NC Bench
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Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0NG5WMAW9VBENXBRR16Y5G
Run Details
Model:
GPT-5.5 (Reasoning, Low)
Test:
Bad Writing Habits
Scenario:
Thriller: chase through city streets
Duration:
1m 36s
Cost:
$0.119780
Provider:
OpenAI
Evaluation summary
Score
Evaluator
Details Link
100.00%
Adverbs in dialogue tags
(details)
100.00%
AI-ism adverb frequency
(details)
100.00%
AI-ism character names
(details)
100.00%
AI-ism location names
(details)
77.82%
AI-ism word frequency
(details)
100.00%
Cliché density
(details)
100.00%
Emotion telling (show vs. tell)
(details)
100.00%
Filter word density
(details)
100.00%
Gibberish response detection
(details)
100.00%
Markdown formatting overuse
(details)
100.00%
Missing dialogue indicators (quotation marks)
(details)
16.67%
Name drop frequency
(details)
100.00%
Narrator intent-glossing
(details)
100.00%
"Not X but Y" pattern overuse
(details)
100.00%
Overuse of "that" (subordinate clause padding)
(details)
100.00%
Paragraph length variance
(details)
100.00%
Passive voice overuse
(details)
100.00%
Past progressive (was/were + -ing) overuse
(details)
100.00%
Em-dash & semicolon overuse
(details)
100.00%
Purple prose (modifier overload)
(details)
100.00%
Repeated phrase echo
(details)
100.00%
Sentence length variance
(details)
51.01%
Sentence opener variety
(details)
100.00%
Adverb-first sentence starts
(details)
100.00%
Pronoun-first sentence starts
(details)
39.05%
Subject-first sentence starts
(details)
0.00%
Subordinate conjunction sentence starts
(details)
100.00%
Technical jargon density
(details)
100.00%
Useless dialogue additions
(details)
100.00%
Dialogue tag variety (said vs. fancy)
(details)
89.4849%
Overall
Model input
System
You are an expert and award-winning novel writer in the dark Thriller genre. Your readers are hooked on your stories and can't wait to read the book you have in store. <important> - MUST: Start each chapter in medias res (in the middle of action). AVOID talking about the weather, time of day, the position of the sun, or other boring stuff. - The instructions/summary are just a that, a summary. Feel free to add details, stretch sections and add interesting transitions/descriptions/fillers. - When called for it, have fast-paced action, but otherwise take things slow. This is an experience, and not for people with short attention spans. Enjoy the wine, not slurp Red Bull. - Add descriptions when transitioning places/times/etc, or when coming by new places (e.g. a corner shop, a cafe, etc.). But remember: NOT at the start or end of a chapter. - MUST: AVOID ending in internal monologue, reminiscing or waiting for the next day. A good chapter end is when we're ending right when shit hits the fan. We want to have the reader be excited for what comes next. So no reminiscing, contemplating or summarizing the day. It's popcorn time! </important>
User/Human
Take into account the following glossary of characters/locations/items/lore... when writing your response: <codex> <character id="4416" name="Detective Harlow Quinn" aliases="Quinn, Detective Quinn, Harlow" pronouns="she/her" species="Human" storyRole="Antagonist"> <eyeColor>brown</eyeColor> <hair>closely cropped salt-and-pepper</hair> <height>5'9"</height> <age>41</age> <jawline>sharp jaw</jawline> <watch>worn leather watch on her left wrist</watch> <bearing>military precision</bearing> <description>A Metropolitan Police detective with 18 years of decorated service who suspects the clique is involved in criminal activity.</description> <backstory>She lost her partner, DS Morris, during a case three years ago under unexplained circumstances that had supernatural origins she doesn't yet understand.</backstory> </character> <character id="4417" name="Tomás Herrera" aliases="Tommy, Tomás, Herrera" pronouns="he/him" species="Human" storyRole="Support"> <eyeColor>warm brown</eyeColor> <hair>short curly dark brown</hair> <height>5'10"</height> <age>29</age> <skinTone>olive skin</skinTone> <scar>scar running along his left forearm from a knife attack</scar> <medallion>Saint Christopher medallion around his neck</medallion> <birthplace>Seville, Spain</birthplace> <description>A former paramedic who provides off-the-books medical care for the clique.</description> <backstory>Born in Seville, Spain. He moved to London to work for the NHS but lost his license after administering unauthorized treatments to supernatural patients.</backstory> </character> <location id="854" name="The Raven's Nest" aliases="the Nest, Raven, Silas' bar" realm="Earth"> <signColor>distinctive green neon sign above the entrance</signColor> <secretRoom>hidden back room accessible through a bookshelf, used for clandestine meetings</secretRoom> <description>A dimly lit bar in Soho, London. The walls are covered with old maps and black-and-white photographs.</description> </location> <location id="856" name="The Veil Market" aliases="Veil Market, the Market, underground market" realm="Earth"> <currentLocation>abandoned Tube station beneath Camden</currentLocation> <entryRequirement>bone token</entryRequirement> <schedule>moves locations every full moon</schedule> <description>A hidden supernatural black market that sells enchanted goods, banned alchemical substances, and information.</description> </location> </codex> <proseGuidelines> <styleGuide> - Write in past tense and use British English spelling and grammar - Keep a Flesch reading ease score of 60 - Respect the the Royal Order of Adjectives: The order is: opinion, size, age, shape, color, origin, material, purpose, followed by the noun itself (e.g., "a lovely little old rectangular green French silver whittling knife") - Respect the ablaut reduplication rule (e.g. tick-tock, flip-flop) - Write in active voice - Passive voice: <bad>The book was read by Sarah.</bad> - Active voice: <good>Sarah read the book.</good> - Reduce the use of passive verbs - <bad>For a moment, I was tempted to throw in the towel.</bad> - <good>For a moment, I felt tempted to throw in the towel.</good> - Avoid misplaced modifiers that can cause confusion when starting with "-ing" words: - <bad>Considering going to the store, the empty fridge reflected in Betty's eyes.</bad> - <good>Betty stared into the empty fridge. It was time to go to the store.</good> - Avoid redundant adverbs that state the obvious meaning already contained in the verb: - <bad>She whispered quietly to her mom.</bad> - <good>She whispered to her mom.</good> - Use stronger, more descriptive verbs over weak ones: - <bad>Daniel drove quickly to his mother's house.</bad> - <good>Daniel raced to his mother's house.</good> - Omit adverbs that don't add solid meaning like "extremely", "definitely", "truly", "very", "really": - <bad>The movie was extremely boring.</bad> - <good>The movie was dull.</good> - Use adverbs to replace clunky phrasing when they increase clarity: - <bad>He threw the bags into the corner in a rough manner.</bad> - <good>He threw the bags into the corner roughly.</good> - Avoid making simple thoughts needlessly complex: - <bad>After I woke up in the morning the other day, I went downstairs, turned on the stove, and made myself a very good omelet.</bad> - <good>I cooked a delicious omelet for breakfast yesterday morning.</good> - Never backload sentences by putting the main idea at the end: - <bad>I decided not to wear too many layers because it's really hot outside.</bad> - <good>It's sweltering outside today, so I dressed light.</good> - Omit nonessential details that don't contribute to the core meaning: - <bad>It doesn't matter what kind of coffee I buy, where it's from, or if it's organic or not—I need to have cream because I really don't like how the bitterness makes me feel.</bad> - <good>I add cream to my coffee because the bitter taste makes me feel unwell.</good> - Always follow the "show, don't tell" principle. For instance: - Telling: <bad>Michael was terribly afraid of the dark.</bad> - Showing: <good>Michael tensed as his mother switched off the light and left the room.</good>- Telling: <bad>I walked through the forest. It was already Fall, and I was getting cold.</bad> - Showing: <good>Dry orange leaves crunched under my feet. I pulled my coat's collar up and rubbed my hands together.</good>- Add sensory details (sight, smell, taste, sound, touch) to support the "showing" (but keep an active voice) - <bad>The room was filled with the scent of copper.</bad> - <good>Copper stung my nostrils. Blood. Recent.</good> - Use descriptive language more sporadically. While vivid descriptions are engaging, human writers often use them in bursts rather than consistently throughout a piece. When adding them, make them count! Like when we transition from one location to the next, or someone is reminiscing their past, or explaining a concept/their dream... - Avoid adverbs and clichés and overused/commonly used phrases. Aim for fresh and original descriptions. - Avoid writing all sentences in the typical subject, verb, object structure. Mix short, punchy sentences with long, descriptive ones. Drop fill words to add variety. Like so: <good>Locked. Seems like someone doesn't want his secrets exposed. I can work with that.</good> - Convey events and story through dialogue. It is important to keep a unique voice for every character and make it consistent. - Write dialogue that reveals characters' personalities, motivations, emotions, and attitudes in an interesting and compelling manner - Leave dialogue unattributed. If needed, only use "he/she said" dialogue tags and convey people's actions or face expressions through their speech. Dialogue always is standalone, never part of a paragraph. Like so: - <bad>"I don't know," Helena said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders</bad> - <good>"No idea" "Why not? It was your responsibility"</good> - Avoid boring and mushy dialog and descriptions, have dialogue always continue the action, never stall or include unnecessary fluff. Vary the descriptions to not repeat yourself. Avoid conversations that are just "Let's go" "yes, let's" or "Are you ready?" "Yes I'm ready". Those are not interesting. Think hard about every situtation and word of text before writing dialogue. If it doesn't serve a purpose and it's just people talking about their day, leave it. No one wants to have a normal dinner scene, something needs to happen for it to be in the story. Words are expensive to print, so make sure they count! - Put dialogue on its own paragraph to separate scene and action. - Use body language to reveal hidden feelings and implied accusations- Imply feelings and thoughts, never state them directly - NEVER use indicators of uncertainty like "trying" or "maybe" - NEVER use em-dashes, use commas for asides instead </styleGuide> <voiceGuide> Each character in the story needs to have distinct speech patterns: - Word choice preferences - Sentence length tendencies - Cultural/educational influences - Verbal tics and catchphrases Learn how each person talks and continue in their style, and use their Codex entries as reference. <examples> - <bad>"We need to go now." "Yes, we should leave." "I agree."</bad> <good>"Time's up." "Indeed, our departure is rather overdue." "Whatever, let's bounce."</good> - Power Dynamic Example: <bad> "We need to discuss the contract." "Yes, let's talk about it." "I have concerns." </bad> <good> "A word about the contract." "Of course, Mr. Blackwood. Whatever you need." "The terms seem..." A manicured nail tapped the desk. "Inadequate." "I can explain every-" "Can you?" </good> </examples> </voiceGuide> <dialogueFlow> When writing dialogue, consider that it usually has a goal in mind, which gives it a certain flow. Make dialogue sections also quite snappy in the back and forth, and don't spread the lines out as much. It's good to have details before, after, or as a chunk in-between, but we don't want to have a trail of "dialogue breadcrumbs" spread throughout a conversation. <examples> - Pattern 1 - Question/Deflection/Revelation: <good> "Where were you last night?" "Work. The usual." "Lipstick's an interesting shade for spreadsheets." </good> - Pattern 2 - Statement/Contradiction/Escalation: <good> "Your brother's clean." "Tommy doesn't touch drugs." "I'm holding his tox screen." </good> - Pattern 3 - Observation/Denial/Truth: <good> "That's a new watch." "Birthday gift." "We both know what birthdays mean in this business." </good> - Example - A Simple Coffee Order: <bad> "I'll have a coffee." "What size?" "Large, please." </bad> <good> "Black coffee.""Size?""Large. Been a long night." "That bodega shooting?" "You watch too much news." "My brother owns that store." </good> This short exchange: - Advances plot (reveals connection to crime) - Shows character (cop working late) - Creates tension (unexpected connection) - Sets up future conflict (personal stake) - Example - Dinner Scene: <bad> "Pass the salt." "Here you go." "Thanks." </bad> <good> "Salt?" "Perfect as is. Mother's recipe." "Mother always did prefer... bland things." "Unlike your first wife?" </good> - Example - Office Small Talk: <bad> "Nice weather today." "Yes, very nice." "Good for golf." </bad> <good> "Perfect golf weather." "Shame about your membership." "Temporary suspension. Board meets next week." "I know. I called the vote." </good> </examples> </dialogueFlow> <subtextGuide> - Layer dialogue with hidden meaning: <bad>"I hate you!" she yelled angrily.</bad> <good>"I made your favorite dinner." The burnt pot sat accusingly on the stove.</good> - Create tension through indirect communication: <bad>"Are you cheating on me?"</bad> <good>"Late meeting again?" The lipstick stain on his collar caught the light.</good> <examples> - Example 1 - Unspoken Betrayal: <bad> "Did you tell them about our plans?" "No, I would never betray you." "I don't believe you." </bad> <good> "Funny. Johnson mentioned our expansion plans today." "The market's full of rumors." "Mentioned the exact numbers, actually." The pen in his hand snapped. </good> - Example 2 - Failed Marriage: <bad> "You're never home anymore." "I have to work late." "I miss you." </bad> <good> "Your dinner's in the microwave. Again." "Meetings ran long." "They always do." She folded the same shirt for the third time. </good> - Example 3 - Power Struggle: <bad> "You can't fire me." "I'm the boss." "I'll fight this." </bad> <good> "That's my father's nameplate you're sitting behind." "Was." "The board meeting's on Thursday." </good> </examples> </subtextGuide> <sceneDetail> While writing dialogue makes things more fun, sometimes we need to add detail to not have it be a full on theatre piece. <examples> - Example A (Power Dynamic Scene) <good> "Where's my money?" The ledger snapped shut. "I need more time." "Interesting." He pulled out a familiar gold pocket watch. My mother's. "Time is exactly what you bargained with last month." "That was different-" "Was it?" The watch dangled between us. "Four generations of O'Reillys have wound this every night. Your mother. Your grandmother. Your great-grandmother.Shall we see who winds it next?" </good> - Example B (Action Chase) It's much better to be in the head of the character experiencing it, showing a bit of their though-process, mannerisms and personality: <good> Three rules for surviving a goblin chase in Covent Garden: Don't run straight. Don't look back. Don't let them herd you underground. I broke the first rule at Drury Lane. Rookie mistake. The fruit cart I dodged sailed into the wall behind me. Glass shattered. Someone screamed about insurance. *Tourist season's getting rough*, the scream seemed to say. Londoners adapt fast. "Oi! Market's closed!" The goblin's accent was pure East End. They're evolving. Learning. I spotted the Warren Street tube station sign ahead. *Shit.* There went rule three. </good> - Example C (Crime Scene Investigation) <good> "Greek." Davies snapped photos of the symbols. "No, wait. Reverse Greek." "Someone's been watching too many horror films." I picked up a receipt from the floor. Occult supply shop in Camden. Paid by credit card. *Amateur hour*. "Could be dangerous though," Davies said. "Remember Bristol?" "Bristol was Sanskrit. And actual cultists." I pointed to the nearest symbol. "This genius wrote 'darkness' backwards but used a Sigma instead of an S. It's summoning Instagram followers at best." "Speaking of followers..." Davies pointed to heavy foot traffic in the dust. Multiple sets. All new trainers. *Ah.* "Anyone check local uni paranormal societies?" </good> - Example D (Dialogue-heavy) <good> "Found your card in her wallet." The detective slid it across the table. Worn edges. Folded corner. Three years old at least. "Standard practice. I work missing persons." "Funny thing about missing persons.Eventually they stop being missing. Turn up in the Thames. Under motorways. In pieces." "I don't-" "You found four last year. All breathing." She opened a file. "This would've been your first dead one. If we hadn't found her first." The card felt heavier somehow. </good> </examples> </sceneDetail> <sceneOpenings> KEY RULE: Never open with more than one paragraph of description, no matter how beautiful. Description should be earned through action and dialogue. Instead of opening with setting description, open with: - A character doing something specific - A line of dialogue that raises questions - An unexpected observation - A moment of tension or conflict - Start with a hook that's 1-2 sentences maximum - Follow with a smaller paragraph that provides immediate context - Vary paragraph size from the start to create visual interest </sceneOpenings> </proseGuidelines> Write a chapter based on the following instructions: <instructions> Write a fully fleshed out scene of at least 1000 words in the thriller genre. A detective is pursuing a suspect through rain-soaked city streets at night. The chase takes them from the street level down into an underground market. The detective must decide whether to follow the suspect into unfamiliar and potentially dangerous territory. Use the codex entries above as your world reference for characters and setting. Only include the prose of the scene without any markdown or commentary. </instructions>
Model response
Messages
Meta
AI
Detective Harlow Quinn hit the
bonnet of a black cab, rolled hard across wet metal, and came down on the far side with her warrant card still clenched between her teeth.
The suspect vaulted a bicycle
rack ahead of her, coat flaring, one hand clamped to his ribs where Quinn had clipped him with a baton outside The Raven’s Nest.
He cut left into traffic
without looking. A bus horn bellowed. Brakes shrieked.
Someone shouted something obscene about
police funding.
Quinn spat the warrant card
into her palm and ran. “Met Police. Move.”
People moved when she used
that voice. Not all of them fast enough.
She shouldered past a man
in a plastic poncho, slipped on a smear of dropped noodles, recovered, and drove on.
Her boots slapped through gutter
water.
Her lungs burned with the
sour taste of diesel and old beer. Ahead, the suspect glanced back once. Young male. Thin. Shaved head. Dark coat. Blood on his right hand. Fear in every angle of him, but not the usual kind. Quinn knew the difference. Eighteen years on the job had taught her that guilty men looked over their shoulders for uniforms, witnesses, cameras.
This one looked at the
spaces between things, doorways, drains, shadowed stairwells, as if something there could answer him.
She had seen that look
on Morris three years ago, seconds before the alley swallowed him. Not tonight.
The green neon sign of
The Raven’s Nest
flickered
behind her, staining the puddles the colour of surgical fluid. Silas’ bar sat tucked between a shuttered tailor and a late-night phone repair shop, all old brick and bad decisions. Inside, the walls wore black-and-white photographs and brittle old maps like evidence no one had bagged.
Quinn had stepped through its
door twenty minutes earlier with two uniforms, a fraud warrant, and a polite question about missing blood stocks from St Thomas’.
Then the bookshelf at the
back had opened. Then the suspect had bolted.
Then one of the uniforms
had screamed at something Quinn still refused to file in her head as real. “Stop!” The suspect did not stop. They never did.
He crashed through a knot
of smokers outside a club.
Sparks from a cigarette scattered
across his coat sleeve. Quinn gained three paces when he stumbled, lost two when he threw a bin behind him. The metal barrel spun across the pavement, vomited takeaway boxes and broken glass, and clipped Quinn’s shin. Pain flashed white. She did not slow.
Her left wrist throbbed beneath
the worn leather
watch
. Morris used to call it her metronome, said he could tell how angry she felt by how often she checked it.
She did not check it
now. Time had narrowed to breath,
footfall
, distance. The suspect cut down an alley beside a closed bakery. Quinn followed, baton out. The alley squeezed the city into brick, steam, and rot. Rainwater crawled down fire escapes. A kitchen extractor fan belched hot fat into the air. The suspect kicked through stacked crates, scrambled over a low wall, and dropped into the service yard beyond. Quinn planted one boot on a crate, one on the wall, and went over. She landed badly. Her knee buckled.
Her palm slapped the ground
near a dead rat with its belly opened clean as a surgeon’s cut. No. Not a rat. Too many legs.
She pushed up before her
eyes could settle on it. The suspect wrenched open a chain-link gate and plunged into a narrow lane. Camden Road lay ahead, slick with headlights and reflected signage.
He crossed between two vans
and nearly vanished behind a passing lorry. Quinn burst after him. A car skidded close enough to tug her coat with its wake. “Are you blind?” “Police.” “Doesn’t make you immortal, love.” “Write to your MP.” She kept moving. On the far pavement, the suspect paused at the entrance to an abandoned Tube station. The old frontage sagged between a vape shop and a boarded betting office, its tiles cracked, its sign stripped down to a rusted circle and bar. A black iron gate blocked the stairwell. Someone had looped chains through it thick enough to moor a boat. The suspect reached into his mouth. Quinn slowed.
He spat something into his
palm, small and pale.
He pressed it to the
lock. The chains dropped. Not slipped. Not broke. Dropped, as if every link had forgotten the point of holding on. Quinn raised her baton. “Step away from the gate.” The suspect stared at her through the bars. Rain tracked down his face and carried blood from his nose to his mouth. “You don’t want me.” “People keep telling me what I want. Hands where I can see them.” “You followed the wrong man.” “Story of my career.”
He gave a thin, cracked
laugh, then pulled the gate open and ran down the stairs. Quinn reached the entrance in six strides and stopped. The stairwell breathed cold air into her face. Not the stale damp of a closed station. Not mould, rat piss, rust. This carried incense, hot copper, wet stone, and something sweet enough to rot teeth. Sounds rose from below, muffled by distance. Voices. Haggling. A bell. A goat bleating, then cutting off mid-note.
Her radio hissed on her
shoulder. “Quinn? Quinn, respond.” She looked back across the road. Traffic flowed past in bright, broken streaks. Ordinary London pressed close, kebab shops, night buses, cash machines, drunk students under one umbrella, a cyclist swearing at a taxi. Behind her, above the pavement, cameras watched the station entrance. Real cameras. Court cameras. Cameras that made a case. Below, no warrant. No backup. No map. The suspect’s
footsteps
faded. “Quinn, where are you?” She thumbed the radio. “Camden. Disused station off the high street. Suspect went underground.” “Wait for support.” Quinn looked at the chains on the ground. Each link had tiny symbols
etched
into the metal. They shifted when she looked straight at them, crawling away from focus like insects under a torch. “Negative.” “Boss, you’ve got blood on air. We heard screaming back there. What happened at the bar?” A memory forced itself up. The back room behind the bookshelf. A table strewn with glass vials. Old maps on the wall marked with pins. Tomás Herrera crouched over a woman on the floor, olive-skinned hands slick with black blood, Saint Christopher medallion swinging against his shirt. His short curly dark brown hair had stuck to his brow. His left forearm scar had flashed pale under the bar light as he injected something silver into the woman’s neck. Quinn had pointed her taser at him. “Step back.” Tomás had not moved. “She loses the vein, she loses the body.” “That sentence won’t help you in interview.” “No, detective. It will help her stay inside her skin.”
Then the woman’s mouth had
opened wider than bone allowed. Quinn swallowed the taste of bile. “Quinn?” “Suspect carries evidence linked to the Raven’s Nest incident. I’m pursuing.” “Support is six minutes out.” She stepped through the gate. “I’ll leave breadcrumbs.” “What?” The radio crackled as she descended, and the city signal died three steps later. The stairwell dropped deeper than any abandoned station should. Old posters clung to the walls in strips, advertising theatre shows from decades past, soap flakes, cheap holidays, missing children with telephone numbers that no longer existed. Someone had painted fresh arrows over them in red. Not paint. Quinn touched one with two fingers and smelled iron. Blood, recent enough to tack. Her boot struck something that crunched. Bone token. She crouched. The object looked like a coin shaved from ivory, warm despite the cold stair. A hole pierced its centre, threaded with black string. One side bore a crude carving of an eye. The other carried the same crawling marks as the chain. The suspect had used one at the gate. Entry token. Tool. Key. She bagged it in an evidence pouch and moved on. The stairs ended at a tiled concourse that should have sat empty, bricked off, forgotten.
Instead, it opened into a
market. Quinn stopped in the shadow of a rusted ticket barrier. The old station had grown a second life under London. Stalls crowded the platform edges, stitched together from tarpaulin, brass poles, railway sleepers, and bones too long for cattle. Lanterns burned with blue flames inside jars. Cages hung from ceiling pipes. Something in one cage whispered names in the voices of children. A butcher hacked at meat that shivered after each cut. A woman with pearl pins through her lips sold little black bottles from a
velvet
case. A bald man in a Savile Row waistcoat weighed teeth on a jeweller’s scale. The station sign still read CAMDEN TOWN, but someone had scratched another name beneath it. THE VEIL MARKET. Quinn kept to the wall. Her first mistake had been coming alone. Her second would be looking impressed. People noticed her anyway. Conversation thinned stall by stall. Faces turned. Some human. Some close enough to pass at a glance. Some not built for glances. A tall figure in a long green coat folded an extra pair of arms beneath the fabric. Two little girls with silver eyes stopped playing knucklebones and smiled with too many teeth. Quinn lifted her warrant card. “Metropolitan Police.” A few traders laughed. Not loud. Worse than loud. Polite. A woman behind a stall of dried herbs leaned forward. She had grey hair braided to her waist and tiny bird skulls sewn into her collar. “Lost property is that way, love.” “I’m looking for a man. Shaved head. Dark coat. Bleeding.” “Bleeding narrows it less than you think down here.” Quinn showed the woman her baton. “This narrows my patience.” The woman’s smile held. “Surface law stops at the first step, detective.” “You know my rank?” “You wear it in the jaw.” Quinn moved closer. Herbs crackled under the woman’s gloved hands. Some looked like roots. Some looked like fingers. “Where did he go?” “Bone token gets you in. It doesn’t buy questions.” Quinn took the bagged token from her pocket and held it up. “What does this buy?” The woman’s eyes sharpened. “That wasn’t offered.” “No. I confiscated it.” “Then you owe the Market.” “I don’t owe markets. I shut them.” The woman laughed then, but the sound died when Quinn leaned in far enough for the stall’s blue lamp to catch her brown eyes. “Eighteen years in London, I’ve heard every version of untouchable. Gangs. Ministers. Bankers. Men with boats and lawyers and friends in uniform. They all say the same thing before I find their ledgers.” “This place has no ledgers.” “Then I’ll start with receipts.” A hand clamped around Quinn’s wrist. Fast. Cold. Too many knuckles. She moved on training. Twist, step in, elbow to the hinge. The hand’s owner hissed and folded. Quinn drove him face-first into the herb stall. Jars toppled. Powder burst green across the air. The market changed tone. Not panic. Interest. Quinn pressed her baton under the attacker’s jaw. He wore the face of a young man, but his pupils stretched sideways like a goat’s. “Touch me again and I’ll find out how many joints I can break before your friends finish pricing me.” The herb woman lifted both palms. “Down the Northern line tunnel. He asked for the Red Finch.” “What’s the Red Finch?” “Information with a
pulse
.” The attacker gurgled under the baton. Quinn released him and backed away. No one followed at once. That mattered. Predators liked certainty. She crossed the concourse, eyes moving, senses sorting threat from theatre. A stall to her left sold banned alchemical substances in labelled jars, Moonmilk, Grave Salt, Angel’s Breath. On her right, a man in a raincoat opened his chest like a cabinet and displayed watches hung where ribs should sit. Tick-tock, tick-tock, all out of rhythm. Her own leather
watch
answered with its honest little
pulse
. A boy no older than twelve stepped into her path. He wore an oversized school blazer and held a tray of boiled sweets. “Memory drop, detective? First one’s free if you hate yourself.” “Move.” “I’ve got partner specials.” Quinn’s baton lifted a fraction. The boy glanced at her left wrist, then at her face. “Not that one, then.” She caught his collar before he could slip away. “Who told you about my partner?” “Everyone knows fresh grief. Yours went stale but never dried.” She tightened her grip. His smile faltered. “I just sell sweets.” “You sell bait.” His eyes
flicked
over her shoulder, towards the tunnel mouth beyond the far platform. There. The suspect slipped behind a curtain of hanging chains at the end of the platform. Quinn shoved the boy aside and ran. The market erupted around her. Someone shouted a warning in a language that scraped like knives on slate. A stallholder snatched a tray of glass eyes out of her path. Quinn hurdled a low crate filled with pale eels. One snapped at her boot and left smoking spit on the leather. She drove through the chain curtain and entered the old tunnel. The rails stretched into blackness, but lanterns marked a path along the sleepers. Here the market thinned into private trades. Curtains hung across old maintenance alcoves. Voices murmured behind them. A woman sobbed. A man recited numbers in a flat voice. Coins clinked. Flesh slapped against stone. Quinn spotted blood on the gravel. The suspect had slowed. Good. She followed the drops past a signal box and a mound of discarded umbrellas. The tunnel bent, and the market noise dimmed behind her. Ahead, a red glow
pulsed
behind a canvas screen painted with a bird, its beak stitched shut. The Red Finch. Quinn approached with her baton low and her warrant card high, though down here one had more value than the other. A voice came from behind the screen. “Police don’t knock?” “Suspects don’t wait.” “Depends what they’re buying.” She pulled the canvas aside. The room beyond had once served as a staff office. Someone had stripped it to brick and lined the walls with cages full of paper birds. Each bird folded and unfolded itself, wings rasping with the dry sound of old files. A narrow desk sat in the centre. Behind it perched a woman with red feathers braided into her black hair and a cigarette burning between two fingers. Her eyes had no whites. The suspect stood beside the desk, one hand pressed to his wound. He held a knife to Tomás Herrera’s throat. Quinn’s grip tightened around the baton. Tomás looked worse than he had at the bar. Blood mottled his grey T-shirt. His Saint Christopher medallion had tangled in the suspect’s fist. The scar along his left forearm stood raised and pale where someone had bound his wrists with copper wire. His warm brown eyes found Quinn. “Detective. You took your time.” “Traffic.” The suspect jerked the knife hard enough to draw a red bead under Tomás’ jaw. “No jokes. No police voice. Put it down.” Quinn did not move. “You ran from a crime scene.” “I ran from execution.” “You stabbed a uniform.” “He put hands on the wrong patient.” Tomás inhaled through his nose. Controlled. Paramedic breathing, even tied to a chair with a blade at his throat. “His name is Ezra Vale. He came to the Nest with a bite wound and half a prophecy carved into his back.” “Tommy.” “I warned you, chico. If you grab my medallion, I become less Catholic.” The feathered woman tapped ash into a saucer made from a small skull. “Business before theatre. He paid for a name.” Quinn kept her eyes on Ezra. “What name?” Ezra’s face twisted. “The thing that took your Morris.” The room narrowed. Tomás shut his eyes for half a second. “Ezra, don’t.” Quinn took one step forward. “You don’t know that name.” “I know where he died.” “No one knows where he died.” Ezra smiled through blood. “That’s because he didn’t.” The paper birds beat their wings at once. Files rustled inside their folded bodies. The feathered woman stopped smiling. Quinn’s voice dropped. “Say that again.” Ezra pressed the knife deeper into Tomás’ throat. “Back up.” “Say it again.” Tomás shifted his bound hands. Copper wire bit into his skin. “Harlow.” She looked at him. Not Detective. Not Quinn. Harlow. Tomás’ gaze
flicked
down.
Too late, she heard the
click beneath her boot. The floor opened. Quinn fell through the office, through a throat of brick and iron, and hit a sloped chute hard enough to steal breath. Her baton spun away into darkness. She clawed at the sides. Brick tore her palms. The chute spat her out onto a lower platform, and she slammed across cracked tiles into the base of an old signal post. For one second, she heard nothing but her own blood. Then the lights came on. Not lamps. Eyes. Dozens of them opened along the walls, pale and wet, set into the tiles like living bulbs. They turned in unison towards her. Above, Ezra shouted. Tomás cursed in Spanish. A chair scraped. The feathered woman shrieked, high and furious. Quinn pushed herself up, one hand on her ribs, and saw a figure at the far end of the platform. Tall. Still. Familiar in the set of the shoulders. DS Morris stood beyond the line, three years dead, wearing the same torn coat from the night he vanished. His mouth opened. “Run.” Behind Quinn, something huge unfolded from the tunnel ceiling and dropped onto the tracks with a sound like wet canvas hitting bone.
created_at
"2026-04-24T21:14:29.15Z"
4/24/2026, 9:14:29 PM
model
"openai/gpt-5.5-20260423"
app_id
182717
external_user
(null)
streamed
true
cancelled
false
latency
6131
moderation_latency
(null)
generation_time
95988
tokens_prompt
4663
tokens_completion
4926
native_tokens_prompt
4132
native_tokens_completion
3880
native_tokens_completion_images
0
native_tokens_reasoning
72
native_tokens_cached
3840
num_media_prompt
(null)
num_input_audio_prompt
(null)
num_media_completion
0
num_search_results
(null)
num_fetches
(null)
web_search_engine
(null)
origin
"https://ncbench.com/"
is_byok
false
finish_reason
"stop"
native_finish_reason
"completed"
usage
0.11978
router
(null)
provider_responses
0
endpoint_id
"58e5b336-423e-430b-a2ab-8bc353f0c51b"
id
"resp_08e2f8393a1b2bd80169ebdd353db0819094ed291206c2f775"
is_byok
false
latency
255
model_permaslug
"openai/gpt-5.5-20260423"
provider_name
"OpenAI"
status
200
user_agent
"langchainjs-openai/1.0.0 ((node/v24.14.1; linux; x64))"
http_referer
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request_id
"req-1777065269-7VCae7gXwt3GhJbCzYHG"
session_id
(null)
api_type
"completions"
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"gen-1777065269-g5yIbVHPDk5MIk2QMBSR"
upstream_id
"resp_08e2f8393a1b2bd80169ebdd353db0819094ed291206c2f775"
total_cost
0.11978
cache_discount
0.01728
upstream_inference_cost
0
provider_name
"OpenAI"
response_cache_source_id
(null)
Evaluation details
Result
Evaluator
Details
Meta Data
100.00%
Adverbs in dialogue tags
Target: ≤10% dialogue tags with adverbs
totalTags
2
adverbTagCount
0
adverbTags
(empty)
dialogueSentences
82
tagDensity
0.024
leniency
0.049
rawRatio
0
effectiveRatio
0
100.00%
AI-ism adverb frequency
Target: <2% AI-ism adverbs (58 tracked)
wordCount
2931
totalAiIsmAdverbs
0
found
(empty)
highlights
(empty)
100.00%
AI-ism character names
Target: 0 AI-default names (17 tracked, −20% each)
codexExemptions
(empty)
found
(empty)
100.00%
AI-ism location names
Target: 0 AI-default location names (33 tracked, −20% each)
codexExemptions
(empty)
found
(empty)
77.82%
AI-ism word frequency
Target: <2% AI-ism words (290 tracked)
wordCount
2931
totalAiIsms
13
found
0
word
"flickered"
count
1
1
word
"throbbed"
count
1
2
word
"footfall"
count
1
3
word
"footsteps"
count
1
4
word
"etched"
count
1
5
word
"velvet"
count
1
6
word
"pulse"
count
2
7
word
"grave"
count
1
8
word
"flicked"
count
2
9
word
"pulsed"
count
1
10
word
"familiar"
count
1
highlights
0
"flickered"
1
"throbbed"
2
"footfall"
3
"footsteps"
4
"etched"
5
"velvet"
6
"pulse"
7
"grave"
8
"flicked"
9
"pulsed"
10
"familiar"
100.00%
Cliché density
Target: ≤1 cliche(s) per 800-word window
totalCliches
0
maxInWindow
0
found
(empty)
highlights
(empty)
100.00%
Emotion telling (show vs. tell)
Target: ≤3% sentences with emotion telling
emotionTells
0
narrationSentences
297
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Filter word density
Target: ≤3% sentences with filter/hedge words
filterCount
2
hedgeCount
1
narrationSentences
297
filterMatches
0
"watch"
hedgeMatches
0
"try to"
100.00%
Gibberish response detection
Target: ≤1% gibberish-like sentences (hard fail if a sentence exceeds 800 words)
analyzedSentences
381
gibberishSentences
0
adjustedGibberishSentences
0
longSentenceCount
0
runOnParagraphCount
0
giantParagraphCount
0
wordSaladCount
0
repetitionLoopCount
0
controlTokenCount
0
repeatedSegmentCount
0
maxSentenceWordsSeen
33
ratio
0
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Markdown formatting overuse
Target: ≤5% words in markdown formatting
markdownSpans
0
markdownWords
0
totalWords
2931
ratio
0
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Missing dialogue indicators (quotation marks)
Target: ≤10% speech attributions without quotation marks
totalAttributions
14
unquotedAttributions
1
matches
0
"Above, Ezra shouted."
16.67%
Name drop frequency
Target: ≤1.0 per-name mentions per 100 words
totalMentions
92
wordCount
2432
uniqueNames
26
maxNameDensity
1.81
worstName
"Quinn"
maxWindowNameDensity
4.5
worstWindowName
"Quinn"
discoveredNames
Harlow
2
Quinn
44
Raven
2
Nest
2
Morris
3
St
1
Road
1
Tube
1
London
2
Herrera
2
Saint
2
Christopher
2
Savile
1
Row
1
Moonmilk
1
Grave
1
Salt
1
Angel
1
Breath
1
Red
1
Finch
1
Tomás
8
Ezra
5
Detective
2
Spanish
1
Blood
3
persons
0
"Harlow"
1
"Quinn"
2
"Raven"
3
"Nest"
4
"Morris"
5
"Herrera"
6
"Saint"
7
"Christopher"
8
"Angel"
9
"Tomás"
10
"Ezra"
places
0
"St"
1
"Road"
2
"London"
3
"Savile"
4
"Breath"
5
"Red"
6
"Spanish"
globalScore
0.595
windowScore
0.167
100.00%
Narrator intent-glossing
Target: ≤2% narration sentences with intent-glossing patterns
analyzedSentences
177
glossingSentenceCount
1
matches
0
"looked like a coin shaved from ivory, war"
100.00%
"Not X but Y" pattern overuse
Target: ≤1 "not X but Y" per 1000 words
totalMatches
0
per1kWords
0
wordCount
2931
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Overuse of "that" (subordinate clause padding)
Target: ≤2% sentences with "that" clauses
thatCount
2
totalSentences
381
matches
0
"used that voice"
1
"seen that look"
100.00%
Paragraph length variance
Target: CV ≥0.5 for paragraph word counts
totalParagraphs
226
mean
12.97
std
16.27
cv
1.254
sampleLengths
0
31
1
49
2
10
3
3
4
13
5
44
6
23
7
42
8
16
9
2
10
81
11
8
12
5
13
19
14
1
15
8
16
52
17
3
18
4
19
43
20
14
21
43
22
14
23
24
24
4
25
3
26
10
27
35
28
4
29
12
30
3
31
1
32
5
33
4
34
3
35
60
36
6
37
2
38
15
39
3
40
16
41
4
42
5
43
22
44
4
45
13
46
5
47
4
48
16
49
9
100.00%
Passive voice overuse
Target: ≤2% passive sentences
passiveCount
0
totalSentences
297
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Past progressive (was/were + -ing) overuse
Target: ≤2% past progressive verbs
pastProgressiveCount
0
totalVerbs
411
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Em-dash & semicolon overuse
Target: ≤2% sentences with em-dashes/semicolons
emDashCount
0
semicolonCount
0
flaggedSentences
0
totalSentences
381
ratio
0
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Purple prose (modifier overload)
Target: <4% adverbs, <2% -ly adverbs, no adj stacking
wordCount
564
adjectiveStacks
0
stackExamples
(empty)
adverbCount
9
adverbRatio
0.015957446808510637
lyAdverbCount
0
lyAdverbRatio
0
100.00%
Repeated phrase echo
Target: ≤20% sentences with echoes (window: 2)
totalSentences
381
echoCount
0
echoWords
(empty)
100.00%
Sentence length variance
Target: CV ≥0.4 for sentence word counts
totalSentences
381
mean
7.69
std
5.89
cv
0.766
sampleLengths
0
31
1
29
2
7
3
4
4
2
5
7
6
10
7
3
8
7
9
6
10
20
11
6
12
12
13
6
14
2
15
1
16
2
17
2
18
5
19
11
20
4
21
19
22
19
23
16
24
2
25
19
26
20
27
16
28
26
29
8
30
5
31
19
32
1
33
5
34
3
35
10
36
9
37
16
38
17
39
3
40
4
41
9
42
21
43
6
44
7
45
10
46
4
47
10
48
5
49
10
51.01%
Sentence opener variety
Target: ≥60% unique sentence openers
consecutiveRepeats
24
diversityRatio
0.3438320209973753
totalSentences
381
uniqueOpeners
131
100.00%
Adverb-first sentence starts
Target: ≥3% sentences starting with an adverb
adverbCount
9
totalSentences
253
matches
0
"Then the bookshelf at the"
1
"Then the suspect had bolted."
2
"Then one of the uniforms"
3
"Too many legs."
4
"Then the woman’s mouth had"
5
"Instead, it opened into a"
6
"Too many knuckles."
7
"Too late, she heard the"
8
"Then the lights came on."
ratio
0.036
100.00%
Pronoun-first sentence starts
Target: ≤30% sentences starting with a pronoun
pronounCount
52
totalSentences
253
matches
0
"He cut left into traffic"
1
"She shouldered past a man"
2
"Her boots slapped through gutter"
3
"Her lungs burned with the"
4
"She had seen that look"
5
"They never did."
6
"He crashed through a knot"
7
"She did not slow."
8
"Her left wrist throbbed beneath"
9
"She did not check it"
10
"She landed badly."
11
"Her knee buckled."
12
"Her palm slapped the ground"
13
"She pushed up before her"
14
"He crossed between two vans"
15
"She kept moving."
16
"He spat something into his"
17
"He pressed it to the"
18
"He gave a thin, cracked"
19
"Her radio hissed on her"
ratio
0.206
39.05%
Subject-first sentence starts
Target: ≤72% sentences starting with a subject
subjectCount
213
totalSentences
253
matches
0
"Detective Harlow Quinn hit the"
1
"The suspect vaulted a bicycle"
2
"He cut left into traffic"
3
"A bus horn bellowed."
4
"Someone shouted something obscene about"
5
"Quinn spat the warrant card"
6
"People moved when she used"
7
"She shouldered past a man"
8
"Her boots slapped through gutter"
9
"Her lungs burned with the"
10
"Blood on his right hand."
11
"Quinn knew the difference."
12
"This one looked at the"
13
"She had seen that look"
14
"The green neon sign of"
15
"Quinn had stepped through its"
16
"The suspect did not stop."
17
"They never did."
18
"He crashed through a knot"
19
"Sparks from a cigarette scattered"
ratio
0.842
0.00%
Subordinate conjunction sentence starts
Target: ≥2% sentences starting with a subordinating conjunction
subConjCount
0
totalSentences
253
matches
(empty)
ratio
0
100.00%
Technical jargon density
Target: ≤6% sentences with technical-jargon patterns
analyzedSentences
96
technicalSentenceCount
0
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Useless dialogue additions
Target: ≤5% dialogue tags with trailing filler fragments
totalTags
2
uselessAdditionCount
0
matches
(empty)
100.00%
Dialogue tag variety (said vs. fancy)
Target: ≤10% fancy dialogue tags
totalTags
1
fancyCount
1
fancyTags
0
"Ezra pressed (press)"
dialogueSentences
82
tagDensity
0.012
leniency
0.024
rawRatio
1
effectiveRatio
0.024
89.4849%