Luis Morgado and Jake the Snake sit on the back steps of an old boxing gym, the winter air curling around them like smoke.
Luis lights a cigarette. “Man, you and me… we’ve been hassled by cops since we were kids. Every time something goes wrong, they look for us first.”
Jake the Snake cracks his knuckles. “Authority only works one way, brother. They see us as the problem, never the big fish.”
Luis nods slowly. “You still beefin’ with the cops about Bush?”
Jake’s eyes burn. “I’m saying the system covered up all kinds of stuff after the towers fell. Mistakes, negligence, secrets—call it what you want. But every time I speak on it, they act like I’m the criminal. They protect their own. Presidents, billionaires, the boys’ club… untouchable.”
Luis exhales a long cloud. “And when you talk back—”
“They cuff me,” Jake spits. “Every time. Like the truth is illegal.”
Luis places a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “You’re fighting a machine, hermano. You shout, and they plug their ears. But one day the people who built that machine will have to answer for something. Maybe not what you think, but something.”
Jake stares out at the empty street. “I just want justice. Real justice. Not this two-tier garbage where the poor take the fall.”
Luis stands. “Then keep talking. Keep pushing. But stay smart. Let’s fight the right battles. You know you can’t beat them by letting them provoke you.”
Jake sighs. “Yeah… yeah. But it’s hard when you’re tired of being the punching bag.”
Luis grins. “Then we stop being punching bags. We start being teachers. Leaders. Show the world what real authority looks like.”
Jake finally cracks a smile. “You always got a sermon ready, preacher.”
“Somebody’s gotta preach,” Luis says. “Before the whole empire falls asleep.”