Jonas wasn't sure why he said it, but he had not done it on a whim. He didn't like that someone as talented as Ralph could be abandoned by his friends, especially when it had taken all of Jonas' willpower to overcome that talent. He saw himself in Ralph, no matter the size difference between the two of them, and when he had shaken his hand, Jonas realized that there was goodness behind Ralph's eyes.

Those friends of Jonas all wore shocked expressions, but none more so than Ralph, who had tilted his head like a confused dog.

“You want to beat me up?” He asked very slowly.

“No,” Jonas gave him a funny expression, “I’m asking if you want to practice with us?” Ralph looked confused, so Jonas added, “I mean as sparring partners, not as a dummy slave or anything.”

“Are your friends okay with that?” Ralph looked hesitant: he could see nervous expressions on both Simon and Johnson's faces.

“Of course they are,” said Jonas, “Besides, our sparring sessions have been unproductive lately because we're all so used to each other's fighting styles. We could use someone new to shake things up,” Ralph glanced towards Ahmed, the person he was most worried about, but was surprised to see the indifference in his expression.

“Okay,” said Ralph, “You can just tell me what you want me to do.”

“No worries,” said Jonas, “How about you and I will spar today, considering we’ve fought before?” Ralph nodded in agreement. He strode past Jonas, and his hulking figure appeared in front of both Simon and Johnson, who felt their butt holes pucker in anticipation of being thrown around by a ginger giant. Instead of tossing around the two skinny slaves, Ralph stuck out his hand in greeting.

“My name's Ralph Gordon. Nice to meet you,” Johnson and Simon looked at each other in disbelief. Fortunately for Jonas, neither was rude enough to ignore the handshake, and Simon spoke first.

“Simon Rhule,” said Simon as he shook the giant paw.

“Erik Johnson,” said Johnson, but quite suddenly, Jonas, Simon, and Ahmed nearly broke their necks as they turned to look at Johnson.

“Your first name isn’t Johnson?” Jonas looked dumbfounded.

“What the fuck, who names their kid Johnson?” Erik Johnson looked at his friends in disbelief, “Wait, you assholes thought my name was Johnson this entire time?”

“Fuck,” said Simon, “Just when you think you know a person,” he gave Johnson a disgruntled look full of disapproval.

“Jonas Ariel,” said Jonas as he interrupted the spectacle, “It’s nice to meet you,” he held up his fist and bumped it against one of Ralph’s massive bear paws. This strange encounter seemed to have helped with the initial awkwardness, and the mood felt much lighter.

The sparring session felt very different because they had a new partner added to their midst. Jonas and Ralph had no problem beating each other bloody as they faced off in the fight pit, hitting with so much force that Simon could have sworn they were still enemies. However, Jonas kicked Ralph in the head so hard that he lost balance and fell over; Simon watched as Jonas stuck out a hand to help him up and was even more shocked when Ralph wiped the blood from his nose and smiled.

“Good kick.”

Simon and Johnson doubled up against Ahmed, but they were like children fighting an adult. However, they had been sparring together for so long that their teamwork finally bore fruit as they had forced Ahmed into taking the fight seriously by concerning him with their positioning.

At the end of the sparring, Jonas agreed that it had been his most productive session in a while. He had never been able to take his time watching Ralph fight and understand his fighting style.

The three fighters bade farewell to the two slaves. Jonas, Ahmed, and Ralph made their way to the gym, where Jonas had invited the big man to join them for a workout. Simon and Johnson made their way back to their cages, but they couldn’t help but cast longing glances toward the three fighters, who had much more talent than themselves.

“I feel left out,” said Simon as he watched their retreating figures.

“Nothing we can do,” said Johnson while scratching his sweaty beard, “There's no way we can become fighters.”

“Is that true?” Simon contemplated, “Have we tried our best, or have we simply written ourselves off because of fear of failure?”

“I wouldn’t say it was fear,” Johnson argued, “Simply put, recognizing our limitations is a big step.”

“That sounds exactly like writing ourselves off,” Simon felt a bit depressed, thinking about how he wouldn't be able to protect his wife and daughter if they were ever reunited.

“I'll tell you what,” said Johnson, who wanted to cheer him up, “Remember how Jonas started as a Sinner by working out in his cage?”

“Yeah,” said Simon, “I nearly starved to death. How could I forget?”

“Why don’t we work out in our cages?” Johnson said, “We might not have the best talent, but we could put on some muscle considering our rations have improved. I know the perfect military workout routine that we can use.”

“Alright,” said Simon as he considered the proposal, “Let’s do it.”

Jonas was unaware of the conversation because he was making his way to the gym, where they found an empty bench press for them to work out. Sharing was awkward at first, but eventually, they had two different bars set up, one heavier for Ralph and one that was lighter for both Jonas and Ahmed.

“Hey, Ralph,” huffed Jonas as he began his third set of bench press while he stared up at a giant who was spotting him, “Can I ask how you died?” Although it wasn’t rude to ask someone this question, Ralph was still surprised that anyone would want to know.

“Brain cancer,” he said, “I played football at Boston College during the nineties. One day my head took a big hit, and they pulled me from the game. At first, I was having trouble with my vision, but I realized something was wrong when I constantly had migraines. I went to the hospital, and the doctors found a tumor in my brain.”

“I'm sorry,” said Jonas.

“No worries,” Ralph looked unperturbed. “After they found the tumor, I wasn’t allowed to play football anymore, but they let me stay on as the offensive line coach, and I managed to make it another five years before death finally caught up to me,” Ralph saw a pitying look on Jonas' face.“Don’t feel bad for me: I lived a good life, much longer than I was supposed to.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” said Jonas as he finished his last rep and watched Ahmed take his turn, “Dying of brain cancer had to suck.”

“It did,” said Ralph. “There was a time when the tumor had begun to affect my memory, and at first, I couldn’t remember little things like my mother’s maiden name or the kind of car my dad drove. After a while, the tumor grew so big that I could barely remember my first name. Sometimes, I didn’t even recognize the love of my life when she came to visit me,” his eyes drifted off, and his expression turned sad, “I wonder how she’s doing now? It’s been nearly thirty years; she probably got married and has grandchildren by now.”

Jonas felt the conversation had made the mood sour, so he changed the topic, “You played football. Do you have a favorite team?"

“Green Bay,” said Ralph, “I was a kid from Wisconsin who dreamed of one day going to the pros and protecting the Gunslinger himself: Brett Favre.”

“Brett Favre retired years ago,” Jonas said, “He had nearly all the passing records when he did.”

“Oh,” said Ralph, “I forgot how long I’ve been in Hell, so even Brett’s gone and retired. So, do we suck now?”

“Nah,” said Jonas, “You guys drafted this guy named Aaron Rodgers, and he led you to another Superbowl back in the year twenty-eleven,” Ralph shared a friendly smile. It made Jonas feel that the giant resembled one of those neighbors who dropped everything to help someone out.

“Thanks,” said Ralph, who was feeling rather energetic, “It’s nice to talk about things that don’t involve this place. How did you die?”

“Car crash,” said Jonas, “The tire popped while we were going around a bend, on top of a fucking mountain,” Ralph grimaced as he imagined a vehicle free-falling before crashing down to Earth in a fiery explosion.

“How old were you when you died?”

“Eighteen,” said Jonas, “I just arrived in Hell a few months ago,” for a moment, Ralph barely registered what Jonas had said: it sounded so ridiculous.

“Wait, do you mean to tell me you’re still eighteen?”

“Yeah,” Jonas gave him a strange look, “Why, what’s up?” Ralph looked a bit awkward as he shook his head.

“I can’t believe I got beat up by a kid. I thought you had been in Hell for at least a decade. It's hard to tell because most people don't change much when they get here—” Ralph had suddenly become distracted by something across the room.

Jonas turned his head and saw that he was staring down his former friends, who looked at Ralph like he was a dead man. Wolf, Pete, and the rest of the pack had left their workout area and headed toward Jonas' workout bench. They stopped only a short distance away, and Jonas could smell a musky cologne that belonged to their graying leader.

“Ralph,” said Wolf as he scratched his spiky hair, “I know you’re not the smartest of the litter, but did you seriously mistake these two slaves for your own family?”

“No mistake,” said Ralph, “I have no family,” these words made the wolves livid as they began hissing disses toward him.

“That’s upsetting. After everything I’ve done for you, after all the time I gave to raise you?” Wolf shook his head like a disappointed parent, “Betrayal is truly the ultimate sin.”

“Like leaving me to die?” said Ralph, “Very family–like.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Wolf. “We both know you wouldn’t have died. I only left you there to teach you a valuable lesson,” his polite voice made him sound convincing. “You underestimated your opponent; you lost the fight and embarrassed your brothers. You needed punishment,” Jonas glanced at Ralph and saw that he looked to be quietly contemplating the words.

“Wolf, you're such an asshole. There are no good endings for guys like you: karma will get you eventually,” Jonas interrupted, and his words drove the gang into a frenzy as they clenched their fists, bared their teeth, and made vile threats. Wolf gave a hollow laugh.

“Young pup, I wasn't talking to you,” he shook his head. "Karma put us both in the Overworld for a reason. It put us both here in the Hurts gang for a reason, and when I eventually kill you, pup, it'll be because karma wanted you dead and not me," there was a deep coldness in his eyes as he said this.

"I'm not interacting with you anymore because a grown man calling himself Wolf is a bit pathetic, and I don't want any of that rubbing off on me. You spend your time bullying teenagers and weak slaves when you should focus yourself on improving as a Sinner."

"You're wrong, pup. I bully teenagers and weak slaves because it helps improve myself as a Sinner. We all do, even Mister Garth," and he lifted his huge hands and showed off his flame-shaped Sin Scars that were splendid, clear, and glowing red. "I think I'm doing what I need to do. Can you say the same?"

"Not impressed, Wolf," Jonas shot him a middle finger, his cross-shaped Sin Scar glowing brightly for all to see.

“You're pretty cocky for a kid who won a single fight against some stat-padding gringo,” said Wolf, “I’d like to see how confident you would be against some real competition.”

“No worries,” said Jonas, who bravely stepped forward while edging closer to the pack alpha, “Sooner or later, I'll whoop your old ass, and I hope it's sooner.”

“Poor Jonas, still so naive," Wolf sighed and waved his hand, “Let’s go, Ralph. Come back home to your family,” Jonas looked over and saw the big man was truly contemplating the words of his old boss.

For a moment, he thought Ralph might forgive Wolf and agree to return. Jonas knew he would be disappointed if he and the ginger giant had become enemies again.

“No, thanks,” said Ralph quietly, “I’m not a wolf. I’m just a slave.”

“Big mistake,” said Wolf, but he did nothing more than shake his head and beckon his wolves to follow him. Most of them shot evil glares at Ralph, and the big man couldn’t help but feel terrible, knowing that he had once thought those same people were his brothers. The only person who didn’t shoot him a glare was Pete, he was at the back of the retreating group, and he glanced over his shoulder at Ralph. They met gazes and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Were you and Pete close?” Jonas had noticed the look.

“Like brothers,” said Ralph, “He’s a tough nut, but I think he has a good heart. The only reason he sucks up to Wolf is that he wants to learn more about Sinning so that he can escape and find his wife."