Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR758NRPBBWY51Y93T81HF

The rain hammered down, turning the streets into a blur of neon reflections and slick asphalt. Detective Harlow Quinn sprinted across the road, her boots splashing through puddles that shimmered like oil under the flickering streetlights. Ahead of her, the figure ducked into an alleyway, their hooded jacket flapping like a shadow trying to escape the light. She gritted her teeth and pushed harder, her sharp jawline set in a hard line. The alley was narrow, the bricks slick and crumbling. She slid around the corner, her hand instinctively brushing the holster at her side. The suspect was already halfway down, their silhouette weaving through discarded crates and overflowing bins. Harlow’s breath came in sharp bursts, the cold air biting at her lungs. She adjusted her worn leather watch, her movements precise even in the chaos. "Metropolitan Police!" Her voice cut through the rain, sharp and commanding. The figure didn’t slow. If anything, they moved faster, darting into another alley that led deeper into the labyrinth of Soho. She followed, her military precision keeping her balance steady despite the uneven ground. Water dripped from her closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair, and her brown eyes narrowed as she tracked the suspect’s movements. They were heading toward The Raven’s Nest, the green neon sign visible through the downpour like a beacon. But instead of stopping, the figure veered left, disappearing down a set of stairs that led into the dark below. Harlow hesitated for a fraction of a second. The stairs were steep, the metal railing slick with rain. Her instincts screamed caution, but she didn’t have time to second-guess. She took the steps two at a time, her boots clanging against the metal. The underground was a different world. The air smelled damp and stale, and the walls were lined with graffiti that seemed to shift under the flicker of her flashlight. The suspect was still ahead, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat. She followed the sound, her grip tightening on her flashlight. The tunnel opened up into a cavernous space, the ceiling arching high above. The walls were lined with stalls, their tarps illuminated by lanterns that cast long shadows. The scent of incense and something metallic hung in the air. Harlow froze, her training kicking in as she scanned the scene. This wasn’t just any underground market. This was The Veil Market. She’d heard whispers of it, seen it in reports she wasn’t supposed to have access to. A supernatural black market, filled with things she couldn’t begin to understand. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to breathe evenly. The suspect was here, somewhere in this maze. She stepped forward, her boots crunching on the uneven ground. Her sharp gaze swept over the stalls, taking in the strange wares: jars filled with glowing liquids, bones carved into intricate shapes, and books bound in what looked like human skin. The vendors watched her with hooded eyes, their expressions unreadable. "Lost, detective?" The voice came from her left. She turned, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. A man stepped out from behind a stall, his olive skin glowing in the lantern light. He wore a Saint Christopher medallion around his neck, and the scar on his left forearm stood out like a pale line against his skin. Tomás Herrera. She recognized him from the files. Former paramedic, now something else entirely. "I’m pursuing a suspect." Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed her tension. Tomás raised an eyebrow. "You’re a long way from home, Detective Quinn." She didn’t respond, her gaze flickering past him to the stalls beyond. The suspect had to be here somewhere. "You’re in over your head," Tomás said, his voice low. "This isn’t a place for humans with badges." "I don’t care." Her tone was clipped, her military bearing unyielding. "I’m not leaving without him." Tomás studied her for a moment, his warm brown eyes searching hers. Then he sighed, shaking his head. "You’re going to get yourself killed." "That’s my problem." He hesitated, then gestured to the right. "He went that way. But tread carefully, detective. The Veil doesn’t forgive mistakes." She nodded once, her jaw tight. Then she moved past him, her flashlight cutting through the shadows. The stalls seemed to close in around her, the air growing thicker with every step. She could feel eyes on her, hear whispers that sounded like warnings. Ahead, she spotted movement. The suspect was there, slipping between stalls like a ghost. She quickened her pace, her boots splashing through puddles that glimmered with an unnatural light. "Stop!" she called out, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. The figure glanced back, their hood slipping just enough for her to catch a glimpse of their face. Then they disappeared into a narrow passageway between two stalls. Harlow followed, her pulse racing. The passageway opened into a small alcove, the walls lined with shelves filled with strange objects. The suspect stood in the center, their chest heaving. "This is your last chance," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The figure turned to face her, their expression unreadable. Then they reached into their jacket, pulling out a small object. Before she could react, they threw it to the ground. Smoke billowed up, thick and acrid. She coughed, her eyes watering as she stumbled back. When the smoke cleared, they were gone. She swore under her breath, her sharp jaw clenched in frustration. She scanned the alcove, her flashlight illuminating the shelves. Something caught her eye—a bone token, its surface carved with intricate runes. She picked it up, her fingers brushing against the cold surface. Entry requirement for The Veil Market. Tomás appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed. "Still think you can handle this?" She turned to face him, her expression hardened. "I’m not done yet." He sighed, shaking his head. "You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that. But stubbornness won’t save you down here." "I don’t need saving," she said, her voice firm. "I need answers." Tomás studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you." She pocketed the bone token, her sharp gaze sweeping the alcove one last time. Then she stepped past him, heading back into the market. The lanterns flickered as she walked, their light casting long shadows on the walls. The suspect was still out there, somewhere in the maze of stalls and passages. And she wasn’t leaving without them. The Veil Market stretched out before her, a labyrinth of secrets and danger. She adjusted her watch, her movements precise even in the chaos. Then she stepped forward, her boots echoing against the stone floor. The rain above was a distant memory, drowned out by the whispers of the market and the pounding of her own heart. She wasn’t just chasing a suspect anymore. She was chasing the truth. And she wouldn’t stop until she found it.