Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR8W126BN9BQW8B4JMCYBS

The rain was a relentless drumbeat on the city streets, each drop a tiny, cold fist pounding against the pavement. Detective Harlow Quinn's breath misted in the chill air as she sprinted after the fleeing figure, her worn leather watch a heavy presence on her left wrist. The man she pursued darted around a corner, his dark coat a blur against the neon glow of Soho. Quinn's heart pounded in her chest, a metronome keeping time with her footsteps. Her salt-and-pepper hair, closely cropped, was plastered to her scalp by the rain. She rounded the corner, her sharp jaw set, eyes narrowed against the downpour. The man was fast, but she was driven. She could see him, a dark silhouette against the green neon sign of The Raven's Nest. The man skidded to a halt, turning to face her. His eyes, warm brown and wide with fear, met hers for a moment before he spun and disappeared through the distinctive green neon sign's glow. Quinn hesitated, her military precision kicking in. She was out of her jurisdiction here, chasing a suspect into a known supernatural haunt. But she'd come this far, and she wasn't about to turn back now. She stepped into the bar, the dim lighting a stark contrast to the neon-drenched streets. The air was thick with smoke and the hum of hushed conversations. Old maps and black-and-white photographs covered the walls, a testament to the city's history. The patrons were a mix of humans and... others. She could feel their eyes on her, the tension in the room palpable. Quinn pushed through the crowd, her gaze fixed on the door the man had disappeared through. She could feel the weight of her gun in its holster, a comforting presence. She reached the door, her hand hovering over the handle. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay beyond. Then, she pushed the door open and stepped into the unknown. The room beyond was a stark contrast to the bar. It was a hidden back room, accessible only through a bookshelf that swung open on silent hinges. The walls were lined with shelves filled with ancient tomes and strange artifacts. A long table dominated the center of the room, around which sat a group of men and women. They were all human, but there was something off about them. Their eyes were too bright, their skin too pale. Quinn's hand went to her gun, her fingers wrapping around the familiar grip. The man she'd been chasing stood at the head of the table, his chest heaving. He looked at her, fear in his eyes. "You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Quinn's gaze swept the room, taking in every detail. "I'm Detective Quinn," she said, her voice steady. "I'm here for him." She nodded at the man, her eyes never leaving the group at the table. A woman stood, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. She was tall, her hair a cascade of dark curls down her back. Her eyes were a piercing blue, almost too bright to look at directly. "You're not welcome here, Detective," she said, her voice like ice. "This is a private gathering." Quinn's grip tightened on her gun. "I'm not here to cause trouble," she said. "I just want to talk to him." She nodded at the man again, her gaze flicking back to the woman. "Alone." The woman smiled, a cold, humorless expression. "That's not possible, I'm afraid." She took a step towards Quinn, her heels clicking on the stone floor. "You see, we have rules here. Rules that you, as a human, wouldn't understand." Quinn's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the danger in the room, a tangible thing that prickled her skin. But she'd come this far, and she wasn't about to back down now. "I'm not leaving without him," she said, her voice steady. The woman laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "You're brave, I'll give you that," she said. "But you're out of your depth, Detective. This is a world you don't understand. A world you shouldn't even know about." Quinn's gaze swept the room again, taking in the strange artifacts, the too-bright eyes of the people gathered. She thought of DS Morris, of the unexplained circumstances of his death. She thought of the man she'd been chasing, of the fear in his eyes. She made her decision. "I don't care," she said, her voice steady. "I'm not leaving without him." The woman's smile faded, her eyes narrowing. "Very well," she said. "But don't say I didn't warn you." She turned to the man, her voice dropping to a low growl. "Kill her." The room erupted into chaos. The man Quinn had been chasing lunged at her, his eyes wild. She brought her gun up, firing off a shot. The bullet hit him in the shoulder, spinning him around. He fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Quinn's gaze flicked to the woman, who was advancing on her, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Quinn fired again, the bullet hitting the woman in the chest. She stumbled back, surprise etched on her face. Then, she smiled, a slow, cruel curve of her lips. "You can't kill me, Detective," she said, her voice a low purr. "I'm already dead." Quinn's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the fear, the uncertainty, but she pushed it down. She couldn't afford to hesitate, not here, not now. She fired again, the bullet hitting the woman in the head. She fell to the ground, her body dissolving into a pile of ash and bone. The room was silent, the otherworldly glow fading from the eyes of the people gathered. Quinn stood, her gun still raised, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She looked at the man she'd been chasing, at the wound in his shoulder. She holstered her gun, her hands shaking slightly. "I'm Detective Quinn," she said, her voice steady. "You're under arrest." The man looked at her, fear still in his eyes. But there was something else there too, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. "You shouldn't have come here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into." Quinn looked around the room, at the strange artifacts, at the pile of ash and bone that had once been a woman. She thought of the world she'd stumbled into, a world she didn't understand. But she was a detective, and she'd sworn to uphold the law. No matter what world she was in. "I'll take my chances," she said, her voice steady. She reached down, grabbing the man by the arm. She pulled him to his feet, her grip firm. "Let's go," she said, her voice brooking no argument. "You have some explaining to do." As they stepped out of the room, back into the dimly lit bar, Quinn couldn't shake the feeling of unease. She'd come here chasing a suspect, but she'd found something else entirely. She'd found a world hidden within the world she knew, a world of danger and the unknown. And she had a feeling that this was just the beginning.