“Sir?” Jonas' smile froze as he wondered what punishment he would receive. He looked stiff and awkward as everyone stared at him.

“I have to punish you,” said Howard. “You killed one of our best fighters and hurt the gang.”

“Yes, that's true,” said Jonas. “But I’ll more than make up for it in the arena. I'll earn way more than Wolf ever did.”

“Oh, you will,” Howard agreed. “You still need to be punished for hurting the gang because no one hurts the gang,” there was a cruel glint in his eye. “Garth.”

“What's up, Boss?” Jonas heard Garth speak, and he had a bad feeling inside his stomach. Howard slid his hand into his jacket, and from an inside pocket, he pulled a beautiful dagger: eight inches, black chrome, with a golden hilt.

“Carve the word: Hurts. Write it on the chest, and make it nice and deep, so the message sinks in.”

“Got it, Boss. Thank you for trusting me with such a vital task. You know I live to serve the gang,” Garth eagerly took the dagger from Howard and used his massive fingers to play with it. Jonas felt his blood run cold as he watched Garth's hulking figure approach him, carrying a sharp weapon and showing a sinister smile.

"Oh, come on," Jonas looked stupefied. Howard Hurts punishing him was one thing, but being stabbed by Garth? It just didn't seem right.

“Punishment time,” Garth licked his thick lips and chuckled while twirling the dagger between his fingers. Jonas looked at Brow from the corner of his eyes, hoping his manager would plead or speak on Jonas' behalf, but he stared intently at the ceiling mold, which must've been more interesting than someone gutting his prized slave.

Jonas knew he had been foolish to believe Brow might help him. When it came down to it, Brow was a vice president, but he didn't have the personal strength to earn any real power or authority. No one in Little Wrath City could stop Howard Hurts from doing something, especially not a figurehead like Brow.

“It might not seem fair,” said Howard. “But even if you’re a top-five fighter, or you have a private bedroom, or you have an Original Sin, or you're a generational talent,” he looked gravely at Jonas. “You’re still the property of the Hurts gang: our slave. You have no rights to speak of," the crimson flames on Howard's hands began to glow with a splendor that Jonas had never seen from another Sinner. Power radiated from the boss' body, and the hairs on Jonas' neck stood up. For the first time since he had started plotting his escape plan, Jonas was unsure how he would kill Howard Hurts—it seemed impossible.

Jonas’ gaze shifted onto Yuki, who was still stone-faced, but their eyes met, and for a moment, he saw anxiety, frustration, and sadness within them. He looked down at his chest and watched as Garth pointed the dagger under his shoulder. Very slowly, almost sensually, he pressed the sharp tip into Jonas' flesh and began carving the teen like a Halloween pumpkin.

Jonas felt his entire body quiver as pain flooded him, and he bit his lip and used every ounce of Pride he had in his body to be sure he didn’t cry out. His nails dug deeply into the palms of his hands, and he felt like an eternity had passed as Garth finished carving the letter H and moved on to the next.

Blood seeped down and dripped onto the arena floor, and Jonas swore that Garth was purposely making the letters as big as he could, as each one seemingly went from the top of his torso and down to his sternum.

After filling his body with Sin, Jonas' pain tolerance helped him endure, but Garth didn’t even spare the nipples as he sliced through both, and Jonas felt his knees go weak. He swore in his heart that he would kill Garth as soon as he was capable.

Cold sweat poured down Jonas' body, and although it had only been a few minutes, it felt like it had been hours to the teen, who looked light-headed. Across his chest in oversized, ugly letters was the word: Hurts, and they were so deep that the spectators were surprised that Jonas still stood tall; however, he still looked terrible with his pale face, sweaty brow, and chest covered in thick blood. It was a punishment that Jonas could never forget.“That's good enough,” said Howard, and Garth handed back the dagger and stepped back to admire his handy work. “I think the message will sink in. What do you think, Thomas?”

“Very good, Sir,” Thomas said while wearing a cruel smile. “Though, I might’ve gone with: This Hurts.”

“This Hurts?” Howard laughed loudly, and it echoed in Jonas' throbbing ears. “Brilliant, use that one next time we have a problem with a slave.”

“I could add another word. There's room on Pretty's neck if you want me to?” Garth held out his hand to take back the dagger. If looks could kill, Jonas would have murdered the evil man a million times.

“That’s okay,” said Howard, who looked at Jonas’ bleeding chest with some amusement. “I think he got the message,” he slipped the dagger back into his pocket.

“Anyway,” Brow said, and he looked nervous. “I’ll make sure to keep both him and Ahmed in line. They would make a great tag team duo for a headline match, wouldn’t they?”

“Now you're thinking. Keep up the creativity, as the Hurts gang needs more people like you,” Howard nodded approvingly. “We’ll talk about that later. In the meantime, I’ve got the keys for both your private rooms…” but Howard's voice trailed off as he looked at Jonas, who was no longer bleeding because the deep wounds were starting to close, leaving nothing behind but blood stains, red marks, and fresh scabs. “Holy shit,” Howard approached Jonas, careful not to get blood on his leather shoes.

“I told you,” said Brow, and his expression was not very pleasant. “Jonas' ability is special.”

“Did anyone count the time?” Howard asked. "If I’m not mistaken, it’s only been about seven minutes since Garth finished carving the first letter. It’s almost healed, look,” and he pointed at Jonas like he was an exotic animal in a zoo.

"Very impressive," Garth grinned. "I've always wanted a pet that could heal quickly. So damn useful. I thought Pretty here survived by luck. I was wrong, as it seems he's got a lot of secrets hidden on his body. Maybe we should cut him open and try to find them."

"I think we'd be better off cutting you up. Your insides are hallowed, so it shouldn't hurt as badly," Yuki could no longer contain herself. Although her voice had seemed casual, it still was shocking to hear her insult Garth and stick up for Jonas.

"Now, Yuki, darling," Thomas gave her a strict glance. "Let's not pick any fights. Garth is correct: a slave that can heal this quickly is useful. Isn't that right, Howard?"

“A gladiator slave who can heal his wounds in minutes,” Howard pondered aloud. “How many fights do you think he could participate in per day?

“Maybe, six?” Thomas smiled devilishly at Jonas, who felt his blood run cold again. Perhaps having a powerful healing ability wasn't always a benefit. Some sick people like Howard Hurts would see him as an immortal gladiator: the perfect money-making tool.

“I was thinking of ten matches,” said Howard, and he laughed. “I'm only joking. He could probably only do about six matches a day.”

“Err,” Brow blundered. He had to be careful with his words. “I thought I was responsible for assigning him matches, Sir?”

“Don’t forget,” Howard mused. “You don’t own these slaves; you manage them. I own these slaves, seeing as they’re the property of the Hurts gang, and I’m Howard Fucking Hurts.”

“Very true,” said Brow, who looked flustered. “I was going to say that it would be better if—“ but his words were drowned by a much more powerful voice.

“Don’t get so upset,” Howard said. “Have I ever stolen management of a slave from one of my subordinates?” He looked disappointed. “I’ve been doing this for nearly a hundred and fifty years, and yet my subordinates still look down on me,” he gave a depressed sigh. “What’s a guy to do?”

“My apologies, Sir,” Brow had nothing else to say. He hoped that he hadn’t screwed up too badly.

“No big deal,” said Howard, who was no longer in a good mood. “I’m giving you two keys. One is to your old private room, and the other used to belong to Wolf,” Brow took the two silver keys with a trembling hand.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You earned it, Andrew,” said Howard. “You’ve faithfully served this gang for many years, and even though you lack the talent for Sin, you don’t lack vision or intelligence, and I appreciate that about you. Keep up the good work.”

“I will, Sir,” said Brow. He was red-faced and held those two keys like they were his lifeblood. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” said Howard. “Alright, that’s enough fun for me. Garth, and Lin, you both come with me,” Jonas watched as Howard Hurts left the ring, and following behind him were his two fighters.

“Let’s go, Yuki,” said Thomas as he mean-mugged Ahmed, Jonas, and Brow. Yuki begrudgingly followed him, and she met eyes with Jonas one last time, and her soft gaze told him that she'd see him later. The remaining trio stood still as they watched the retreating backs of the others, and it wasn’t until the meeting doors slammed shut that anyone said anything.

“Goddammit!” Jonas growled through gritted teeth. “I’ll fucking kill Garth.”

“Oh, I’ll fucking kill him,” said Brow. “Why don’t you think I ever told Howard about your ability? Because he’d do like he threatened: make you fight ten matches a day.”

“You could have given me a fucking warning!” Jonas argued. “Look at me!” He pointed to the wounds on his chest.

“Oh, you’ll heal. Suck it up, Princess.”

“Fuck you, Andrew,” said Jonas. “Who the fuck is Andrew?”

“That’s my name, you little prick,” Brow smirked. “Did you think my mother would name me Brow?”

“Then why do you call yourself that?”

“My full name is Andrew Browner. Got it?"

“Oh,” said Jonas, who thought people called him Brow because he had bushy eyebrows. "That Howard Hurts is something else, isn't he?"

"He's terrifying," Brow had a lustful glint in his eye. "He's killed hundreds of people, and there's a mountain of corpses he had to climb before he could found the gang. Not a single soul in Little Wrath City could beat him in a fight, and even people in Sun City know his name."

"Jesus," Jonas didn't know what was worse: Howard Hurts being so powerful or Brow's expression as he described him, as Jonas found both nauseating. "Not even Garth could beat him?"

"Not even close. However, Garth wouldn't go down without a good fight: he's been undefeated for years. Anyway, here," he threw Jonas a silver key. “I’ll show you where your new bedroom is. You earned it, even if you’re an annoying asshole,” Jonas and Ahmed followed Brow out of the meeting room and into the familiar network of hallways. Instead of heading downstairs in the direction of Yuki's room, they took a right and stopped at the first door at the beginning of a long, winding hallway.

"Good night, Jonas," Ahmed nodded at them both. "I'll see you tomorrow morning for some sparring."

"Night, Ahmed," Jonas watched as his old friend walked down the large hallway and used a key to open the door to his private room. It closed shut, and both Brow and Jonas were left alone.

"Down those stairs is Yotama Yuki's room. Thomas wanted to give her some privacy away from all the male fighters, in case they got any ideas."

"Oh, interesting," Jonas pretended he was uninterested in anything about Yotama Yuki.

"The rooms go in order: you, Ahmed, me, Xiao Lin, Thomas, Garth, and Howard."

"Do you see them often?" Jonas asked. "Leadership, I mean."

"The Hurts gang is secure enough to enjoy most nights in their condos. Both Howard and Thomas live in a skyscraper nearby. Don't get any funny ideas because there's only one electronic door out of this gang, and you need a password to get through it."

"But wait," Jonas knew it was a gamble to ask such risky questions, but he did it anyway. "What if Garth were to wait for leadership to leave, then he tortures a guard for the password and walks out?"

"Howard and Thomas change the password every time they leave, and they don't tell anyone what it is until they return. It's a perfect system; however, technically, you could try and escape through the arena lobby, but that'd be even more stupid to try."

"Why?" Jonas tilted his head like an innocent puppy.

"Hundreds of gang members walk through the lobby at any given moment. Then you'd have to kill a path through another gang's headquarters and hope you can get out their exit door."

"Then how do people get in to watch the fights?"

"A separate hallway leads from the arena to Little Wrath City. However, the tunnels are crawling with mercenaries and guards, and it's locked up like a prison. There's a reason no one ever escapes. These gangs have the power, resources, and experience to be sure that every slave stays in slavery. So, are you still thinking about escaping?" Jonas hadn't been as clever as he thought he had.

"No way. That's too much work, and I finally earned my private room. Up there, I've got nothing."

"I feel the same," said Brow. "This place isn't pretty, but it has everything you could need. Don't worry, I'll make sure you have so many benefits you'll never think of escaping ever again," then he did something extremely uncharacteristic: he patted Jonas on the shoulder.

"Uh, thanks, Brow," said Jonas. He wasn't sure why his manager had gotten so sentimental, but perhaps it was because Jonas had finally earned his respect by killing Wolf.

"No big deal. There are frequent patrols, and the doors have locks, so you won't have to worry about anyone bothering you. Anyway, go ahead and unlock your door. It's time to see the fruits of your labor."

Jonas took the key from Brow, stepped forward, and unlocked the door.