Jonas slept completely drunk. He was soundless, thoughtless, without dreams, and without desire. He had no sense of direction, or memory of who he was, where he was, or what he was doing. In a sense, one could say that Jonas was dead, as he had not even the slightest sense of self. Unfortunately for Jonas, he wasn’t dead.

Sudden sharp pain and frozen fear awoke him from his coma, and what he witnessed felt so strange, because his brain was not yet awake enough to process it. The panic and anxiety were all that fueled him.

“Wake up, slave!” a nasty voice shouted, it belonged to a pony-tailed man with a pair of eagle eyes. He was holding a wooden bucket, and Jonas soon realized that the cold feeling that had hit him was freezing water. It had drenched his hair and clothes and made him shiver as he looked around himself, horrified to find that he was once again in an iron cage, and worse of all, his limbs had been shackled.

“Who are you, where am I?” His voice was dry and cracked, he felt like he hadn’t drunk liquids in months. His head was splitting down the middle as he painfully tried to recall what had happened to him the night before.

“Slaves don’t ask questions, they obey!” yelled the eagle-eyed man, and he smashed the cage bars loudly with an iron rod, the echoing sound was torture to Jonas’ muddleheaded brain.

‘What happened to me?’ he began to wonder as he looked around the room that he was in. It wasn’t overly large, but it appeared to be an underground cellar, and stacked against the walls were various cages just like his own, with people locked inside just like himself, ‘I was drinking with Old Louie, I think.’

“Slave, you are now the property of the Hurts gang, and as such you will address me as Master.”

“How did I become your- “

“Slave!” the man shouted venomously, “You will not speak unless spoken to. Do not make me come in and punish you,” and after he felt like his message had gotten across, he continued his speech, “You have been sold as a slave to the Hurts gang, and as an organization that specializes in underground cage fighting, you will be either a fighter or a dummy, depending on your skill. A fighter refers to the person who we send to fight for our gang, while a dummy refers to living punching bags that are used to train our fighters. Unfortunately for you,” snarled the man, “You’re too small to be a fighter,” Jonas was having an internal panic attack as he slowly concluded that he was once again a slave, and even worse, he was nothing but a punching bag for much bigger slaves.

‘Where the fuck is Old Louie?’ he was struggling in his heart as he examined the cages, hoping to see the familiar old face of his master because, with his powers as a Sinner, they would be able to break out in no time. Unfortunately for Jonas, he was unable to see that old, wrinkly, and wretched face that he had become so familiar with.

“Here’s how your day will go,” began the slave master, “You wake up, you eat, you shit, you do your duty as a dummy, and if you survive, you go back into your cage to repeat the cycle,” and he added, “No questions, no escaping, and definitely no second portions.”

“Sure,” said Jonas quietly as he tried to examine the various escape routes. There was only one door in and out of the cellar he was in.

“Unfortunately for you,” began the slave master, “You missed the time to eat, and shit, so you’ll be headed straight to the fight pits for your duties as a dummy,” and he pulled a key ring from his belt and unlocked the cage, “Out!” he shouted, and Jonas complied as he awkwardly stumbled out of the cage, his movements short and stifled because of the chains around his feet and hands.

“Okay, okay,” Jonas mumbled quickly, and turning his head, he noticed that other slave masters just like his own were also yelling at the people in cages, while their cold eyes stared mercilessly at the prisoners like they were less than garbage. Jonas felt a metal rod jab sharply into his back as he was prodded forward like cattle, toward the only door which was then unlocked and pulled open.

Through a dark, mossy stoned hallway, Jonas was led into a very large room that had a tall round ceiling, and various pits filled with brown sand. There were dozens of big men who stood in those sandy pits, and each of them stared daggers at the incoming line of slaves. Jonas felt their penetrating gaze pierce his skin, and he knew a different type of fear like there were thirty of Rick staring hungrily at him.

Marching along the stone pathways were men dressed in padded armor, carrying metal rods in their hands as they barked orders at slaves, and Jonas could see by the H insignia on their chest that they were all members of the Hurts gang.

“You’ll be training with Garth today,” the eagle-eyed gang banger said as he led Jonas to a fighting pit that, unfortunately, held the most dangerous man Jonas had ever laid eyes on.

There was no pity in the big man’s eyes, and Jonas felt suffocated just looking at him. He was at least six foot six, three hundred pounds, mean, muscular, and sporting both a bald head and a large black beard. He looked like he could have been the enforcer of a biker gang.

“New meat, Brow?” Garth grunted at the eagle-eyed man.

“Don’t call me by my name, slave,” Brow spat venomously as he unlocked Jonas’ shackles, “This one won’t do much for you, but he does look like he’ll be able to help you work on your shit cardio,” and then he pushed Jonas hard on the back.

Jonas was still dizzy and he fell face-first into the sand. Garth laughed as he watched Jonas slowly get up and spit sand out of his mouth and wipe the filth off his prison scrubs.

“Hear that, Blondie?” said Garth, “I need to work on my cardio, do you think you can help me?” and Jonas sighed as he resigned himself to his fate. There was no escaping what was about to happen. Jonas didn’t reply as he quickly thought of his next move, he knew it was seconds before the big psycho was bound to attack, “No?” Garth prodded, “Alright then, ready or not, here I come,” and he moved so quickly that it caught Jonas off guard. His massive arms swung at Jonas’ head and they reminded him of those belonging to a Silverback gorilla.

Jonas threw his body out of the way, rolled in the sand, and quickly got to his feet. Although he was huge, Garth was quite quick, and it wasn’t long before Jonas was forced to weave and roll around another punch, a well-aimed kick, and even a bone-crunching stomp.

“Good, good!” shouted Garth as he laughed loudly, he was trying to step on Jonas who was still rolling clumsily around in the sand, dodging for dear life. Although it seemed that Jonas was just fast enough to dodge the attacks, the more experienced gang members knew that Garth just loved to play with his food. It was all a facade.

‘Fuck this asshole,’ thought Jonas, but he wasn’t dumb enough to attack, because he knew that the moment that those gorilla-sized fingers enclosed his neck, he was done for, ‘I’ll just keep dodging until he’s tired.’

“Oh?” Garth felt a bit curious as he still was unable to hit the small slave, ‘Looks like I need to pick up the pace!” and to Jonas’ horror, a massive fist hit him square in the sternum, and he was sent flying backward, crashing in the sand and reeling with pain.

“Fuck!” he screamed out loud as he quickly got to his feet. Jonas wasn’t sure how such a big man could suddenly move so fast, but as he contemplated it, a second hit narrowly missed his head.

Jonas managed to see the punch that time, but just as he finally thought he had adjusted to the speed, Garth turned it up a notch and managed to clobber Jonas in the side of the head, making his vision spin and sending him shooting through the sand once more like a bouncy ball.

The young man found the strength to get up again, but he was extremely disorientated, and unfortunately for him, he was unable to dodge the next attack. A sledgehammer-like kick hit him in the gut and it caused him to keel over. There were tears in his eyes as he vomited all the alcohol from the previous night, mixed with blood.

“Disgusting!” shouted Garth angrily who was staring at specks of puke all over his black boots, “Here, clean it,” he said, and he grabbed a handful of Jonas’ hair and forced his face down towards his boot, rubbing the dirty puke-stained leather onto Jonas’ face who was gasping for air and trying to come to terms with all the pain his body was feeling.

‘Still too weak,’ thought Jonas as he was thrown across the pit by Garth, the feeling of helplessness began to creep through him. He felt like it wasn’t even worth it to get up at that point. Perhaps Garth would get bored of pounding on him and he would be allowed to go back to his cage and sleep it off.

Unfortunately for Jonas, that wasn’t going to happen. Garth came over and grabbed the young man by the scruff of his neck, lifting him painfully right onto his feet.

“I haven’t even broken a sweat,” said Garth who was a bit exasperated, and looking over at Brow, he added, “Why the fuck would you bring me a hung-over, half-dead teenager?” and the eagle-eyed Brow almost exploded.

“Do you think it’s easy finding slaves for you?” he spat, “Every fucking time I find one you just end up killing them, I’m not wasting any more good product on you!” and Brow began fuming to himself, “Dead slaves, so many fucking dead slaves, those crocs are getting fat because of you.”

“They're just dummy slaves, Brow,” Garth rolled his eyes, “There are millions of them in Hell, stop acting like this one was special.”

“It’s not just the slaves, Garth!” Brow screamed, “Do you know how many dead prostitutes I’ve had to dispose of, you fucking sick rapist, I’ve seen what you’ve done to their bodies, it boggles my mind that someone could be so fucking twisted.”

“A slave master calling a slave sick and twisted,” Garth made a funny expression, “Nobody cared about prostitutes going missing on Earth, you really think they’ll miss them in Hell?

“You’re a real fucking piece of work, you know that but I swear on my life, Garth, if you kill that one, you won’t have anymore!” and the look on Brow’s face told Garth that he wasn’t lying.

“Fuck,” mumbled Garth as he gave a pitiless expression to Jonas who was suspended in air, hanging from his neck which was held tightly in the big man’s iron grasp, “Listen,” he said, “I really want to kill you, but unfortunately I have to take care of my toys,” Garth sighed as he stared at the bleeding and dangling pretty boy, he felt the impulse to snap his neck and to feel broken bones in the palm of his hand, “I won’t break anything this time since it’s your first day, but tomorrow I’m going to start by crushing your bones, and I’ll continue doing so each day, every day, forever, and ever.”

“Fucking brute,” Brow swore but there was nothing he could do because Garth was their gang's best fighter, and keeping him strong, healthy, and happy was extremely important to their income and gang’s survival. Garth tossed Jonas and he crumpled just before Brow’s feet who grimaced at the bloody face.

“Can I at least exchange him for someone a bit more fun?” Garth pleaded like a child, “I won’t kill them, I promise, I’ll control myself, this time.”

“How many fucking times have I heard that Garth?” Brow shook his head, “You might be our best fighter, but this gang has a system, and in this system, I decide which dummy slaves are assigned to which fighters.”

“Exactly, exactly,” said Garth who wasn’t intimidated by Brow at all, “You have all the power and authority here, so use it to give me a better slave.”

“You’ll train with this piece of trash, and you won’t fucking kill him, do you fucking understand me, no more arguing,” and Brow barked at one of his underlings, “Put this piece of shit back in his cage,” to which Jonas was chained, and hulled off back to the room where the slaves slept.

“Oh we’ll see about that,” Garth mumbled under his breath as he watched Brow leave to check on the other fighters, “I’ll kill him tomorrow, so let’s see what Howard Hurts cares about more; my Sin, or a fucking teenage slave.”