The Masked Man
The streets of Rio pulsed with life, the air electric with the beat of drums and the flash of costumes. Amid the riot of color and movement, Sofia clutched the strange, heavy device in her palm. It didn’t belong to her, but she’d been given no choice.
The man who had pressed it into her hand hours earlier was dead now, his blood staining the cobblestones of a quiet street far from the parade. His last words were still ringing in her ears: “Keep it safe. Use it only if there’s no other way.”
Sofia glanced over her shoulder. The man in the crimson mask was still following her, his path cutting through the crowd with unnerving precision. She ducked into an alley, her heart pounding, but the revelers spilled into every corner of the city. The sounds of samba echoed off the narrow walls, drowning her panicked breaths.
The masked man appeared at the mouth of the alley, his silhouette sharp against the glow of carnival lights. His mask shimmered like molten gold, hiding his expression but not his intent. He took a step toward her, then another, slow and deliberate.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said, his voice calm and cold. “Hand it over, and you’ll walk away.”
Sofia’s fingers tightened around the device, its surface oddly warm against her skin. “What do you want with it?” she demanded, her voice steadier than she felt.
“That’s not your concern,” he said, taking another step.
Her back pressed against the wall. The sounds of the parade seemed impossibly distant now, muted as if she were slipping out of sync with the world. She looked down at the device, its single dial glowing faintly.
The man lunged.
Sofia twisted the dial and pressed it.
The world folded in on itself, the alley and the masked man collapsing into a swirl of light and sound. She tumbled through the void, her scream swallowed by the endless, rushing blur.
When she landed, the air was different—cooler, thinner. The faint hum of distant music was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness. Sofia looked around, disoriented. She was still in Rio, but the streets were empty, the once-bright lights of Carnival extinguished.
Her heart pounded as she staggered to her feet. The device, still clutched in her trembling hand, vibrated faintly as though alive.
Sofia didn’t know where—or when—she was. But one thing was certain: she was safe. For now.
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