Jonas felt shocked at hearing that old raspy voice. Although it was familiar, it did feel somewhat like a distant memory, one that he was recalling from a long dark tunnel.
Jonas knew his situation wasn't ideal. First, there was the fact he was having his entire body pounded and tenderized by an attractive blood-crazed slave who was seconds away from keeping his undefeated streak alive. There was also the fact he was struggling with his own internal emotions, like two voices whispering in his ear; Wrath, or Pride. This struggle was represented by the sporadic changes in Jonas' Sin Scars, which were flashing between a brilliant scarlet glow and a dull red.
The blood spilling from his body was brutality that could never compare to the bleeding of his Pride. All this turmoil was caused by the voice of his old master, who had shamelessly sold him into slavery. Jonas turned his head and saw the old greasy face that had once berated him, and taught him all about Sin in a cold disgusting bar, over warm disgusting beverages.
Old Louie looked like he was just as well off as he had originally been, and between his long oily ash-colored hair, his beard that resembled a bird's nest, his nasty moss-colored prison scrubs, his knock-off shoes, and his angel ball cap. He looked like the same person that Jonas cursed in his heart every night before he went to sleep in his iron cage.
“Get your ass up!” Old Louie screamed with bloodshot eyes that were filled with a fear of losing his gamble. “I bet everything on you, you get up right now, John!”
‘Old Louie!’ Jonas was screaming in his heart, but he didn't have time to argue as he was still being pummeled by Jake Davidson. 'Embrace the pain,' he told himself, and he wasn't just thinking about his broken body, but also the pain coming from his heart. He hated the fact he had been betrayed, he was disgusted with Old Louie, and most of all, it hurt his Pride that he had been tricked so badly by someone he had been ready to worship as a teacher.
Jonas felt his face punched repeatedly, to the point where blood was pouring like a faucet from a deep gash on his forehead, it drenched his vision and dripped into his mouth. The taste of blood on his tongue and the warm, painful numbness spreading across his body was beginning to trigger him, and it was entirely overstimulating. Then, he began to regain control over his Sin Scars. ‘Watch me lose?’ There was an indescribable emotion filling his chest. ‘Make money off of me?’ Then a burst of energy filled his muscles, reinvigorating them to the point they felt rested and ready for work.
The crosses on his hands continued to glow as he wrapped his leg around Jake's leg, and he used his left hand to catch a punch. Then, they were locked together by arm and leg, and with all the Sin he could muster, Jonas powered his own body and managed to tip his opponent over.
The crowd went wild as they saw Jonas escape the beat down, and the violent energy in the room exploded as they watched him dive onto his opponent's back and wrap his bulging bicep in a gruesome chokehold that found itself around Jake's sweaty neck.
Jake felt panicky as he tried to first rip Jonas’ arm from his neck, but his muscles were so sore, and the blood made everything way too slippery. He watched in horror as he was put in the worst position any fighter could be in, on his stomach with an opponent on top choking the life out of him.
Jonas didn’t wait for a tap, nor did he try to catch his breath. He felt his blood vessels burst in protest as he squeezed his arm around Jake’s neck with a force that he had never produced in his lifetime, and he felt his victim fruitlessly try to claw his way out of the hold. At one point, Jake had tried to reach upwards behind himself and claw at Jonas’ face, but there was so much blood that his fingers slipped away, and he came to the terrible realization that he was about to suffocate.
First, the sounds of the crowd died as his hearing became hollow. Then, flashing stars erupted in his vision as the lack of oxygen finally overwhelmed his brain and his body began to shut down. Finally, his nature overtook his drive to win, and his Greed for air became more important than his Greed for victory. His hand repeatedly slapped Jonas’ arm and the referee blew a whistle announcing that a fighter had surrendered.
Jonas heard the referee whistle to end the fight, and he immediately released his opponent and rolled off of him. The crowd noise was deafening, and Jonas had to wipe his eyes to get rid of some of the blood before he could even see what was going on around the room. The entire arena, himself, and his semi-unconscious opponent were covered in layers of blood, so much that it appeared as if a grisly murder had just occurred.
There was the sound of metal scraping as both slave managers were allowed into the cage. Jonas squinted and watched as Brow approached him, helped lift him to his feet, and then he raised Jonas’ hand in the air. There was tumultuous applause and cheering from the satisfied crowd, who had become very taken with the young fighter that had a habit of making the last preliminary match-up extremely exciting.
“Winner by submission!” said the announcer into his microphone, “Jonas Ariel!”
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Jonas heaved slightly as he felt his entire body begin to feel terrible. It was as if all the pain and punishment he had taken were slowly creeping up.
Regardless, he had won his second official fight and solidified himself as one of the better fighters in the Hurts gang. Brow handed him an old towel, and Jonas used it to wipe the rest of the blood from his eyes. The hot pain from his body told him that his wounds had already stopped bleeding and were in the process of healing.
“I want booze,” said Jonas breathlessly, “Lots of it,” and Brow was in such a good mood that he agreed immediately to the request. Before leaving the cage, Jonas took one look at his fallen opponent and saw that Jake Davidson was still laying on the ground, but his breathing had stabilized, and he probably would be completely fine in a few days.
Jonas also looked back to where Old Louie had been standing, but alas, the old beggar was nowhere to be seen, he had already profited off of Jonas' victory, and this made the young man feel bitter. "Oh well," he mumbled as he painfully strode down the pathway that led to the lobby, and he could hear cheering, booing, and the occasional heckle. He also felt a few slaps to the back from those members of the crowd who had been too quick for Brow to swat away.
Jonas felt his Pride surge, and he once again felt that thrill of dominating in front of a cheering crowd. Each cheer seemed to inflate his muscles, and his ego by the second. It seemed that Drake was no longer the only source of motivation that Jonas had for training and becoming a powerful Sinner.
The arena door closed behind him, and the deafening crowd was immediately drowned out. Within a few minutes, Brow had led Jonas to the showers of the fighter's barracks. There was one gangster who was guarding the entrance to the shower, he nodded respectfully at Brow.
"You earned yourself a shower, I'll wait out here," Brow pointed at the guard, "Grab him some scrubs and soap from the storage cabinet," the guard nodded his head and followed Jonas' bloody figure, both of them disappearing behind the entrance hallway.
Thankfully, the room was empty. As Jonas gingerly removed his clothing, the guard retrieved a few things from a locked cabinet, which included a pair of clean scrubs, and both shampoo and soap. Jonas accepted them, limped toward a shower head, and gasped as cold water splashed down his body. The water dripping down his legs and onto the stone floor was a faded red and carried the blood and sweat of two slave fighters.
Alone with his thoughts, his battered body, and his glowing Sin Scars, Jonas appreciated his first moments of solitude in a very long time. If he wasn't sleeping with slaves, he was spending the rest of his day with fighters. The quiet loneliness was peaceful and welcomed.
He gently scrubbed himself clean, body and mind, and when he met Brow outside the showers, the two of them made their way back to the slave quarters. “Good fight,” said Brow, “I didn’t expect you to win by submission, I thought it would be a knock-out.”
“I need to get drunk,” Jonas shrugged, “My fucking head feels like I got hit by a truck,” and Brow rolled his eyes.
“Just get in your cage, and I’ll have someone bring it. You earned extra beer tonight."
Jonas caught eyes with both Simon and Johnson, who were still in their cages. Without words, the two of them could instantly tell that the result of the fight was a victory, and they celebrated with quick cheers. Thankfully, they didn’t bombard Jonas with questions, and instead, they watched him lay back on his blanket and pillow and collect himself.
“Crazy fight,” said Jonas, “Almost had me toward the end.”
“What happened?” Simon asked.
“Buddy was the fastest fighter I’ve ever fought,” Jonas began with a recollection of the fight, “I could barely do anything to him at first, but he was shit when it came to his follow-through, which made half his hits feel like Johnson was punching me.”
“Hey!” Johnson had to admit that it was more a compliment than an insult.
“Anyway,” said Jonas, “Eventually, I had him all fucked up and confused because he was overthinking his attacks, purposefully adding more force which slowed him down, or not putting enough force which made his attacks easy to absorb.”
“He still managed to do a number on you,” Simon pointed out the gashes that had begun to scar Jonas’ head, face, and body.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Jonas mumbled, “This guy’s footwork was impeccable, and all of his hits were accurate to the point that he might never have missed if he hadn’t been so eager to move on to the next attack.”
“So, what happened?” asked Johnson, “Knock-out punch?”
‘Nah,” said Jonas, “I fucked up, and he swept my legs. He got on top of me and started ground-pounding my brains in.”
“How’d you manage to get out?” Simon looked surprised, he understood the difficulty of surviving that kind of beat down.
“It wasn’t impossible,” said Jonas, he could still vividly recall the moment he had turned the tides of the fight, “His arms were weak, and he was trying to force the victory. I threw him off balance and used the momentum to get on top of him and choke him unconscious.”
“Win by submission?” Asked Simon, “I didn’t think I’d see the day when you of all people got down and dirty.”
“I know,” said Jonas with a toothy grin, “I hate wrestling, but in this case, I had no other choice, I wanted to win and that was my only shot.”
“Well, good fucking fight,” Johnson was impressed, “You've got to be in the top ten best fighters, right?”
“Yeah, probably,” said Jonas, “I don’t have as many fights under my belt as some of the other guys, but between my rate of improvement and the people I’ve beaten, It won’t be long before both Howard Hurts and Thomas Vale begin paying attention.
A few minutes later, Jonas watched as two goons from the gang brought over a large tray full of pitchers of beer, and another one full of hot food. With that much beer and food, he had to assume that Brow had won a lot of money from the fight, and Jonas had seen the odds against himself had been quite lucrative.
“Cheers!” They clinked glasses and prepared to party.