At two thirty, Tobias and I meet Eric in his office. Tobias sits in the chair in front of the desk while I stand by Eric's desk. Already, one could feel the tension in the room.
Tobias clears his throat. "You wanted to talk about the initiation for this year."
"Exactly." Eric laces his fingers together. "I noticed last year that you enforced my training methods unlike the year before. But that is because I decided to supervise most of the first stage of initiation, since I'd knew that you would be more likely to enforce them under my watch."
"I couldn't stand and watch as he was beating that Amity girl two years ago," says Tobias through gritted teeth.
"That doesn't apply as they are both cut," says Eric briskly. "The boy was muscle and no brains. I wasn't surprised when he was ranked twelve during the announcement of the final rankings. As for the Amity girl, she would have done better in another faction. Just be glad that the boy didn't pull a Peter Hayes."
I wouldn't put it pass Eric to disregard past initiates. As for his use of the phrase "pull a Peter Hayes", I could easily translate it. It's a initiate who will attack another initiate in pursuit of a rank he didn't earn.
"What do you have in mind for this year?" Tobias asks abruptly.
"Same as this year and the same as before," says Eric, "only they'll be slight changes." He turns to me. "You want to tell him, Tris?"
Tobias knows, hence why he confronted me about it three days after initiation when I was preparing dinner. However, Eric doesn't know that Tobias knows and I don't want to get him into trouble.
"There has been a change to the cutting policy," I inform Tobias.
"A change?" His surprise was probably cleverly feigned.
"For stage one, they'll be three cuts; one cut for stage two and in stage three, we'll cut those who didn't rank a ten and above," I explain.
"Cut one person after stage two?" he asks, even though he knows this.
"Sometimes someone can't stand facing their fears," says Eric. "Also, if an initiate was to willingly leave for some reason, it will not save someone from getting cut. That person will still be cut. Also, we added a new policy to the cutting system, one that coordinates with how we address violations by initiates."
"If a initiate were to attack another initiate for whatever reason, whether proven or speculated, the attacker will be cut from initiation. No questions asked," I say. "We can't have someone who will pose a threat to the initiates."
Tobias looks stumped. I guess some things slipped his memory. It's March now and that was way back in September. He pauses and says, "That's how you changed the cutting policy?"
"Like I said, the system favors the most determined," Eric explains. "By most determined, I don't mean by initiates that try to attack others to get a certain score. It violates the Dauntless manifesto."
"Like you actually follow it," I hear Tobias mutter in a disgruntled fashion.
Eric gives him a stern glance and I fear that that could have been the seed of an argument. Fortunately, Eric doesn't address it. "Tris and I will be overseeing initiation: I'll oversee the transfers like before, however, she'll be with me."
"Do the Dauntless-borns need a leader to oversee their initiation?" Tobias asks.
"She will oversee them sometimes," Eric answers. "However, the Dauntless-born don't need to have a Dauntless leader to oversee their initiation most of the time. They know this faction and what's expected of them."
Tobias purses his lips. It appears that he is disappointed about the fact that Eric will still be overseeing the transfer initiates, though he probably wishes it was just me and not Eric. "Well, one thing I also want to address."
"And what is that?" asks Eric.
"That you not pair initiates where one would come off worse than the other," says Tobias. "One of these days, someone might keep beating their opponent even after they are unconscious."
"If I'm correct, your job is to call off the fight if it happens," says Eric. "It's not my fault. It's that initiate's problem if he or she proceeds to keep beating his or her opponent even after he or she is unconscious."
"You're the one who matches the initiates up," Tobias accuses.
"Unlike you, I show no bias towards the initiates," says Eric. "I don't want to make it easy for these kids. It wouldn't be realistic. According to the Dauntless manifesto, 'we DON'T believe in living comfortable lives'. Therefore, initiation shouldn't be comfortable."
"But we shouldn't enforce barbaric and unethical practices in initiation," Tobias snarls.
Wanting to avoid a nasty fight, I say, "That's enough."
At this moment, Eric's phone rings and he says to Tobias, "It appears this discussion has come to a close. You may go."
Tobias leaves without hesitation and Eric picks up the phone. "Yeah?"
After a second, Eric answers, "Yeah, I'll participate in coding the patrol zones…she's right here, so it wouldn't take time."
He puts the phone on the receiver. "Good thing Four has left, because Max wants us to code the patrol zones in the factionless sectors."
"Now?" I ask.
"Obviously," Eric answers. "Why else would he call at this time?"
As we approach the door to leave his office, I tell him, "I liked that, you know. that phrase 'pull a Peter'."
Eric shrugs. "That came from the top of my head so I could make the topic relevant."
"We should use that for the transfers," I say before practicing, "If you want to stay in Dauntless, don't pull a Peter."
Eric chuckles. "I will definitely use that."
"And if one of them asks, explain what it means," I continue.
"What you see in front of you are the zones that were identified when the program was originally in place," Max explains. Before us is a map projected on the wall. It shows the factionless sector, with different areas shaded in a different color. "Each Dauntless member was assigned a zone in a certain time period before ending their shift or transferring to another zone."
I approach the map, picking up the pen. Having made meals for the factionless and even in participating to deliver food to fill my volunteer hours, I know which areas need to have more and less members of Dauntless soldiers.
"There are two gathering points in the factionless sector," I explain. "One where factionless receive food from the factionless; the other where they receive clothing and other goods. Originally forty-eight were at the fence, and we now reduced it to twenty-four, correct?"
"Exactly," says Veronica.
I turn and use the pen to transfer the names to certain areas, so that they were evenly proportioned, but keep the gathering points to three Dauntless guards a shift. In these two gathering points, the number of Dauntless soldiers should be limited to three. Place six of them there and even if they weren't the original patrollers, they might interfere with the offering of goods."
Ross pinches his nose; Eric strokes his chin while Veronica leans forward before sitting up.
Max rubs his eyes before looking at me and saying, "Why three for each of the gathering places? Seems like that would limit the numbers?"
"Place six in the gathering places and chances are that some of them might interfere with charity being performed," I explain. "It's best too if the number of soldiers in an area are evenly proportioned. We don't want too many soldiers concentrated in one area."
"Reason enough," says Max.
"When Dauntless soldiers were patrolling the factionless sector before, the gathering points for food and clothes had two additional of the required number, which was six," Eric explains. "We don't need that many in the gathering points. They can always call for backpack if there was a hostile situation."
"That would work out just fine," says Veronica.
"Exactly," Ross agrees.
That didn't take much time to have them agree with my patrol plan. The factionless need policing as much as help but that doesn't mean that we should have more Dauntless soldiers in one zone then others.
"All we'll need to do for tomorrow is gather the patrollers that we'll assign to the factionless sector and explain the new regulations," says Max. "Then we'll survey the factionless sector to identity the zones to update the coordinates for
"I already contacted the Abnegation yesterday," says Eric. "They'll send out someone out there to explain to us about what has been going on in the factionless sector aside from the rise of the homicide rate and for us to explain the new regulations. That way there wouldn't be friction. The Erudite send sociologists out there from time to time but the Abnegation spend more time with these people, so I thought it would be logical to speak with one of them about it."
"Who are they going to send out there?" asks Max.
"When I heard back from them, one of the wives of the councilmembers volunteered," Eric answers.
One of the wives of the councilmembers? Why not one of the councilmembers themselves since they are government workers?
"Four is going to have a field day when he learns about those Neuro-Sim bullets," says Eric as we washed the dishes, washing away the remnants of tonight's dinner which was steak, baked potatoes, and vegetables. "He might launch into his 'we can't harm the initiates' lecture."
"When do you plan to show him?" I ask as I place the dish on the rack to dry.
"The month before initiation," Eric answers. "As for the paintballs, we'll have the dependents use them for recreational use. They don't need to prepare for war until they are members."
With the task done, I squeeze the soap from the sponge. "How was dinner? It is your birthday."
"Excellent," he says. "From your records, your birthday is May fourteenth, is that correct?"
"Yes," I answer.
"In that case, I should return the favor by giving you breakfast in bed," he says with a smile.
"Breakfast in bed?" I ask. "I'm not that spoiled."
"Birthdays are meant for you to be spoiled," says Eric. "You'll get used to it eventually. It's not like you're still Abnegation."
Even though I see no trouble in looking at my reflection and engaging in activities that the Abnegation view as indulgent, it still feels as if my Abnegation roots are still engrained.
It's probably like that for those who transfer to other factions.
"Well, you're still technically Erudite," I point out, raising my eyebrow. "You like detailed."
"You really know how to be cheeky, do you, Stiff?" Eric asks with a smirk. Right after that, he crushes his lips into mine. The blood reaches the surface of my skin as I place his hands on his shoulders, digging my nails into the fabric of his vest.
When my back hits the kitchen wall, he grabs my wrists and pins my arms.
"Eric," I breathe, looking into his eyes after our lips break apart.
"Pity that we didn't do this more than once," he says, rubbing his callused thumb on my wrist. He leans his lips against my ear and says, "I still want to see you sprawled on the countertop."
I remember his comment that November when we were making the gingerbread house; about how he wanted to screw me on the kitchen countertop. I wasn't emotionally ready then, but with his pelvis against mine and my skin hot against him, I know I want him.
"Do it then," I say. "Do me hard."
Eric smirks and says, "Well, Stiff, your wish is my command."
With a swipe of his hand, the objects fall onto the floor and he places me on the bare countertop. I lie down on my back and he gets up on top of me before attacking my lips.
As our kisses increase in ferocity, I feel the need to be skin to skin like last time. I rip his vest off and discard it like it's nothing. He grabs handfuls of the black fabric of my shirt before pulling it over my head and throwing it to the ground.
It doesn't take long until we're both skin to skin, my bare back touching the cold surface of the countertop. One part of me is nervous about us making love in this part of the apartment. That someone could knock on our door and walk in at any moment.
The lustful part of me doesn't care. I shouldn't be afraid.
I raise my hips and spread my legs apart so he could ease into me.
"You want me to screw you hard and fast like last time?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say breathlessly.
"its official: you're no Stiff," he says.
He fits himself inside me and I dig my fingernails into his flesh in case I might fall off the kitchen counter when the thrusting begins.
Unlike the mattress during our first time, it feels different on the countertop. Probably because on a hard surface, the passion feels prominent though lying on here feels uncomfortable.
Pleasure isn't meant to be comfortable.
His lips leave mine and begin trailing down my neck, kissing the pattern of the tattoo. His nails dig into the flesh of my waist. I arch under him, gasping.
The counter stays still due to the movements that we make. Good thing it's fixed to the floor or it would have tipped over.
We both come close together and he empties himself inside me. The two of us lie on the countertop, feeling nothing but the beating of our hearts.
"I was that for you?" he asks me.
"It's not that I expected it to be comfortable," I tell him as he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "Not that all sex is comfortable."
"Sexual pleasure is not meant to be comfortable." He kisses me on the lips before pulling out of me. "Now, let's get dressed and sanitize the counter."
It takes a few minutes to get dressed before we clean the counter with sanitation wipes. In minutes evidence of our lovemaking is removed from the counter before we place the cookbooks back on the counter.
For some reason, I'm in the cafeteria room back in Upper Levels. Looking out the window, I see heavy rain before I hear a crack of thunder; right after it, I see a flash of lighting.
"You didn't make a choice the last time," I hear Jeanine say. I turn to see that she's beside me; her blonde hair pulled tightly in a bun and she wears her trademark, blue lab coat and dress. She folds her arms across her chest.
"Choose what?" I ask her, feeling confused. I did the aptitude test, chose my faction, passed initiation, and became a Dauntless leader. Why do I need to retake the test?
"Choose," she says.
I look to see the two pedestals from the aptitude test. Instead of the knife and the cheese which I both rejected, there is a ball with spikes and a burning iron rod.
"I don't want to," I say.
"Choose," she repeats. "You can't reject either like the last time."
Knowing I have no choice, I approach the pedestals. I could feel the pulse in my throat as I look at my choices. I don't want the rod, so I have no choice but to pick up the spiked ball.
I pick it up and instantly blood runs down my hand. Suddenly, I hear bloodcurdling screams from the door behind me.
For a moment I forget that my hand is now covered in blood and I rush to open the door. I have to save whoever is screaming; whoever is dying. It will be cowardice if I don't.
When I open the door, a flock of crows land on me, latching their talons into my black clothes. Before I could brush them off me, two crows land on my eyes, blinding instantly as they sink their talons into my eyeballs.
At that moment I jerk awake, cold sweat running down my face.
I'm still here at my home, Eric's arm wrapped around my waist. I shake the nightmare inducing images in my head before I try to go back to sleep.
