Experiment 01014 was released into Amity fields on March 1st, year 223 after city establishment. At age five, Experiment 01014 is able to locate divergents, and is equipped with the skills and abilities necessary to exterminate them without direct reflection of the city's hand. Experiment 01014 is a success.
She has been given the name Sam Cooper and will operate like all other citizens. She will go through the aptitude test and receive a finite result. Experiment 01014 will have no recollection of her past in Erudite.
Two pictures are attached at the bottom, of a small child with gold eyes and a bright smile, and the other of a small black puppy with the very same golden gaze. A small note is scribbled underneath it. Year 234 she received and chose Dauntless, in year 235 she became a Dauntless leader. Eric folds the paper and slips it back under his alarm clock. "Died in year 237," he murmurs, clicking off the light and laying back on the bed. He closes his eyes, aware of his own lonely breathing.
She has to admit that out of all her lapses in judgment, this has to be her favorite. Teeth nibble along her throat, followed by hot kisses. With a grin she pushes off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a heap behind him. He pauses. She smirks as his grey eyes flick to hers, that all too familiar burning curiosity flashing in their depths.
"Scared, initiate?"
Eric presses her into the wall and slides his hands up her shirt, biting and sucking on her neck. "Fuck, no," he whispers, thumbs gliding over her nipples. He returns to her mouth, slipping his tongue in, his piercings pressing into her lips. She suppresses a moan—she can't feed his ego. Parting from her briefly, he pulls her shirt over her head and drops it next to his jacket. "How can I be scared of a banjo-strumming softie?"
"Watch it, Four-Eyes," she bites back, coaxing his shirt onto the floor beside hers. "Don't insult your leader so freely."
"Like you'll do anything to me," he murmurs, thumb stroking her cheek as he leans in again. His eyes roam over her face, soft, kind. Uncharacteristic of the Eric everyone else knows, and someone she enjoys riling up.
"I'll set Four on you," she answers.
With a growl he rushes in, forcing her into a rough, dominating kiss. "Say his name again and I'll—,"
"Four's name?"
He presses her against the wall and tugs off her belt, throwing it down before unhooking the clasp of her bra. Her hands dart out to unbutton his pants, but he catches them and pins them above her head. A wicked smirk cracks across his face. "Are you going to lose a fight tonight, Zero? Am I going to have to start calling you One?"
"You wish," she growls, bringing up her feet and thrusting out. He stumbles back and she drops to the floor, laughing at his surprise. "What was that piece of advice I always told you? Keep your guard up?"
"Even during sex?" he asks sarcastically.
Zero stands and crosses over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him. She presses a soft kiss to his cheek, surprising him once again. "I don't think you'll need to." He folds his arms around her, smiles, and kisses her slowly, hands deepening the kiss in the dark of the apartment. When they pull apart she hooks her fingers into his pants and leads him to the bedroom. "Fuck, Eric. Rule-breaking shouldn't be this fun," she grumbles.
The beeping cuts into his brain and forces him up. With a snarl he slams his fist down on the clock and curls over, breathing heavily. Why did he have to do that so damn often? Every other fucking night he would dream about her, every other fucking minute he would see something that reminded him of her. Every. Fucking. Day. And then he'd have to go watch Four moon over that Stiff at training.
It hurt.
Running a hand through his long hair, he slips out of bed and pulls on a shirt. Jeanine needs to see him today. "Fuck me," he mumbles. The entire truth is that he'd rather watch Four and that Stiff initiate attempt to hide their growing relationship than meet with the Erudite leader, even if it meant being reminded of her.
Standing, he quickly goes through the motions of the morning routine before heading down to breakfast. A hush comes down over the Dauntless members nearby, but Eric ignores it today, hurt that all he can compare himself to today is Zero. The initiates are all eating, talking, laughing. Four's right next to them, like she would be. Except she'd be encouraging their banter. With tired eyes Eric glances over to where Max and Killian usually sit, where she should have sat everyday, but they're not there. Maybe he'll just take food to go. "Eric!" an all-too-cheerful voice greets.
"Morning, John."
The older Dauntless member slaps him on the back and points to a nearly empty table. "Come join us this morning."
"Sure." Even if he doesn't really want to talk to her friends, they sure seem hell-bent on talking to him. "Morning, Harrison," Eric greets after running through the breakfast line.
Harrison nods, munching on cereal.
John plops down beside them. "How are the initiates this year?"
"We'll need to watch out for that boy from Candor, Peter. I don't trust him," Eric says, taking a bite out of his eggs.
Harrison gives him a quizzical look. John immediately translates, "Doesn't Candor mean he's all about the truth?" Harrison nods, and not for the first time Eric wonders if this man is a mute or not. Has he ever heard him talk?
"That's the problem—he's good at lying."
John scratches his chin. Harrison shrugs, earning a nod from John. "I suppose you're right. After all, Zero's Amity didn't really—,"
At the sharp glare from Eric, John drops the conversation and turns to his oatmeal. Harrison taps the side of his plate with his spoon once, eyes far off and deep in thought. Somehow, God knows how, John catches on. "You're right! Isn't tonight the annual war games?"
That's right. Eric runs a hand through his hair and nods. "Yes." How could he forget that?
"Mind if we come along? Then we can see the initiates for ourselves."
"Of course. Pick your team."
"You, of course," John instantly replies. He gives Eric a kind smile. "This is like your best two out of three game, right? We have to be there to make sure you win!"
Eric lets out a chuckle. "Thanks." Behind them the initiates get up and exit the dining hall. "Better go."
"See you tonight, then," John says and winks.
Eric shakes his head and follows his pack of transfers, just close enough that they know he's there, watching them like ravenous wolf. Four stops walking, allowing them to brush past. He joins Eric, step for step down the hall. "Rankings will go up tomorrow."
"I know, Four."
He slows down, almost coming to a stop. Eric rolls his eyes and matches Four's pace, allowing the transfer initiates to walk out of earshot. "What do you think of rankings?"
"Edward's first, Peter's second."
"Peter's savage and—,"
"And Dauntless. We need savagery. How else can we hope to keep the restless Factionless down?"
"Savagery is not the answer!"
"Guided savagery is," Eric snaps. "We're done arguing about this—I am your leader." Anyone that has to say "I am the king" is no king, he hears her quote in his head. Shut the fuck up, he snaps back. He doesn't need to be thinking about books or her. "You decide the rest of the rankings—except for Myra and Al. She's last, he's second to last. They're pathetic." Then he leaves Four behind, hurrying into the training room.
The initiates pick up on his foul mood and scuttle away. He leans against the wall and waits until Four appears to shout, "Stiff and Peter, in the ring!" Four's head snaps to Eric. Then he turns, catches Tris by the elbow and gives her a few hurried tips. Eric catches Peter's gaze. The transfer holds his chin up defiantly, and Eric rolls his eyes and looks away. "Time to fight."
But even as he watches the figures swim in detail before him, and he finds himself entrenched in the memory of watching Zero and Amar fight. They hadn't called her Zero for no reason—she never lost a fight. Tris didn't even compare to her—how could Four be in love with the Stiff? She couldn't even hold her own.
Point proven. A swift blow to the head and she's down for the count. Weakling. But he can see Four's obvious agitation in the way he sets his jaw and his eyes focus like knives on Peter. It's fucking irritating. "Take her to the infirmary," Eric allows, looking away to the side of the training room where older Dauntless members practice and train alone or with friends. John's over there with Harrison, and no doubt Amar would have been with them that morning. Growling, he stands up and shouts, "Christina and Will!" Let the couple beat each other up. Let them tear themselves apart.
The expression on their face is priceless. "Well?" Eric shouts.
They scurry into the ring, but neither move. "Come on," Peter taunts. "Let's see if you can punch as well as you talk, Candor."
Christina throws a punch, easily blocked by Will. "If you're going to play around, then you better get used to the idea of living factionless," Eric warns, grey eyes sparking dangerously. Don't think for a minute I'm not serious, he thinks. And they don't. He's hung them over the chasm made them beat each other into a bloody pulp, made them jump off a building. They'll listen to him out of sheer fear.
Zero would have earned respect from them.
"I'm not Zero," he whispers to himself.
Four appears, and his jaw goes slack at the sight of Christina and Will. Eric smirks. "What are you doing?" Four hisses.
"Training. What are you doing? You know, I bet if you asked her for her pants she'd willingly give them to you. No need for all of this roundabout shit."
"I'm not going to break the rules like you did," Four returns. Immediately his face drops and he turns away, ignoring Eric's fury.
"Do you want me to report you to Max? You're on thin ice, Tobias."
"Don't call me that. She never did. Amar never did, and Max doesn't."
"Well, I'm not any of them, am I?" He glares at the fighting pair. "Fucking knock her out!" he shouts at Will, who's hovering around Christina's fallen body. Instead, Christina rises up and pounds him in the stomach. "Nice move," he praises, waiting for the next retaliation. "And don't bring her up again," he tells Four. "You never told anyone about us, I won't tell anyone about you." Before Four can realize Eric's apparent kindness, the leader moves away to prowl around the ring.
"I'm not seeing any blood," he calls out. "Fix that."
Four folds his arms and watches them. Eric can tell he wants to interject, but doesn't dare, and it sends a little thrill through him. He has power. Will delivers a particularly savage blow to Christina's head and then reels back in disgust—he can't believe he did that. "Winner, Will," Eric announces. Christina stirs after a few seconds. Will helps her to her feet and they both exit the ring. "Al and Edward."
"Eric," Four says. Eric looks over, ready to argue again. "Why don't you go relax? I have everything under control here—we're going to have a long night and early morning."
Eric opens his mouth to snap back, but falters. Concern is written all over Four's face, much to Eric's chagrin, but he can't deny that he needs the rest. When was the last time he slept more than three hours? "Fine," is all he manages. Glancing away in shame he walks out of the training room. It's only 10:30, so half the compound is still asleep.
The Dauntless Leader finds his way to the chasm. He stares down, wondering what if felt like when Amar jumped. Or was thrown—Eric never found out. The memories of that night plague him still, even more so than his fight with Four the next day.
"Amar is divergent," Max whispers to Zero. Eric shouldn't have heard, but he knew what to listen for, was wondering if he would hear the words. Now he did, but the shock crossing Zero's face didn't make him feel very triumphant. Max gives her a warning look, before leaning in and whispering something even quieter that Eric can't hear. Her gold gaze flicks over to him and then holds Max's. She inclines her head.
"I'll see to it, sir," she affirms.
Eric keeps throwing his knives, pretending to be oblivious. But she saw him looking. She knows. Soon enough, he feels a hand catch his arm as he winds up to throw. "You're holding it a bit too tight," she tells him. He loosens his grip, allowing her to take the knife. "Try this." She taps his feet a bit farther apart and takes up a position behind him, using her hands to set the knife gently in his. "Place first finger here, second here, third…"
His heart beat elevates slightly as she closes her finger around his fist. Even though he's bigger than her, he can feel the power and fury pulsing under her skin. He swallows. "You have every right to be scared," she whispers. Then she winds back his arm. "See how this feels?" she asks, louder. Amar looks over, an eyebrow raised. "That's should be the extent of your… what do you call it, Amar? Backswing?"
"That's for golf, Zero."
"Ah, fuck it. This is as far back as you go," she tells him and releases her hold. "Go through the motions a few times and then actually throw it. You should see improvement." Eric complies, going through the motion, but keeping mind of the golden gaze boring into his back.
Amar dismisses them not long after, once they've all become comfortable with the knives. But Zero stops Eric with a hand. Amar looks to her, wondering if she needs help, but a simple shake of her head sends him on. He can recognize anger in her when he sees it—which has become more often of late.
"You reported Amar," she states.
Eric nods.
She sits down in front of him on the steps of the fighting ring, resting her face in her hands. "Why would you do that?" she mumbles. Shaking her head, she lifts her eyes and gives him a long, hard look. "Do you know what's going to happen now?"
Eric flinches. Her voice is soft, dangerously soft. "I don't," he croaks.
"No. I'm the Dauntless Leader that's never lost a fight. I'm the genetic experiment every damn person in Erudite seems to know so much about. When you reported Amar, that death sentence comes to me."
Eric gazes at her, a bit shocked. "They don't become factionless?"
She lets out a mirthless laugh. "No! They get killed! And guess who does that? The experiment with no other apparent purpose except to murder threats to our city. So now I have to kill Amar. He was my instructor. He's my friend."
Eric shifts, eyes glued to the floor. "What if you just don't kill him?"
"Then you'll die. At least one initiate goes over the railing of the chasm every year, Max assures me. If you take the tumble no one will bat an eye."
His gaze darts up to hers, but instead of the ferocity he expects there's just pain and… exhaustion. She blows out a sigh. "And fuck me in the ass if I let you die," she murmurs. Eric finds himself struck by the words. Is it just because he's an initiate? Or maybe there's another meaning, another part of him hopes. Rubbing her eyes, she stands. "You know what I am, right? The "old world" name for it?"
Eric nods. But he doesn't want to say. She folds her arms and taps her foot, waiting patiently for the answer. "Werewolf," he finally mutters.
"Aren't they dangerous?"
"Inarguably so."
"So that means you better stay out of the hallways tonight. And stay away from me from now on."
Eric nods again, chest shrinking. "Yes, Zero."