Hey guys! Happy holidays from me and Clara and Eric! Enjoy the chapter!
I'm up before everyone else.
All the other initiates – hailing either from Dauntless, Erudite or Candor are used to being able to sleep in, at least until school started. Growing up in Abnegation, my family was up at 5:30 every morning, bringing breakfast to the factionless. It must be the only part of Abnegation that I have held onto.
I go to the small drawer next to my bunk, which is packed full of training gear. I grimace at the sight of it – most of it is tank tops and tshirts, which are all entirely unwearable. I almost sag in relief as I see one long sleeved, black top at the bottom. All of the training gear is tighter than I would choose for myself – the skintight tops and leggings doing little more than granting me a second skin.
As I tug on my boots, I curse under my breath as a wisp of blonde curls falls into my face. I don't have any hairbands. I guess today I'll train with my hair out.
I slip out of the dormitory and into the dimly lit corridors of the rest of the compound. There is never much movement at this hour in the morning, though I know that Zeke occasionally has to pull early morning shifts in the control room, meaning that the compound isn't totally dead in the morning. Still, as I pass through the pit, the only people visible are those passed out, a bottle still in their hand from late night partying.
The best benefit of being awake at this time is breakfast in the canteen. There is little better than the cook's freshly baked blueberry muffins, and if you get up later than seven you'll have missed them all already. A grin spreads onto my face as the corridors approaching the canteen smell with the mouth-watering aroma of baked goods.
…
I arrive at the training area sated and full. For me, this is nothing more than an average weekday morning – a good breakfast and a gruelling training session. Though if anything's for sure, it's that Eric's training sessions are likely to be tougher than my usual ones. Not to mention, it's an all day event.
I grimace slightly, but my mood this morning is still to drop. I can't tell if it's the muffins, or the fact that I'm on the road to becoming a full Dauntless member, but I relish this one moment of utter serenity. That is, until I enter the training room and realise I am half an hour early. And that Eric is too.
He turns upon my entry and his face is stone. As always, there is no emotion in Eric's face other than cool, calculating steel, though for a second, I swear his eyes darken almost imperceptibly. Recognition that nobody else receives from Eric other than me – and it fails to strike me what I have done in all these years to make him hate me so.
Maybe it's because I'm not scared of him.
Or so I tell myself, but as his eyes rake across my body in assessment, I feel utterly naked. Scared is not the right word, but it is not the furthest away either.
"You'll get too hot training in those long sleeves," He says. His voice is ice, his eyes bore into mine.
I mark his stance, the way he dresses. A thin, stretchable tshirt, no doubt made from some high-wicking material that prevents him from getting too hot. His heavy leather boots look almost impractical for training, but I know that they're the most durable kind around. I can tell already that he's been working out in here before our training starts, his hair a little less neat than usual and his breathing a little irregular. How early must he get up during initiate training to do his own personal training? The thought seems ridiculous.
"I don't care," I shoot back. His brow twitches, in amusement or anger I can't tell. He turns away suddenly, and I think for a second he's about to go back to his workout, but before he can my curiosity wins out.
"What time did you get up to train?" I can tell before the words have finished leaving my mouth that I have crossed a line again with Eric. Questions, no matter how impersonal, probably don't bode well with him.
"Early," He grunts, not looking my direction for a single second as he manoeuvres himself into a plank position on his knuckles, and begins to slowly do push ups. Entranced, I watch the muscles in his arms flex and tense.
I force myself to look away and find myself awkwardly starting around the room.
"What are we doing in training today?" I ask, and he lets out an irritated noise.
"Are you unable to sit silently for a few fucking minutes?" He rasps, pushing himself back into a standing position and glaring at me. Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet becomes all too interesting.
He lets out growl.
"If you're so desperate to know, Dauntless, why don't I show you?" He now wears a predatory smile. "You were so eager to demonstrate a few days ago."
"Oh fuck you," I mutter, turning on my heel to leave. There's no point in waiting here with Eric, especially if he won't teach me anything useful. But before I can take a step, a hand clamps down like a vice on my shoulder.
"Watch your mouth," Eric spits. His dark eyes are a cold front of anger that send a shiver down my spine and weaken my knees. I forget that this is Eric – ruthless, dangerous. I should really be more careful around him than I am, but somehow I can't control myself. Would he actually hurt me if I went too far? Have I already gone to far?
No – I shouldn't have to. I don't fear Eric. Trying to intimidate me and everyone else like that, that doesn't make him scary, it makes him an asshole.
"I need someone to demonstrate with me in training today." I frown up at him, forgetting how close together we stand as soon as I study his face. He may not have directly asked it, but I know the question is there. If Eric's training the initiate class this year because it's so small, then he'll need someone to fight to show the other initiates.
I breathe in deeply, considering, and the smell of sweat, metal and something distinctly masculine tingles my nose, it's not unpleasant, but it's Eric. I nod once and see his shoulders move fractionally, almost as if in relief. Internally, I'm leering. In his asking for help, I've beaten him this time.
He releases my shoulder roughly and takes a few strides into the space to my left. He stills, his back to me, a wide stance and hands clasped behind him.
"I won't hurt you," He says, and once again his voice is that of the cold, calculating Dauntless leader, who wants only to train his initiates as effectively as possible. "I'll make sure that I hit light."
"That's assuming you manage to land a hit," I reply, and I am almost surprised by the spite in my voice. My defeat by Eric a few days has only served to drive me further in improving my fighting, and in my resentment of Eric.
Eric snorts, turning to face me.
"I don't think that will be an issue, Dauntless."
…
It turns out that Eric's idea of hitting light isn't very light at all.
I let out an ooft as his fist collides with my stomach. It may not end up bruising, but it hurts nonetheless. I twist away and feign a punch to his side. Of course, Eric is more than ready for it and blocks without hesitation, but it is then I decide to play dirty.
As my too-light punch lands on his strong block, I leap into the air and bring my elbow down to his neck. It works just as I wanted it to. Eric lets out a grunt and stumbles to the side a little. The sense of triumph doesn't last long – as soon as my feet slam down on the ground Eric has whirled, and seconds later I let out a shout as I find myself in a wrist lock.
"You've seen what fighting standards in Dauntless are like," Eric shouts at the group of initiates watching. I can hear his faint pants. "Go make yourselves useful."
A few seconds of mumbling later, the other initiates find their punchbags and you can hear the sound of skin hitting leather. Eric releases me and I groan, cradling my wrist. I face him, shooting him a death glare.
"Are you hurt?" Eric demands. I am surprised to hear a faint waver of worry in his voice. I guess he doesn't want to get in trouble for hurting his initiates.
"Fine, no thanks to you though," I bite back. My wrist still aches, and even though he promised not to hit too hard I can still feel the slight aching on my body from where he landed his punches.
The other initiates had been surprised to find that I would be demonstrating with Eric. The Dauntless borns however, had merely smirked, knowing my reputation for being a keen fighter, and being able to hold my own against many strong Dauntless men and women. The transfers, however, had shock written all over their faces. Dean and Marina had looked terrified for me, which, even now fills me with a warm feeling.
I try to ignore the memory of the disturbing grin I saw on Mason's face once I was put into that wrist lock by Eric.
Eric growls.
"Don't get hurt next time."
…
Training doesn't finish until after dinner.
I wipe the sweat off my brow. It's been a long day, and Eric's training isn't exactly a style that I'm used to. However, despite how much he annoys me, I must admit that he's got some useful techniques that I hadn't even begun to consider. It's not the standard stuff taught in training either – I got Zeke and Uri to teach me what they learned as soon as they did, and spent my time making new combinations to try to better my fighting ability. The tips Eric gave me today – although I resent receiving his help – as I practised on the bag were ones I'd never heard of. Did he learn them upon becoming a leader, or did he figure them out himself? Eric is certainly a strong fighter, if anything, I wouldn't put making up new techniques past him.
Trudging out of the training room, I almost groan when I hear my name being called out. I've been so looking forward to just collapsing in my bed after a warm shower, maybe visiting my brothers if I have enough time. Not to mention how loudly my stomach is growling.
"Hey Clara!"
It's one of the Dauntless borns. Though she knows my name, I feel a small kernel of guilt forming in my stomach as I realise I don't know hers. Having not spent my childhood here, I never got a chance to bond with the Dauntless borns as kids, and as a result never quite fitting into their close-knit friend groups. Though I guess that could also be put down to my lack of trying however – I didn't like to venture far away from my brothers when I first joined. I was either with them, at school or in the training room. Sure, the fact that nobody noticed my joining of Dauntless as a twelve year old was great, it meant that I didn't have to put up with unwanted questions, but I guess there was also a downside to it in the end.
"Oh hey..." I reply, trying my best to think of what her name might be. Purple hair, laugh lines already appearing next to her eyes, taller than the average female and a permanent grin on her face -
"Calla," She laughs, one hand on her hip. "No worries though, it's a bit of a weird name."
I force myself into a friendly chuckle. Right now I'm really just aching to go sleep -
"So it's Dauntless tradition," She starts, striding confidently towards me, "That all initiates play a game of truth or dare at the start of their training."
Coming to a halt just a foot away from me, her eyes dance with a sort of unashamed determination that, despite my weariness, makes me instantly like her.
"Oh... I don't know..." I begin, ready to make up an excuse about going to visit my brothers.
"Great!" She beams, "I'll see you at the tracks in ten minutes, okay?"
My eyes widen. But before I can respond, she runs off with a shout of hey transfers!
I groan, knowing my night of quiet peace just got a whole lot louder.
…
It turns out that Calla somehow managed to catch all of the initiates before they dispersed for the night. There's roughly twenty of us in total, Dauntless borns and transfers included. My head spins with all the new names I'm learning, and knowing I've already forgotten half of them I try to limit how much I talk to the same people.
Shivering, we stand by the tracks, waiting for the train. It seems like the most Dauntless thing to do – riding the train around the city, playing truth or dare and drinking. Now that I'm here, I can't say I'm desperate to leave. In fact, I can almost see how this might be fun. But it seems the transfers have a different idea of how the night will go.
"Isn't this dangerous?" Marina frets, both her hands clinging to Dean's arm as she shivers. "I mean, drinking and riding the train? That's bound to end in disaster."
Nobody pays her any heed except for Dean, who quietly tries to calm his girlfriend. I eye them cautiously. This is the impression they're willing to give to the Dauntless borns – to the people who are competing for their spaces at Dauntless. Nobody is guaranteed a place at the moment, and they're casually putting out the appearance that they are weak to their competition. I almost bite at them to tell them the position they're putting themselves in, but before I can, Calla arrives, dragging behind her one of the Dauntless born guys, who appears to be carrying all the alcohol. My eyes widen fractionally.
"Isn't that rather a lot?" Dean asks. Calla simply barks out a laugh.
"Lets get on with this shit, shall we?"
It's only a few seconds later that the rumbling of the oncoming train fills the air. Before anyone else can, I launch into my run along the platform. I'm not going to make the kind of weak impression that Marina and Dean are – no, I'm going to show them that I am the one to be competing with.
The train whistles past me. Behind me, I hear the thundering of twenty pairs of footsteps.
I make a grab for the handle, pulling myself as gracefully as possible into the cart, landing on my two feet with little stumble. I move quickly out the way as Calla leaps on behind me. It's not long before all the other initiates fill the cart, but I grin to myself internally, knowing that I was the first to do so.
"Who's first then?!" Shouts one of the Dauntless borns. I think his name is Corin.
"Might as well be me then," Grins Calla, grabbing a bottle out of the hand of the boy next to her and taking an impressively large swig. "I choose dare."
A few rounds pass, along with multiple bottles of various alcohols. Tales are thrown back and forth of wild sex stories, break-ins into the kitchens to steal cake, and whatever other Dauntless-like activities people have gotten up to, more than I care to listen to. And as my name is called, I know I am drunk enough to do whatever is asked of me.
"I choose dare," I giggle, wiping some hair out of my face. I can hear the laughter of some of the others, who are all already drunk and in their own little conversations. But in the middle of the group, I hear a dark voice that hasn't spoken all evening.
"I dare you to scale the abandoned library."
It's Mason.
"Dude that's whack," Laughs Corin. "Can't you see how drunk she is?"
Mason finally steps forward out of the crowd, his hands balled into fists. Clearly, he's not as drunk as the rest of us.
"Is this Dauntless or what?" He demands. Corin simply offers his hands up in mock surrender. A few voices murmur around the cart.
"Sure thing," I grin, holding onto the side of the cart as I stumble to my feet. I haven't been this drunk or this happy in a long time, and I'm not about to let it go for some stupid dare. The old library shouldn't be that hard to climb anyway, it's got tons of grips and footholds and window ledges.
I take a swig from the bottle on the ground next to where I stand, cherishing the burn as it rushes down my throat.
"Lets do this!"
Within five minutes, we've jumped the train and are approaching the abandoned library. By this point, I'm so drunk that with every step I stumble, being caught by Dean each time, who walks beside me, a worried expression on his face. Not even the cold night air has sobered me up yet, and I'm loving it.
I jog the last few steps to the foot of the library. A wide grin plastered on my face I turn to the approaching crowd of initiates, most of whom are grinning, a select few watching with concern. There isn't a care in my mind and I know that I can probably scale this building and make it back in one piece. And who cares about falling? I probably won't anyway.
"Watch and learn, bitches," I slur, giggling slightly. I whirl back to face the building, ignoring the dizziness that fogs my mind.
I grab the first window ledge and hoist myself onto it, legs wobbling slightly, still grinning to myself. This would be a great way to show the other initiates what a strong competitor I am.
I move to grab the pipe next to me, but stumble slightly. I hear a gasp from behind me.
"I'm fine! I'm fine!" I shout against the wall between laughs, my hands now latched onto the pipe and I swing my legs round to grab it between my shoes. Doing my best to shimmy up the pipe, I can feel the cold air, and the height start to sober me up slightly. A few footholds later, I'm halfway up the building, high enough to get seriously injured if I were to fall. But I won't fall. I'll show them.
I grin and move to grab another ledge that sticks out of the building, but before I can, a roar echoes around the abandoned space. I frown, unable to discern the snarling words that I hear following it.
I try to look over my shoulder, but it's so dark that I can't make out any of the people at the bottom. Deciding that something might have happened, I move to lower myself, no longer feeling as drunk as I did. It's dead silent now – not a sound to be heard from the ground beneath me. Suddenly concerned for my new friends, I speed up my pace. Climbing has always been something I've enjoyed, and in my slightly more sober state, I don't find great difficulty in descending the building.
I drop the final few feet to the ground with an oof, turning around to see where the noise came from.
But instead of meeting the crowd of initiates, I come face to face with an expression of pure, terrifying rage.
It's Eric.
