"What-the-fucking-fuck!" a shrill scream echoed through the warehouse, and it startled Jonas from his sleep. As his brain kicked itself into overdrive, he couldn't help but groan in pain as he gently touched his extremely tender ribs. "I told you to get me when he woke up, but now he's half-dead and covered in filth!" the auctioneer's nose sniffed like a dog, "And did one of you piss on him? Fucking animals!"

"Our boss just had a little fun," one guard tried to pin the blame on Rick, "We didn't touch the kid," but this only added fuel to fire as James seemed like he was going to have a heart attack. He continued shouting in the faces of Rick's men, his spit hit their guilty expressions.

"He's our featured product! How the fuck are we going to explain why our featured product comes with a broken rib cage!" with great willpower, James channeled his inner Zen and calmed himself down. "Okay, let's just calm down and figure this out," he spoke aloud but seeing the guards standing around looking so stupid had fired him right back up. "Get him the fuck out of that cage!" he barked as the security guards nearly tripped over each other trying to unlock Jonas' shackles.

"Do you need my help?" a woman's voice came from the hallway.

"Rastia," said James, "You and these brainless idiots will bring our boy to my private bath. Clean him up, and dress him in…" he pursed his lips in deep thought, "White scrubs, like an angel," and a bespectacled black woman dressed in a suit nodded her head, and promptly directed the security guards to lift Jonas by his hands and feet.

"Anything else, sir?" she asked.

"No, just make sure no one else damages the product. I'm going to call that quack to see if he can come to fix the boy up quickly," and James sped off in one direction, his hell phone glued to his ear.

Jonas' blonde locks hung limply towards the floor as they dragged him down a series of hallways, down a set of stairs into a basement, and into an extremely fancy room that was decorated in pink. The way the guards carried him by his hands and feet made Jonas feel like a hunk of bloody meat, one that was about to be spit-roasted.

Tilting his head, he noticed that there was a very large clawfoot bathtub, and he was slowly dropped inside. Along with the bathtub, there was a beautiful sink, a toilet with a fuzzy pink cozy, and a long massage table just off to the side. It was obvious to Jonas that James kept his private bathroom in pristine conditions.

"Strip him, and then stand by the door!" Rastia barked, as the security guards fumbled with the disgusting prison scrubs Jonas was wearing. Her eyebrows slightly wiggled as she glimpsed his naked body, and she began turning the taps. Warm water gushed out of the tap, and within a few minutes, it submerged Jonas' bloody and bruised chest. A fresh wave of pain quivered through his body as an uncomfortable stinging sensation made Jonas bite his lip.

It seemed as if Rastia had experience with bathing her bosses' slaves, as she took off her suit jacket and began getting her hands dirty. Jonas had to admit that being bathed by a woman was much better than the two security guards, at least she was gentle. She ran a soft cloth from his face, down his neck, across his chest, and right to his abs. Jonas could see the dried filth melting off his body with each scrub.

"That oaf did a number on you," her voice was quiet, and she gently traced a finger around Jonas' swollen ribs. Unfortunately for him, his body was so numb he could barely walk, let alone feel the tickling sensation across his chest.

"Well," Jonas said, "He gave me a shot at escaping. I had to at least try."

"Idiot," her insult sounded more like disguised kindness, "You think he was serious? Did you actually think you could beat him?" She began scrubbing shampoo into his hair.

"You gotta risk it to get the biscuit," Jonas gave a small smile, "It wasn't impossible to beat him. If we fought one hundred times, I'd at least win once, I think. I was just hoping this time would be that one win."

"True," said Rastia, as she dunked a container under the water and poured it over his head, rinsing the soap out of his golden hair, "It was stupid though, he's much bigger than you."

"A fight isn't about who's bigger. My older brother says it's about the desire to win, an unwavering mentality, martial arts experience, and a bit of luck," he paused for a moment and conceded, "It helps to be bigger though."

Rastia chuckled, "Things are only going to get worse for you from here on out. You'll be put on a pedestal for all to see, and you'll have to pray that the person who buys you is only half the psychopath as the person they outbid to get you."

"Delightful," sighed Jonas, "Any advice?"

"Get a good look at those who are bidding on you, pick one that you like, and don't break eye contact with them. When people buy pretty boys like you, it's not for mining, fighting, or manual labor. It's usually for fucking," she said as she threw the cloth to Jonas, "You can wash your ass."

"Would it be better to be purchased by a woman then?" Jonas applied a bit of soap to his private areas and scrubbed them.

"The only women who buy sex slaves are the kind you never want to put your dick inside of."

"Sound advice," he added, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Obviously," began Rastia, "If you fetch a good price, I'm due for a promotion," and her smile was like cold water being dumped on his head.

'Is everyone in Hell a piece of shit?' he wondered as he finished bathing.

"Help him out of the bath," Rastia barked as the two guards each grabbed a slender arm and pulled him up onto a towel. Jonas slowly dried himself off, an incredibly hard task to do with cracked bones.

What came next for him was like a day at the spa. Rastia clipped his nails, plucked his eyebrows, trimmed the very little body hair he already had, styled his hair, and even picked out a fresh set of white scrubs. If it wasn't because he was a few hours away from being sold, he might have enjoyed himself.

The bathroom door swung open and two hurried men came rushing in. Jonas made eye contact with the first, who he knew instantly to be that flamboyant boss, James.

"Young man, you look marvelous," he said, while wearing a handsome smile, "Rastia, you've outdone yourself this time."

"Thanks," said Rastia and Jonas, and then he and James began sizing each other up.

"I'm James," said James, "A procurer of black-market goods, human trafficker, and auctioneer extraordinaire," he bowed his head, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," said Jonas. The auctioneer was quite handsome, and that might have been because his grooming techniques were impeccable.

"I'm terribly sorry for the mess my men put you through," said James while wearing an expression of sadness, "I want all my lovely products to be treated with some dignity while they're in my care, that's just the person I wish to be," he stuck out a gloved hand, "No hard feelings?"

Jonas shook the hand without hesitation. Getting mad would not help the situation, especially because he could tell that James the auctioneer did not feel guilty.

"We're good," said Jonas, "But that guy, Rick, I'm going to come back and kill him," to which James' hand froze for a moment. Then a wicked smile crossed his face.

"I look forward to it, truly. I'll even give you his job if you get rid of him for me," and Jonas smiled gratefully and let go of James' hand.

"You can count on me."

"Quack Louie, you 're up," James said to the other man who had entered behind him.

"Quack!" yelled a raspy voice, "Who are you calling a quack? I'm a certified surgeon, I'll have you know!" and the strangest person Jonas had ever seen stepped into his view.

The man wasn't exactly ancient, but he was getting on in years and it didn't help that his appearance made him look somewhat like a beggar. He wore an old cap that had a logo with an angel swinging a baseball bat, ancient moth-eaten prison scrubs the color of murky green, and a pair of knock-off Jordans that looked like they might fall apart at any moment because his crusty toes were nearly showing. He had a dirty face, long oily hair the color of ash, and a thick tufty beard that looked like it could have been home to a flock of birds. Jonas had the impression that this man was most definitely homeless.

"Whatever you say," said James, "Just use your stinky voodoo and heal the boy. I'll reward you twice what I usually pay," and hearing this, the old quack's crooked back straightened, and he flew forward to greet Jonas.

"Double the pay, why didn't you start with that?" he said, "My name is Old Louie and I'll be working on you today," his dirty fingers grabbed Jonas' wrist and Old Louie began feeling his pulse.

"Mm," he said, his mossy teeth and smelly breath still lingering in front of Jonas' face who had to turn his head, "Your men really did a number, but no worries, I'll fix him right up!" the old beggar led Jonas over to the massage bench and had him lay down on his back. "Okay, young man. This will hurt a bit, but I'll have you fixed up before you can say dinner in a dumpster," and he barked laughter at his joke. Jonas pulled up his shirt so that the old quack could look, and he felt an old, calloused hand touch his chest.

Suddenly, a glowing red light appeared just where Old Louie's palm was, and Jonas was horrified as he felt his bones move as if an invisible force were sewing them back together. The skin that had been scraped was woven, the bruises that had turned purple had vanished, and every single cracked bone had mended. Jonas had no other way to describe it, it was just like magic.

"How did you-" Jonas tried to say, but Old Louie cut him off.

"Don't ask my methods foolish boy, I wouldn't tell you even if you paid me," but this didn't dissuade Jonas at all.

"Are you a Sinner?" Jonas asked, and for just the flash of a second, he could have sworn he saw a strange flicker in the gray eyes of Old Louie.

"Sinner?" asked Old Louie, "This is Hell boy, everyone here is a Sinner. Me, you, your mother, this fairy behind me, everyone."

"Shut your mouth," James snapped, "I'm not paying you to talk."

"Okay, don't get your panties in a bunch," said Old Louie with a chortle, "Alright boy, lie down on your stomach now, I want to check the other side," and Jonas did as he was told. Just like before, Old Louie placed a hand on Jonas' back, just between his shoulders. However, his hand twitched, and he let out an involuntary yelp that he quickly covered with a cough.

"Everything okay?" asked Jonas.

"Fine, fine," coughed Old Louie, but his eyes were filled with shock and wonder. "Err… what did you say your name was, boy?"

"Jonas," said Jonas, "Jonas Ariel."

"Jonas Ariel?" whispered Old Louie, but the name didn't ring any bells, and no matter how hard he thought back, he could recall no mention of that name. 'Who the hell is this kid?' his fingers slightly trembled as they traced that auspicious spot on his back. "Say, John, did you come from Earth?"

"Jonas," said Jonas, "But yeah, why?"

"Just curious, as your doctor," said Old Louie, but he had to dig deeper into the strange mystery at his fingertips. "Back when you were alive, did you experience any memory lapses, or perhaps anything strange in that noodle of yours?"

"How?" Jonas felt his body quiver slightly. It baffled him that the old quack had asked such an unexpected question. "Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Chinese acupuncture trick," Old Louie said, "Your chakras are all messed up," but he could never admit aloud that he had just tried to use his voodoo to read Jonas' mind, and instead had the shocking of a lifetime as some strange force nearly electrocuted him into a roasted chicken, 'In all my years,' Old Louie's thoughts quickened, 'I've never seen a seal like that. How many could do it?' he began counting on his fingers, 'Him, her, me, him, and…." his thoughts trailed off as a crazy idea swept through his mind. 'Could it possibly be him?' and goosebumps crawled across his yellowed skin, and his heart began beating like a drum.

The idea made his stomach do somersaults and experience more excitement than he had felt in years. 'The seal is leaking,' Old Louie surmised as he examined the bare patch of tanned skin on Jonas' back, 'Could it have been sabotaged during his death, or perhaps someone had played with it before me?' but the most important question that Old Louie had, and the one that seemed nearly impossible to answer even with his massive supply of experience was, 'Who is this kid, and what does he have to do with him?'

"Everything okay?" Jonas asked, and his words shocked Old Louie back to life.

"Almost done," he said, and he poked Jonas' body in awkward places as if he was performing some old mystical healing technique. 'Should I save the kid?' The thought crossed his mind, but he figuratively shook his head, 'No this isn't my business and I have no proof, but if he is related to him, and I let the boy get hurt, wouldn't I be to blame?'

"Everything in order?" asked James, who was getting impatient. The sight of an old beggar with his dirty hand placed on his product's bareback was very upsetting, and he didn't want to be in his presence any longer.

"Be patient!" yelled Old Louie, "You think healing people is an exact science?" and he continued to prod Jonas' back. 'What are the odds that me and him cross paths, though?' he wondered, 'It had to be one in a trillion chance, unless… unless he put us on the same path on purpose, but if that's the case, I just don't understand what I should do,' poor Old Louie was about to have a heart attack, and he hated the fact that he needed to decide right at that exact moment and felt like it was a decision that would affect everything.