The previously chaotic room had gone deathly silent, but Jonas hadn’t noticed. How could an entire prison brawl suddenly stop when it had just reached its peak? The gruesome scene presented to everyone in the room was too shocking.

Kneeling on top of a near-headless corpse was a blonde teenager covered from head to toe in dark blood, and he had a seven-inch dagger stabbing through one side of his mouth and out the other like some kind of strange Halloween accessory.

In his right hand was a circular five-pound weight covered in red chunks with specks of gray hair, and it looked like both the boy and the body had stood underneath a crimson rainfall: a puddle formed underneath them both, and it slowly expanded with both their blood melding into one.

Jonas had killed Wolf. Not many witnessed the moment when the young fighter had overturned the hopeless battle; however, every slave in that room saw the end of the fight.

“Goddamn," predictably, Johnson was the first to break the silence. He'd been fighting a tall member of Wolf's gang right before that moment; however, the two stood next to each other, ignorant that they had been bashing each other’s brains out just moments earlier. Across the room, Ahmed stepped over a few bodies as he slowly approached Jonas, and he looked hesitant at the young man whose blue eyes were glazed over.

“Jonas,” Ahmed's voice was calm, quiet, and warm. “I’m going to pull this knife out,” Jonas gave a slight nod, though he barely registered what his old friend had said. However, as soon as Ahmed gripped the blade and began pulling it out of Jonas’ cheek, the young teen came to life and clenched his eyes in pain while bloody tears fell down his face. He couldn’t hold it anymore: a primal scream escaped his belly like a caged monster. It clawed its way through his throat but stopped because of his mangled mouth, where it became a loud gurgling noise as his mouth was full of blood, and he was missing his tongue.

Ahmed pulled the blade with a silvery flash, and Jonas began gagging on his tongue until he finally puked. It had all come pouring out like a thick waterfall of blood, bile, and various body parts. His sliced tongue was among those puked body parts, and it splashed in the mixture of gore that was blood, puke, and Wolf's smashed head. After puking out all of his guts, Jonas felt his body grow weak, and he fell to the side, where the mess splattered his face and dyed his hair crimson.

“Is he okay?” Simon limped over while holding his left eye because someone punched it.

“He’s unconscious,” Ahmed sighed, and he picked Jonas up and slung him over his shoulder like a backpack. He glared at the half a dozen members of Wolf's crew that were still conscious. “Your leader is dead. What are you still standing around for?” Ahmed's voice boomed off the stone walls, and those fighters snapped to life as they began panicking and practically pushing each other out of the way before Ahmed could change his mind about letting them go.

“I’ve got Pete,” Ralph said, and he picked his unconscious friend off the ground and carried him over to Ahmed.

“What the fuck are the guards doing?” Simon nodded towards the door at the far end, where two gangsters stared at their group like they had the plague.

“They probably lost their money in a bet,” said Ahmed disapprovingly, “Or perhaps they're scared shitless because of Thomas' reaction to Wolf's death,” the old warrior shook his head because those things didn't matter. “Let’s get Jonas patched up. Johnson, you should probably go get Brow and tell him what happened,” Johnson left the gym to carry out his task while Ahmed and the rest of the crew prepared to head toward the infirmary.

“Ahmed,” said Simon, just before they left. “What about him?” He nodded his head in the direction of a bloodied and shaking figure. Terry Coleman looked terrible, and when he locked eyes with Ahmed, the color drained from his face.

“Leave him for Jonas,” said Ahmed, “I’ve got no time to deal with trash,” but this didn’t make the backstabber feel any better because he knew Ahmed had extended his execution. The group marched down the halls of the gang as if they ran the place until they barged into the empty infirmary and loaded Jonas and Pete onto medical beds.

“Pete’s not too bad,’ Ralph grunted, “He took a hit to the back of the head,” and he clumsily wrapped bandages around the pirate’s skull.

“How're you doing?” Simon asked the big man.

“Not a scratch,” Ralph had strong durability to thank because he looked unblemished besides other people's blood that covered his fists, face, and clothing.

“What’s up with your eye?”

“It's all good,” said Simon, “This bastard with small hands punched it, that’s all," the two of them shared a chuckle. After Pete was patched up and sleeping away, Simon and Ralph watched as Ahmed tried to administer first-aid to Jonas’ mangled body.

“Holy shit,” Simon looked disgusted at the hole. “His tongue will grow back, won’t it?”

"I'm not sure,” Ahmed didn't look very confident about the situation, and he spent the next few minutes wrapping bandages around every one of Jonas' injuries. “ There's no guarantee anything grows back, but I know the wound will heal.”

“What a power to have,” Simon nodded his head. Suddenly, the infirmary doors crashed open, and Brow came running in looking desperate while Johnson tailed behind him.

“Fucking-fuck, fuck,” Brow looked at them in shock and stared wide-eyed at Jonas' bandaged body. He disbelieved the situation. “Did he kill Wolf?”

“Dead,” Ahmed nodded, and Brow looked like he was about to orgasm in his pants, but before he could celebrate, he needed to be sure of one more thing.

“And Jonas?”

“I can’t be sure his tongue will grow back,” said Ahmed, “But he’ll be fine in a few hours,” Brow began to laugh maniacally. It echoed in their ears and made the rest of Jonas' crew feel rather uncomfortable. Brow's eagle eyes were bulging, and a sinister smile crossed his face.

“Fuck you, Thomas!” he screamed at the top of his lungs as his raucous laughter echoed off the walls, “Dead! “I’m back!”

“Get a hold of yourself,” Ahmed shook his head disapprovingly, “Don’t forget that your man here is bleeding out, and you won’t have anything if he dies.”

“No worries,” said Brow with an ugly smile, “He’ll heal as long as no one disturbs him. Everyone in this room is to stand guard,” and he glanced over at Ralph, who was unaffiliated with any owner ever since he quit Wolf's gang. "Ralph, I've been getting you, and Pete fights for a while now. Take me as your manager. I promise the benefits and the treatment will be much greater than what Thomas had offered."

“I’ll fight with Jonas, Pete too,” and his meaning was clear: Jonas would call the shots, and Ralph would be complacent in front of Brow. Simon watched as Brow made a final recruitment drive to secure his forces and noticed how much the pony-tailed gangster was an opportunist.

“Make sure nothing happens to Jonas,” Brow warned, “Lock this door behind me and don’t open it for anyone but me,” they locked the door as he left.

“What a fucking asshole,” Johnson said, “You'd think that he might be a tad bit more tactful toward the person who risked his life to make all of his nasty dreams come true.”

“We’re slaves, and he's a slave manager,” said Ahmed, “He acted in a way that he’s used to.”

“Well, now we’re slaves with two top-five fighters in our group, so that has to count for some respect.”

“We are,” said Ahmed while stroking his beard, “The dominoes have begun to fall, and our escape plan begins now.”

“The fuck happened?” Pete slurred his words as he tried to lift his head.

“Easy, Pete,” said Ralph, “You’ve been knocked out, and we're in the infirmary,” but Pete wanted answers, so the giant took a few moments to narrate everything that had happened.

“Fuck,” said Pete while looking over at Jonas, “He had his tongue cut out?”

“Yeah, it's disgusting,” said Simon, “Could we maybe find the other piece and stitch it back together or something?”

“If you want to go digging around in a puddle of puke and corpse: be my guest,” Ahmed said, “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and Jonas won’t ever be able to talk again.”

"Don't say that," Johnson looked nervous. "His mouth isn't that bad."

“When I got my eye stabbed out,” said Pete, “I never got the vision back.”

“You don’t have Jonas’ healing ability,” Simon pointed out, “I’ve watched him come back from worse than this. He's grown new teeth in a few hours, so he should be able to grow a tongue," as usual, Simon had the most confidence in Jonas.

“We’ll know in a few hours,” said Ahmed.

"How did the fight go for you guys?" Johnson broke the silence, "Not to beat my dick, but I managed to take out three of them on my own," he wore a smile beneath his curly beard. "What about you, Simon? I saw you try to take on two of them by yourself," The crew rolled their eyes because Johnson was terrible at recognizing the right time and place to say things.

"Well, it was looking a bit grim for me at first. However, I stopped caring about what happened to me; I stopped worrying about winning the fight. Then, I felt my body fill with Sin, and I beat both of them down," Simon looked at his cloud-shaped Sin Scars. It was the first time he had performed such an act of Sin. It had been an intoxicating feeling, so he understood why Jonas loved it so much.

"Good man," Johnson nodded, "That's a great feeling to have: filled with Sin. It's easier for Berserkers because we use Wrath as a fuel source, but I reckon it feels the same no matter the Sin. How about you, Pete?"

"You said it right," Pete cracked his neck, "I'm not the most talented Sinner around, but I've learned to get to the point where I can use my power to fuel my attacks. I got my ass whooped in this fight. Those motherfuckers came at me five against one: I didn't stand a chance. Lucky for me, Ahmed and Ralph were around."

"Little bastards were so-so," Ralph chuckled, "I just tossed one across the room, and the guys jumping Pete got scared."

"So, what now?" Johnson directed his question toward Ahmed. "Should we kill another top-five fighter or just make our escape?"

"Howard Hurts will call everyone together for a meeting soon. Thomas will want Jonas' head, and Brow will argue against him. If Jonas survives that meeting, he'll be an official top-five fighter, earn a private room, and have much more freedom to do what he wishes. However, this also means that gang leadership and the other top-five fighters will be on high alert. It would be stupid for Jonas to try and kill another one."

"That's fair," Simon agreed, "I would like to see Garth get the same treatment Wolf did."

"He deserves far worse than that." Johnson snarled, "That giant psycho will be eaten alive by the crocs if I have any say."

"That punishment seems a bit light," Pete thought Garth was too cruel to exist. "I don't think men like him should have a place on the first floor: the Overworld should be for normal people."

"Normal would probably exclude you, wouldn't it?" Johnson grinned.

"Either way," Ahmed dismissed their conversation with a wave of his hand. We need to see how the gang meeting goes before we decide what to do next. However, I believe we'll be escaping very soon."