Returning The Favor

by MimiLuvs16

A 'Divergent' one-shot. Minerva, a faction-less born turned Dauntless initiate, is having a rough time during the second round of the initiation process: the fear landscapes. She also is failing the process and she has been dropping in the rankings. She needs to pass. Her family counts on it. Her digress has caught the attention of Eric Coulter, Dauntless leader.

Author's Note:

*waves hand*

Hey, again!

This story is a short, one-shot that I've written for another site that I have an account with (Tumblr). I decided to post the story on here because Tumblr sucks when it comes to posting one-shots and this site treats me better. Tumblr is that fuccboy that ignores me, when he believes someone better has come along while fanfiction is the guy that treats me right, even though we aren't in a relationship. LOL!

This story isn't a part of the "Nasira and Eric" series that I've been writing and posting, on here. This is whole new character for a whole other realm. This is a 'Divergent' fanfic that involves our favorite surly and cantankerous Dauntless leader… Eric.

Rating: Mature (also known as 'NC-17') NSFW

Pairing: Eric/ OFC

Warnings: A/U. Divergent characters are OOC. Non-Canon. Very-very dark themes. Mentions of sexual assault. Mentions of violence. Adult language. Adult content. Children under sixteen years of age shouldn't read this story (even though I know a few adolescents who do read my work).

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the work from the "Divergent" Series. This all belongs to Veronica Roth, except for the original characters. Those belong to me.

I am a slutty, filth monster for ratings and reviews, so don't be shy please.

Thanks to all of the people, who have left me comments and reviews. I love them all.

Also, I haven't forgotten about our beloved Nasira and Eric. I just need more time to finish typing up their tales.

Love you all.

Enjoy!

---

"Mommy."

It was whispered so soft that Minerva almost didn't believe that the call existed. Her sleep-coated eyes grew into thin slits. With her impaired vision, she scanned the scene that was in front of her. She discovered herself laying on a hospital gurney, on her side. Her eyes glimpsed at the polished, black tiled floor and then at dusty, worn wheels that was attached to a push cart that was-

"Mommy!"

Her daughter Amelia called out again. This time, her angelic voice was in a louder whisper. Minerva sensed that her baby wasn't in distress. There was almost a mirth and playfulness to her tone.

"Amelia?" She called out. The mother took note of the hoarseness that was laced in her voice.

"Mommy, come find me!" This time, Amelia voice was louder, clearer and more firm.

"Amel-

The sounds of her feet running against the floor, drowned out Minerva's voice. She listened to her daughter's hurried footsteps as she trotted away. 'I have to go find her before she hurts herself,' the mother decided as she rolled her sleep-sated body. 'I don't kno-

The internal conversation was ripped away from her just as she felt a horrifying pain claw at her. It began in the pit of her stomach and spread into her hips, as well as, her lower back. The terrible situation caused Minerva's eyes to snap open and her muscles to seized up. The pain managed to distract her and kept the bright, overhead lights from scolding her retinas.

"Aaa-Uck..." She harshly breathed. The rest of the breath was caught in Minerva's throat. Seconds later, a family of choppy pants escaped from her mouth. Her hands drifted down to the location of the pain. Her fingers were immediately coated with a thick, smooth-textured fluid. The odor of sweet-scented, mild metal reached up to her nostrils.

'Blood,' was whispered into her mind.

A shuddering sob escaped from her lips as her eyes watered. A shaky gasp fell from her before she gathered the courage to view the carnage that lay before her. The back of her head lifted off of the hospital-issued pillow and her eyes focused on the horrifying scene that was in front of her.

Her eyes served as the presenter while her brain was the unfortunate, forced spectator. Her brain ingested the images of a blood-soaked, white sheet and the blood-covered skin. Her chocolate brown orbs landed on the large, gaping-

"GOTDAMNIT, WAKE UP, MINERVA!"

Eyes snapped open and a hoarse cry escaped from Minerva's opened lips. Her upper body jerked up and off of the reclining lounge chair.

'PROTECT YOURSELF!' Her body's instincts called out to her. Using her basic calling, the 18 year-old leapt from the simulation chair and she fell to her hands and knees. Still in a frightened state, she hurriedly crawled across the cold, stoned floor to an empty corner. Her hands clutched the walls and scaled the smooth dry wall until she made it to her feet. The young mother turned her back to the corner and she focused on the possible assailants that occupied the room.

Her brown orbs took in the sights of a man and a woman. Her eyes glanced at the woman again. She was standing by the side of the lounge chair. With the slight curve in her svelte back, Minerva figured that the older woman was the person who woke her up. There was an expression of forlorn in the woman's eyes.

Then, she eyed the man, who stood fourteen feet across from her. He sat behind a mass-engulfing machine with his head slightly bowed, but his eyes were focused on her. His slim and muscular build secreted the energy of irritation. He was familiar. Even she could acknowledge that tidbit of information despite feeling fear-fueled hysteria, at the moment.

A wave of familiarity took over her consciousness.

'Four... Tori.'

Her memories came flooding back. It was Day Four, into the second round of the Dauntless initiation. She was in a simulation room. It was her turn to go through her fear landscapes. This was her fourth training session and she knew that she had failed to get through this session. Just like the first three sessions. 'You're failing.'

And, she was failing this initiation, terribly.

'I'm never getting them back.'

Her brain flashed images of her family, of the moment when they were snatched from her by Dauntless foot soldiers and by a pair of women that were dressed in gray. The memories of the children's grimacing and tear-soaked faces scolded her consciousness. It was ripping open that emotional wound that she tried to keep concealed, during this initiation trial.

A soft and shuddering gasp fell from her lips while crystal-colored tears fell from her eyes. "I-I-I'm sorry," she cried, as she eyed both Dauntless members. Her resolve ripped open deeper, when she watched Tori's refined features grow somber. The simulation operator unknowingly told the initiate about her final status for this Dauntless initiation process.

Minerva was going to fail. She was going to get cut from the tryouts.

She won't be able to get the opportunity to gain custody of Amelia, Ophelia, Octavius, Georgina and Epiphany. She promised her sobbing mother that she would take care of the kids. It was a promise that she shouted into the air as the Dauntless military truck drove away from her home and from her anguished mother, as the old woman kneeled in the street with her arms outstretched.

Now, she failed to keep the promise.

"I'm sorry," she cried as she openly wept in that corner of the room. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she kept sobbing.

Tori looked to her partner. "Four-

"Leave," the male Dauntless member announced. His voice was cold and authoritative. His eyes landed on Minerva. "Now, initiate," he ordered. His eyes rolled their attention back down to the simulation machine.

Despite being under distress, she was able to follow his order. She reluctantly peeled herself off of the wall and she solemnly walked across the room to the closed exit.

"I..."

Minerva stopped. Her tear-filled eyes focused on Four, who was still eyeing the simulation's screens.

"...advise you to wipe your face before you leave this office. There are some Dauntless members out there, who will take that as a sign of weakness and they will take advantage of it..." He took an audible breath. "And some initiates, too."

She sighed and subtly nodded her head. She made a hasty exit, yet, made a demure entrance into the waiting room as she quietly closed the door behind her. She was the last person to have a training session for today. She was thankful for this, so no one couldn't see her tears. As she walked across the small and empty room, she followed Four's advice. Using the sleeves of her frumpy, black sweatshirt, she dried her cheeks and hid the signs of her weakness.

On her way out of the room and into the corridor, her left shoulder managed to clip someone. Minerva quickly turned around to apologize. "I'm sorr-

"I'm sorry," the smaller woman announced, cutting Minerva's limped one off.

Her eyes widened in surprise, when she recognized the face of another one of her trainers. 'Tris,' her brain reminded her. She watched her trainer's eyes perform a quick perusal over her.

"Minerva, are you okay?" the slightly older woman inquired. Her naturally glowing orbs grew brighter with the concern. A consoling, right hand was placed on the mother's left forearm. A firm squeeze was handed out.

With a deep crease in her brow, Minerva nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm... I'm okay," she lied.

The trainer's head performed a soft tilt as she still gifted Minerva a concerned look. "It's the simulation, isn't it?" Tris asked, even though she already knew the answer.

Minerva was about to lie again, but she ended up nodding her head. She looked away from the woman and focused on the stoned walls. She didn't want to see the woman's pity. "I'm..." The thought of never seeing her children and siblings again, still plagued her spirit. Her heart began to race. Her eyelids became heavy with unshed tears. "I will be cut soon," she announced.

"No," Tris declared. She took a breath. The trainer looked for other occupants in the long hallway. When she detected no other lives, she took a hold of Minerva's left arm and guided the younger woman over to the other side of the hallway. Once they were in a private niche, she spoke again. "I'm not going to lie to you, Minerva. You are failing, but you haven't failed yet. You can still make it. You can still become a Dauntless member. You...You just have to get through these simulations like you're a Dauntless member. When you're in the simulations, you have to say to yourself, 'What would a Dauntless member do?' You just have to-

Minerva turned to stare at the woman, with an incredulous expression on her face.

"H-How?!" The initiate groaned. "You-You were there for my first time! You had seen my fear landscapes. How can I get through all of them?!" She snatched her arm from out of Tris' grasp. She heard the soft gasp of shock fall from the trainer. "You've seen my fears. So, tell me how can I...?" Her belly rumbled, a side-effect from both the anger that she felt and her hunger. She grunted in anger. "How can a Dauntless member get over being... Raped repeatedly by different men and then being cut open like an animal and left to die?!" She huffed. "Tell me, Tris! How?!"

Minerva didn't wait around, so Tris could utter words of comfort. She walked away from the trainer and traveled deeper into the underground world that was Dauntless. After making several trips into long corridors and short hallways, she arrived to The Pit, the heavily-populated center of the faction's territory.

"Another search and purge has taken place again..."

'...Search and purge.'

The familiar phrase had taken Minerva out of her mind and brought her back to consciousness. Her eyes caught the sight of a wall that was comprised of television screens. The initiate strolled off of the walkway and approached the wall. She stood a few feet in front of a screen.

Each screen displayed the same visual feature: a ruby-haired woman that was dressed in a blue blazer with a pale blue blouse underneath. Underneath the image of her physique, there was a caption that bore her name and title. Evangeline Stottler: Erudite. She stood ramrod straight in front of a wall of special effects. She kept her well-maintained face stoic. She attempted to keep her voice with an emotionally-neutral glaze. But Minerva could hear her almost-concealed taste of distain.

"...today. Several of our Dauntless platoons, along with volunteers from the Erudite and Abnegation factions, infiltrated the faction-less territories, this morning..."

'Like the time, when they took me,' Minerva said as she eyed the screen. Her brain unleashed a stream of snapshots from the memories of that ill-fated morning. She recalled the moment when a handful of Dauntless soldiers had invaded her home. She was in her bedroom that she shared with her children, Georgina, Amelia and Ophelia. Her oldest daughters, Ophelia and Amelia were asleep on their pallets. She was in the process of nursing Georgina.

She shook the memories away and resumed watching the news feed. Her eyes widened with anger and disgust as she eyed the footage that was accumulated from the day's raids. There were squalling babies being snatched from out of screaming women's arms. Able-bodied children were fighting Dauntless soldiers as they were led away from their adult, loved ones. There was footage of bloodied and shrouded bodies splayed out on cracked and dirty pavements.

"...As you all know, this initiative, this Operation: Hope, has been created to give all of Chicago's faction-less born children the chance... The hope, to become functioning members of our society..."

Minerva watched a new piece of footage settle into the screen. It was a shot of a multi-leveled building that appeared to be comprised of glass. It was a building that was surrounded by a duo of isolated, tree-lined neighborhoods.

"...For all of the faction-less born children that are under the age of 16, they will be staying in the new Ascot Building, which is in Erudite. It is here, where the children will receive a proper education, the ability to be medically treated by our knowledgeable physicians, better living conditions and more importantly, love and care..."

The footage changed. Now, a visual shot of frightened teenagers being forced into several long lines, was displayed. They were all facing entrances to a building.

"...For the faction-less born children that are sixteen years-to-eighteen years old, they will be sent to Erudite's Assessment Center. It is there, where each teenager will receive an aptitude examination through the simulation process. Once they've been assigned to a faction, they will be sent to those factions to undergo the initiation process..."

Minerva recognized the place. Just a month and half ago, she was forced into a line, which led into that same building. It was in there where she was subjected to a speech by an Erudite spokesman. With his lecture, they were informed that they were given a chance to become members of any of the five factions. All they had to do was take the assessment test, receive a faction result and then pass the faction's initiation process.

Afterwards, she was placed in a group, which was taken to a waiting room that led into a simulation room. Minerva was the twelfth person tested, out of the group of twenty-four people. She was given the Dauntless faction as her result, from her aptitude test.

Dauntless. The name was recognizable. But she knew them by the dastardly references that were spewed from her late great-grandmother's lips. She also knew just how cruel they could be, as well.

After receiving her test's result, she was placed in another group. This time, it was a group of five people. Minerva remembered each person was silent. The waiting area felt frigid and the ceiling lights shone too brightly. A thick sense of the unknown stunk up the room and it caused tension to rise. Minerva and the five teens didn't acknowledge each other's presence. They were stuck in their own private worlds and trying to assess the events that occurred on that horrible morning.

Hours later, the mother and twenty-seven other children were transported to Dauntless territory. As the bus pulled up, Minerva saw the small platoon of armed faction members that were waiting for them. As soon as she exited the bus, she was placed in a line that comprised of other teenage girls. They were led to a very large gymnasium-type of room that served as the infirmary, where they were given physicals.

Minerva hated every second, minute and hour of her examination. She had a nurse peer into her eyes with a bright light. Her nose, mouth and ears were also inspected. She had her hip-length dreadlocks inspected for lice and bed bugs. She was forced to surrender her clothes and head wrap, so they could be burned. Then, she was placed in a makeshift room that was formed by a partition. A female doctor subjected her to an exam, where she had to lay down and was touched in an intimate way. The last person to touch her in that matter was Doc Stranger and he was waiting for Georgina to make her entrance into the world. After receiving a "contraceptive injection" by a nurse, she was told to leave the examination room. She was then placed in a room with four other teenage girls. All of them were uncomfortable in their thin, paper hospital gowns.

There was another person that was dressed in blue clothes, waiting for them. Minerva quickly learned that all of them were segregated from the others because of their maternity status. Each young woman was a mother and soon-to-be initiate. This person, another woman, informed them about the possibility of being reunited with their children. They just needed to pass their initiation trials. Once they would become full-fledged members of society, they would regain custody and earn the proper living accommodations.

As the woman talked, Minerva eyed each girl. She had taken each image and committed them into her memory bank. She hoped, and strongly desired, that she would be able to keep tabs on each girl during the Dauntless initiation process. She hoped that each mother would fight with every bit of fire that was inside of them. She knew that each of them deserved a better life than the one that they had already.

"-child needs to grow with some sense of hope..."

The TV woman's voice brought her back to the present. She focused on the screen.

"...After all, they each deserve a chance at life. If not, everything that we're doing will be in vain. We owe it to Baby Noel, Baby Hope, Little Samuel and Little Seth, the four children whose bodies were found on that entryway of the Alexander Fleming Memorial Research and Diagnostic Center in Erudite, on that dark day, eight months ago. Huddled together in search of warmth and shelter..."

Minerva remembered those children. She recalled being told about their deaths, from her grandmother. Four children, whose ages ranged from seven years old to two years old, died of hyperthermia on the doorway that led to a service entrance, in Erudite. Minerva remembered the constant freezing temperatures from that winter season. She knew that there was no way for those children to survive for one night, in that type of cold. For weeks after that devastating incident, she would occasionally hear stories about those four children as she traveled through the city, foraging for food and for other vital things. No one that lived in her territory knew the children or any of their next of kin. Many speculated that the children must've came from the southern region of the faction-less territories. The faction-less parents would talk about those kids with pity laced in their voices and with a tight grip around their own children. Minerva had done the same things with her children. However for her, she wished that she would've known the family that those kids belonged with. If she did, she knew that she would've attempted to help them. She even would've taken them in. With her, they would've had a place to live, food in their bellies, clothes on their backs and a mother to love them.

She gave the TV screen one last glance before she walked away. '...Then maybe I wouldn't be in this predicament.'

Minerva made her way to the Mess Hall, where it was occupied with faction members. Just the smell of spice-enriched grilled beef and onions had caused her stomach to growl with appreciation. Her eyes scanned the spacious lunchroom for the other faction-less born initiates. It wasn't hard to spot them. They usually situated themselves away from the Dauntless members. She quickly found them at a table that was a few feet in front of a row of garbage bins. There was a wide berth between the two parties.

"Hey Minerva."

"Hi, Minnie."

"Hey, Mama."

"Hi, Minn."

A few more occupants greeted her as she sat down at their designated table. As soon as she sat down, she greeted all of them with a mild "Hey, guys". Someone gifted her with a clean steel plate while another placed all of the metal trays of food in front of her. The gestures reminded her of her family during their meal times: each family member helping another. Before she could delve deeper into her memory stream, someone called her name. She eyed her table's fellow occupants. "Yeah?"

A faction-less born initiate by the name of Angus piped up. He sat in the middle of their group. His bruised, green eyes were focused on her. "How did your sim go today?" he asked with blaring curiosity. He was met with low-volumed, groans and murmurs of disproval.

"Angus!" hissed Farrah, another initiative. Her naturally almond-shaped eyes became narrower as she glowered at the younger initiate.

A look of confusion decorated Angus' freckled face. "What?! What...?" He looked into the eyes that belonged to other initiates. "... What did I...?" He looked at Farrah. "...say wrong?"

A wave of embarrassment flooded Minerva's core. It was apparent that she was struggling with the tests in the second stage of the initiation. It became apparent after the first training session, when she had to be transported on a gurney to the infirmary, where she had to stay overnight because her blood pressure was seriously high. It was well-known to her bunk mates, due to the crying bouts that she would perform, in the wee hours of morning. Then it was made perfectly clear, when they all noticed her name fall further down in the rankings.

"It's fine," she told her makeshift family. Her eyes danced on each person's face. Her lips formed a weak smile. "I'm fine. I'm..." She stared at Farrah, who smiled. "...fine." She looked at Angus. "Thank you for asking, Angus."

Gradually, the mood picked up once again. The occupants began chatting amongst themselves. Minerva began filling her plate up with food.

"So, how's your milk supply going?"

Minerva glimpsed at Farrah, who was sitting across from her. She was wiping the corners of her full lips with a napkin. The mother resumed scooping mashed potatoes with a ladle. "It's still there," she answered. "My..." She paused. She quickly eyed the other occupants to make sure that they weren't eavesdropping. Once she realized that they were busy, she resumed talking. "My breasts still hurts," she confessed.

"Have you tried standing directly under the shower, in the hot water?" queried Farrah. "That's what I did and mine's came down."

"Farrah, I'm not going to take a shower without a bra on. Especially with the guys in our room," she grumbled. "They all be trying to sneak a peek."

Farrah rolled her eyes. She balled up her napkin. "Okay, so use warm compresses on your boobs. It should make the milk come down," she suggested as she dropped her napkin onto her plate. A wave of silence floated in between the women. "How much do you miss your kids?" she asked, disrupting the silence.

Images of their laughing faces popped up in her mind, causing her heart to race. "A lot," answered Minerva as a smile grew on her plump lips. She picked up her fork and began to eat. "Everyday, I've been waking up and expecting to see them there."

"I miss my boys so much that I try not to think about them," confessed Farrah. "It hurts too much." Her own smile lessened while the sharpness in her eyes became lesser. She looked down at her bruised knuckles. "Where were you..." She stared into Minerva's eyes. "...when your purge happened?"

Minerva deeply inhaled. On her exhale, she answered. "Home. My youngest baby, Georgina woke me up with her crying. I was feeding her, when they kicked in my door..." She subtly shook her head. "...everything happened so quickly." She focused on her meal. "What about you?"

"I was home, too. I was getting my oldest boy, Deacon, ready for school, when they came into my home. I used to live in a building, over on Archer Avenue. It used to be an apartment building before the war happened and it's one of the few nice ones that was left. So, anyway, I was home. I had just finished making Deacon his breakfast. I was about to wake up my son, Josiah, when my front door was completely shattered. Dauntless came into my home and held me down, so they could wave that thing..." Farrah waved her left palm in front of her face, for a few times. "...in front of me. Once they found out that I was a faction-less born, they took us." Farrah sighed. She looked off to the side. "I hope Miss Mary is going to be alright..."

The announcement of that familiar name caused Minerva to gaze at the person who sat across from her. "Miss Mary is still alive?!" Minerva asked with a toothy smile.

Farrah chuckled and nodded her head. "Yeah, she is still alive and kicking and was teaching kids in that broken-down building, over on Ninety-fifth."

Minerva chuckled. She reflected about the old school teacher. The woman was the only person from a faction that genuinely gave a damn about the faction-less. "Miss Mary was old, when I was a kid! I'm surprised that she hasn't retired from teaching."

"The old Abnegation woman will be there until Father Time is done with her. So..." Farrah looked away from Minerva, so she could focus at her plate. "...any..." She glanced at her dinner mate.

Minerva noticed the woman's eyes lift off of her face and land on something that was behind her. Her eyes briefly widened. 'What, Farrah?'

"Shit," she hissed. The woman looked down at her plate.

"Far-

"Minn, get back on clock," Farrah blurted out in a firm, but low voice.

'Oh,' her brain whimpered. Her back and shoulders tensed up. Her spine straightened. "How many?" she whispered.

"Just one," she quickly stated. "It's Training Officer Peter," she reported.

'Shit,' she internally groaned.

Peter was their instructor for knife-throwing and occasionally he covered for Four, whenever he couldn't make a session. If she had to judge Peter, based off of her interactions with him, then he was an asshole to the 'Nth degree'. He behaved more like a bully than a Dauntless instructor. Except, for those moments when the leaders would unexpectedly drop by and view the faction-less born' progress. Then he became as quiet as a church mouse and as subservient like a humbled slave.

"Does he look pissed off or angry?" Minerva whispered.

"No... He looks like his typical 'punch-worthy' self," she reported.

'Okay, so he could be in a good mood,' Minerva said to herself.

She kept her eyes on Farrah and listened out for his presence. Once she felt his frame stand at the head of the table, she glanced at her meal. Her ears picked up the lack of chatter at her table. She used her peripheral view to eye her table mates. They all quieted down and were bowing their heads.

"Farrah... Minerva..." Training Officer Peter announced.

Out of instinct, Minerva looked away from the table's guests and glanced at the standing figure that was dressed in black. She glanced into his eyes. She watched his brow form a scowl.

"Did I say that you could look at me, initiate?" Peter stated in a firm chastising.

Minerva immediately glared at the table. "I'm sorry, Sir," she announced, hoping that her apology would smooth things over.

"The next time, I won't be so forgiving," he warned her.

'Such a dickhead,' she secretly uttered.

"Minerva... Farrah... Come with me," Peter announced.

'What?' Minerva lifted her head and stared straight into the eyes of Farrah. She saw the expression of confusion on the young woman's face. Minerva just subtly shrugged her shoulders. "What does he want with us?" She rapidly mouthed the words to her bunk mate.

Farrah slightly shook her head. She mouthed, "I-

"Today, ladies!" Peter announced, with an indignant tone. Then he proceeded to step away from the table.

'Well... Okay,' she quietly murmured.

Both female initiates removed themselves from their seats and gave their fellow initiates parting glances. Each one of their bunk mates gave them an expression of sorrow that was mixed with mild hope. The two women strolled abreast with each other as they followed Peter's path. They allowed a few feet of space to pass in between them and the hard-nosed instructor. Each woman threw passing glances at every notable structure that they approached. The deep archway that served as the exit for the Mess Hall. The stone-lined corridor that connected to The Pit. The random window displays that belonged to the shops that were located inside. The lowly-lit caverns that made up The Chasm. The semi-moist metal grating that made up the flooring for the bridge. The dimly-lit, sulfuric-smelling corridors. The surprisingly lavished lobby that led to more hallways. The mirror-walled elevator, where both women were in awe. They stared at their reflections and at each other's with bulging eyes and toothy smiles.

"Twentieth... Floor."

Both women tore their attention away from the mirrors to stare at each other with confusion. The elevator came to a gentle stop, which caused a soft ripple of pressure to explode in Minerva's belly. Her hands had gone to her abdomen.

"It's a fucking elevator," they both heard Peter mutter under his breath. His tone of pretentiousness caused Minerva to lower her sense of marvel.

"In the faction-less territories, none of the buildings have operable elevators."

'Farrah!' Minerva eyed her friend with bulging orbs. 'What are you doing?!'

"What..."

Minerva turned to Peter, who was now facing the both of them. However his attention was focused on Farrah, whose face held a mask of restraint.

"...did you say to me?" Peter asked as he stepped into Farrah's personal space.

Minerva noticed the young woman didn't budge at all.

"I said..." A subtle smile graced her pink, pouty lips. "...in the faction-less territories, none of the elevators are operable," she informed him. "So... For us, this is our first time riding in an elevator, so please excuse our excitement. The things that you Dauntless people take for granted are the things that we've never experienced before."

Minerva felt Farrah's anger radiate off of her body. She also could feel the woman's lack of fear and lack of regret as well. She knew that if 'push turns to shove' and they fought, Farrah could hold her own. Possibly, she could've beaten the shit out of Peter. She knew from first-hand experience that Farrah was a tough adversary. During the first round, their sparring sessions were treated as entertainment by both the trainers and the fellow initiates.

Farrah was the initiate in the top spot in the current rankings. She took over Minerva's place after the beginning of the second round.

Peter lowly chuckled as he eyed Farrah. He slowly sized her up. "Do you know who I am?" He told her as he continued to invade her space. "I can end your time, here in Dauntless, just like..." He unexpectedly snapped his fingers in her face. "...that! I can make sure that you will spend the rest of your miserable life being a real-life sparring dummy for us, real Dauntless soldiers, instead of cleaning out the shit-stained toilets like supposed to be doing!" To add to his point, his smug snigger filled the carriage.

Farrah didn't respond to his act of dressing her down. She just kept the same smile on her face and the malevolent glare in her dark brown eyes.

"What? Cat gotcha tongue now?" snickered Peter.

A playful sigh fell from Farrah just as a smirk graced her lips. "Unfortunately for you, Mister Peter, I do know who you are," she informed him.

'Farrah... No. Don't say anything else,' Minerva silently prayed.

"Oh yeah, what am I?" Peter asked while chuckling.

Farrah smiled brightly as she stared at him. Then her right pointer finger jabbed the air, to the elevator door. "The elevator is waiting for us to get off," she told him, before side-stepping and then moving around him. She casually strolled off of the elevator. "Come on, Minerva," she instructed, holding her left hand out to the side.

Minerva eyed the trainer, who stood next to her with a look of shock on his face. Her gut instinct told her that Training Officer Peter has never been talked down by someone that came from a lower rank. She reluctantly stepped out of the carriage and took Farrah's hand into hers. Both women walked further into the elaborately designed floor.

As they eyed the decor, Minerva heard her friend whispered, "Little, ego-driven, shit-stains like Peter don't like it when 'the underlings' are not afraid of them. They also are short-tempered and easily offended and you know what that means, right?"

Minerva shook her head. "No."

Farrah held her left pinkie finger in front of her. "They have small dicks!" she giggled.

Minerva giggled behind her right hand. The young women approached a large and ominous sculpture that was in the center of the room. "What do you think they want with us?" she asked the woman.

"I don't know," whispered Farrah. "I hope that they're gonna offer us some jobs and I hope that it's better than being someone's maid or a street cleaner. I just can't wait until we pass."

"I-

"After we pass this initiation, Minerva," Farrah pointed out. The woman's sharp and narrowed eyes stared at her. "You're gonna pass this. You just need to remember, when it comes to that damned sim, that it isn't real. It's like a game of make-believe."

"That's easier for you to say," muttered Minerva.

"Just-

"Let's go!" Peter announced, forcefully. As he strutted past the two initiates, his right shoulder bumped into Farrah's left bicep. She didn't make a sound that illustrated her discomfort from his action. Instead, her lips formed a brief snarl and then a smile.

Both women allowed the ornery trainer to walk past them.

"Just try it for your next simulation," Farrah suggested, whispering before they began to follow Peter.

The trainer led them to a well-lit corridor that were aligned with closed, imposing doors. Both women glanced at each other before they resumed walking. Peter stopped in front of a pair of polished, wooden doors that were twenty-feet tall.

"Alright..." Peter eyed Farrah. Minerva noticed his jaw twitch. "...Farrah, you're about to meet our faction leader, Augustus Holland and his wife, Mrs. Holland."

A hiss of marvel was sliced into the air. It came from Minerva's lips. She gazed at her friend. She silently wondered if this meeting would lead to a great future for Farrah or would this moment become the last time she would see her friend.

"Why do they want to meet me?" Farrah asked, as she glared at Peter. Her muscled arms folded across her chest.

"I don't know! Just get your ass in there and don't you dare embarrass me!" Peter growled and threatened. Unexpectedly his right hand snatched up her left bicep and yanked her away from Minerva's side. "I will be outside of this door and I will take you back to the initiates' quarters. So, like I said before, don't you fucking embarrass me in front of my leader or you will pay for it..." He pushed the left door open. He eyed Farrah. "A lot can happen to you on your way back to the quarters," he crudely taunted her.

Farrah presented him with a glower as she stepped into the room.

"I'll be back for this one," Peter announced to someone that was already inside of the room. Then he softly closed the door as he stepped back into the hallway. He glimpsed at Minerva. "Follow me," he instructed before walking away.

'Where is he taking me?' She didn't question him. She just obeyed him. The training officer strolled further down the hallway. She observed his back and shoulders as she walked a few feet behind him.

"Here you go," he stated, so matter-of-factly. Peter approached a pair of black double doors.

A pair of unsure eyes focused on the trainer and then on the doors that were behind him. "Who...?" Her sight returned to Peter. "...se office does this-

"My leader...Eric Coulter wants to meet with you," explained Peter. He deepened his glare. "You've met him, once..."

Eric Coulter.

Her brain was able to immediately produce an image of the Dauntless leader. Peter was right. She indeed met the authority member. He had shown up to a sparring session during the second week of the initiation. Minerva was in the process of fighting Farrah while the rest of the initiates were cheering, as they stood on the sidelines. She didn't become aware of the leader's presence until after her match, seconds after being declared the winner of the bout. She noticed a tall man, dressed in black and with a tattoo covering his throat. There was an expression of boredom on his face. But she knew that it also could've been a sign that he wasn't impressed. Four garnered her attention, along with the attentions of the other initiates. He introduced the authority figure before stepping off to the side, to allow Eric to have the spotlight. She remembered that this Eric Coulter had given the class of Chicago's redeeming outsiders a speech that sounded like a long-winded threat, with the occasional verbal barb tossed in. If Minerva wasn't suffering from pain in her ribs, at the time, she was sure that she would've felt anger. Once he was finished with address, he gave all of the teens a glare of contempt and then he sauntered off. It was the first and last time Dauntless Leader Coulter came to their sparring sessions. It was also the first and last time he had addressed any of them.

Just based off of that one interaction alone, Minerva knew that the leader did not want them there. He wasn't the only Dauntless member, who felt this sentiment. But she expected for the leaders to be different. She expected for the leaders to have the same moral standards like the kings and queens from all of those fairy tale books that she read as a child. She expected for all of the leaders to make the faction-less born feel welcomed and like they were a part of the civilization.

"Yes, I remember who he is," she told her knife-defense instructor. "But why does he want to talk to me?"

"You're gonna have to learn that from him..." Peter snapped. He opened the left door out of the duo and then made a few backward steps to stand to the side. His left arm performed a flimsy swing into the room. "...so get in there," he ordered.

A ball of heavy pressure grew in the base of her stomach while her throat felt like it was going to concave. Her instinct secretly told her that she was in danger. Her fear was awakened as a result and it captured her spirit.

"Go on," Peter ordered.

Her wide eyes glimpsed at Peter and then at the doorway that led to an unknown room. On the tail end of a shaky breath, she made steps into the direction of the door. Once she stood in the threshold, she halted. She glanced over her right shoulder to glance at Peter. "You're gonna come back for me, too? Right?" she questioned, making her hope and fear known.

Peter turned his head to the side and performed a few quick head nods. "Yeah-yeah, I'll come back," he told her as he eyed the floor. Then he walked away from her and traveled in the direction of which they came from.

Minerva took a deep inhale, to calm her nerves. She turned away from the hallway and entered the room. She entered a small and empty waiting room. It was a room that consisted of a wide wooden, receptionist desk and six chairs with a coffee table. The black, granite walls contained no art except for wall sconces. Despite void of other humans, the room held a foreboding sensation. It was a mild malevolent presence that circulated in the air. It caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up and her stomach to spasm.

She knew that this location wasn't where she would meet Eric Coulter. Minerva knew that would've been too simple and too comfortable for her. She eyed the pair of tall, wooden doors that were facing the front of the desk and was adjacent to where she was standing. She stepped further into the room and then softly closed the door that led to the corridor.

'Maybe he wants to offer me a job,' she said to herself, an attempt at killing the fear that was eating away at her psyche. 'There's no other reason.' She walked over to the pair of doors and grabbed the handle to the left door. Her sight came across the morbid and grotesque carvings that were on the door. There was a collage of nude bodies that were twisted in abnormal and inhuman angles. The looks of insurmountable amount of pain and disbelief graced their faces. Her lips slightly parted as shock ran through her. 'Oh... What kind of person would...? What does he want from me?' Her fingers pushed force down on the lever-like doorknob and she pushed the door with her right hand.

Once she was greeted with the scene of a well-lit room, she peeked her head inside of the room. Her dark brown eyes surveyed the room and discovered it was an office. Like the stone-wall waiting room, there were signs that it was an office: chairs, a coffee table and a desk.

Once her sight landed on the desk, movement invaded her peripheral vision. She focused on the source, who was sitting behind the desk. Dauntless Leader Eric Coulter was in the process of reading off an object that was laying flat on his desk. The top of his head was on display. He gave off the essence that he was relaxed and enjoying this leisure period.

"Please come in," the leader stated as he kept his eyes down.

"Oh," she softly mewled. Her cheeks blushed, an effect from being slightly embarrassed. She stepped into the office and she closed the door behind herself. She eyed the door. 'Just be positive, Minerva. Maybe, he will give you a job.' She turned her back to the door and she timidly approached the front of the desk. Standing a foot away from the large oak table were a pair of chairs. Her right set of fingers touched the back of the left chair.

"Stand."

"I'm sorry?" She looked to the seated, faction leader. His icy cold, blue eyes were locked on her. His glowering gaze caused a frigid tingle to slither down her body.

"I said, stand. Don't sit down," Eric announced.

Minerva released her hold on the chair and she placed her hand by her side. Her eyes focused on the contents that were on his desk. "I'm sorry, Sir... For making an assumption and for taking that initiative," she told him.

"Hmph!" Eric scoffed before delving into a series of throaty chuckles. "You have manners and an extensive set of vocabulary, Minerva. That's... Quite impressive. I never would've thought that a faction-less born would be polite and have manners..." He leaned further into his chair. Each of his hands grasped onto the arm rails. "...It just makes things much more... Interesting..."

The manner in which he uttered that word forced the young initiate to glance at the leader. She stared at his face. She spotted the tight-lipped smile and the weird glaze that coated his orbs, as he stared at her.

Eric peeled his focus off of Minerva and turned it to the documents on his desk. "You know what else makes you so interesting, Minerva?"

"No..." she said softly. It earned her another glare from Eric. She shook her head. "... I don't know, Sir."

"Well..." He proceeded to roll up the sleeve that covered his left forearm. "...there's the fact that you're a proficient and very skilled fighter. In fact, you're too skilled of a fighter. If it was up to me, then I would say that you are better than more than half of the dauntless members here. And this..." His fingers began working on his other sleeve. "...makes me wonder how were you able to learn those moves."

Minerva was unsure if she should speak and explain to him about her self-defense history. She kept her plush lips together and she eyed the brawny leader with scrutiny.

Eric either didn't notice her gaze of distrust or he just didn't care, because he continued to press for information. "Who taught you how to fight, Minerva?" There was a soft smile on his lips that was full of mischief. "In fact..." He pushed his body and his rolling chair away from the desk. He stood up. "...who taught how to do everything that you know?" He found his way to the front of the office furniture, where he sat on the edge of the desktop. His thick arms slipped into a defensive stance across his chest. "I want to know how you are able to use a knife so well..."

'How does he know that?' she silently wondered. Eric was never present during their knife training sessions. It was only Peter and Four. And those sessions only consisted of the initiates throwing knives into life-sized targets. Minerva sensed in Eric's tone of voice that he meant her more knowledgeable skills with a knife. Perhaps, he was referring to the the lessons that she sharpened by practicing with Ajax, another faction-less initiate. The two former members would sneak out of their dormitory to go to a sparring room, during the early hours of morning.

"... How are you able to fight so well against people? I've watched you..."

His admission of surveying her during her sparring matches caused a tidal wave of heat to drown her. In its wake, a buzzing and a blushing erupted in her high cheekbones.

"...incapacitate your opponents without permanently harming them. Then, there's the reading..."

A deep crease imbedded itself into her brow. 'Reading? What does he mean? I've never read anything in the training. What is he...?'

"... I've watched you read people..."

'People?! How can I read people?!'

"...better than any Candor could. Where did you learn how to do this?"

"What... What do you mean?" Minerva asked, displaying her confused nature.

His azure eyes were steadily focused on her face. In particular, her lips. Then his pupils flickered to her eyes.

"Reading people, Minerva... It's the ability to know another person's actions, albeit a physical reaction or a verbal one. You, my dear, have shown signs that you know when your opponent is about to kick or about to punch. So... Where did you learn how to do it? Did you learn from your fellow rejects?"

His choice of reference for the faction-less caused a low grunt of disgust to escape from her throat.

"Or did you find some old, former Dauntless geezer to teach you, because he was trying to live out his glory days?"

It had taken Minerva a few seconds to figure out that he wanted an answer from her. With her reservation still intact, she parted her lips and spoke. "My mother and-and my Grams..." Her hands clasped together, in front of her. She felt her nervousness coursing through them. "... They taught me the basic stuff, like how to punch and kick and where to hit someone. I-I...My great-grandmother taught them and I d-don't know where she learned it from..." Her feet performed a two-step, a nervous tick. "... In regards to the other stuff, I learned from older kids that lived on my block. They taught me better stuff and how to fight with knives and... Read people, but they don't call it that, though."

"What do they call it?" inquired Eric.

"How to save your own ass just by fucking paying attention," she honestly answered in a blurting.

A hearty guffaw fell from the faction leader. His laughter echoed along the walls of the office. For Minerva, she took his act of joy as a tool of brief reprieve, from the sensation of fear that she felt.

As soon as his laughter died down, he spoke up again. "I also know that you know how to read and write. How? The faction-less aren't privy to education."

"When I was a child, I would meet up with this old woman, who used to be a school teacher in Abnegation. She taught me and some other children. Eventually, she started a school for-

"School?!" he said to her, sounding as if he believed the action was absurd. He scoffed. "The faction-less doesn't have the tools to become a school. In fact, they don't deserve one. An education should only be obtained if you are a member of our society. A member of one of the five factions. An education is only for the civilized members, which are only found in this community. The fact-

"If that is the case, then maybe your society isn't as civilized as you claim it to be," she snapped at him.

Eric's comment caused her spirit to become inflamed with righteous anger. For the mother-of-three, the leader reeked of elitism at the moment. Quickly, her mind ran the notion that there were people in this civilized society, who would disregard a child in need, because of their lack of citizenship. The idea made her blood ran cold and then grow hot. After her statement, her eyes picked the subtle shift in him.

The haughtiness and braggadocio that were blazing in him had dimmed. His eyes lost the mirthful energy and became cold again. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, as his chin performed a slight tilt to the ceiling, an action that shown off his level of being offended.

"I mean..." Minerva sunk her teeth into her fat bottom lip briefly. "If you... Or one of your civilized, society members could look at a mistreated, faction-less child in the eyes and just..." Her right hand performed a nonchalant wave through the air. "Ignore their needs because society tells you to do it, then this society is filled with heartless savages!"

Eric didn't respond. He allowed fourteen seconds of silence and regaled stoicism to be on display, when he suddenly erupted in laughter. It was the type of laughter that was boisterous and smug.

For Minerva, it was the kind of laughter that riled up her anger. She wanted to slap-the shit-out of Eric.

"Savages? Us... savages?! The last time I've checked, we weren't the ones chasing down fellow humans like they're fucking farm animals!" His tone suddenly had taken on a malevolent growl. His face had taken on a mask of barely-contained rage. His flawless and handsome complexion was painted with a burgundy color. His teeth were clenched while his nostrils flared. "And, we aren't the ones willing to murder and maim for pleasure-

"I would watch what you say, Dauntless Leader Coulter," she warned him with a sense of sarcasm. "We weren't the ones who were murdering faction members because some godless woman with a stupid idea in her crazy-ass head was telling you-

"Watch it," the faction leader growled, interrupting her. His voice was caked with authority and anger.

Minerva was well-aware that her statement was crossing the line, when it came to the leader's barometer of tolerance. He managed to get under her skin within the matter of minutes. He wasn't the first person to do so, but he was the first person to cause her to physically react and give into her anger.

Her lips puckered while her nostrils flared. Her toned arms folded across her chest and her eyes narrowed. She resumed speaking. "And the last time I've checked, we don't abandon our own because they failed some stupid test! We don't kick out our young and make them fend for themselves. Us, faction-less people... We take care of our own! Unlike you people that are living in your stone and glass towers, our children mean something to us! They are our legacy and that means something to us! Our culture-

"Your culture?" Eric chuckled.

"Yes! Our culture!.." Subconsciously her feet took steps towards the desk. "... We have a culture! We have a way of living, just like you! We have rules! We have customs! We... Protect each other! When we have to punish the wicked, we do! But..." She huffed. Her feet came to a halt. "The only time we had to deal with true evil was when you, mangy black dogs would invade our territory... With your guns and trucks," she sneered.

Whatever jovial light that was left in his eyes had completely diminished. Minerva noticed and it caused a fringe of fear to tickle at her senses. 'Shit-shit-shit! I've gone too far!'

She watched the intimidating man lift his brawny body from off of the desktop. He stood up.

"If..." He paused. Then inexplicably resumed speaking. "You enjoyed living the squatter's lifestyle in the faction..." His lips twisted up into a sneer. Then his large boots committed a pair of steps into her direction. "...less territories, then why don't you go back there?" His feet made more steps into her direction. "Why don't you leave like the other..."

Minerva took note of the space that was in between them. It was becoming smaller. The pressure in her stomach became greater and so did the urge to back away from his approaching form. But she remained in her spot. She didn't want to give him any form of satisfaction.

"...seventeen rejects that left?" He came to an abrupt halt, with both his speech and with his saunter. The facial expression changed from a look of anger and frustration to an expression of dramatized enlightenment. His right pointer finger raised up to ear-level and he jabbed the air. "Oh, I know why!" he suddenly announced.

A look, a combination of confusion and irritation, came over her face. 'What...? What is wrong with this jackass?!'

The faction leader turned away from her and returned to his desk. She peered at his right hand as it grabbed something from his desktop. He turned to face her again, but he held a thin stack of papers.

'What is th-

Eric pointed the document at her. "You have a five-year old daughter named Amelia..."

The deep grimace fell from her face. Meanwhile her urge to fight fell from her spirit. The pressure in her empty belly became unbearable. Her heart began to race.

"...She will be six soon, on November twenty-third. She likes to draw..." Eric pulled a sheet of paper from beneath the top layer. He presented the sheet to her. It was amateurish, juvenile picture of butterflies that were created with crayons.

'Nnnn-no...'

Eric unleashed a predatory smile. "...butterflies." He glanced down at his document. "Then there's your four-year old daughter named Ophelia..." He glimpsed at Minerva as he dropped the butterfly drawing on his desk. "I see that you were on a rhyming kick with the names," he teased. He snickered as he drifted his attention down, back to the paper. "Ophelia is well-liked by adults. She is friendly and polite. She helps out a lot..."

'...It... Is he reading a progress report about my kids? He knows where my babies are!' A string of excitement touched at her heart. She made a few steps towards Eric as if she could feel her children's presence.

"...Ophelia is followed by your third daughter, Georgina." He glanced at her. "What's the matter with this one? You couldn't come up with a name that rhymed?"

'Fucking bastard,' she silently cursed.

Eric resumed with his reading. "It says here that Georgina is four months old and is a 'delightful baby'.She doesn't have a temper and she has a kind disposition. All three children are currently residing in the Ascot Home For Children. I also read that your brother Octavius and your sister, Epiphany are also residents at the orphanage." He looked away from the paper and then stared into her eyes. He carelessly tossed the document over his left shoulder. "During the process of being physically examined, you were placed in a room, where you were notified that you have an opportunity to regain custody of your children and of your siblings, correct?" When Minerva didn't answer his question quickly, he grunted "Answer me".

She inhaled before saying "Yes".

"For an eighteen-year old, you sure got some miles on you, don't you? A mom-of-three, by the age of eighteen! You've been pretty busy, Minerva. Where's their father? Is he a reject like you? Or is he a creepy, old pervert that likes little young things?"

The young initiate could only stare at Eric. Minerva warily stared at the Dauntless member as he stood four feet in front of her. She felt physically drained. She was feeling several emotions at once. Anger, frustration, fear, cautiousness and sadness flooded her spirit. The reasons for the anger and the fear were obvious: she was summoned to a leader's office for an unknown reason and she has been forced to stand in front of him while being insulted, so far. But the sensation of being concerned was a new one. The moment the leader brought up the topic of her family, was when she grew concerned.

"The reason why you're here, Minerva, is because of your progress so far," he reported as he sat down on the edge of the desk. "I've seen your results from this week's simulation sessions and I am disappointed by what I've seen," Eric confessed.

A thick, hot throbbing took a hold of her skin. Her heart violently thumped against her breast bone. A stream of possibilities ran through her mind as she gazed at the tall and broad frame. She silently wondered where this conversation would lead: Was this going to be the moment where he would kick her out of the initiate program? Or, was the Dauntless leader going to just scold her and then send her on her merry way?

"... For the fourth straight day, you had to be taken out of a sim because your heart rate was dangerously close to giving you a fear-induced, cardiac arrest," reported Eric.

"I'm sorry..." Minerva eyed the plush, carpeted floor. "...about that," she apologized. "This..." Her fingers found their way to the nape of her neck, where she lightly scratched. "...is harder than I thought. I-

"I won't accept that as an excuse, Initiate. You are here, competing to be a part of the 'Warrior Faction'. You have to control your fears! You can't be in a battlefield, frozen, because you're fucking afraid! That's what these sims are for: to help you control your fears by confronting them, by using imagined situations..."

Minerva subtly shook her head. 'No...'

"...Dauntless soldiers would enter those sims and knocked them out of the park, because they would've fought..."

'They're not...'

"... The fear serum feeds off of your own fears and..."

'...fake...' Minerva continued to shake her head.

"...uses your-What?!" asked Eric, his tone was caked with a sense of annoyance.

'... My sims weren't-

"Fake," she said softly.

"What was 'fake'?" he said to her, as he eyed her. "Tell me."

"My simulations... They weren't fake. They weren't figments of my imagination. Those were things that..." She took in a deep inhale and a slow exhale. "Actually happened to me," she confessed. She sniffed and then glanced into face of the man that could determine her future. "The sim, where I was raped? That actually happened. The sim of when I was cut open and left to die? That actually happened. I-

"Show me."

'What?' she quietly whimpered. She focused on his face while her own held a look of befuddlement. "Wha-

"Show me..." Eric quickly pushed away from the edge of the desk. "...where.." He proceeded to saunter up to where she was standing. "...you were cut," he ordered. Once he was hairbreadth away, he came to a halt. He was so close to her that she caught the scents of mint and coffee coming off of his breath.

Minerva couldn't control her instinct of immediately stepping away from the leader. Her dark brown, almond-shaped eyes grew sharp as they focused on the potential threat.

Eric didn't verbally respond. He just returned his version of a glower and placed himself in her personal space, again. "Show me where you were stabbed, Initiate," he told her. "And this is an order," he reminded the woman.

"W-W-Why?" she stuttered.

"Because I want to make sure that you are not lying to me in order to save your own ass," he explained. "Now, stop dawdling and show me."

She didn't remove her sight from off of his face as she breathed a sigh of resignation. Both sets of fingers grabbed a hold of her baggy sweatshirt and the ribbed tank top that she worn underneath. She lifted both layers of fabric from off of her stomach. Warmed air kissed at her bared skin, which caused her abdomen to contract. She viewed the actions that were created by the Dauntless superior officer that was standing several centimeters in front of her. She watched his head perform a subtle tilt towards the floor while his eyes peered at her exposed stomach.

Close to a minute into his silent observation, her own eyes abandoned their current role, which was to watch Coulter as he stared at her scarred belly. She proceeded to focus on the point that was on her body, which held Eric's interest. She pressed the layers of gathered clothing tighter to her bust, so she could have a better view of the healed tragedy the marred her brown flesh.

There were five keloid scars, in total. One large scar that had four smaller ones splintering off. Minerva thought that markings resembled tree branch with four twigs. The largest scar out of the grotesque group was also the thickest one. It was located on her lower belly, as well as, on her pelvis and it spanned from one hip bone to the other bone. The four smallest scars marred the rest of her stomach. Her eyes glanced at the biggest imperfection. As she viewed it, she recalled the heinous moment when she received it.

"The one that's on my belly. The big one... He gave me that one first," she surprisingly revealed to the Dauntless leader. She felt the heated energy in his blue eyes on her face, for a brief second. "He said that he wanted to have his fun, ever since the others already had their fill."

"Who was he?"

Minerva shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know him, personally," she told him. "He and the others-

"Others?" she heard him groan. "How many were there?"

"Three, in total," she answered as glimpsed at him. Then she stared at her stomach again. "They..." She paused. She felt her heart race and pressure on her chest. The information that she was about to spill made her feel apprehensive.

"They, what?" Eric asked, in uncharacteristically softer, benevolent tone.

Minerva's dark brown eyes focused on his face. "They were from Dauntless..." She watched his reaction. It was immediate and sharp. His head snapped up and his eyes focused on her. They narrowed as his jaw tightened. She peered down at the scars. "...They were soldiers. I had seen them at the food pantry that day. One had looked at me, but I didn't think too much of it, at the time. I got my stuff and I made my way back home. I wasn't..."

A memory of tree branches that were covered in red leaves, poured into her mind.

Minerva closed her eyes and balled up her fists. "...halfway there, when they pulled up in front of me, in a big black truck. I knew why they were there. I ain't stupid. I knew..." She opened her eyes and watched a few tears drop to the carpet. "...I dropped my bags and I ran in the opposite direction. But I wasn't fast enough. One of them caught me..." She paused.

'Ooooo-wee! This one's a fightin' one!'

She heard the voice as if her captor had just shouted it in Eric's office.

"I was..." Pressure in her stomach traveled up to her diaphragm, where it lingered. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Inside of her skull, the sensation of airiness grew, making her feel as if she was submerged underwater. "...raped in their truck. All the way to Amity-

"Amity?"

More memories touched her brain.

'My daddy is from these parts! Taught me how to gut pigs-

'AAAAAAHHHHHHHH-

A horrifying scream penetrated the air. Blood-soaked hands desperately clasped onto his pale jaw. Fingernails dug into the flesh.

'Aw, hush up!' A knife-holding fist came crashing down.

She slowly nodded her head. "One of the guy's family was from Amity. They took me there because they didn't want me telling on them. After each of them took their turns and..." Her eyes focused on his face. "... finished, they sicc'ed him on me," she told him. Her line of sight drifted pass the leader and focused on the drawing that was on the desktop. "He drug me by my hair to a tree and he..." She stared at her stomach and her right set of fingertips touched the pelvic scar. "...did this."

Her eyes fluttered a few times before they closed. As soon as she shut the real world off, she was greeted with snippets from the horrific memories. She recalled the tremendous, breath-taking pain that was throbbing in her stomach, hips and back. The smell of the blood that clogged up her nostrils. The comforting sensation that the sun's rays provided her numbed and chilled body. She could still smell the scent of the freshly dug earth and could feel the cold, wet dirt against her skin.

"They had planned this," she told the tall and foreboding leader. "A grave was already dug for me. All they did was throw me in there and left me to die," she further explained.

A moment of silence that was plumped with intensity and insecurity, followed. During this time, the young mother and the survivor of the fore mentioned attack recalled the memories that were made after she was buried. They were time-lapsed and fragmented pieces from the events that followed.

"Tell me..."

The baritone voice pulled her from her memories. She focused her vision on the man that stood before her. She took note of the dull glare in his eyes. It alerted her that he, also, was just lost in his thoughts as well.

"...about the men that had done this to you," he demanded of her.

"What do you want to know?"

"I need to know about their physical appear-

"Why?" The inquiry not only interrupted the somewhat-ornery leader, but it sounded forceful.

Eric gifted her with a glower as a result. She gifted him with a meek-sounding apology. After a silent second passed, he said "I want to bring these men to justice... And I want to put a bullet in each of those fucker's skulls."

His reaction was something that she didn't expect from him. Her line of breathing hitched as her throat felt as if a hand was squeezing on the column. A stinging sensation was attached to each eye. 'No one cares for us. W-Why? Why... For me?' her brain whimpered as the sense of disbelief ran through her.

"They aren't fit to be Dauntless warriors," Eric had gone on to explain further. "We are here to protect the city and the citizens. We can't have a pack of psychos raping and killing women. Right now, they are going after faction-less women, but what's going to stop them from going after the women in the factions? Men like that don't have boundaries. They will continue doing what they're doing until they are caught," he informed her.

As Minerva listened to Eric's explanation, she watched the dull glaze burn away, in his eyes. Those cornflower blues became alert again. Each orb was focused on her face. She murmured a soft "Okay". Then she proceeded to report every bit of information about those devious jackals that she could remember.

As the young initiate described the hair color of her second attacker, a ticklish but pleasant sensation ran across her pelvis. Her stomach tensed up while her breath managed to get caught in her throat. Her sight was immediately drawn to her belly and the image that welcomed her, caused the young woman to feel a chilled wave. Thick and long fingers found their way to her scars' locations. Her stomach became subjected to his fingers' investigative touches.

Minerva then eyed her superior officer and noticed that he was staring at her torso again. His eyes held a dull glaze, proving to her that he was lost in his thoughts. She decided to resume with her testimony.

She believed that the Dauntless superior officer didn't know that he was touching her as he listened to her. Every so often she would question herself about whether or not she should tell him. She also questioned herself about why she felt pleasure and comfort from these touches. His digits' ministrations caused unfamiliar yet welcomed sensations to bloom inside of her. The tips of his fingers would send tingles into her skin as he traced the outline of the scars. The ridges of his fingernails drew soft circles against bared, unmarked skin. Knuckles lightly grazed the smooth-textured skin.

After providing the Dauntless leader with the necessary information, she asked, "...Do you think that you could find them?"

His fingers conjured up another spine-tingling shiver. Suddenly, the series of feelings came to an end. 'No,' she silently mewled in discontent. She glanced into the eyes of the leader.

"Yes," she heard him say.

"Men like that... They won't be hard to find. I doubt that you were they're first and last victim. I'm sure that there were more girls," he informed her.

The notion that there was a possibility of more victims made Minerva's skin prickly and her stomach clench tightly. She knew that Eric was correct: these three monsters were too familiar with their tactics. Yet she still naively and silently hoped that she was their last victim.

She unleashed her sweatshirt and tank top from her hands' grasps. She watched the thick fabric drop down from her bust to her stomach, before it was gathered in a pair of larger hands. Her eyes widened slightly. 'What do you think you're...' The initiate and survivor glared at Eric.

After what felt like minutes that passed rather than the actual seconds, Minerva uttered, "Sir? What-

"There's another reason..." Eric's eyes flickered to her stomach and then focused on her face. "...why I ordered you to come here," he told her as his fingers slipped underneath the shirts. The backs of his fingers grazed the toughened flesh, in a playful manner.

Fissures of a pleasant feelings implanted themselves into her skin. A sharp and low, whispery gasp fell from her parted lips. Minerva glanced down at his tattooed forearms.

'I should've known.'

Now, it was becoming clearer to the initiate: The way Peter reacted after she asked him if he was going to escort her back to the Mess Hall. The lack of attendance from his receptionist. The act of letting her know that he was aware of her motherhood status. His willingness to touch her.

Her sight flickered from his forearms to his face and to her stomach, where her tops were being lifted up again. When his hands guided her shirts to her bust, she heard his command for her about raising her arms into the air.

Inside, she was filled with indifference. 'He's not the first man to do this,' her conscience whispered into her ear.

Minerva complied with his demand without a bit of reluctance. Her fingers sifted through the air as his own fingers removed the clothes from her upper body. The tips of his fingers lightly grazed at her skin as he removed the articles of clothing. His warm and dewy breath fanned her exposed flesh. Once he removed her sports bra, she fought down the urge to cover her milk-filled breasts with her arms. Her arms instead, awkwardly, fell to their sides. She stared at him and waited for his next demand.

It didn't take him long after the shirts' removal to issue out another order. "Pants... Boots... Take them off."

Minerva simply nodded her head. 'Of all of the women that are in Dauntless, why me?' Her fingers grabbed the waist band of her bottoms and she proceeded to strip out of her clothes. Then her fingers deftly untied her boots' laces. Each foot had toed off each shoe. 'He's not a bad looking guy, plus, he's a leader as well...' She slipped out of her clothes and left them on the floor. Afterwards she stood upright and stared at the faction member that stood before her.

'... I'm sure he has plenty of chances with other women,' she said to herself.

Eric's eyes slowly surveyed her nude body with a stoic expression on his face. She couldn't tell if he was pleased with her appearance or if he was disappointed by what he saw.

If her assumption was correct, then she knew that the faction leader needed to find her attractive. She knew that if he could find a use for her, then she had a chance of staying in Dauntless. Another chance at passing this initiation process and getting her family back. Well, a small percentage of the family back.

"What..." she softly stated. "...do you want me to do?"

His blue orbs focused on her eyes. The corners of his lips swayed into a smile. "Come with me," he ordered.

---

A jug of milk that was taken from farm-raised cows. A satchel of semi-bruised red peppers and squash. Two jugs of distilled water. Fabric that was eventually used to make Amelia and Ophelia dresses. Six pairs of boots. Two coats. A canteen full of kerosene. More milk. Two pounds of minced meat. A jug of gasoline. Her mother's right to having a safe passage from their home to Amity's own food pantry event. A vial of acetaminophen and a vial of amoxicillin. A ceramic heater. More gasoline for their gas-fueled generator. A stack of twelve blankets. Four jugs of distilled water. And now, the chance of staying in Dauntless.

All of them were occurrences, in which she had to use her body as currency. Since the age of twelve, she has been receiving lessons about just how vile men could be, especially the ones that wielded power.

In the past, the powerful men that she had fallen prey were either Dauntless guards or the faction-less hooligans that roamed the streets in the territories. Each type of man were after the same thing: women and girls that were in vulnerable positions. There were plenty of times in which Minerva had fulfilled that position. She was the primary provider for her family, which consisted of two elderly women and four minors. It was a role that she had been saddled with, ever since the family had made their self-imposed exile from The Badlands. Since then, she made sure that her family members would never starve, become sick and would always have proper shelter. And just so happened, there were certain prices that she had to pay, in order to make those things happen.

For a small amount of time, each man held power over her. But none of those men had the kind of power that Eric Coulter possessed.

After asking the Dauntless leader about his next order, he wordlessly led her out of his office and into another room that was closed off, thanks to a door. Minerva was led to a dimly-lit bedroom. The air was slightly stale, but was warm and comfortable. She quickly scanned the sleeping quarters and noticed the decor was similar to the other rooms with its granite-paved walls and wall sconces. There was a large sleigh-styled bed in the center of the room and it was adorned with black bed linens. Her attention was pulled away from her act of observation, when she heard the bedroom's door closed. Minerva turned away from the bed and faced Eric, who was walking towards her.

"Help me take off my clothes," he ordered as soon as he invaded her personal space.

She gave him a simple head nod before she proceeded to help him with the task of stripping. With her gaze on his black, long-sleeved thermal, her fingers hesitantly reached out towards the trio of buttons that kept the collar tight. She unbuttoned his shirt before her fingers unfastened his belt's buckle and buttons from his jeans. Fingers snatched up the bottom of his shirt and drew it over his stomach. She viewed his arms' actions as they lifted into the air. She peeled his shirt off.

As the shirt covered his face, she felt the instinct to defend herself. She chalked it up as being a natural reflex, one that managed to be bred and cultivated, over the years. She bit down on the instinct as soon as she reminded herself about Eric's position in Dauntless. Then, there was the fact that she needed to be here for her children.

Once she peeled the shirt off, she proceeded to fold his shirt in a neatly fashion. She was about to place the discarded item on the foot of the bed, when Eric grabbed the shirt from her hands. She watched him toss the item on the floor.

"I don't need a maid. You're here for something else," he informed her.

She cringed after hearing his explanation. She gave his eyes a glimpse before she reached down to his pants' waistline. Her fingertips touched the metal slider that belonged to his zipper. Once she completely unfastened his pants, her fingers pushed his underwear and jeans off of his hips and down to his thighs. As soon as she caught sight of his turgid flesh, she turned her attention to his semi-discarded pants. Her cheeks buzzed with childish embarrassment. Seconds later, she heard a series of snickering from the faction member. She slipped down into a squatting position and grasped the backs of his thighs to aid in her balance. Once again, she refrained from eyeing his prick. She kept her focus on his jeans and underwear. Her hands pulled his clothes down to his ankles. Her fingers unlaced his boots' shoelaces before he removed the boots, himself.

Once he was nude, Minerva felt his hands grasp each of her biceps. With a gentle tug on her arms, he persuaded her to stand up. She tossed him a look of neutrality.

"Follow me," he instructed before walking away from her. She remained in her spot.

She watched the nude Dauntless leader stroll across the bedroom to another door that was closed. She quickly learned that it was a bathroom. He tossed her a look from over his right shoulder, a reminder that she was supposed to follow him. Her feet carried her to the other side and she followed Eric into the bathroom.

Once again, she was greeted with the sight of granite walls being soaked with dim lighting. The bathroom's toilet and sink were made from black marble. Several feet away from the sink, there was an octagon-shaped, shower stall that was encased with glass walls. Hanging from the ceiling was a stainless steel shower faucet that was in the center of the stall.

"Watch your step," Eric warned as he opened the door.

She eyed his broad, retreating back as he continued to make his way to the stall. "Why am I... In here... With you?" she asked him, sounding confused.

He didn't turn to face her, as he answered. He stepped into the shower. "Today, you and your fellow initiates ran four miles with your trainers..." His voice was amplified due to the shallow, rock walls. "...Then you sparred for an hour and a half..." He made his way over to the nozzles that would release the water from the faucet. "...which was followed by two hours of strength training. And..."

The sounds of rushing water colliding with rocks suddenly filled the room.

"...you smell like it!" he shouted over the sounds. There was laughter. "Now, get in here!"

Minerva frowned as she glowered. She made discreet sniffling at her left shoulder. She was greeted with an acrid odor. She internally cringed with embarrassment. She strolled over to the shower and cautiously stepped into the semi-hot chamber. Her eyes focused on the brawny man that stood under the stream of rushing water. His hands cupped water and cleaned away at his arms and shoulders. She stood a safe distance away from him as she watched. Her eyes took in the ripples and niches that his well-muscled body created. She discovered that his body carried more tattoos. The columns that decorated his throat had also covered his collar bone and pectorals. In the center of his chest, there was a misplaced set of bold, small columns that were vertical instead of horizontal. She took note of the signs of previous battles that decorated his slightly pale skin. A few of his scars were simple markings across the flesh and there were a trio of keloids that managed to blend in, slightly.

"There's a washcloth and a body bar..." Without looking at her, his right pointer finger jabbed the air, in the direction that was off to his side. Minerva looked in the same path. "...bring them over here," he ordered.

She gave his broad torso one last glance. Without grazing his wet skin, she managed to travel over to the shower's handles and the mounted shower shelf. She fetched the sopping wet cloth and the lightly scented soap. She was about to turn, when she realized that he was naked and possibly still erect. 'Well, its too late to become bashful now, anyway. So you might as well get it over and done with,' she concluded.

Minerva, with a huff, turned around and faced the awaiting Eric. She detected the smile on his face first and then the pent-up energy that was keeping his muscles taut. She approached the leader. As soon as she was close, her hips were subjected to his hands' affections. He pulled her body to his. His prick made his presence known. A deep blush erupted in her cheeks.

"Wash me," he instructed as his face dipped closer. His lips planted a kiss to her hairline. A buzzing sensation erupted in the spot of contact.

She looked down to her hands, at the soap and wash rag. She proceeded to lather the washcloth with soap and water. 'Just... Imagine. Treat him like you would treat the girls during their bath times.' She began to follow his orders. She started with his collarbone and broad shoulders before she turned her attention to his right arm. Then, his chest and defined abdominals followed, being subjected to a deep clean. His left arm was lathered with soap and then rinsed with water. She took tentative steps around his bulky form and then washed his back. Her eyes took in the multiple healed wounds that marred his flesh as she lathered his back. One scar caught her attention. It was a jagged keloid the marked his left shoulder blade. Her fingertips traced the marking.

His reaction was instantaneous. There was a loud and sharp inhale from him. His body grew rigid just as his spine straightened. Tension accompanied the heat that floated through the air. A few seconds later, his head turned slightly and his eye focused on her. There was a soundless warning. Minerva released a cough to cut through the uneasiness. Then she resumed.

Once cleaned, her busy hands cautiously made their way down to his ass. Her eyes performed a quick glimpse at his bottom before she resumed with her cleaning duties. When the cloth wasn't becoming free from the soapy foam, she became impatient and decided to use her hands to rinse. A deep blush appeared on her cheeks just as her embarrassment rose. When she spotted a cerulean orb focused on her face from over his brawny, right shoulder, the blush had grown deeper. After that slightly embarrassing moment, she sank to her knees so she could clean his legs and ankles. Once finished, she lifted to her feet. Using cautious steps against a wet tiled floor, Minerva returned to her original spot, which was standing in front of Eric. Her hips were quickly snatched up by his hands. Her frame was forced against his, once again.

Eric's forehead found a home against hers. His eyes leveled a mirthful glare at her while a gentle smile tugged at his lips. "Looks like you've missed a spot," he teased. To illustrate his point, he wiggled his pelvis against her stomach, making his cock's presence grind against her.

A deep shudder escaped from her body. 'Are. You. Serious?' Minerva's fine features frowned up, which showcased her feeling of being annoyed. She was rewarded with a snicker from the man that held her.

"My turn," Eric announced.

She felt his hands leave her hips. His hand stripped her of the soap and washcloth. Then she was wordlessly instructed to turn around, by his hands. Once her back was facing him, she was a recipient of his hands' ministrations. Unlike her quick and clinical version of a washing, Eric took his time with her cleaning process. His washcloth took languid swipes at her skin. He kept his eyes focused on her as he cleaned. His hands made sure that her naked flesh was coated with a thick and frothy lather before he rinsed her off.

He approached her back after washing her feet. "Relax," he whispered into her right ear, after a while.

It was at that moment when Minerva realized that her body was taut. It was the anxiety that was causing this occurrence. She didn't know what the Dauntless leader had in mind and it was causing her to become wrought with nervousness and stress. When he made his intention clear while they were in the office, she expected for Eric to force her to perform sexual favors in that same room. She expected for the leader to sate his sexual need within a short amount of time hour and then dismiss her. She expected for him to have the same behavior of the other men. Instead, he had led her to an elaborate bathroom, where they've cleaned each other like they were intentionally attempting to seduce each other.

"You're not used to this," he murmured into the shell of her ear.

'No, I'm not,' she confessed to herself.

"I..." She looked up at Eric, from over her right shoulder. "...don't know what you mean," she told him, lying.

A smirk developed over his lips. His forehead gave her right temple a gentle head butt. "You're not used to this kind of stuff, are you?" To illustrate his point, his right hand performed a soothing caress against her stomach. Her body tensed and then unleashed a shiver. "You haven't been with a man that treated you... Nicely," he pointed out. His lips pecked at her temple.

Minerva softly shook her head. "No," she said softly. Her head bowed a little and her vision landed on her feet.

"No? So..." The washcloth-covered hand drifted down to her pelvis. "...I will be your first, then?"

The brusque sound of a wet object striking the stall's floor filled the small setting. The occurrence was ignored by both parties. A few seconds later, the bathroom was filled with the sound of a soft, feminine gasp.

Minerva's body was filled with pleasure. It was released in a throbbing formation. It began in the slicked center that was in between her thighs and spread through her body, hitting every point of arousal. She received pleasure that made her nipples hardened, stomach and her sex clenched. The back of her head rested against his right shoulder while a look of serenity was captured on her face.

Fingers sensuously stroked at her slit a few times before they pried her fleshy petals apart. The pad from a fingertip teased the nerve-filled bud that was laying underneath. Slow circles were drawn on her clitoris, which caused her body to tremble against his. Her hands sought solace on the tops of his thighs.

"Aaah," she moaned softly into the air. She moaned again, when her neck and face were peppered with kisses from his mouth.

The tip of his tongue drew a line of saliva from her jaw to her left ear, where his mouth sucked on the cartilage and then nipped. "Feels good..." he murmured into her ear canal. As he spoke, the index and middle fingers from his probing hand slipped into her. "...doesn't it?"

A sharper and more defined moan fell from her lips. Her gash squeezed at his penetrating digits in appreciation.

"Fuck," he grunted. The heel of his hand was brought down on her labia and clit. Both inflamed members of her sex were recipients of his hand's affections. As his fingers repeatedly stroked the inside of her pussy, his heel ground her petals and pearl, in slow circles.

Her right hand ripped away from his hip and covered his probing right hand. She squeezed his appendage while her hips thrust towards his palm, amplifying the pleasure. "Aaaah... Ah-ah, yessss," she blatantly moaned as her body shivered with delight.

"You feel like fucking heaven right now," he groaned. His hand increased their pace, an action that was immensely appreciated by Minerva. "I can't wait to feel you on my dick."

"Mmmmm..." she deeply groaned. There was something about his words that made her arousal burn brighter.

A hand found its way to her throat, where it gently squeezed. "Do you want me to fuck you?" he whispered softly against her temple.

She moaned, in response.

"No... Tell me," he ordered in a husky grunt. The shower stall was littered with the steady sounds of his fingers exploring her warmth. There was a lustful hiss. "Do you hear that? Mm? Do you hear how wet you are, for me?"

A build-up of pressure formed in the pit of her stomach while her pleasure intensified. Short and brusque pants escaped her mouth. Her hips rocked against his palm with choppy movements.

"You're 'bout to cum for me-

"AH! AH! Eric-Eric-Eric-Eric! I... I.. I..." She was flooded with a pleasure that overtook her mind. Minerva's voice burst out a stream of nonsensical words. Her body performed a melody of writhing and shivering. The last tremor that rocked her body left her weak-kneed and not in control of her breathing. If it wasn't for his arm holding her waist, she would've fallen to the floor. Her half-opened orbs stared absently at the stall's door. "Eric," she whimpered.

"Yeah?" he said to her, teasingly, as his fingers traced her slit.

"I... Aaarrgghhh," she groaned, an expression of feeling satisfied. Her forehead slapped against her right palm. She tried to make sense of what had just transpired. In the midst of her contemplation, she felt several pokes at the bun that was atop her head. She lifted her face away from her hand.

"I want to see your hair," she heard him say. Then he proceeded to pick at her locks. To sate his sense of curiosity, she expertly released her locks from their confinement. Her pencil-thin, dreads fell down and hung, with their tips grazing her hips.

She felt his arm peel away from her waist. His hands grabbed her hips and guided her to face him. His right hand then departed from her hip and landed on the back of her neck. His fingers embraced the curve in her neck. A soft kiss was planted on the center of her forehead, underneath her "witch's peak". Soft and warm kisses lined up on the slope of her nose's bridge. His lips found their way to her plush lips, in the form of a firm kiss.

The vibrations returned to her cheeks and then spread throughout her face. Her brain felt light and airy. Everything was forgotten, including the internal conversation that she held in her mind. Her fingers did a nervous twitch as her hands rose to his chest. Once her palms pressed into his broad pectorals, they clutched onto the skin. She rose to the tips of her toes, so she could apply more force to her kissing. A masculine and guttural moan erupted, but was quickly extinguished by the two pairs of lips. She felt his hands on the backs of her thighs before she was lifted off of the floor. Instinctively, her arms and legs wrapped around his body. A squeak of surprise fell from her parted lips, when her back was pressed against the wet and cold wall.

Lips continued to mash together in the form of lust-fueled kisses. It was when her slit was given a perusing swipe by his cock's head, their lips detached. A pleasure-filled, gasp fell from her parted lips while her head rested against the stoned wall. Minerva's body was undergoing sensations that she thought that she would never experienced. Her slicked and wet body was experiencing pleasure from the one activity that at one point in her life, gave her the most pain.

Lips, tongue and teeth adorned her throat and neck while his glans continued to further ignite her arousal. "You're getting wet for me again," he groaned into her flesh, teasing her.

Even his words added fuel to the fire that was located in between her thighs. Her womb quivered and a thick knot of pressure in her belly formed, massaging her. She moaned.

Eric snickered. "You want me?" he moaned into her throat.

Her head feverishly nodded with affirmation. "Y-Y-Y-Yeah... Yeah," she moaned as the grips in her legs became greater.

"Yeah?" he teased as he lined the tip of his glans to the entrance of weeping slit. "Yeah?"

Dark brown eyes focused on the handsome face that was below her chin. "Yes," she moaned, confirming her consent.

Her lips formed a perfect 'oh', seconds later, after his member took the initiative. A shudder enveloped her body. His glans pushed pass her fleshy petals and sheathed himself. Her cavern's walls gave way to his gradual plunging member.

"Fuck!" she heard Eric growl as he sheathed more of his member into her body. He bowed and then nuzzled the tits that were presented to him. "Goodness, you're tight!" he groaned into her breasts.

"Aaaa...Eric," she whimpered as she felt his teeth nip at her wet skin. Her lips applied experimental kisses to his forehead. Her fingers sifted through the strands of his sloppy wet hair, which encouraged him to thrust the rest of his shaft into her warmth. "Argh!" she loudly moaned upon intrusion. Her sex's grip tightened around his submerged member.

"You... You ready for me?" he moaned as he held her, after a moment of inactivity.

In response, her cunt squeezed onto his member. She brushed her lips against his. "Yes," she breathed.

---

'...Stupid!'

'...Fucking dumbass!'

'...Why-in the-hell did you just make things worse?!'

'...You...You just couldn't keep your dick in your pants!'

Eric groaned in irritation. He grimaced as his fingers ran feverishly through his hair. He hoped that his conscience would take the hint and shut up.

'You should've just stayed-the-fuck away from her!'

The notion of keeping away from the initiate caused a thin layer of stress to pass through him. His stomach grumbled while his chest released a heating build-up. His brow furrowed in displeasure. The Dauntless leader turned his attention away from the ceiling and aimed it towards his sleeping bed-mate, whom was laying on the other side.

Minerva, one of his initiates who turned into his lover, was laying on her stomach and deeply sleeping. He was presented with the back of her sensual frame that was enhanced by ceiling's soft, orange-toned light. His right hand slid across the satin, onyx sheets and slid under the wave of dreadlocks that were on display. His fingers became entangled with soft locks and played with them. His eyesight picked up the sight of the slow rises of her body as she inhaled.

'Who would've thought...?' A soft, lukewarm smile appeared on his lips. His eyes focused on her naked back. '...What are the odds that you would show up here?'

Eric allowed his mind to take him away to the territory, where he kept his memories. He recalled the moment of when he had last viewed her face. It was eight years ago, when she was ten years old and he was sixteen. He was a few weeks into his new and exciting role of being a Dauntless leader.

At the age of sixteen, he was sworn into Dauntless as a leader. During his sworn-in procedure, he had to recite an oath, a long-winded promise to protect the city of Chicago and its citizens. Even as his lips spewed the words, he was aware that the oath meant nothing to him. Eric was more enthralled with the idea of being referred to as a faction leader rather than gaining the responsibilities of a leader. He was more in love with the notion of having people under his control. He loved seeing faction members cower and move out of his way, as he walked down corridors. He loved issuing orders to his subordinates and then taking the credits for the positive outcomes. The former Erudite civilian thought he knew everything about being a leader.

Then, three weeks and five days later, the new Dauntless leader discovered that he didn't know anything at all.

It was in The Badlands, when he received his proper education about being a leader. It was during the moments, when he watched his soldiers die in front of him or when he caught glimpses of their deaths, as he fled into dimly-lit halls. He learned about being a leader during the moments of when he had to hide in heaps of foul-drenched garbage. He learned another lesson about being a leader, one he realized that he didn't know anything about escaping from this rock-covered hell-hole. Eric was educated about being a leader as he cried while laying on his makeshift bed, in an over-populated streamline trailer. He also learned a valuable lesson about being a protector of his people, when he woke up and found a turban-wearing girl consoling him as she slept on her own pallet.

It was during a hostile and horrifying time, when they met. Thanks to his foolishness of wanting to prove himself, he ended up in The Badlands. He, along with six other soldiers, managed to be tricked into entering enemy territory. The subterranean, faction-less land housed the most depraved human beings that he has ever encountered. They were murderous, sociopathic cannibals that could put fear into the hearts of every Dauntless member. They certainly caused Eric's heart to race.

It was on his fourth day of being in The Badlands, his fourth day of either hiding or fleeing from the monsters that were out for him, when he met Minerva. He was hiding in the niche of a cavern wall, dirty with unknown substances and soiled with blood, when he felt someone take his hand. Even though he was suffering from fatigue and was wounded, he was about to defend himself. However, he stopped short, when he saw a little girl standing before him. In the dim and stained lighting, he saw the protective gear that she wore: the crudely handmade mask, the plastic protection pads for her body and the cattle prod in her right hand. Without saying a word to him, she eventually led him to her home. Her home turned out to be a streamline trailer that was in a dilapidated parking garage, one of many recreational vehicles that were stored there. It also turned out to be his sanctuary for the following two days.

There, he met her family: her mother, her siblings and her grandmother, the woman who had sewn his bleeding wounds shut and made sure that he was physically taken care of. But it was that fearless little girl with the cattle prod, who came up with the escape plan and then escorted him out of The Badlands. She guided the injured, lone survivor to the piers, a place that was a staple for the Dauntless patrol men.

Once they were in the safe clutches of daylight, the newly-minted Dauntless leader had taken a gander at his navigator. She wore dirty clothes that were ill-fitting and frayed, but he could tell that she held a lanky frame. A oil-stained and grime-soiled, blue scarf covered her hair in a turban fashion. A pair of battered goggles were perched on her forehead, making her elf-like ears stick out further. He took in the sharp details of her heart-shaped face: the high cheekbones, the closed-set and narrow eyes, the feline-like nose. It was those features that caused the faction's authority figure to recognize her, eight years later.

It was the second day into the Operation: Hope project and it was the second day of the initiation. Eric was standing in a shadowed area, in the sparring room. He was forty-eight feet away from the trainers and the group of initiates. He quietly observed. His original plan was evaluating that piss-ant, Four and the other trainers as they taught the crop of rejects. He wanted to make sure that the trainers taught the rejects with the basic fighting skills and to make sure that they didn't give these charity cases any glimmer of hope. The last thing that he wanted to happen was for these initiates to have was the belief that they would be Dauntless members. To him, they weren't even real Dauntless initiates. They were charity cases for the leaders of the five factions. He knew what laid ahead for them. The ones who were going make it were going to become the domestic workers for the faction: The cooks, the street cleaners, the housekeepers, the babysitters, the laundry cleaners, the janitors, the restaurant servers and the such. But, in order to prove to the government that they weren't threats, they had to go through the factions' initiation trials. So for Eric, there was no point in showing an interest in 'the help'.

It wasn't until his ears were flooded with the thick sound of raucous cheers from those same charity cases, when his interest was piqued. His authoritative and discerning glare focused on the two young women that entered the ring. His eyes was immediately drawn to the brown-skinned woman with the provocative saunter. She wore a pair of baggy cargo shorts and a fitted tank top. On top of her head, a thick rope of dreadlocks were strategically stacked. His feet subconsciously made a few steps toward the area as he surveyed her.

The Dauntless leader was left impressed by the woman. She was definitely a fighter. The initiate didn't show off and flaunt with her defense moves. She fought with an objective in mind. She didn't wait for her opponent to throw the first strike. She was quick with her punches and kicks. He assessed her moves and realized that she was already a skilled fighter. She performed defense moves that was natural for her, as if she was used to having to break them out. Plus, none of those moves were the defense tactics that Four, Peter, Tris and Uriah had taught them.

It wasn't until after the match, when he suddenly remembered his savior from the pier. The woman reminded Eric of the ten year-old child that saved his life. Then his conscious unleashed a notion that gave his spirit a tendril of hope. His sharp, blue eyes surveyed the female fighter's facial features and compared them to the young Minerva that he treasured. Several seconds later, for the first time since boyhood, Eric was left stunned.

Once the dumbstruck feeling faded, Eric slowly realized that he wasn't staring at a little girl anymore. His eyes zoned in on her swaying, round hips as she walked towards the edge of the sparring mat. The discerning glare soon morphed into a ray of ogling. He surveyed her figure as she stood by the sidelines and he allowed his lust to take over him. His line of sight ate greedily from the vision that was presented to him: a supple-looking bust that was hidden behind a tank top, a stomach with a slight pudge that he wanted to sink his teeth into and a pair of hips that he wanted to hold onto. Just by observing her, he considered the potential faction member to be different than any other women that he encountered. Physically, she was different than the women-citizens. She was taller, curvier and stronger-looking than the average Dauntless female. Just with her mature demeanor, he felt strength and courage radiate from her. She didn't attempt to portray herself as an annoying version of "Billy Bad-Ass" like some of the women in Dauntless. She interacted amongst her small group of people like she was their leader and as their mother. He watched her tend to the injuries on her spar opponent, as well as, on some other initiates.

She was definitely a leader for them. His mind blurted out that she was the kind of woman that he knew would be perfect for him. The notion made his cheeks warm up and his stomach grumbled.

This was bad news. Very bad news.

Before he quietly exited the training room, the leader made a promise to himself of keeping a distance from this particular initiation class. In particular, he needed to keep away from Minerva.

It proved to be a foolish notion. Eric's level of interest was stronger than his level of restraint. For the weeks that followed, he continued to creep into the class' sparring sessions and he would watch her. If he couldn't see the source of his desire in person, then he would tap into the surveillance feeds that were used in Dauntless, to watch her. He watched her as she ate in the Mess Hall. He used the surveillance feeds to survey her as sparred with some kid with an unkempt mohawk in the training rooms, late at night. He watched her as she jogged with the rest of the class, around Dauntless. When he wasn't using the city's security equipment to prowl, he used the faction's database to learn more about her.

Over the following four weeks, the Dauntless leader became smitten with the young woman. On a superficial level, he told himself that he just wanted to make sure that she wasn't a threat to his society. After all, she was from The Badlands.

It was Four's latest progress report, which was the catalyst for Eric to break his act of self-imposed restriction. Just several hours ago, as he sat in his office, he read Four's assessment report about the initiates. In a pair of paragraphs, the trainer recommended for Minerva to be cut from the initiation process. According to the trainer, she was digressing in the second stage. For each of the four sessions, she had to be taken out of the simulations. Once his eyes scanned over the words and his brain processed the suggestion that lain behind them, he was overcome with anger. He found himself angry at several people: Four, Peter, Tris, Tori, Minerva, and strangely, at himself.

He was angry at his underlings for their failures of not teaching Minerva about conquering her fears.

He was angry at Minerva for allowing her sims to get the best out of her, after doing so remarkable in the first stage.

More importantly, the leader was angry at himself for staying away from her. If he played the role of overseer better, then he could've seen where she was fucking up. Eric believed that he would've nipped that behavior quickly and in it's earliest stage.

When he made the plan for the initiate to come to his office, his original intention was for him to verbally rip her a new asshole and to tell her to step it up because she was about to fail the program. But as soon as the faction leader saw the initiate, she managed to wake up his lust. Her... And that damned walk of hers. Even though she was sporting baggy cargo pants and a clumsy-fitting sweatshirt, he spotted her curvaceous figure. The devious trickster that was his mind began playing erotic scenarios as she stood in front of his desk. By the time he stood up from his rolling chair, his pants was carrying a serious erection.

"Ugh... Damn it," he grunted as his right hand cupped the burgeoning erection. 'Four times and you still can't get enough,' he silently jibed.

The sounds of the sheets rustling caused him to look to newly-minted lover. He detected that she was still asleep. His vision picked up the sight of her hand lazily scratching at her stomach.

'Stomach... Stomach... Stom-Scars, scars-'

His brain replayed the moment when Minerva showcased her scarred torso to his prying eyes. His hand ran across his face and he groaned, allowing his frustration to show. He recalled the moment in her testimony in which he felt a sense of failure seep into him. Pressure developed in the center of his chest and it caused his breathing to hitch. He pressed his right hand to his chest and felt the soft yet rapid thumps. His blue eyes focused on the exposed shoulder and back that was about a foot away. 'I couldn't have helped her, back then...'

"What are you thinking about?"

Her voice's inquiry caught his attention. The back of her head was still presented to him. For a split second, he thought he imagined hearing her voice. Then, she began to stir. "I thought you were asleep," he told her as his hand caressed her back.

With his hand still on her, Minerva turned onto her back. Her feet accidentally kicked the bed sheet from off of her body. Her nudity was under his surveillance. His eyes peered at the curves of her plump breasts and the pouch of belly. "I can't sleep," she reported before falling into a yawn and a full-body stretch. A soft, feminine moan followed after the husky yawn. Once she relaxed again, she stated, "I have a difficult time sleeping in new places..."

With his previous thoughts shoved back into their restraints, Eric kept his hand and eyes on her as he drew closer to her. He drew himself close enough that he could smell the scent of his soap and his natural musk off of her. He propped the left side of his face in his left palm. His right hand continued with its quest of warming her up and attempting to ignite the fire that was her arousal. His palm cupped her right breast and then her left mound. Fingers jiggled the weight and kneaded the flesh.

"... It had taken almost two weeks to get a decent night's sleep in the barracks, when I first came here." A soft sigh fell from her as her face pulled a slight grimace. Her chest arched, an action that told him that she wanted his fingers to knead harder.

A smile appeared on his face just as his prick released a tingle. "Well, you're gonna have to stay in the initiate dormitory for a little while longer. It's mandatory for all of the initiates," he informed her.

Eric viewed his right hand as it moved along her body. There was a sweeping caress against her stomach and down to her left hip. He traveled up to her left heavy mound of flesh, where he played. Fingers squeezed and flicked at the hardened tip.

A second later, there was a soft giggle. "You're not going to find any milk in there..." A mischievous glint erupted in her pupils while a smile remained. "... You drained me dry," she joked.

His cock stirred. His mind rehashed the highlights from their previous sexual escapades, including the moment when he feasted on her milk as he fucked her.

A short and husky chuckle fell from him. "Oh yeah?" he chuckled as an eyebrow puckered.

"Yeah," she giggled.

He removed his hand from his face just as he dipped down to her presented chest. His eyes remained on her face. "Can I see if you're..." The tip of his tongue slithered out of his mouth and flicked her right nipple. He heard her sharp intake of breath. "... Right?" he groaned.

"Uh...huh," she moaned. Her fingers reached out and caressed his cheek while her body writhed against the sheet.

Now, fully erect and ready for another round, the Dauntless leader decided to further inspire his bed-mate. His mouth descended down on her hefty mound, sucking on the sensitive flesh. His taste buds picked up the residual flavor from her lactation. The sweet taste inspired him to suck harder. He felt her fingers tug on his hair and her breasts push up to his awaiting mouth.

"I-I-I-I... Aaaa... Uhhh..." she moaned as a shiver ran through her body.

Eric's tongue gave her tit one last lick before adorning her left breast with affection. As his mouth nurtured the mound, his right hand drifted down to the pelvic scar. His fingertips lightly grazed the smooth skin in the form of a caress. His hand felt a strong shudder escape from her.

"Ha-ugh!" she grunted with pleasure.

With his mouth still latched onto her breast, he changed his position. Once he began to hover, he replaced his lips with his right hand. His soft lips clamped down on hers. Her moan of satisfaction vibrated against his lips. The insides of her thighs grazed his flanks as they proceeded to wrap around his waist. A shiver erupted inside of him when his glans was dragged against her scars, smearing his pre-cum.

His lips began a journey that started with her lips. They returned to their place of origin, where he teeth gently nipped at the brown flesh and his tongue soothe the sting. The tip of his tongue drew a line of seduction from the valley of her breasts to the first jagged keloid that welcomed him. He licked each scar and traced each outline with his tongue. Soft pecks started from her navel to the thick pelvic scar. Eric's nose was immediately greeted by the spicy fragrance that was her arousal. His cock unleashed a series of throbs, as a result.

'No,' his conscience scolded his libido. 'She needs to cum at least one time.'

His tongue lapped at her pelvic marking with the same vigor a cat would have for a bowl of cream. Meanwhile his fingers grasped onto the bottoms of his thighs and forced her legs to spread wider. Lips found their way from her scar and to her mons pubis, that little hill that eventually led to his Heaven.

"Ah, Eric?" She sounded as if she didn't know about his intentions.

His cerulean orbs locked onto the face that belonged to this glorious body. Her head was off of the pillow and she was gazing at him. When he spotted the look of confusion, he knew that his assumption was correct. A smirk grew on his face. Then his mouth had gone to work. His wet, hot cavern latched onto her labia in the form of an aggressive kiss. His hearing picked up her sharp squeak of awe while his lips were recipients of a pelvis thrust.

"Er-Er-Er..." She kept stuttering the first syllables of his name as well as pant.

His left set of fingers pulled away from her thigh so his thick forearm would drape over her lower belly, pinning her bouncing hips down. He pulled his lips away from her aroused sex and pried her fleshy petals apart, so her slicked folds were reveal to his eyes.

There was another series of pleas from his cock, the desire to be sheathed in her gash. His ground his hips into the mattress, an effort to alleviate the slight discomfort in his groin.

The tip of his tongue took a sample of her nectar by giving her pink folds a swipe. He welcomed with her taste, which held a spirited and pleasing flavor. There was another perusing swipe from his appendage that managed to strike every nerve within her. His middle finger sheathed itself in her warmth and was greeted with a squeeze from her canal. His digit stroked at her nerve-aligned walls as his mouth continued to draw her nectar.

"Puh... Puh-lease!" she groaned.

His scalp bristled at the abrasive sensation that her fingernails caused as she snatched up tufts of his hair. Discomfort also came from his groin as his cock begged for release.

"Ah, Eric," she moaned before her voice sung a melody of moans.

Eric's lips nibbled and kissed at her puffy lips with seduction. His tongue sought after her protruding nub, flicking it with a rapid flutter.

Her moans increased in volume and in succession. Her body writhed on the black sheets and her thighs trapped his head.

"E-Eric... Er-Er-Errrrr...ick!" she cried out.

The Dauntless leader felt her body react to her orgasm. Her thighs tightened around his head and shook. Her lips kept spewing out moans and lustful wails into the bedroom's atmosphere. His hands grabbed a hold of her thighs and then removed them from around his head. His lips were still attached to her clit, sucking and pulling at the hardened tissue. His mouth's efforts prolonged the pleasure that raced through her. His tongue ran across her clit until he felt her body simmer down to demure quivers. His lips gave her well-spent labia another kiss before he slipped away. His well- built and bigger body traveled over her body. Once he approached eye-level with the initiate, he planted his hands on the firm mattress, beside each of her ears.

Eric made a glimpse at her face before he eyed her breasts. He noticed the thin streams of milk that decorated her supple mounds. 'Mmmm,' he silently hummed. His cornflower-hued orbs focused on her face. "Did..." His teeth found the erect nub that made up her left nipple. He gently bit into the flesh and the scraped his teeth's ridges across the skin. He sucked on the stinging skin, soothing it. He listened to her soft gasps as his mouth worked on her. He released the nipple with an audible pop. He stared at her again. "Did you like it?" he queried. He wasn't just referring to his mouth's skills on her tits either.

Minerva released a heavy gust of breath before she smiled and comically rolled her eyes, in response. A giggle fell from her lips. "Yes," she gasped in delight. "Yes, I enjoyed it..." With her feet planted on the mattress and her knees bent, her thighs performed a little dance in which they kept opening and closing around Eric's waist. "...But you knew that already!" she told him, unveiling a playful side of her character.

Eric didn't respond to her comment. He was too occupied on focusing on the beauty that lain below him. With her glowing skin, smiling face and relaxed nature, she managed to capture his attention.

'Yes.'

The decision was made. The act left him with a quiver in his gut and sped up heartbeats. A wave of trepidation touched his spirit. His naturally-inherited Erudite instincts assured him that his feeling was about his fear of getting caught.

'Yes,' his conscience assured him. He subtly nodded his head. 'Yeah... Yes.'

The decision was made for him and he wasn't going to regret it.

"Er-

Eric presented her temple with a gentle kiss before reaching down for a kiss from her lips. Fingertips touched his jaw while a warm hand cradled his lower back. The kissing became aggressive with their content. Tongues playfully dueled while trying to show off their levels of lust for one another. The fingers that were resting on his back had traveled around his hip and settled into his groin area. Knuckles lightly grazed his hair-covered flesh, which caused his abdominal muscles to briefly jolt. His probing mouth pulled away from her frisky lips, just so he could peer down at her exploring hand. His eyes widened with delight as he watched her slender fingers rub at his pelt. She was just a few centimeters away from hardness. He knew that she was apprehensive with taking that step to touch his prick. He gazed into her almond-shaped eyes.

"Go on," he whispered, with a smirk. His eyes had given his prick a quick glimpse before he stared at her again. "Go ahead and touch it," he assured her. His lips touched her left temple and then lined her cheek with more kisses. "Go ahead," he told her.

Eric felt his cock tingle with anticipation for her touch. The muscles in his massive thighs and in his stomach were taut with tension. His brain was teasing his raging libido with imagined images of her mouth playing with his turgid flesh. His member screamed out with throbs, in protest. As much as he wanted to have that pleasurable experience, he was aware that this night was not going to be the night for oral experimentation.

'Definitely, next time-Wait... What?!'

The soundless statement caught the Dauntless leader off-guard.

Before he could delve deeper, Eric was distracted by a force of carnal pleasure. It was rooted in his dick and it spread through his body. He acknowledged the sensation of her warm hand stroking his shaft's length and then caressing the bulbous cap with her fingertips. Once again, his body was flooded with lustful sensations. A soft grimace captured his handsome face while a growl-like moan fell from him.

His hips thrust towards her hand, causing his member to move along with her palm. Another lusty moan escaped.

"Put me in," groaned Eric with a clenched jaw, after making more pumps. He lowered his face into the left curve of her neck. As soon as he felt his glans being enveloped by her wet, hot sheath, a strong shudder and a grunt fell from his body.

His sexual instinct for control took over. His hips snapped forward and caused his prick to impale her. His ears heard a feminine hiss erupt in the bedroom while his member felt her womb erratically contract and release.

"AAAAAaaaa-aaaaahhh-sssshhh-IT!" she gasped loudly. Her fingers snatched up his hips. Her legs squeezed onto his thighs. After a moment of silence and stillness from the both of them, there was a soft "Please," spoken from her plump lips. Her pelvis butted up against his groin. Her cunt squeezed at his invading member. "Please Eric," she lightly whimpered.

Hearing her pleas caused the bestial, lust-driven part of himself to wake up and uncoil. Without a clear provocation, he sank his teeth into her neck's flesh just as his hips reared back, taking his prick out of her warmth. With his teeth still latched on, he had driven his member back in, in the fashion of a hard stroke.

Her reaction was immediate and passionate. "Nnnnah-ugh!" she shrieked just as her body broke out with seismic waves of satisfaction. Her fingernails dug into his skin while her toes curled.

His own mouth unleashed sounds of gratification after she squeezed onto his dick. His left hand instinctually reached for the bottom of her right thigh. His fingers wrapped around the flesh-encased muscle and held on. His hips reared back again and unleashed another strong thrust, which was followed by another thrust. His hips proceeded to conduct a carnal melody. His members deeply stroked all points in her warmth. He occasionally glimpsed at his ramming dick as he was jerked out of her snatch. He was rewarded with lust-driven wails and tight clenches on both his body, as well as, on his organ.

"Ugh God, I'm gonna cum," Eric heard her moaned into his left ear.

He suddenly felt her pussy provide a tight grasp on his stroking member. Pleasure gripped his body, making his toes curl and his thighs' muscles taut. His eardrums was littered with the sounds of her moans.

"Yes... Yes... Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yesyesyesyesyesyesyes..." she panted.

Despite her crushing grip on his prick, Eric kept up with his rapid pace. His thrusts made sure his member was deeply imbedded inside of her warmth. His furred pelvis taunted her exposed clitoris with brusque caresses as each stroke was committed.

"Aaah... Gah-awwd," she groaned into the air.

Just as she groaned, an image was sprinkled into his mind that caused a twinge of desire to erupt in his cock. 'Yessss,' his brain groaned. Suddenly, he pushed himself off of her and then pulled his hardness from out of her warmth. Kneeling in between her splayed thighs, his hands snatched up each of her thighs. Without any warning, he forced her body onto her right side. Fortunate for the leader, she was a quick learner. Once she was on her hands and knees, his cock found its place back inside of her gash.

"Ack, Eric!" she squeaked. Her cunt held onto his length. Her thighs spread further apart while her upper body relied on her forearms and elbows to keep her up.

His hands grasped her hips and pulled her plush bottom against his pelvis and lower belly. His sex was fully submerged in her, which she greedily accepted. His left hand snatched up a tuft of her locks while his right hand gripped her right hip. A second later, she was a recipient for his ferocious rutting. The stoned walls were covered with their sounds. The consecutive and melodic slaps of their bodies coming together. Her shuddering moans, mewling of pleasure and wailing being thrust into the air. His animal-like snarling and groaning were lingering in the atmosphere also.

"I'm cah... Eric...Baby..."

Hearing the term of endearment spewed from her lips caused the tell-tale tingling in his sac to erupt. A hearty growl escaped from him. His right hand released her hip and came crashing down on her right buttock in the form of a hard smack. The crackling of skin slapping skin echoed in the room.

"Oh!" she grunted upon his hand's impact on her skin. Her cunt squeezed on his member with fervor. Her lips lowly gasped, "Fuck me".

Eric's hearing picked up her raunchy request and it caused an electric thrill to shoot through his crotch. "Say it again," he ordered before he slapped her supple mound again.

"Fuc-uck... Me," she groaned, in a soft voice.

His hand slapped her again. "Louder," he growled.

"Ppppphhhh...Uck...Me!" she shrieked out in pleasure. Her mouth sung more melodies of satisfaction.

Eric's cobalt blues panned down to the source of their mutual pleasure. He viewed his fleshy stalk as it kept disappearing from his preying sight and then appearing while soaked in her nectar. His eyes made glimpses at her slicked folds as they spread and welcomed each stroke. The erotic sight made his climax bubbled and then boiled over.

His reared his head back and glared at the ceiling as his mouth opened to unleash a curt roar. His dick trembled and spewed its seed into her sheath. His orgasm caused his mind to draw a blank and his body to shudder. Then he lost control of the strength in his body. His upper body pressed against her sweat-covered back and dropped his weight on her. Both quivering bodies made a smooth descent into the mattress. He felt her walls hold onto his member, comforting him. His left hand slipped in between the sheet and her body, where he cupped her breast. His right set of fingers sought after her drenched labia. A shuddering moan came from her while her body shook. Eric managed to withdraw another climax from the scarred beauty.

"...Baby," she whimpered after the throbbing ceased.

---

The bed's sudden jolting woke her up. With her eyes still closed, she lifted her head off of her pillow. "Mmmmm," she groaned nastily.

"Get up, Initiate" she heard his voice rang out.

She grimaced. 'No,' her brain grunted. She laid her head back on the pillow. She proceeded to attempt to go back to sleep.

"Initiate..."

'No. Let me... Sleep,' she secretly whined. Seconds later, she heard footsteps walk across the stone floor.

Cold air kissed at her flesh...

SPAH-LACK!

...and then a slice of discomfort was imbedded in her ass. The pain caused a shot of adrenaline to rush through her veins. Her eyes snapped open and her head shot off of the pillow.

"Ah..." she gasped.

"I told you to get..."

Minerva rolled onto her back. Her eyes immediately spotted the ass-slapper. He stood by her bedside. He held onto the bed's linen as he glared at her. She took note that he was dressed already.

"...up, Initiate. Now, listen to me," Eric informed her.

"...ow," her lips spewed.

Eric gave her one last glimpse before he tossed the blanket and sheet to the base of the bed. He walked away from the bedside. She eyed his broad back as he strolled to the bathroom. A fissure of arousal tugged at her sex.

"Get dress," he ordered without looking at her.

Disappointment flooded her spirit, dampening her somewhat-festive mood. It was time for her to go back to the initiates' barracks. Eric retrieved the one thing that he wanted from her. Now, he wanted her to leave his quarters now. It was expected. In fact, this was the part that she was looking forward for, when the Dauntless leader expressed his intention for her, in his office. But that moment occurred three hours or so ago and significant things that happened between them erupted, since then.

She slipped her feet to the floor and then stood up. She listened to the random cracks and popping noises that her joints made. Soreness seeped into her inner thighs and cunt. The effects from their carnal moments finally caught up with her. The young woman took reluctant steps in the direction of the bathroom. She wanted to clean herself up before she put on her clothes. Before she could enter the bedroom, Eric blocked her path.

"Get dressed," he ordered before she could respond. His voice's tone held an authoritative stance. It caused the initiate to stare at him with an expression of bewilderment.

"I... I have to use the bathroom first," she explained.

He didn't respond to her at first. His eyes just observed her. After a few seconds, there was an "Okay... But make it quick".

She watched him step off to the side and allow her to go into the lavatory. Her feet made quick steps into the room, where she unleashed the pressure in her lower stomach and performed a makeshift bath by using the water from the sink's faucet. As she cleaned her skin, she observed the love marks that were on her neck and breasts. 'How am I going to cover those up?'

"Don't even think about it."

Minerva flinched, out of shock. She was surprised by his sudden presence and by the fact that he knew what she was thinking. Her wide eyes caught his reflection in the mirror. He was standing in the doorway, a few feet behind her.

"They're there because I want them there," he explained. He stepped into the bathroom. In his possession, her clothes and her boots. He placed both on the sink's countertop, a few inches away from her. Then the Dauntless leader stepped behind her. His metallic sapphire eyes stared at the mirror, at her. "I want them to know that you're taken," he further informed her.

'Them. Who's them?' she wondered.

"The Dauntless men that look at you, when you're in the Mess Hall," he answered her internal inquiry. "The ones that hang out and... Train, when you are training with your class. And the other fucks that like you," he answered.

As he spoke, she felt Eric's fingers apply firm caresses against her body. His hands groped her tits, her ass, her hips, thighs and throat. His right hand settled on her pelvis while his left hand held her left shoulder. Despite his hands' working wonders, her mind was thinking in overdrive.

'Why does he care that other men look at me? Is he jealous? But why would he become jealous? What does he want from me? Does he want this to continue? But what will happen, when I am cut from the initiation?'

"But..." She looked at Eric's actual face. "...they cannot... Do anything with us, anyway," she informed him. She looked away and stared at her boots. "We were told that we're citizens, but we have restrictions to adhere by. One of those things are we cannot... Fraternize with the natural-born, faction citizens," she informed him.

"No," Eric stated. His lips grazed the shell of her ear. "You cannot marry, co-habitat and have children with us natural-born citizens. It doesn't mean that we can't fuck and have fun together."

"So... That's what... You want us... To do?" she reluctantly asked. She stared at his reflection. "You want to have sex with me until I am cut..." She caught the subtle wince from his face. "...from the initiation?"

An unknown energy flowed into his orbs as he focused on her face. Then he abruptly pulled away from her. "Get dressed," he ordered as he exited out of the bathroom.

Minerva watched the leader retreat from the bathroom. 'Okay... What was that all about?' She turned away from the door and proceeded to get dressed.

---

"Ah..." She breathed as she surveyed the corridor. "...Sir, where are we going?" she asked Eric as they briskly walked.

"We're almost there," he told her. The grip that was on her left hand became tighter.

After she dressed herself in the bathroom, they immediately began their trip. She expected for Eric to escort her back to the initiates' quarters, which was an action that she was sure that would get tongues wagging and rumors started. She immediately began to think up lies that she could tell the initiates. She knew that they were worried about her. After all, she made a very public exit out of the Mess Hall with one of their trainers. She was well-aware that a few hours passed, so she knew that their concern must've increased by tenfold.

But then, she was thrown for a loop when Eric led her in a different direction. They were going east instead of into the west. They have been walking since then.

'Where are we going?' she wondered. Her feet led her pass a corner. 'Is...' Her eyes landed on the sight of a familiar glass door. '... Oh God,' she groaned. The contents that were in her stomach grumbled while her mouth ran dry. The speed in her steps became slow. Her wrist was jerked by his hand. Her eyes focused on Eric.

"Come on," the leader announced.

Minerva glanced at the silver plaque that was mounted on the wall beside the door: Dual Simulation Quarters. She eyed Eric again. "Why are we here?" she asked him with her fear on display.

"You're going to go through your fear landscapes," he confessed. He pulled on her captured hand, an effort to force her to walk again. "Now, come on." He turned away and proceeded to travel to the room's entrance. He pulled a reluctant Minerva along. Once he gained access to the simulation chamber, Eric forced her to enter the room first. He followed her.

Minerva's sight bounced off of different features that were inside of the room. She stared at the marbled walls and the matching floor. She took note of the heavily sanitized air that circulated in the room. There was the pair of rolling, metal chest of drawers that were against the wall. The large simulator was standing a few feet away from the furniture. A pair of simulation lounge chairs were in the center of the room.

"Get in the right chair," instructed Eric as he stood behind her.

She glimpsed over her right shoulder at him. She gazed at his back as he walked over to the simulator.

"Stop staring at me, Initiate and do what I say," he demanded as he eyed the machine's console.

She whimpered and gazed at her assigned chair with watery eyes. She walked over to the simulation chair and reluctantly sat down. She focused on the ceiling. 'OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGodohGodohGodohGod...' She didn't hear Eric approach her. It wasn't until she felt his fingers touch at her jaw, when she became aware. She flinched and stared at him with her fright circling in her eyes.

"Relax," he ordered. "Turn your head slightly." He held up a syringe. The one that contained the fear serum.

'This is it,' she told herself.

Her fear grabbed a hold of her spirit. Her heart began to race. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to expose her neck. She felt his fingers brush her locks away from her shoulder and neck. A wet swab was applied to her neck just as the pungent odor of isopropyl alcohol was infiltrating her nasal cavity. A second later, there was a sharp prick to her neck. The familiar sensation of burning stayed behind.

"We're going to go through your fear landscapes and I am going to help..."

'What?!'

Minerva glanced at the Dauntless leader with shock etched into her face. "H-How are you going to do that?" she queried.

Eric's lips briefly puckered and a grim smile was formed on his lips. "I am going to be in your fear landscapes with you," he informed her.

'Wha-What?' her brain whimpered out in surprise.

"You're going in-

"Yes," he declared as he injected his own neck with a syringe needle. He placed the needle on a rolling serving tray that was in between the chairs.

"But, who is going to watch the machine and pull us out, if it gets too dangerous-"

Eric revealed a device that was cradled in the palm of his left hand. It was a black plastic, rectangular item. He glimpsed at the device. "This is a portable simulator disruptor. I hook it up to sync with my heart rate and stress levels. The moment my heart goes crazy, this will take me out," he notified her. "So don't worry."

He sat down on the edge of the chair. His head bowed and his right hand rubbed at the back of his head. Currently, he was exhausted. He hasn't slept in two days, and up until a few hours ago, he didn't have a decent moment of relaxation.

"Eric?" he heard her whimper.

"Mmm?" He hummed as his head lifted up. His tired eyes stared at her. Once he saw the fear in her dark brown eyes, he felt the urge to scoop her up and hold onto her. He wanted to assure her that everything was going to be alright.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because..." He paused.

'Tell her.'

He inhaled and then exhaled.

"Because... You need to be here for your kids and for your brother and sister. Also..."

'I need you here,' he quietly confessed.

"...you saved me once and now I am returning the favor," he confessed.

Eric watched the fear dissolved out of her orbs and recognition grow as she stared at him. A new brand of tension filled the room. Both parties quietly gazed at each other.

With a crease in her brow, she spoke. "You... I... I took you to the piers... Right?" she said softly.

He slowly nodded his head. "That was me," he confessed.

"You were the one that I took away from King Creeper?"

'That... Motherfucker.' His anger kicked at its spirit. He grunted. In the back of his mind, he was subjected to the memories of the asshole, who orchestrated the slaughter of his soldiers. "Yeah," he grunted. He looked away from her.

"And you're gonna help me stay, here in Dauntless?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah..." He gazed at her. "...I'm going to help you." He stood up and strolled over to her side. He placed an affectionate hand on her forehead. "Close your eyes, so we can begin."

Minerva nodded her head and presented him with a smile. It wasn't a genuine smile, but one that was made for his benefit. Then she closed her eyes.

Once she shut herself off from the world, he reluctantly peeled his palm off of her forehead. His palm immediately missed the warmth that her skin provided. The Dauntless leader traveled over to the simulator's location. His fingers expertly tapped at certain keys on the console and initiated the program. His blue orbs flickered over to the reclining woman that lain on the elaborate chaise lounge chair. Her eyes were still closed, but he sensed that there wasn't a stitch of worry in her. Her face possessed a serene expression. 'That's it...' he quietly stated. He peeled his eyes away from Minerva and he glanced at the simulator's console. 'We have an hour before we need to get the hell out of here. The last thing we need to happen is for us to get caught.'

Eric strolled away from the machine and walked over to the unoccupied chair. In his mind, he recalled the few scenes that he had seen from the recordings of her fear landscapes. He felt that he could handle them. He just didn't know if he could stand idly by and watch the simulated version of Minerva become a victim of rape. 'I gotta or she'll never learn how to get out of them,' he told himself as he sat on the edge of the chair. The Dauntless leader took a few deep breaths before he lain in the lounge. He turned his gaze onto the woman that was next to him. 'I couldn't help you back then...' he thought as he began to feel the effects of the psychotropic drug. '... Hopefully, I'll be there in more ways in one'.

Then his eyelids slowly covered his orbs, making sure the last image that he saw was of her.