This is my second story ever. So I'm still getting the hang of things. Again, a Peter fanfic. I'll probably continue this one.
"Peter?"
The door to the simulation room opened and a woman with a pixie cut and dark eyeliner peeked her head around the door. Lauren. She glanced down at a single paper, then back up to Peter.
Peter slid his knees to his chest and stood up. All the initiates had been waiting for their name to be called. One by one, they went into he simulation room, until the crowd dwindled down to a few. "Later," he looked at Drew, who sat next to him. Drew's brows were furrowed with a nervous look. Peter glanced down and gave him a chastising look of pity.
Lauren escorted him through the double doors. He'd only been in this room once, the time Four showed them around the Dauntless compound on the first day. The walls inside were spray-painted and looked like the subway station walls where the factionless lived. Those poor homeless people that weren't good enough for society. 'Well,' he thought, 'like Dad used to say- "You get what you deserve".' Those idiots that didn't think the government system was good enough for them. Or worse, they weren't good enough for it. Like the lowest scoring initiate here. Thinking of the factionless gave him a burst of energy. No way he was going to screw this test up. Stay on top. No way he was going to let anyone pass him. The top position in the initiate class got a job offer that was hard to pass up, he heard. He had seen the way Eric acted around Four- he wasn't an idiot. You could cut the tension with a knife. Eric obviously had a bone to pick with the guy, and he used his authority to do it. Peter liked the sweet sound of a position like that. Top dog of a community of fighters. The thought of a potential leadership position put a bounce in his step as he followed Lauren down the corridor.
Eventually, he and Lauren came to another door at the end of the short hallway. Inside, there were other people seated around a small conference table, which looked out of place in the dirty cement room. Two monitors were arranged side by side on the tabletop. A white pristine box of syringes and a dozen or so vials lay nearby.
Peter was bouncing on the balls of his feet by the time Eric came over from the table with the syringe.
"You know how this works, Peter." Eric took Peter's elbow and led him to a black metal door a few feet away. It was so well hidden, Peter hadnt noticed it on his first day here. Eric took a key from around his neck and unlocked it. Inside, the room was black. No lights, windows, or any other distinctive features. Peter's heart began to pound when he thought of what was about to happen. 'Its just like the trials with Four' he thought. But it wasn't. This was for all the marbles. Peter looked around the room again, and this time he could make out a large panel on the wall with the door. No doubt all the Dauntless leaders and instructors would be standing behind it watching him, with the other screen monitoring his hallucinated surroundings on another. He was not going to make a fool of himself this time.
Eric released his arm. "Tilt your head to the right," Eric instructed. Peter did so, and could feel the cold kiss of the needle on his lower neck. He clapped his clammy hands against each other and began to pace.
"Good luck," he heard Eric laugh just before he closed the door. The blackness of the room rushed toward him. His head felt light, exactly like it had when he had done this with Four. Peter's mind was spinning in all directions. It made him feel light- this was the first time he had ever been under simulation while he was standing. The world blurred in and out; colors danced in the darkness of the room. He rocked on his heels and tried to regain a point of balance. Who was he kidding? This was so much worse than the practice runs. Peter's mind felt light again. Suddenly, all the quiet and turbulence ceased.
An orange glow faded into Peter's vision beneath his feet. He waited for the light to fill his vision, but it remained a speck under his shoes. Peter crouched and reached his hand toward it, only to scrape his fingers on grated metal. He stayed that way for a few moments, until it started to move. The dot of orange grew in size, like it was rushing up to him. Peter instinctively backed away, but backed into an unseen wall. Black, apparently, since it blended in with the dark surroundings. He slide to a sit against the wall, a little disoriented. Through blurriness and fuzz Peter could still see a growing speck beneath the grate. A moment later, he smelled the smoke.