, resonant hum vibrated through the concrete, and the brick shifted, revealing a narrow, dark passage. Beyond it, the air shimmered with an unnatural chill, carrying the faint, cloying scent of ozone and something else—something ancient and hungry. “He’s in there,” Tomás whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. “He’s waiting.” Quinn looked at the passage, then at Tomás’s terrified face, then back at the shimmering darkness. The watch on her wrist ticked on, a relentless countdown. The rain continued its assault, a constant reminder of the world outside, the world she knew. But the man who had killed her partner, the man who had orchestrated the supernatural events that shattered her life, was down there. And Tomás Herrera, the man she’d been chasing, was the only bridge to him. The choice was hers. Step into the Veil Market, into the heart of the unknown, where the rules were different and the dangers were primal, or let the suspect slip away into the night, leaving her with more questions and a deeper sense of dread. The rain didn’t care. The shadows in the alley didn’t care. Only Quinn, with her sharp jawline set and her worn watch ticking, stood at the precipice, the weight of her partner’s memory and the hunt for the truth pressing down on her. The Veil Market waited.