Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPF4S1JDXHA20ZYJCYCZFQ

The rain drummed against the rusted metal roof of the abandoned Tube station, a steady rhythm that echoed through the cavernous space. Detective Harlow Quinn stepped carefully over the cracked tiles, her boots crunching on the debris scattered across the floor. The beam of her torch cut through the gloom, illuminating the eerie graffiti that covered the walls, symbols and sigils that made her skin prickle. "Quinn, over here," called a voice from the shadows. Detective Sergeant Morris's replacement, Eva Kowalski, stood near a pile of rubble, her round glasses reflecting the dim light. She was no cop, but her knowledge of the occult had proven useful in the past. Quinn trusted her instincts, even if she didn't fully understand them. Quinn joined her, her sharp jaw set in a grim line. The beam of her torch fell upon the body of a man, his eyes wide and unseeing, his mouth frozen in a silent scream. His hands were clawed, as if he had tried to scratch his way out of whatever had killed him. "Same as the others," Eva said, her voice barely above a whisper. She tucked a curl of red hair behind her ear, a nervous habit Quinn had come to recognize. "No signs of struggle, no defensive wounds. Just... terror." Quinn crouched down, her leather watch brushing against the rough fabric of her trousers. She examined the body, her eyes taking in every detail. The man's clothes were expensive, his shoes polished to a shine. Not the kind of man you'd expect to find in a place like this. "Who is he?" Quinn asked, her voice steady. Eva consulted her notepad. "Name's Richard Whitmore. Works for a tech company in Canary Wharf. No criminal record, no known connections to this place." Quinn frowned. "Then what was he doing here?" She stood up, her torch beam sweeping the area around the body. The ground was damp, the air thick with the scent of mildew and something else—something metallic and sharp. She spotted a small brass compass near the body, its face etched with strange symbols. She picked it up, her gloved fingers tracing the verdigris patina. "What's this?" she asked, holding it up for Eva to see. Eva's eyes widened behind her glasses. "A Veil Compass. It's used to locate supernatural rifts or portals." Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Supernatural? You're telling me this guy was into the occult?" Eva shook her head. "Not necessarily. The compass could have been planted. Or he could have been lured here under false pretenses." Quinn pocketed the compass, her mind racing. She walked over to the wall, her torch beam falling upon a strange symbol etched into the graffiti. It was a circle with a line through it, like a crossed-out eye. "What does this mean?" she asked. Eva joined her, her eyes scanning the symbol. "It's a warding symbol. It's used to keep something out—or to keep something in." Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Like what?" Eva hesitated. "I'm not sure. But whatever it is, it's not human." Quinn turned to her, her brown eyes serious. "You're saying this guy was killed by something... supernatural?" Eva met her gaze, her green eyes steady. "I'm saying the evidence points that way. But I could be wrong." Quinn looked back at the body, her mind turning over the possibilities. The evidence didn't add up. There were no signs of a struggle, no signs of a weapon. Just a man, frozen in terror, in a place he shouldn't have been. She turned to Eva, her voice firm. "I need you to find out everything you can about this symbol. And about this compass. If there's something supernatural going on here, I need to know." Eva nodded, tucking her notepad into her satchel. "I'll see what I can find. But Quinn..." Quinn looked at her, waiting. Eva hesitated, then spoke. "Be careful. Whatever did this, it's not something you can arrest. It's not something you can fight with a gun." Quinn met her gaze, her voice steady. "Then I'll find another way." She turned back to the body, her mind already racing ahead. She would find out what had happened here. She would find the truth, no matter what it took. Because that was her job. That was who she was. But as she stood there, in the gloom of the abandoned Tube station, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was stepping into something far beyond her understanding. Something dangerous. Something deadly. And she was walking right into it.