Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQRMS8WVPARYD3HV9XC2WD

Rain lashed down on the deserted streets of Soho, casting a misty veil over the neon signs of late-night bars and clubs. Detective Harlow Quinn sprinted down the sidewalk, her eyes fixed on the fleeing figure of Tomás Herrera, his dark curly hair plastered to his scalp. Her worn leather watch glinted faintly on her left wrist as she pumped her arms, military precision etched in every stride. "Stop! Police!" Quinn bellowed, but her voice was swallowed by the downpour. Herrera darted between two pedestrians, who cursed as they stumbled apart. He vanished into the alley beside The Raven's Nest, the distinctive green neon sign above the entrance casting an eerie glow on the wet pavement. Quinn followed, her sharp jaw set in determination. She had been tracking Herrera for weeks, suspecting his involvement with the clique in a string of paranormal-linked crimes. As she entered the alley, a hand reached out from the shadows, yanking Herrera into the darkness. Quinn drew her pistol, thumbing off the safety. "I have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!" The only response was the creaking of a hidden door, which swung shut with a soft thud. Quinn approached cautiously, pistol trained on the door. A faded sign on the wall read "Camden Tube Station - Staff Only". Her heart sank. This wasn't the entrance to the Nest's secret room; it was something else entirely. With a deep breath, Quinn pushed the door open, revealing a set of rickety stairs plunging into darkness. The air wafting up reeked of damp earth and ozone. A shiver ran down her spine. This was no ordinary entrance. She holstered her pistol and fished out her phone, but the screen remained blank - no signal. "Herrera, listen to me!" Quinn called down into the abyss. "Whatever you're involved in, it's not worth risking your life. Come back up, and we'll talk." The only response was the distant hum of murmured conversations and the faint chime of vendors calling out their wares. Quinn's eyes narrowed. The Veil Market. It had to be. She'd heard whispers of the supernatural black market, always staying one step ahead of the law. This was the break she needed - a chance to infiltrate the market and gather concrete evidence against the clique. With a quiet oath, Quinn began her descent, the steps creaking beneath her weight. At the bottom, she found herself in a dimly lit, cavernous space - the abandoned Tube station beneath Camden. The air thrummed with the pulse of the market. Vendors and patrons milled about, their faces illuminated by flickering candles and lanterns. Quinn's gaze swept the crowd, searching for Herrera's dark curly hair. A nearby stall caught her attention, where a hooded figure peddled an assortment of twinkling vials and unusual artifacts. "...the essence of moonstone," the figure murmured to a potential buyer. "Guaranteed to enhance your nocturnal...ah, pursuits." Quinn's eyes locked onto a bone token lying on the stall's counter, the Veil Market's entry requirement. Her presence here was already a risk; without the token, she was a trespasser. She spotted Herrera across the room, his Saint Christopher medallion glinting as he leaned in to converse with a figure shrouded in shadows. Quinn's decision crystallized - follow Herrera, and risk everything, or retreat while she still could. Her hand instinctively went to her holster, a reassurance that she wasn't entirely defenseless. The thrum of the market, the whispers, and the shadows all seemed to close in around her. With a quiet, resolute breath, Quinn stepped forward, disappearing into the crowd, her eyes fixed intently on Tomás Herrera's fading form. "I'm not losing you tonight, Herrera," she muttered, the words lost in the din of the Veil Market. As she wove through the crowd, the darkness seemed to swallow her whole, leaving only the faint glint of her leather watch and the soft, relentless patter of rain above, a reminder of the world she'd left behind.