This is my first attempt at writing anything more eloquent than a receipt since high school (which was many moons ago) so please be gentle. Also, I'm not American, so spelling (when I've actually spelt shit right) is English English, not American English. This is just a character that has been wreaking havoc in my brain for years, so I'm setting her loose on the world. No backsies. :-P
I don't own Divergent... or Four... or Eric... :-(
Prologue
On a windy, desolate plain, a small figure walks with purpose toward the only sign of civilised life for what seemed like lightyears. The dilapidated city had dominated the skyline for miles already. She was close enough now to see the imposing, and probably completely useless, fence surrounding what used to be a shining beacon of civilisation. She sighs quietly, her dirty white hair blowing in all directions, looking just like the snow flurries shifting about her tired feet. Her dry lips formed a tight, determined line while her ice blue eyes constantly scanned her surroundings. She was walking into a trap, but she already knew that.
It took much longer than she thought it would for the tranq dart to finally find her right shoulder, she was a scant mile from the gate when it hit. The people in black uniforms had been keeping pace with her for a good half hour. They had been trying to keep quiet and hidden, poor lambs, they'd had no idea that she'd spotted them well before they laid eyes on her, and she'd heard them well before that. She turned quickly toward the shooter and dropped to her knees before sliding to the ground. Once down, she concentrated on slowing her breathing and heart rate to the appropriate levels. She was a small woman, and they'd just hit her with enough tranq to down a 6ft6, irate irishman on St Paddy's, she should probably at least attempt to look normal for the moment. Plenty of time later to freak out the locals if this city turned out to be what she dreaded it was. She allowed her whole body to relax before they reached her. She wondered if it would be too much to roll her eyes back into her skull... probably. Don't want them to start trying to resuscitate her, bad enough that she was going to have to lay completely limp while some stranger carried her into an unknown situation, inside an unfamiliar city; she didn't need a stranger getting so close that she couldn't help smacking the shite out of them.
By the time the careful footsteps reached her, she was barely breathing, her heart rate was almost comatose slow, and her whole body had relaxed to the consistency of jelly. The toe in her ribs was unpleasant, but bearable. The gentle hand at her throat, checking for a pulse, was harder to deal with. This was going to be far from fun.