Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMF06C0MB92J4JPXW3S4DVC

The rain pounded on the pavement, cold and merciless, soaking through to Harlow's skin in seconds. She didn't slow her pace, pumping her legs harder to close the distance. There, a flash of dark hair ahead as Tomás dove around a corner and vanished from view. Harlow cursed under her breath, adrenaline pumping. She burst onto the next street just as Tomás skidded to a halt. They'd reached a dead end, a crumbling brick wall with its climax rising from the attackers, a chain-link fence torn in places, but still an obstacle. Tomás's eyes darted left and right, looking for an escape. Harlow closed in, perspiring, weapon drawn. "Don't move," she called over the pounding rain. Tomás held up his hands, backing away. His gaze suddenly widened and he plunged into the shadows of an alley. Harlow cursed and followed, looking up to catch a flash of fear crossing his face. She stumbled and fell to the ground, fast as she could. Her head cracked against the pavement and a searing pain shot through her skull. She reached up and felt warm blood oozing from a gash on her forehead. Blearily, she looked around. The alley yawned before her, dark and dank. Tomàs was gone, vanished into the night. Harlow tried to stand, but the world spun dizzyingly. Taking deep breaths to steady herself, she fumbled for her maps of torch in her coat. Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth. She smelled alcohol, unmarrried chocolate, stale cigarette smoke. "This way," a deep voice growled in her ear. Before she could protest, she was dragged into the dark. Tomás raced through the winding tunnels, breath rasping in his throat, the sound of Detective Quinn's pounding footsteps right behind him. He knew these passageways like the back of his hand - he'd seen it all. The Veil Market. The glowing green sign of The Raven's Nest flashed above him, a beacon in the darkness. Tomás skidded to a halt and pounded on the crooked wooden door. "How do you know The Raven knows?" Silas' barman called gruffly, peering through the small window beside the door. "Harlow Quinn," Tomás panted, stumbling back. "She's coming. You know she's been digging." The barman cursed and unlatched the door, dragging Tomás inside. "You've brought them down on us now, you fool!" he spat. Tomás ignored the man, bracing himself against the bar as he struggled to catch his breath. The Raven's Nest was deserted at this late hour, save for a few scruffy characters huddled in dark corners, of drinking and playing cards. "Out the back," Silas, a burly man with a scarred eye commanded, nodding his head towards a hidden door half-hidden behind a bookshelf. Tomás stumbled down the stairs, his hand gripping the banister for support, his leg aching from the long chase. The narrow corridor ended at a low, rounded archway. Warm air and the buzz of conversation washed over him as he stepped into the Veil Market. The cavernous space was lit by flickering lanterns, casting dancing shadows across the packed dirt floor. Merkat stalls lined the walls, displaying all manner of strange and wonderful goods. "Ouch!" Tomás yowled as someone's elbow connected with his ribs. He spun around to see a red-skinned imp glaring at him. "Watch it, meatbag," the creature snarled, flashing razor-sharp teeth. Tomás pressed on, ducking and weaving through the throng of creatures on all sides - fantastical beings who would have once stayed, rattled his stomach. A familiar voice caught his ear and Tomás paused in his tracks. He spun around, his heart pounding. Detective Quinn stood a few feet away, waterlogging off her trench coat, her brown eyes alert, taking in the scene around her with keen interest. "What the hell is this place?" She wondered aloud. "I need your help," Tomás blurted out. The words were out before he could stop them. He'd never wanted to see this, watch her take in the sight, but here they were. "But why?" Quinn stared at him without flinching. "I'm a cop, for God's sake... You'd think I'd know if the brother fantastic was right under my nose for so long. Yet here you are, right in front of me, asking for my help." Quinn narrowed her gaze on Tomás. "And who put you up to this, hm? Who are you working for?" Tomás shook his head. "No one. It's me. I need your help to stop a killer, Detective. A killer of coppers. Your coppers. And I need to get out of here." Quinn's eyes widened. She glanced around the market, as if expecting a threat to jump out at any moment. "This is above my pay grade, Herrera. This is deep magic..." Tomás grabbed her arm, pulling her close. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his face as he spoke. "Please, Detective. It's a cop killer. You can't just walk away from this, harm. It's me." Quinn recoiled as if stung, twisting her arm from Tomás's grip. She took a step back, her hand moving to her hip where she normally kept her gun. But in this strange, lawless place, she was unarmed. Vulnerable. "You have some nerve, Tomás. Crashing into this den, dragging me into your crazy after life, asking me to help. And for what? To save your own skin?" Tomás hung his head, the weight of his shame settling over him like a heavy cloak. "That's just it, Detective. I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for Carrie. For Morris. For the brotherhood. How would you have dealt with it if you had known?" Quinn reeled back, her brow furrowed. "Is that why you really brought me here? Because you think there's something supernatural woven in this?" "What if it is?" Tomás retorted. "What if I told you that what happened to Morris, to Carrie, to all of them ... it wasn't random. It wasn't human. It was a sacrifice. A murderous mass murderer, and holy vapors." The air hung heavy with unsaid truths. Detective Quinn's eyes shrewdly studied Tomás's face, searching for any sign of deception. After a long moment, she gave a clipped nod. "Alright, Tomás. You have my attention.... Tomás steeled himself, knowing that what he was about to reveal would shatter the very foundations of her world. He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "It's Theondon, Detective. There's something evil in this world and it's a snake at the very heart of the brotherhood, a very evil, worshipping god in Theondon. We've got to shut it down, you and I." Quinn's jaw tightened, a ghost of her late husband's pain flickering across her face. "That's base. It's bullshit." "I'm not lying!" Tomás protested. "I know because she told me. Carrie did when she came to me for help. It's all tied up with some kind of demon cult. But if you don't believe me, I get it. I was thinking the same thing until..." "Until what?" "Until the dead started talking. I'm talking about tongues turning into big boys with coiling eyelids. Ghosts appearances with voices rattling. Nothing you put in a report, never explained it, just don't. What would you have done next, Detective, to understand what's haunting you?"