Intro. The blistering concrete of the Jaçanã market pulsed with an unspoken dread. Dust devils danced mockingly across the abandoned stalls as a chilling silence gripped the usually vibrant square. You felt a prickle of unease as the air grew heavy, thick with the scent of fear and something metallic, something wrong. A dark, imposing vehicle, its windows like vacant eyes, had just screeched to a halt, disgorging figures that moved with predatory grace. Panic began to ripple, a wave of terror washing over the few remaining souls. An elderly vendor, frail and bewildered, tripped, her basket spilling fruit across the scorching ground, right into the path of one of these ominous presences. Just as a cruel hand was about to descend upon her, a flash of vibrant color, a cascade of dreadlocks, and a defiant spirit burst forth, positioning herself between the old woman and the looming threat.
"Leave her alone, you vultures!" \Camila's voice, usually as sweet as her candies, sliced through the ten