Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT104G9TBNAWBZ2PK96GRMM

Detective Harlow Quinn ducked under the yellow tape stretched across the entrance of the old, abandoned Tube station. The steady hum of police radios filled the stagnant air, adding tension to the already eerie atmosphere. Quinn's polished shoes clicked against the grime-covered tiles as she descended the cracked, crumbling stairs. Her salt-and-pepper hair, closely cropped to her head, caught the occasional glint of the dim, flickering lights overhead. "Quinn, over here." The voice belonged to DCI Morgan, a stout, clean-shaven man in his early fifties. He stood near the base of the stairs, looking impatient. "It's a mess down here." Quinn joined Morgan at the landing. The underground station still held the melancholy echoes of days when it buzzed with commuters. Now, it served as the setting for a crime scene that defied logic. Bodies lay sprawled across the platform, their lifeless forms twisted into unnatural positions. The smell of decay hung in the air, sharp and metallic, mingling with the pungent odor of damp stone. "Multiple victims," Morgan began, pointing to each body as he spoke. "Looks like some sort of struggle, but no signs of external injuries. Coronary explosion, maybe?" Quinn frowned, her sharp jawline tightening. "Or something else. Have you checked their mouths and eyes?" Morgan shook his head. "Only initial observations so far. Figured we'd wait for the experts." She stepped closer to the nearest body, a middle-aged man in a torn business suit. She knelt and delicately pried open his mouth. His tongue was black and swollen, his eyes wide open and bloodshot, as if he'd seen something that froze him in terror. "Poison?" Morgan ventured, but his tone lacked conviction. Quinn glanced around, her brown eyes catching details others missed. A bone token lay clutched in one victim's hand. Her heart quickened as she recognized its significance — the entry toll to the Veil Market. She leaned in to examine it further, noting the intricate carvings etched into the surface. "What's that?" Morgan's voice cut into her concentration. "Entry token for the Veil Market," Quinn replied. "It's a hidden market specializing in supernatural goods. This isn't a normal crime scene, Morgan." Morgan rubbed his chin, looking skeptical. "Supernatural? Really, Quinn?" She stood and fixed him with a stern gaze. "You know what happened to Morris, Morgan. I'm not going to let personal biases cloud my investigation." Morgan sighed but didn't argue further. Instead, he gestured towards a figure standing at the far end of the platform. "We've got someone here who might be able to shed some light on all this." Quinn's eyes followed his gesture and landed on Eva Kowalski. She hadn't seen Eva in months, but the sight of her freckled face brought a rush of memories. Eva's curly red hair framed her worried features, and she clutched her worn leather satchel as if it were a lifeline. "Eva," Quinn called out as she approached her old friend. "Detective Quinn," Eva smiled weakly, adjusting her round glasses. "I'm glad you're here. This is...something else." Quinn nodded. "You know anything about what might have caused this?" "Possible alchemical substances or cursed items from the Veil Market," Eva said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "But it's hard to tell without examining everything closely." "Let's start with what we can see," Quinn said, urging her to the nearest body. They worked silently, examining the bodies together. Eva pulled out ancient texts from her satchel, referencing obscure terms and rituals. Quinn noticed something odd about the placement of the bodies — they formed a rough circle, almost ritualistic in nature. "Eva, look at this," Quinn said, pointing to the formation. "A summoning circle," Eva surmised, flipping through her notes. "But for what?" "Whatever it was, I think it went wrong," Quinn replied. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted another clue — a small brass compass cradled in another victim's hand. Verdigris had left greenish streaks on the casing. "A Veil Compass," Eva whispered, recognizing the protective sigils etched into the face. "It points towards the nearest supernatural rift or portal." Quinn's mind raced. "What if they were trying to open a portal?" "Unsuccessfully, by the looks of it," Eva agreed. "But why were they here, of all places?" Before Quinn could respond, a sudden chill swept through the room, cutting through the oppressive heat. The lights flickered, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The remaining officers grew visibly tense, their conversations falling into hushed whispers. "We need to check the station's layout," Quinn ordered. "See if there's any hidden passages or rooms that could explain this." Eva nodded and pulled out an old blueprint of the station from her satchel. They pored over it, tracing lines and connections with their fingers. After several minutes, Quinn spotted something — a hidden chamber beneath the platform. "Here," she said, tapping the spot. "There’s another room directly below us." Eva’s eyebrows knitted together. "Why would a Tube station have a hidden chamber?" "To hide something," Quinn suggested. "Or someone." They moved quickly, calling for backup as they located a rusted trapdoor concealed beneath a loose tile. Quinn and Eva exchanged a glance before Quinn forced it open, revealing a narrow staircase leading deeper into the earth. Stale air wafted up, tinged with something fouler than the decay above. Eva hesitated. "Do you think whatever they summoned might still be down there?" "Only one way to find out," Quinn replied, her voice steady. She led the way, her military precision kicking in as they descended into darkness. At the bottom, they discovered a cavernous room lined with symbols painted in blood. At its center stood an altar cluttered with objects both mundane and mystical — candles, bones, and talismans. But it was the partially open iron door at the far end that drew Quinn’s attention. She approached it cautiously. The room beyond contained rows of cages, each holding a slumbering figure. The atmosphere was heavy with an arcane energy that made the hairs on Quinn's neck stand on end. "Prisoners," Eva whispered, horrified. "What were they planning?" "Slaves, sacrifices — I don't know," Quinn replied, biting back her disgust. "But whatever it was, it’s over. We need to get them out of here." As they began freeing the prisoners, Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that they were only scratching the surface. The Veil Market's tendrils had extended deep into London, and this abandoned station was merely one of many dark corners that harbored its secrets. Hours later, as they emerged back into the night air, Quinn felt the weight of unfinished business settle onto her shoulders. The bodies and artifacts would provide clues, but the real answers lay in the shadows. Quinn knew she wouldn’t rest until those shadows were brought into the light.