Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRQAKCTVV9S00GWRWSBC6G

Detective Harlow Quinn stepped onto the platform, her worn leather boots echoing in the abandoned Tube station. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of decay and something else - an acrid tang that pricked her nostrils. She glanced at the peeling posters, the rusted tracks, the graffiti-scarred walls. Camden's forgotten underbelly, now a makeshift crime scene. Her partner, Detective Sergeant Thompson, was already there, his lanky frame hunched over a body. He looked up as she approached, his face pale in the harsh glow of the portable lights. "Quinn," he acknowledged, rubbing his gloved hands together to ward off the chill. Harlow crouched beside him, her sharp jaw set. The victim was a young woman, her curly red hair fanned out around her like a bloody halo. Her eyes were open, wide and glassy, staring at nothing. A worn leather satchel lay beside her, its contents spilled - books, a notepad, a round pair of glasses. Harlow picked up the glasses, examined them. "Eva Kowalski," she murmured, recognition flickering in her brown eyes. Thompson nodded. "Her ID was in the satchel. She's a researcher at the British Museum." Harlow stood, her gaze sweeping the scene. Something was off. She could feel it, like a prickle at the back of her neck. She walked to the edge of the platform, looked down at the tracks. No blood spatter, no signs of struggle. No exit wounds, either. Just a neat hole in Eva's temple, a single gunshot wound. "Robbery gone wrong?" Thompson suggested, following her gaze. "She was carrying a wad of cash. Maybe she was meeting someone here, a deal went sour?" Harlow shook her head. "No forced entry, no signs of a struggle. And why meet here? It's isolated, but not that isolated. Too many risks." She turned, her eyes scanning the station again. Her gaze snagged on something glinting in the darkness. She stepped towards it, her military precision evident in her measured stride. It was a compass, small and brass, its casing etched with strange symbols. She picked it up, turned it in her hands. The needle spun wildly, then suddenly stilled, pointing towards the wall. She frowned, tucked it into her pocket. "Quinn?" Thompson asked, joining her. "What is it?" "Something's not right here, Thompson," she said, her voice low. "This isn't a robbery. It's a message." She turned back to the body, her eyes narrowing as she noticed something else. A small, intricate tattoo on Eva's wrist - a symbol she'd seen before. She crouched down, examined it closer. It was a sigil, one she'd seen in the case file of her partner's disappearance three years ago. A case that had been closed, the file sealed, the memory of Morris' death buried under a mountain of bureaucracy. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was no ordinary crime scene. This was a calling card. She stood, her eyes scanning the station again. This time, she saw it. A faint shimmer in the wall, barely visible, but there. She walked towards it, her steps echoing in the silent station. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold brick. It was a rift, a portal. Supernatural energy pulsed from it, strong and steady. "Quinn?" Thompson asked, concern in his voice. "What are you doing?" She ignored him, her mind racing. This was why Morris had disappeared. This was why she'd been chasing shadows for three years. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the Veil Compass. Its needle pointed straight at the rift. "This is a supernatural crime scene, Thompson," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "And I think I know who's behind it." She turned to him, her eyes hard. "Get forensics down here. Tell them to look for trace evidence, anything out of the ordinary. And Thompson?" She paused, her gaze flicking back to the rift. "Be careful. We're not alone down here." With that, she stepped through the rift, leaving Thompson staring after her, his face pale, his mouth open in shock. The station fell silent, the only sound the distant rumble of the Tube, a reminder of the world above, a world that knew nothing of the darkness lurking beneath.