Welcome to the FBI
Chapter 1
Tris POV
All I could hear was the drone of my parents' voices, blaring on and on to me about how the Air Force wasn't for me; how I needed to go to college. My anger just silently boiled in my head until it finally spilled over.
"I'm not going to damn college! I wanna work with crime, justice, protect people! I don't know! I just want to do something to actually help people not just learn about shapes or whatever! I don't give a damn and I'm done with High School and I'm not going to college. It's my decision." I say over the drumming noise of my thought-pounding head.
"Ok." My mother says, quiet at first but then growing with confidence. "You have to pay for everything yourself and you have to figure it out. I'm not babysitting you." She says fiercely.
"How about this," My father started to speak, leaning in, "I'll give you some money, say one year's worth of college, and then from here on out you're done. No more money from us. I think you can make a life for yourself but you're going to have to work hard, alright?"
"Alright. Thank you." I stand and march away, though I want to squeal like a little girl; I will not let my surprise and excitement show because I'm afraid that my dad will turn back on his word. My poker face lasts until the end of the hallway, but I eventually just smile to my ears, run into my room, and scream into my pillow with happiness. All that I want to do is call Chris and tell her the news.
"Hey dollllllll." Christina says, dragging out the l with lots of exaggeration.
"Oh my god I seriously cannot believe it but my parents are giving me one year's worth of college money to go do what I want and I don't have to go to college and I am freaking out!"
"You're kidding. You are meeting me at the Chasm right now. I'll meet you in five." She hangs up, obviously about to take the next half hour prepping herself and then meeting me at the local café. I decide that my black skinny crop jeans and long silvery-grey sweater are fine so I climb into my gray Jeep and start my five minute drive to the Chasm. I pull into a parking spot and walk into the café, picking out my favorite table, a little round one with two puffy white chairs placed next to a floor to ceiling window overlooking the rushing Dauntless river. I jump, hitting the window a little and falling out of my chair as I turn only to see Chrissy whisper yelling "Tell me everything!" an inch from the back of my neck.
"You scared the hell out of me!" I say, pouting a little bit more than necessary. A smile creeps onto her face as she urges me to spill the beans. I retell the story, my butt on the edge of the chair the whole time, I can't help but show all of my pearly whites. Christina looks at me with her lips pursed. All of the sudden I feel worried.
"What is it? Is something wrong?" I say, anxious for an answer that will come out of her mouth at a hundred miles an hour.
"I'm worried. The Air Force Tris? Could you pick something a little less dangerous?" I can see that the she is concerned, I can't get mad at her.
"Well what else would I do?" I say, a little too viciously. She sits with her head down, eyes wandering, and fingernails tapping against the oak table. Suddenly it all stops as she glances back up at me with a face similar to a Cheshire cat.
"Ok so since Will's dad works with the government, he talked to him about working there. Will said he was really interested in the FBI, just as a desk worker, or as an assistant. What about a field agent for something like that?" Her eyes glint with hope as she stares me down in a friendly kind of way. At first I don't even want to consider it, but the more the idea drills into my mind, the more appealing it becomes.
"Do you actually think I could do that?" I say, a little bit unsure.
"Hell ya! You're one bad ass chick and I think you would love working with all those buff guys." She winks at the end and I blush at the thought.
"Well, let's go talk to some receptionist about job openings." I say, confident in my decision. I devilish smile works its way onto Chrissy's face and my confidence fades a little. We drive to her house down the road to drop off her car and so she can gather all the stuff that she won't actually end up needing. After an eternity, I see her skip out of her front door and into my passenger seat.
"You brought your Coach bag?" I ask, bewildered.
"This is a government job, you have to look snazzy." She winks as I shake my head and turn the radio up to the loudest volume, not caring that the windows are rolled down and Chris' singing sounds like a screaming child. Close to an hour later we pull up to grand, fancy building with an eccentric sign reading 'Faction Backer's of the Internal Chicago.' I have to explain to Chris that it basically is saying that these are the protectors of the internal US, and this is the Chicago office.
"Ohhhhhhhhh I get it. Why can't the just say that?" She seems legitimately confused by the idea of the 'big words' and I can't help but laugh and shake my head.
We walk away from the receptionist and I hug Christina tightly, kind of pinning her against a wall. Oh my god is all that runs through my head, a thousand times over.
"You're welcome, but you still have to pass the training session, and I can't help with that one." She pauses then adds, "I take that back. I can figure out what you'll wear, maybe then a trainer will fall in love with you and you'll for sure get the job." Chris just stares at me with a smirk, entirely serious.
"Like that could ever happen," I sigh a little, it makes me sad that I know a scary yet soft boy would never fall in love with me… "Well I guess you're help couldn't hurt." I say with a petite smile. Chrissy only hugs my tighter and whispers into my ear.
"We're gonna get you laid!" She wiggles her eyebrows then gets a swift slap across the face. She pouts at me and I wonder if it's because I slapped her or because I don't want to 'get laid.'
I walk into a spacious room filled with punching bags, mirrors, mats, and a small target at the side. It takes my breath away and my courage falters, my leggings suddenly feel a little too tight and my black and silver zip-up seems to cling too nicely to my boobs at waist.
"Are you lost?" A deep voice asks me from behind. I whip around. Shit, do I look that out of place?
"Uh no, I, uh, I'm here for training…I'm going to see if I can be a field agent." I get nervous talking to this man because of all the piercings that cover his face. Is everyone here so, so daunting?
"Awesome. I'm a trainer and a field agent, all of your trainers will be field agents then if you pass, you'll be placed with one of our teams with one of our trainers so they can help you along in the real world." He says with a toothy grin, his lip and tongue piercings glinting. I gulp a little at this sight.
"Sounds good, I'm Beatrice by the way; you can call me Tris." I say as harshly as possible, trying to get my 'brave and scary' act together. He nods a little too sarcastically.
"Eric, why don't you go stretch or warm up," he looks me up and down, "and you look hot by the way." He winks before wheeling away and all I can think is Christina I hate you. I. Hate. You. I get my mind off of things by stretching, reaching for my toes, eventually progressing to my splits and lunges. As my mind starts to wander to thoughts of an FBI mission, my enthusiasm picks up. I feel a strong, warm hand on my shoulder. Please don't be Eric, I silently pray before swiveling around to meet a face to match with the hand on my shoulder. My heart skips a beat and my eyes grow slightly wider as I fight the color threatening to contaminate my alabaster cheeks.
"I'm Four, I'm going to be helping you train a little, in between my missions. I'm trying to get to know names so you are…" He says as a drift into the depths of his blue eyes.
"My, uh name is Beatrice. But you can just call me Tris." I smile a little and look back into his eyes; they invite me in and I, childish as I may be, go off to play. I can't seem to break contact with the enchanting navy of his eyes, almost like sea water, like an ocean; a whirlpool sucking me in and daring me to try and escape. "Four!" Is all I hear before the mysterious boy breaks contact with my and lightly jogs back to Eric, the one calling his name. You dumbass. I can't help but wonder if I'm calling myself dumb for getting sucked into those eyes, or calling Eric an ass for making Four leave me. The worst part is I've only known this man for two minutes and I'm already intrigued to a point of no return.
