Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY906PPG9T5XRSYDXAJYSEQ

The air tasted of damp concrete and something vaguely metallic, like old pennies and ozone. Harlow Quinn ignored it, her boots echoing on the grimy platform of the abandoned Tube station. Overhead, flickering fluorescent lights buzzed, casting a sickly yellow glow over the scene. The Veil Market. Officially, it was just an abandoned ticket office and connecting tunnels. Unofficially, it was a place that shouldn’t exist, a seam in reality stitched together with bone and shadow. She knelt beside the body, the chill of the concrete seeping through her trousers. A man, late fifties maybe, sprawled face-down near a vendor stall that had been selling vials of shimmering liquid – alchemical tinctures, judging by the shattered glass and residual scent. No obvious signs of trauma. No visible wounds. But the man’s skin was the color of ash, his fingers clenched into useless claws. “Cause of death?” Quinn asked, her voice flat, clipped. Sergeant Davies, a fresh-faced constable barely out of training, shifted nervously. "Looks like... rapid cellular decay, ma'am. Doctor says he was perfectly healthy an hour ago. Just... dissolved.” He gestured with his pen toward a small, circular scorch mark on the platform nearby. "Found this too. Looks like some kind of residue.” Quinn examined the scorch mark. It was oddly precise, a perfect circle about the diameter of her palm. The residue felt cool to the touch, almost brittle. Not burn residue. Something… else. She stood, her closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair brushing against the collar of her coat. Her gaze swept the market. Even in its disrupted state, the place pulsed with a strange energy. Stalls lay overturned, wares scattered – dried herbs, carved bone trinkets, bizarre, unidentifiable objects glinting under the harsh fluorescent light. A handful of vendors huddled together, their faces pale and drawn, whispering amongst themselves. The full moon was high above, bathing the hidden market in its ethereal glow. “Witnesses?” Quinn asked Davies. “Few and far between, ma’am. Most claim they didn’t see anything. Said the chaos started suddenly. One vendor insists he saw a ‘shadow flicker’ right before the man collapsed.” Quinn scoffed internally at the expected vagueness. Shadow flicker. Right. “Get those vendors down to the station. I want statements. All of them.” She then noticed Eva Kowalski standing near the entrance to the platform, her round glasses perched precariously on her nose, a worn leather satchel slung across her shoulder. Eva had been a fixture at these bizarre crime scenes ever since Quinn had reluctantly accepted her “expertise” on supernatural matters. “Evie,” Quinn said, acknowledging her with a curt nod. “Your assessment?” Eva chewed on her lower lip, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind her left ear – her signature nervous habit. "The decay… it’s unlike anything I’ve encountered. It felt… targeted. As if something actively consumed him.” “Targeted by what?” Quinn asked, her brown eyes narrowed. “I’m not certain. But the scorch mark… it resonates with a particular kind of energy. A draining energy. It’s almost… resonant.” "Resonant with what?" Quinn pressed. Eva bit her lip more firmly. "Something that feeds on vitality. Something that draws life force.” Quinn’s gaze returned to the scorch mark. “And you think this was an attack?” “It’s… complicated. The Veil Market is chaotic, but it’s usually… stable. This level of disruption feels deliberate. The man wasn’t just a random victim.” “He was buying something,” Quinn pointed out, gesturing towards the overturned stall. “Perhaps something that went wrong.” “Perhaps,” Eva conceded. “But I don't think so. I ran a quick scan. No residual energies from the tinctures, nothing that could have caused this.” Eva drew a small brass compass from her satchel. The casing bore a patina of verdigris, and the face was etched with protective sigils. A Veil Compass. Crafted by a Shade artisan. "The Compass is agitated. There’s a powerful energy signature nearby, residual from what happened.” She held it out, allowing Quinn to examine it. The needle spun wildly, then settled, pointing directly at the scorch mark. Quinn took the Compass, its weight familiar in her hand. She’d acquired it during a previous, equally unsettling investigation. It was her insurance policy against the things that went bump in the night, the things that defied logic and reason. “So, a targeted attack by something that drains life force, centered around a scorch mark,” Quinn summarized, her voice laced with skepticism. “Sounds… specific. Davies, have forensics analyze that residue. I want a full spectrum breakdown. Everything.” Davies saluted, already scribbling in his notebook. "Yes, ma'am." Quinn turned back to the body, carefully observing the scene. Something wasn’t right. The vendors’ fear seemed… performative. And the scattering of goods, while chaotic, felt… staged. "Look at these stalls,” Quinn said, her voice quiet, almost to herself. “Notice anything odd?” Eva approached, her gaze following Quinn's. "They’re overturned, yes. But the items... they haven't been rifled through. It’s like someone created a scene, made it look like a panic.” Quinn nodded slowly. “Exactly. A robbery wouldn't leave items neatly stacked like this. This was about creating a distraction. The man's death was the spectacle, but the robbery was a misdirection.” She crouched down, her sharp jawline tightening, again examining the scorch mark. The residue. It wasn't just cool; it felt… dry. Almost like finely ground dust. Suddenly, it clicked. A memory surfaced, dredged from the murky depths of her mind – a briefing from MI13, a shadowy organization that dealt with the inexplicable. A briefing on Shade technology. "Davies," Quinn called out, her voice gaining an edge. "I need you to run a scan. Check for traces of micro-metallurgy. Specifically, a compound known as Umbra Dust." Davies looked bewildered. "Umbra... Dust, ma'am? What is that?" "It’s a Shade material used in cloaking devices. It absorbs light and energy, rendering objects virtually invisible. It is also incredibly draining to be in close proximity to.” Quinn stood, her gaze sweeping the platform once more. “It isn’t a natural occurrence. And it doesn’t just dissolve people.” Eva’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “Umbra Dust? That's… incredibly dangerous. It's not readily available, even here.” Quinn ignored her, her mind racing. A cloaking device. A targeted attack. A staged scene. It was beginning to coalesce. "Someone used Umbra Dust to neutralize a target, made it look like a sudden death, and then created a diversion," Quinn said, her voice low and dangerous. "They wanted us to focus on the chaos, the potential for something supernatural. They wanted us to miss the subtle details.” She looked at Eva then back at Davies. "Davies, secure the area. No one leaves. I want every inch of this platform scrutinized. And Evie, re-run the energy scan. I need to know if there’s any residual cloaking signature." Quinn took a deep breath, the metallic tang in the air suddenly more potent, more sinister. This wasn't a random act. It was a carefully orchestrated play. And she was starting to suspect that this play had just begun. The question now was who was pulling the strings, and why they chose the Veil Market as their stage. And more importantly, what were they planning to hide?