AI The neon glow of *The Raven’s Nest* flickered like a dying ember against the storm’s relentless assault, its green sign bleeding through the downpour. Detective Harlow Quinn adjusted the strap of her raincoat, the leather watch on her wrist ticking against the chill . She had been tracking Tomás Herrera for hours, ever since the paramedic had vanished from a shift at the abandoned Tube station beneath Camden. The Veil Market—her name for it—had been rumored to move every full moon, and tonight, it was here.
Her breath fogged in the cold air, her boots splashing through puddles that had turned to black sludge. The suspect, a man with olive skin and a scar along his left forearm, had led her through the labyrinth of Soho alleys, his movements deliberate, his voice low when he spoke. *"You shouldn’t be here,"* he’d said, his accent thick with something that wasn’t Spanish. *"This isn’t for the likes of you."*
Quinn had laughed, sharp and dry. *"Oh, I’m not here for you, Herrera. I’m here for the things you’re selling."*
The rain had turned the pavement slick, the city’s usual hum swallowed by the storm. She could hear the distant wail of sirens, the clatter of footsteps behind her, but she didn’t look back. Not yet. Not until she knew where he was going .
Then she saw it—a flicker of movement beneath the neon glow. A door, half-hidden behind a stack of crates, its surface damp with rain. The kind of place that didn’t belong in the daylight. The kind of place that whispered secrets.
Her fingers tightened around the grip of her pistol, the cold metal familiar after years of use. She had no idea what lay beyond that door. No idea what kind of danger Herrera might be leading her into. But she had a job to do.
She stepped forward, the rain lashing her face, her boots sinking into the mud. The door creaked open with a sound like a sigh, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness. Herrera was already descending, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. *"You shouldn’t be down here,"* he called up, his voice echoing unnaturally. *"This isn’t safe."*
Quinn hesitated. The Veil Market was a place of secrets, of things that shouldn’t exist. Things that could kill her in ways that even the most brutal gunfight couldn’t. But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She took the first step down, the air growing thicker, heavier. The scent of damp earth and something metallic hung in the air , like old blood and rust. Herrera was already halfway down, his hand brushing against something cold and smooth on the wall—a bone token, its surface worn smooth by years of use.
*"You’re not supposed to be here,"* he said again, his voice lower now, more urgent. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn’s pulse hammered in her throat. She had no idea what he meant. But she did know that she wasn’t about to turn back now.
She reached the bottom of the staircase, the air growing even thicker, the walls lined with shelves of strange, glowing objects. Herrera was already moving, his hand brushing against a door, its surface etched with strange symbols. *"Come on,"* he said, his voice barely audible over the storm. *"You’ll see."*
Quinn followed, her boots sinking into the damp earth, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The air grew colder, the light dimmer. She could hear the distant hum of voices, the clatter of footsteps , the sound of something moving in the shadows.
*"You shouldn’t be here,"* Herrera said again, his voice echoing unnaturally . *"This isn’t for the likes of you."*
Quinn didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She had seen enough in her time to know that some places weren’t meant to be seen. But she had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She stepped forward, the door creaking open with a sound like a sigh, revealing a room bathed in an eerie, green light. The air was thick with the scent of something old and decaying, like the inside of a tomb. And in the center of the room, standing before a table laden with strange, glowing objects, was a figure she had never seen before.
She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She stepped forward, the door creaking shut behind her, the storm raging outside, the city’s usual hum swallowed by the storm. The Veil Market was a place of secrets, of things that shouldn’t exist. Things that could kill her in ways that even the most brutal gunfight couldn’t.
But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She took a step forward, the green light casting long, shadowy figures against the walls. Herrera was already moving, his hand brushing against something cold and smooth on the table—a bone token, its surface worn smooth by years of use.
*"You shouldn’t be here,"* he said, his voice barely audible over the storm. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn’s grip tightened on her pistol, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The figure in the center of the room turned, its face obscured by a mask of blackened bone. *"Detective Quinn,"* it said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"You have come at the right time."*
Herrera stepped forward, his hand reaching out, his voice low and urgent. *"She’s not supposed to be here. She’s not supposed to see what’s here."*
Quinn’s eyes locked onto the figure before her, the green light casting long, shadowy figures against the walls. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She took a step forward, the door creaking shut behind her, the storm raging outside. The figure before her raised a hand, its fingers brushing against something cold and smooth—a bone token, its surface worn smooth by years of use.
*"You shouldn’t be here,"* Herrera said, his voice barely audible over the storm’s howl . *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn’s pistol was raised , her finger tightening on the trigger. She had seen enough in her time to know that some places weren’t meant to be seen. But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She fired.
The shot echoed through the room, the bullet striking the figure’s chest, sending it crashing to the ground. Herrera stumbled back, his hand flying to his side, his eyes wide with shock. The figure on the ground didn’t move, its eyes locked onto Quinn, its voice echoing unnaturally. *"You shouldn’t be here,"* it said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn’s breath came in short, sharp gasps, her pistol still raised, her finger tightening on the trigger. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She fired again.
The figure on the ground didn’t move. Herrera was already running, his hand reaching out, his voice barely audible over the storm’s howl. *"She’s not supposed to be here. She’s not supposed to see what’s here."*
Quinn’s eyes locked onto the figure before her, the green light casting long, shadowy figures against the walls. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a job to do.
She fired a third time.
The figure on the ground lay still, its eyes locked onto Quinn, its voice echoing unnaturally. *"You shouldn’t be here,"* it said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn’s pistol was still raised, her finger tightening on the trigger. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She turned her gaze to Herrera, who was already climbing the staircase, his hand brushing against the bone token on the wall. *"Come on,"* he said, his voice barely audible over the storm. *"You’ll see."*
Quinn’s eyes locked onto the figure on the ground, the green light casting long, shadowy figures against the walls. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a job to do.
She followed Herrera up the staircase, the storm raging outside, the city’s usual hum swallowed by the storm. The Veil Market was a place of secrets, of things that shouldn’t exist. Things that could kill her in ways that even the most brutal gunfight couldn’t.
But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She reached the top of the staircase, the door creaking open with a sound like a sigh, revealing the dim glow of *The Raven’s Nest *. Herrera was already stepping out, his hand brushing against the bone token on the wall, the green neon sign flickering above them.
*"You shouldn’t be here,"* he said, his voice barely audible over the storm. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn stepped out, her pistol still raised, her finger tightening on the trigger. The figure on the ground lay still, its eyes locked onto her, its voice echoing unnaturally. *"You shouldn’t be here,"* it said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
She fired one last time.
The shot echoed through the bar, the bullet striking the wall behind Herrera, sending a shower of dust and debris raining down. Herrera stumbled back, his hand flying to his side, his eyes wide with shock. The figure on the ground didn’t move, its eyes locked onto Quinn, its voice echoing unnaturally.
*"You shouldn’t be here,"* it said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn’s pistol was still raised, her finger tightening on the trigger. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She turned her gaze to the figure on the ground, the green neon sign flickering above them, the storm raging outside. The Veil Market was a place of secrets, of things that shouldn’t exist.
She lowered her pistol, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a job to do.
She stepped forward, the figure on the ground lying still, its eyes locked onto her, its voice echoing unnaturally.
*"You shouldn’t be here,"* it said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn knelt beside the figure, her fingers brushing against its cold, smooth skin. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small, black device—a recorder, its surface cold and smooth. She pressed the button, her voice barely audible over the storm’s howl.
*"Detective Quinn here,"* she said, her voice steady and firm . *"I’m here to ask some questions. And I’m not leaving until I get answers."*
She pressed the button again, the figure’s voice echoing unnaturally through the device.
*"You shouldn’t be here,"* it said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
Quinn’s eyes locked onto the figure on the ground, the green neon sign flickering above them, the storm raging outside. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She stood up, her pistol still raised, her finger tightening on the trigger. The figure on the ground lay still, its eyes locked onto her, its voice echoing unnaturally.
*"You shouldn’t be here,"* it said, its voice like dry leaves skittering across stone. *"This is a place for the chosen."*
She turned to Herrera, who was already stepping out of the bar, his hand brushing against the bone token on the wall. *"Come on,"* he said, his voice barely audible over the storm. *"You’ll see."*
Quinn’s eyes locked onto the figure on the ground, the green neon sign casting long shadows against the walls. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a job to do.
She followed Herrera out into the storm, the rain lashing her face, her boots splashing through puddles that had turned to black sludge. The city’s usual hum was swallowed by the storm, the distant wail of sirens echoing through the night.
As they stepped into the rain-soaked streets, Quinn couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just walked into something far bigger than she ever imagined. But she had a partner’s body in her hands, and she wasn’t about to let some underground black market decide who lived and who died.
She adjusted the strap of her raincoat, the leather watch on her wrist ticking against the cold. She had no idea what kind of danger lay ahead. But she had a job to do.
And she was going to get answers.