Jaxon RadioHead

Yuki

The flickering light from the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the living room walls as Jessie watched Ms. Bluu sift through a dusty box. Inside, nestled amongst forgotten trinkets, lay a collection of old cell phones.

"What are you doing, Lisbeth?" Jessie finally asked, her voice barely a whisper above the crackling fire.

Ms. Bluu focused intently on one of the devices, her eyes scanning the screen with a furrowed brow. her eyes scanning a screen with a furrowed brow. "Getting Jaxon somewhere safe," she replied, her voice hoarse.

"Safe? There isn't anywhere safe," Jessie countered, despair coloring her tone. "These racists... they've wanted to do this for ages. We were naive to think it was just another opinion. They're going to kill us all."

A glint of steel flickered in Ms. Bluu's eyes as she slammed the phone shut. "No, they're not," she stated with a conviction that surprised even Jessie. "Because when your back is against the wall, you fight back. You fight for the people you love."

She rummaged through the box again, frustration etched on her face. Each phone turned on, used, then discarded. "How do you know?" Jessie pressed, her voice laced with doubt.

Ms. Bluu finally found what she was looking for, a battered phone with a cracked screen. A small smile played on her lips as she plugged it in. The phone sputtered to life, the screen illuminating the worry lines on her face.

Ignoring Jessie's question, Ms. Bluu scrolled through a list of names before stopping at one - (Levon). She pressed the call button, her hand trembling slightly.

A beat of silence followed before Levon responded. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. "Levon," Ms. Bluu breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "I need your help."

A beat of silence followed before Levon responded. "Figured you might call," he said, his voice low and steady. "Crazy stuff going on out there on the East Coast. News is all over the place. I'm gonna get you and Jaxon out of there. Get you somewhere safe."

"Safe? Where's safe?" Ms. Bluu rasped, a flicker of doubt returning to her voice.

"Down south," Levon replied. "Black revolutionaries down here are all about peace, believe it or not. "And..." He hesitated, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Well, we got our own...Ms. Bluu flinched. "I don't want to hear about those... those stupid giant robots."

Levon chuckled, a sound heavy with understanding. "Yeah, I know. New world order, new kind of crazy. But that's the reality now. Giant robots, war machines... whatever you wanna call them."

Jessie, silent until now, finally spoke. "I hate this," she mumbled, her voice choked with emotion. "But okay," she continued, a newfound resolve in her eyes. "We'll be ready."

Ms. Bluu ended the call, her gaze hardening. "He'll be here in ten minutes. Pack a small bag, Jessie. We're getting Jaxon and heading south."

"Is it really safer there?" Jessie asked, a flicker of hope battling the fear that still clung to her voice like smoke. Ms. Bluu nodded, a steely glint in her eyes. "Yes," she said firmly. "Now, go get what you need. We're not staying a moment longer than necessary."

The fire crackled, casting long shadows that seemed to dance with a grim energy. Outside, the world was a cacophony of violence, but within the walls of the living room, a flicker of hope remained. They were leaving the chaos behind, heading south, towards a future uncertain but potentially free. In the face of a world gone mad, they clung to the belief that somewhere, somehow, there might still be a place for peace.

The two white men, their chests puffed out with a twisted sense of righteousness, marched down the street. Their shirts, emblazoned with Jack Razor's face in a snarl, were a beacon of hate amidst the chaos.