Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR3N5VPPAD6EK21M3D01SY

The rain fell in sheets, drenching the streets of Soho. Detective Harlow Quinn pressed her back against the cold brick wall of a narrow alley, her breath coming in sharp bursts. She peered around the corner, eyes narrowed, scanning the slick pavement for any sign of movement. The neon glow of The Raven's Nest flickered in the distance, casting an eerie light on the puddles that formed like small mirrors on the ground. A figure darted past, a blur of dark clothing. Quinn's heart raced. She pushed off the wall, her worn leather watch creaking against her wrist as she sprinted after the suspect. The sound of her footsteps splashed against the pavement, echoing in the empty street. “Stop!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the night. The figure glanced back, eyes wide, and then bolted down a side street. Quinn followed, her sharp jaw set in determination. She had lost too much already; she wouldn’t let this one slip away. The suspect turned sharply, disappearing into the shadows of an alley. Quinn skidded to a halt, water splashing around her boots. She hesitated, the darkness ahead swallowing the figure whole. A flicker of doubt crossed her mind, but she pushed it aside. She had to know what they were hiding. She stepped into the alley, the rain drumming on her coat. The air felt thick, charged with something she couldn’t quite place. Quinn moved cautiously, her instincts honed from years on the force. The alley twisted and turned, leading her deeper into the heart of the city’s underbelly. A sudden noise—a clatter of metal—echoed from ahead. Quinn quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest. She rounded a corner and found herself at the entrance of an abandoned Tube station. The sign above read “Camden,” but it looked like it hadn’t seen a train in years. The suspect stood at the edge of the platform, glancing back at her, a smirk playing on their lips. Quinn’s gut twisted. She could feel the danger radiating from the place, but she couldn’t let fear dictate her actions. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be!” she called out, stepping closer. The suspect hesitated, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the station. Quinn took a deep breath, the damp air filling her lungs. She stepped onto the platform, the sound of her boots echoing in the cavernous space. The flickering lights overhead cast long shadows, and the smell of mildew hung heavy in the air. “Where are you?” she muttered, scanning the darkness. The suspect had vanished, but she could feel the pulse of something alive in the air, something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. A low laugh echoed from the depths of the station. Quinn’s heart raced. She moved forward, her hand instinctively resting on the grip of her service weapon. “Show yourself!” she demanded, her voice steady despite the unease creeping into her bones. The laughter stopped, replaced by a heavy silence. Quinn stepped further into the station, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She spotted a flicker of movement at the far end, where the tracks disappeared into darkness. “Enough games!” she shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls. “I’m not playing around.” The figure reappeared, stepping into the light. It was a man, his face obscured by a hood. He held something in his hand—a small, bone-like token that glimmered in the low light. “Looking for something?” he taunted, his voice smooth and mocking. Quinn narrowed her eyes. “You know what I’m looking for. Where’s the information on the clique?” He chuckled, the sound echoing in the empty station. “You think you can just waltz in here and demand answers? This isn’t your world, Detective.” She stepped closer, her jaw tightening. “I don’t care about your world. I care about the truth.” He tilted his head, studying her. “The truth? You’re in the Veil Market now. You’ll need a bone token to get in.” Quinn’s mind raced. The Veil Market. She had heard whispers of it, a hidden place where the supernatural mingled with the mundane. It was dangerous, a realm she had never ventured into. But she had no choice. The suspect was slipping away, and she needed answers. “Where do I get one?” she asked, her voice low. The man smirked, stepping back into the shadows. “You’ll have to earn it. Or find someone who can help you.” “Help me?” Quinn scoffed. “I don’t need help.” “Sure you don’t,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “But you’re not the first detective to chase shadows. You might want to reconsider.” Quinn clenched her fists, frustration boiling beneath her skin. She had lost her partner three years ago, and the pain of that loss still haunted her. She wouldn’t let this lead slip away. “Tell me how to get in,” she demanded, her voice firm. He shrugged, the bone token glinting in the dim light. “You’ll have to find a way to prove yourself. The Market doesn’t take kindly to outsiders.” Quinn’s mind raced. She could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She could turn back, return to the familiar streets above, or she could plunge into the unknown, risking everything for a chance at the truth. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady. “I’ll do what it takes.” The man’s smile widened, revealing a hint of amusement. “Good luck, Detective. You’ll need it.” With that, he slipped into the shadows, leaving Quinn alone in the echoing silence of the abandoned station. She stood there for a moment, rain-soaked and resolute, the weight of her choice settling in. The Veil Market awaited, a world of secrets and danger. Quinn took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. She stepped forward, ready to chase the truth, no matter where it led.