"Good work," Pride's voice was heard, and Jonas took a few moments to come to his senses and realize that he was no longer in his iron cage. Surrounded knee-deep in a bloody sea, Jonas saw that he was once again in the mysterious room of blood and shadow.

"Pride," Jonas acknowledged the shadow, "It was no sweat. It seems like the blood is rising."

"Very astute. Watch this," he waved his dark hand, and the blood began to splash and boil. Dark crimson stairs appeared from within the blood and they had a smooth and glassy exterior. Jonas watched as the stairs extended into a floor, and eventually a base was formed. Blood puddled at the center of the newly formed base and it began to grow into two armchairs. When Pride had finished his construction, there stood a newly erected glass gazebo with smooth, glossy floors and half walls.

"How'd you do that?" Jonas followed Pride up the stairs, and used his fingers to trace the material of the chair, it was warm and silky to the touch.

"It isn't anything special, this is all just make-believe in your mind. Nothing of substance can be granted here. I am a guest that lives in your psyche, and as a spirit of your mind, I'm quite adept at controlling the things you see."

"That's disconcerting," Jonas took a seat across from Pride, and for a moment he and the shadow both stared at each other.

"Don't talk as if you believe I would lead you astray. What cause would I have for it?" Pride shook his head in disapproval, "I just wanted to congratulate you on your efforts against the giant, Ralph, as well as your growth as a Sinner."

"I know you wouldn't," and Jonas wasn't lying. Although Pride could show Jonas memories, control the room of shadow and blood, as well as have direct access to his mind, Jonas wasn't worried about betrayal, "Thank you. I'm just ready to become a true Sinner, so I can get the fuck out of here and take the Sin Assessment."

"Don't be in a rush to leave the Hurts gang, this has been an excellent opportunity for you. Slavery sucks, yes, and you've had a few near-death experiences, but overall, I think you can appreciate how much growth you've had since arriving."

"Oh, yes," Jonas gave a sarcastic expression, "I owe this place so much. So, do you have something else you want to talk about, or were you just congratulating me?"

"I don't doubt you can win this upcoming fight, I just wanted to let you know that your progress is outstanding. When you've reached the ability of a top-five fighter, I'll teach you more about controlling your Original Sin."

"Thanks, Pride," Jonas leaned back into his chair and stared into the piercing blue eyes across from him, "When will you show me more memories, or tell me more about my past?"

"When you're ready to leave this gang. I'll show you everything I know about us. You'll be a new man, stronger, smarter, less naive. You won't fall victim to petty traps, you'll be able to defend yourself against most people, and you'll have your mission to keep you going. You'll have your answers, you'll have power, and you'll be infinitely closer to finding Drake, isn't that what you want?"

"That sounds amazing," Jonas felt a fire burning in his chest as he yearned for Pride's words, "I can really have all of that?"

"You'll have it, I'll make sure of it. You only need to trust my judgment, do as I say, and continue your training. Everything else will fall into place, I promise. Now sleep," Pride waved his hand, and Jonas felt his eyes close on their own accord.

Jonas startled himself awake a few hours later, and there was anxious mental alertness that had overtaken his mind. It allowed him to distinguish small sounds and determine whether or not they were threatening or not, and noticing that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, Jonas calmed himself as he slowly unwrapped from his blanket and began stretching and yawning. Brow had come through the iron doors, bright and early, and it was his shitty voice that Jonas got to hear first thing in the morning.

“Today’s the day, slave,” he said with an expression that was both grim, and nervous.

“That it is, owner,” Jonas said.

“You’ll eat breakfast, you’ll take a shower, then we’ll bring you to the arena,” and he narrowed his eyes angrily, “Remember, if you win, you’ll no longer be a dummy slave, and you will officially be recognized by the gang as a fighter, therefore your status will change as well as your treatment. Lose and I’ll fucking make you regret it,” but Jonas didn't take his threat seriously, for even if he did lose his first fight, they both knew that he was way too talented to be thrown away, or punished too harshly.

“Got it. Anything else?”

“No,” Brow said irritably, “I’ll see you before the fight,” and Jonas watched as he marched out of the room, and the doors slammed shut behind him. They reopened a few minutes later when breakfast was brought for the slaves and Jonas could indulge as much as he wanted.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Are you sure you aren’t going to eat more?” Simon asked as he polished off his bowl of cold porridge. He and Johnson were starting to look like they had gained weight.

“I’m fine,” said Jonas, “I’ll fill up on dinner once the fight is over.”

After he was finished eating, two gang members unlocked his cage, and began leading him out of the slave room, through the fight pits, and into the fighter barracks. Jonas knew the path to the gym, but this time he was led down another path, into a very large open room that had rusty taps lined against the walls, and a dozen men of varying skin colors and ethnicities rubbing and washing themselves down.

“You got ten minutes, slave,” said one of the gangsters as he took out a tiny thumb-sized vial of shampoo, and a bar of soap the size of a fingernail. Jonas stretched out a hand to receive them, but the guard tossed them to the center of the bathroom, and this caused the naked fighters to stop and stare.

“See you soon,” the guard laughed as he exited the bathroom, while Jonas was left alone in the room with a bunch of strange men staring at him. He walked over and picked up his fallen soap, and wore a daring glare that told the fighters in the room to back off. Jonas had tossed Ahmed, beaten Pete, and broke Ralph so badly that his gang abandoned him. The fighters in the shower averted their gaze and showed they didn't want any beef with him.

Jonas found an empty bench, stripped out of his disgusting clothing, and folded it into a pile. Standing naked in all his glory, he found an empty shower head and stepped underneath. He turned the handle and waited for the one thing he hadn’t had in months, a warm shower.

Cold water greeted him, and not hot water as he had been expecting. He took a deep breath of shock and felt his entire body go numb, but he didn’t have the time to be picky, so he told himself how lucky he was to shower under freezing sewer water, and began scrubbing and rinsing off the filth and grime he had built up over the past few months.

The shampoo was barely enough to clean the thick matted hair on Jonas' head, but he made due, and the little bit of soap shouldn't have been enough to scrub the dried blood off his body, but he spent half his life in foster homes and had dealt with much smaller pieces than the one he had now.

Jonas looked around the room for familiar faces, but the only person he recognized was a lone member of Wolf's gang, the one who had pushed him into Ralph's attack a few days previous. The man refused to make eye contact, and as Jonas glared at him, he stared at the floor as if he was looking for something.

‘Fuck it,’ thought Jonas, ‘Now's my time to shine,’ and he left his cold shower and strode across the room, his manhood dangled between his legs and slapped his wet, muscular thighs with each step he took.

“I thought you looked familiar,” Jonas said with a friendly tone of voice, and that man clenched his teeth as he turned around.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Not much,” said Jonas, “I used all my soap and shampoo. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?” and everyone and their grandmother could tell that Jonas was making a naked threat, literally.

That man tried to smile as he felt extremely frustrated with the entire situation, he kept praying that his comrades would come around the entrance and save him but unfortunately for him, he was completely alone, “Well?” Jonas prodded.

“Sure,” he said with gritted teeth as he decided that fighting to the death over soap wasn’t worth it, “This is what I have left,” and from a soap holder in the wall, the man produced a vial of shampoo, as well as a tiny chunk of soap.

“Thanks, I’ll return it later,” Jonas could have given the wolf a much harder time for the trouble he had once caused, but he wasn’t going to hold a grudge against some weakling who had once pushed him from behind.

That man didn’t stay behind to hang out, he shut off his showerhead and quickly left the bathroom as fast as his legs would take him, and Jonas watched as his skinny pale ass disappeared behind the entrance.

"I thought a cornered wolf was supposed to be dangerous, but they aren't shit without their leader," he said, and the nearest fighters gave chuckles or nodded their heads in approval. After using a little bit of the soap and shampoo to finish washing, he rinsed himself and turned off his showerhead.

Pushing his wet hair back and out of his face, he looked around the room and found the smallest, most timid fighter. When he saw Jonas walking over, his ass clenched and he couldn’t help but curse his bad luck, but just as he went to grab his shampoo to hand it over, Jonas tossed what was left from his own to the slave and proceeded to walk away, “Work hard,” and he grabbed his old dirty clothing and marched outside wet and naked. The guards who had led him to the washroom stood outside, one was holding a fresh set of prison scrubs and a towel.

Before they could throw it or do anything disgusting, Jonas snatched it away, and just as the guard was reaching for his rod, Jonas gave him a glare that spoke volumes, ‘Is it worth it?’ and that guard decided that it was not worth it, and he and his fellow backed off and allowed Jonas to dry and dress, ‘I finally understand, Drake,’ Jonas sighed, ‘I understand what you meant when you put so much emphasis on power,’ and he truly felt how intoxicating it was to take what he wanted. Soon, Jonas was escorted back to the slave room where he had to wait until the start of the fight.

“Looking good,” said Simon as he saw a fresh-looking Jonas swagger into the room wearing a set of brand-new prison scrubs.

“Thanks,” said Jonas, “I’ll make sure we can get you and Johnson a quick shower. As long as I keep Brow happy, it shouldn’t be a problem."

Jonas spoke in a friendly and casual way with his two friends, and if someone from the showers had been there to witness it, they probably wouldn’t have been able to believe that the dominant youth who had just humiliated a man, was the same youth relaxing in an iron cage and sharing grilled rat skewers with his friends. Finally, just before dinner, the door to the slave room opened, and Brow came marching inside looking stone-faced and serious.

“It’s time,” he said, “Your fight starts in an hour, let’s go.”