“Anyways,” began Jonas, “The bottom line is that I need to impress Brow and if I do he’ll train me as a fighter, correct?”

“Exactly,” Simon nodded.

“And if I do a good job he’ll convince the gang to let me participate in the small-time fights, right?” to which Simon nodded his head in agreement, “If I win those fights I have a chance of becoming one of the gang's more prized fighters but if I suck I’ll have to be a dummy again?”

“Almost,” said Simon, “You could also kill one of the top-five fighters and replace them. I mean, that’s what happened to Yotama Yuki, she took Keal’s private room and everything.”

“Fuck, I’ve never killed anyone.”

“Me neither,” said Simon, “But if you want to move on up in this cold world, you’re going to have to get your hands dirty. It’s all part of becoming a Sinner, I think.”

“I know,” Jonas’ face became somber as he tried to imagine what it would be like to kill Garth, “My brother could do it, I think,” and after some consideration, he said, “I bet you he’d do it without even hesitating.”

“Your brother sounds like a pretty crazy guy,” said Simon and he had come to learn a few details about the mysterious older brother of his new cellmate.

“It’s not like he’s a raging lunatic,” said Jonas, “It’s just like he was born without any fear.”

“Seriously?” asked Simon who was doubtful.

“Listen,” said Jonas, “One time Drake and I were staying at this shitty foster house, and I mean this place was a fucking dump,” he continued, “So I’m about eight at the time and Drake is about twelve. Well, the guy who runs the foster house gets shit-faced drunk and he’s in a rage because he lost money on a sports bet.”

“Did he beat the kids?” asked Simon.

“You fucking bet he did,” said Jonas, “Real nasty fucker, his name was Frank, and he was an expert at hitting the kids without leaving any marks,” and Jonas couldn’t help but recall that cold and desolate foster home that he had once miserably occupied. “So anyway, one day he loses money on a sports bet, and I was unlucky enough to be in the kitchen stealing a beer from the fridge. Well, Frank caught me in the act and started pounding the shit out of me and I swear he would have killed me, but do you know what happened?” Jonas' voice became excited and Simon noticed his expression lit up like the sun.

“What?”

“He got his ass whooped by a twelve-year-old.”

“No fucking way,” Simon dismissed the idea.

“I swear to God,” said Jonas excitedly, “Drake fist fought a guy three times his age and about double his size, though I will admit,” Jonas added, “Drake was a pretty big kid.”

“Still though,” said Simon, “A twelve-year-old beating up a grown man?”

“That’s one of my craziest memories of my older brother, I remember looking at him and just thinking about how cool he was,” Simon didn’t consider that as cool as Jonas did, but he kept that opinion to himself. It sounded more like Drake was a little monster that had yet to grow up. Their conversation continued for a few hours, just until Brow had entered the slave room and began berating Jonas loudly.

“You absolute moron,” he said, “How the fuck could you bet your left hand against Ahmed?”

“Well,” said Jonas, “I enjoyed beer and I felt like this was the best way to get more.”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” said Brow, “If you fucking lose this bet I swear to God I’m not going to save you and you’ll be lucky that I don’t just feed you to the crocs, seeing as you won’t make that great of a fighter without two goddamn hands.”

“Thanks, boss,” said Jonas, “I think you should be more concerned about which fights you want me to partake in.”

“So confident?” Brow looked nastily at Jonas, like he was a slug, “You think one of our best fighters is going to allow himself to be put on his ass by a fucking dummy slave?”

“I did it to Garth, didn’t I?” Jonas’ reply made Brow look like he had just smelled fresh shit.

“We both know that was a fluke. Garth may be a moron, but Ahmed won’t dare underestimate anyone.”

“I got this,” said Jonas, “But if I win the bet, not only do I want my beers, but I want to be treated like a real fighter and not like a dummy slave.”

“Do you think you have the leverage to be negotiating with me?” Brow nearly reached into the cage to choke him, “You’ll fucking win the bet if you want to live,” but after taking a moment to calm down, he added, “Winning the bet against Ahmed won’t be enough to earn you a spot as a fighter, but it will at least show the other members of the gang that you have value and that’s enough for me to start making my moves. I can’t just enter whoever the fuck I want into a fight, don’t forget, the gang has to put up money each time someone enters that cage.”

“You just stick to your plotting,” said Jonas, “I’ll win the bet.”

“This coming from a guy who was sold by his drinking buddy,” Brow nearly collapsed from exasperation.

“Come again?” asked Jonas quickly.

“How the fuck do you think I acquired you?” Brow looked at him stupidly, “That old quack sold you to me to pay off his fucking gambling debt, we wouldn’t let him in our bar anymore,” and Jonas felt his blood run cold and the confidence in his voice suddenly vanished like a light.

“Old Louie sold me to you?” asked Jonas in disbelief and although he had been unsure of how he had become a slave to the Hurts gang, he was under the belief that both he and Old Louie had been plotted against, which he had easily accepted because of his belief that the old quack wanted him as a student.

“Of course he did,” said Brow with a merciless grin, “You want me to put all my hopes onto you, a guy who was so easily betrayed by someone he trusts?” Brow shook his head, “I’m surprised you managed to survive up until now with all that naivety swimming in your tiny brain.”

Jonas wasn’t bothered by the insult as much as he was bothered by the fact his teacher had betrayed him. He knew that Old Louie wasn’t the most pleasant of people, that was for sure, but he never would have considered that the old quack might have nefarious thoughts against his student.

‘The only person I can trust in this world,’ thought Jonas angrily, ‘Is Drake,’ but as he started to close off his heart, he couldn’t help but think about the rat-faced man next to him who had been nothing but honest and kind since they had met, ‘I wonder what it would take for Simon to betray me too?’ his thoughts became negative, ‘If Brow offered him freedom right now, and all he had to do was kill me, would he do it?’ and Jonas didn’t want to put words in Simon’s mouth, but he just couldn’t see a scenario where the skinny slave wouldn’t consider it.

“In Hell,” began Brow, “The only thing you can ever trust is money, believe that.”

Jonas didn’t reply as he stared quietly into the distance and his eyes had become glazed over. Being ignored annoyed Brow, but he also took pleasure in the fact that Jonas was so miserable.

“Get some rest, idiot,” said Brow, “You’re going to need it if you think you’re going to take on Ahmed anytime soon,” and he obnoxiously banged the cage bars with his iron rod as he walked away laughing.

“You alright, Jonas?” asked Simon timidly.

“Fine,” lied Jonas, “It sucks being betrayed but I was a moron for trusting him in the first place.”

“Don’t let that change your heart,” said Simon, “For every person that betrays you, I guarantee you’ll meet at least one who’ll have your back no matter what. It’s not worth it to close yourself off,” he added, “Sometimes you have to experience betrayal before you can truly appreciate trust.”

Jonas was taken aback, and he looked honestly toward Simon for a moment, and he even forgot to keep a brooding expression.

“You’re pretty wise, you know that?” Jonas felt guilty because he had always thought Simon had a slightly untrustworthy appearance.

“Not really,” said Simon, “Eventually, I just stopped fighting fate and I found that taking things day by day allowed me to appreciate all the good I once experienced. I used to be that guy who would say things like, ‘This world is so fucked up,’ and things like that,” and he smiled rather dully as he reminisced about his past life on Earth, “Being here in Hell has made me realize that there was so much good in our world before, we just didn’t appreciate it because we forgot how cruel life could be.”

“Well said,” said Jonas, “Thanks, Simon.”

“No need to thank me, I’m just trying to make things easier for you, I mean, if you manage to become a fighter you’re going to need a dummy slave, right?” and Jonas nearly collapsed right there.

“I’m not going to treat you like a punching bag,” he said with some frustration in his voice.

“I mean,” said Simon, “Even if you kicked my ass occasionally, it’s still better than what I’m going through now, isn’t it?”

“If I move up, you’ll be moving up with me,” said Jonas while he lowered his voice, “And if I escape, you’ll be escaping with me,” and Simon smiled at this, but he was extremely doubtful that they would ever escape.

Jonas laid himself down on the cold floor of his iron cage, and it made him think of a time not too long ago when he had spent his nights in a feathery king-sized bed, with a red-headed vixen who would keep him warm. He wondered what Amberlee was up to, but he also knew that reminiscing on the past would do him no good.

He was having trouble sleeping and it wasn’t just because of his partial insomnia. There was an annoying dripping sound of sewer water nearby, slaves in the prisoner room kept snoring, crying, and talking in their sleep, and worse of all everything smelled like shit, including himself.

Instead, Jonas used the dim lighting of the room to examine his arms, noticing that nearly all the bruising had vanished. ‘Good work Pride,’ Jonas said in his mind, and yet no one replied.

It seemed that the only time he could communicate with his evil sinful alter-ego would be when he entered that strange dimension of infinite darkness and a sea of blood, ‘I’m stronger than I was yesterday and nearly twice as strong as I was the day before that,’ he had come to a single conclusion that allowed him to confidently make that bet against Ahmed, ‘I can manipulate my healing powers; I just need to understand how it works.’

Unfortunately for Jonas, testing his newfound powers would involve fighting Ahmed every day until the appointed time and although his pain tolerance had grown exponentially, he still felt his body cringe when he thought of being punched repeatedly or experiencing that uncomfortable feeling of having his bones broken.

Jonas managed to close his eyes and sleep quietly for a few hours. Breakfast wasn’t much, but the gang’s goons took the old empty trays and replaced them with a bowl of cold porridge, a deformed apple, and a large cup of water. Jonas was famished so it didn’t bother him at all. In his past life, he had gone days without eating a good meal, and sometimes he had simply filled his stomach with booze if his foster house's fridge was empty.

‘I miss Tony’s Pizzeria,’ thought Jonas as he recalled the little restaurant his older brother had started working at, once he had been old enough to get them both out of the system.

He remembered the first time Drake brought them to that shitty duplex that they were so excited about, and he couldn’t help but recall waking up on the soft carpeted floor and mowing down cold left-over pizza.

The cold, rusty, and blood-stained metal floor of his cage was not as great as the dirty old carpet he had once slept on, and the mushy, flavorless food he was eating was not as great as cheese pizza, but as Simon had said earlier, Jonas was starting to appreciate the things he had once taken for granted, and that included his brother.

Mealtime didn’t last long, and Jonas was forced to relive a much worse memory as he stood in his cage with his neck cocked to the side, relieving himself in a wooden bucket in front of everyone. After that, he and Simon were led to the training room, where Ahmed was waiting for them.