Jonas stood at his usual spot, on the edge of a sandy fight pit, while he proudly watched his companions spar against each other. Each one of them had made great strides as fighters and Sinners, and knowing this brought comfort to Jonas because he felt like he could rely on them to fulfill their end of the escape plan.

His eyes drifted over to Simon, and a small smile bloomed on his face. He was Jonas' first friend and probably the most trustworthy person in all of Little Wrath City. Not only had he given Jonas hope for the future, but he had also given great friendship and had been there every step of the way for Jonas' growth as a Sinner. He looked as rat-like as ever, but his arms had swelled with thick muscles, his eyes glimmered with fighting spirit, his long black hair was unkempt and swished every time he moved against his opponent, and the cloud-shaped Sin Scars on the back of his hands glowed brightly every time he attacked. Jonas knew that Simon would never be the best fighter in the room, but he would at least have the power to protect himself on the first floor of Hell.

Jonas watched as Johnson received Simon's attack and took a moment to reflect on his other best friend, Johnson, the unkempt youth with shaggy brown hair and a tufty beard. Johnson had made many changes since he accepted Jonas' beer that fateful night. He no longer allowed the memory of Garth humiliating him to hold him back, and it had become a sharpening stone that he used to fuel his Sin.

Johnson had taken his weight-lifting seriously, and his former-lanky body shape was gone and replaced with swollen muscles, an eight-pack, and legs like small tree trunks. The flame-shaped Sin Scars on the back of his hands told the story of an angry youth who had tried to escape his sins through military service. He tried to outrun his mistakes but couldn't outrun Hell, and he considered his time in the Hurts gang as punishment for the hurt he had caused the people in his past. It seemed that Johnson had forgiven himself, and between his crazy smile, and the bloodlust in his eyes, it was evident he had accepted himself for who he was. Johnson, like Simon, would never be the strongest fighter in the room; however, he wouldn't go down without a bloody fight.

Over in another pit, Jonas watched Ralph sparring with Pete. The two friends had grown as close as brothers during their time with Wolf. However, they grew even closer during their time with Jonas. Although Ralph was bigger, stronger, and much more talented than Pete: the man with the eye patch dragged the fight out through sheer willpower and had even gotten a few hits in.

Ralph was just as hulking as ever. His curly red hair, bushy red beard, and mean black eyes painted a picture of a gigantic hick one bad day away from bashing his victim's head in with a cattle prod. His flame-like Sin Scars were very pronounced, and Jonas knew the big man had a future as a talented Sinner—if he wanted it. Physically, Ralph looked the same as Jonas had met him. Mentally, he was miles healthier than he had been in years.

Ralph was full of a passion he hadn't felt in decades, and maybe it was because Wolf had stunted his growth, or perhaps Jonas had unlocked something within, but the ginger giant moved, spoke, and fought with a purpose. If anyone had asked, he would tell them his goal was to help his friends escape and to lead them to the promised land of freedom. It might cost his life, but Ralph didn't care about that. Brain cancer had been terrible, and his enslavement was worse. Watching his friends die while attempting to escape for freedom was a terror he didn't want to experience.

Pete hadn't had the same time with Jonas as the others, but their history didn't get in the way of forming a bond built on hope, survival, and spilled blood. His story was seeped with American history and was quite incredible. Jonas only regretted that he hadn't heard it earlier.

Pete's family had escaped the poverty of Haiti and came to America on a ship with nothing but dreams and each other. Upon arriving, they lived an extremely humble life, provided for by his taxi-driving father and his mother, who cut hair for their neighborhood. It was a good life, and although they didn't have much, they did have each other. However, all good things must come to an end.

During the eighties, he joined the Black Panther Party and quickly rose through their ranks, becoming a prominent figure who then marched, fought, and died for the rights of his fellow African Americans. A few weeks after joining Jonas' crew, Pete opened up over drinks. He told Jonas about the early nineties when both he and his wife had begun protesting police brutality after the Rodney King incident. However, they got into an altercation with a group of police officers which resulted in the police beating them until they were comatose, and eventually, they died in the hospital. Unfortunately, his wife, Sandy Ingram, had passed before him, so they didn't get to enter Hell together.

“Slavery is shit,” Pete Ingram had smiled during their conversation. “I truly feel for my ancestors.”

“You won’t be a slave for much longer,” Jonas had replied. “Then you can focus on whatever goal it is you have.”

“First, I want to find my baby. I searched for over two decades and couldn't find her. Now that I'm a Sinner, I think I'll have a better chance. After that, I’d like to meet MLK. I wonder what he’s doing down here in Hell? If he’s still fighting and dreaming, I’d like to fight and dream by his side."

Last but not least were the two more recent members of Jonas’ little crew of slave fighters: the charismatic Jaden and Theo, the timid paperboy-turned-slave. Jaden and Jonas had gotten along since they met, but this was because they were so close in age and had died in the same era. They enjoyed the same rap music; both loved fast food and beer. They even spoke about their favorite porn stars from when they were alive. Jaden had excellent potential for Sin, but Jonas was surprised to hear that his young friend had no aspirations to take it further.

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“What do you want to do when you get out?”

"Promise not to laugh?” Jaden looked around to see if anyone was listening.

“I promise."

“I want to play baseball,” he confessed. “When I heard that there were professional baseball teams in Hell, I knew that it was my calling.”

“Did you play before?” Jonas hadn't expected Jaden to say something like that. Honestly, he wasn't sure why playing baseball should be so secretive.

“I did,” said Jaden. “It was hard, bro, poor kids from Compton can’t afford to be on sports teams, and it’s not like my old man was around to help pay the bills. My mom surprised me one Christmas with a hand-me-down baseball glove and ball, and she and I would play catch after she got done working one of her five jobs.”

“You had a great mom,” Jonas didn't know the first thing about his mother—his real mother, but he liked the idea of playing catch with her—whoever she was.

“The best,” Jaden whispered. There was a glimmer of sadness in his brown eyes. “I wish I could have seen her one last time before I kicked it, you know?”

"How'd you die?" Jonas asked. "Don't tell me if you're not comfortable saying."

"No big deal," Jaden shrugged. "At first, I didn't know why this dude shot me, but once I got to Hell, my demon lawyer explained everything. This hoe from the block decided she wanted to make her man jealous, so she told him that she and I were fucking—we weren't. This motherfucker blasted me on my way home from work. I died over pussy I didn't even touch."

"Fuck," Jonas shook his head. "I'm sorry, man, that's bullshit."

"For real. I didn't even get to say goodbye to my mom: that's the worst part. Whatever, I'm going to honor her by playing professional baseball. It might sound stupid, but it's what I want to do."

"I don't think that's stupid at all. With your talent as a Sinner, you should have no problems making a baseball team."

“Maybe,” Jaden Jackson ran his finger across his crew cut. “How do you know those teams aren’t already full of Sinners?"

Lastly, Theo Wallace was very new to both the group and Hell. He was the only member that wasn't a fighter, and although the Hurts gang had enslaved him, Theo was grateful that Jonas and the crew didn't treat him like a caged animal. They treated him like a human being. Jonas could tell that young Theo had no talent for fighting or Sinning. However, that didn't matter to Jonas because if someone wanted to be his friend, he wouldn't say no.

“I feel bad,” Theo looked anxious and upset. “I eat food I shouldn’t have, drink beer I didn’t earn, and I have the privilege of getting through my day without having the shit kicked out of me. I feel like others deserve it more than me.”

“You deserve what you get,” said Jonas. “Every action you took and every word you spoke—these things might seem minuscule at the moment, but they all add up. Eventually, I think it adds up into the future, and when you look around at what you have, whether you're happy or angry, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“You believe that?”

“My actions led me here,” said Jonas, thinking about the crazy things he had experienced. "My death, my enslavement, me murdering Wolf, every pump of iron, and every drop of blood I spilled—it all culminated with me being here at this moment. Karma doesn't care if I'm happy or sad; it only cares about giving me what I deserve."

“Even for me?” James looked curious. "You're powerful, and I'm not. Do you think I matter enough for Karma to notice me?"

“Yes, even for you,” Jonas smiled at him. “Your actions led you to the Hurts gang, and your words led you to me. Now you’re my friend, have some safety, and you'll soon be out of here.”

“Thank you,” Theo looked at him gratefully. “I don’t know if I’ll get out of here alive, but if I do, I just want to stay inside and not deal with all this fighting and Sinning."

“This is Hell,” said Jonas. “If you ever want a wife, you'll need strength to protect her.”

“Husband,” said Theo. “I’m gay.”

“Well, my point still stands. That lucky guy will need you to protect him,” said Jonas. “It took two days for you to end up enslaved here in Hell. Just imagine what could happen to your loved ones if given enough time. The sick fucks of Hell have no mercy,” his words made Theo sink into deep contemplation.

“I’ve never been the most masculine guy,” he said. "I've never fought anyone."

“Neither had I,” Jonas freely admitted. “I was a skinny, pretty boy from Kansas, and my only talent was getting away with bad behavior due to my face.”

“But you’re a fucking badass,” Theo said quickly. “Even when I first met you, I had already heard about Jonas Ariel, the kid they couldn't kill.”

“Is that what the slaves call me?” Jonas felt his face go red. “Unfortunately, they sent me to Hell, not a magic school,” they both smiled.

“I want to find a place in this crazy world,” said Theo. “I don’t want to repeat my previous life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be afraid of everything.”

“Sometimes, I wonder about the measure of a man,” said Jonas. “Perhaps, it has nothing to do with being powerful, dangerous, or feared. Maybe it’s just about doing the shit he doesn’t want to do, to take on a responsibility that wasn’t his— not because he wants to, but because it’s the right thing to do."

“How can someone take on all that responsibility?" asked Theo. "If he has no power, strength, or bravery. How could he fulfill his responsibilities?"

“Because if he doesn’t try, who will?”