I've received feedback from my Beta. She's an absolute darling! As soon as I can find the time I'll edit the posted chapters for errors. I'll also post some more information on my take on the Divergent world in the first chapter, as my storyline is a tiny bit different than the original story (heavy use of sarcasm here).
Disclaimer: As always, the Divergent Trilogy is not mine, and nor are any of the characters you recognize from it. Asta, Tilly, and the gang are mine, though.
"Hey," He grins before de-tangling his limbs from mine and getting up. "Sorry for tackling you, I thought you'd see me."
I get back on my feet and dust myself off with my hands. Looking him up and down I can see how he knocked me over so easily. The lean, spectacled teenager I knew is long gone. In his stead is a tall mountain of muscle. I blink rapidly, not quite trusting my eyes. My brother was a geek. His red hair and freckles didn't help him at all. Now he's sort of… handsome?
"Look at you!" I gesture to him, lost for words. "What on earth did they feed you?"
He just shakes his head at me. "I'm glad to see you, too!"
"Where were you yesterday when I arrived?"
"I had the night shift in the control room," he explains. So he got the job. I briefly wonder if he's found out anything yet. "But I followed your group on the screen, first jumper."
"Is that a significant thing here? Being the first jumper?" I ask as I adjust my hair, and he nods furiously.
"You have no idea."
I open my mouth to ask why, but he cuts me off. "Go eat breakfast, Asta. You've a long day ahead of you. I'm glad I caught you." He embraces me quickly, filling me with a sense of warmth for the first time since I arrived. "You might want to tone down the questions," he whispers into my ear, "the walls have ears here. Let's meet after dinner in the pit." I nod against him and then he's gone.
I go and join my new friends at the table they picked.
"I don't get it," Tilly says over a mouthful of egg. "How do you know everyone?"
I chuckle at the thought. Tilly probably has more friends back in Amity than the rest of us combined with her outgoing personality. "That's my brother," I tell her, and she coughs violently, spraying egg all over Alias.
"Shit," Alias exclaims while brushing food off his clothes, "that was Nathan?"
I nod while patting Tilly on the back. "Dauntless has been good to him" Fox adds, and I groan.
"I'm too tired to deal with this. Is there any coffee?" I whine, and to my great relief David pours me a mug. I add milk and take a long, grateful sip. Sweet mother of all that's good.
"I don't know how you can drink that," Tilly scowls at my mug. "It smells putrid."
"It smells like heaven on earth," I correct her, taking another hearty sip before offering the mug to her. "Wanna taste?"
"No way!" She scrunches up her nose in disgust. "I miss apple juice," she then sighs. I load a plate with bacon, eggs and slices of dark bread. I much prefer Dauntless' selection of breakfast to the dinner here, although I miss my oats.
We're eating in silence when Four stops by our table. "We gather in the pit in five minutes. Finish up."
Soon we're gathered around Four outside the dining hall, only marginally more awake than when we arrived. "I'll show you the way to the training rooms. From now on you're expected to meet there at eight, so take note of the route."
We follow him obediently. On the way there we pass the drinking fountain I hid the papers in, and I send a quiet prayer to whatever deity is available that they're still there. Eventually the walls plan out and we're taken through a set of double doors that lead into a vast space. It looks like an old factory building and has rows of slanted skylights in the ceiling. Punching bags hang from a low crossbeam nearby, and on the far end is a large door marked "Shooting range". Eric is standing in the middle of the room, arms behind his back, waiting. Four silently walks to his side, and the rest of us congregate around them.
"There are three stages of Dauntless initiation," Eric informs, cutting straight to the chase. "The first is the longest at four weeks and mainly consists of physical training. We train Dauntless-born and transfers separately in the first stage. This does not mean that you will be ranked separately- yes?"
One of the quieter Candor girls, Mary, has raised her hand. "Why are we ranked?" She asks hesitantly.
"You are thirty-two initiates in total. We only need the top twenty," he shrugs. Gasps travel through the crowd, and I feel my stomach turn to ice. Eric continues as if nothing happened. "The top ranking initiates also get first choice of the available jobs. By the end of stage one the bottom four are cut out. The last eight are cut after stage three."
"What do you mean, cut out?" Alias cries, and I can see Eric smirk slightly, a malicious gleam in his cold eyes. It sends a nervous shiver through me. To act that indifferent is either just that, an act, which is horrible enough on its own, or a sign that he's been through this before and truly doesn't care, which is even more unnerving.
"I mean that they'll leave Dauntless." Only now I notice how hard Four is trying not to look uncomfortable. Someone to my right is sniffing, and I discover it to be Tilly. Her face is streaked with frustrated tears, and I can tell she's fighting to hold them back. "It means they'll be factionless."
I don't pay attention while he explains the mechanics of initiation. Instead I try to figure out if Eric is truly as sadistic as he seems, or if it's another power demonstration like the one we saw on the roof. I've never seen anyone, not even in Erudite, with enough control of their body language to feign that kind of cruel behaviour, which is why it must be real. The thought alone chills me to the bone.
"If there are no more questions we'll proceed. Today we will teach you two things; how to shoot a gun, and how to fight."
After receiving a brief introduction to firearms we're standing in a line by the back wall in the shooting range. The gun Four gave me is cold and heavy in my hand. It feels dangerous all on its own, like it could go off at any second, and I make sure not to point it at anyone even though it's unloaded.
"Shooting is simple," Four states as he loads the gun. "It depends on two things; your aim, and your posture. Fail at one of the two and you won't hit anything."
He plants his feet firmly on the ground, shoulder width apart and the left slightly in front of the right. He rolls his shoulders before squaring them and lifting the weapon with both arms, taking aim. Then he squeezes the trigger, and a thunderclap erupts from the small gun as it fires, sending a shock through me. I look to the target a hundred feet from him and see a small hole in the centre.
"Now it's your turn," He gestures to the taped line on the floor, and we take position behind it. Piles of loaded cartridges are laid out for us to use. I pick up a cartridge and slide it into the weapon like we were taught. With a deep breath I mimic the stance Four demonstrated, nervous tension making my heart flutter. Then I raise the gun and realise that I don't know how to use the sights.
Four is busy helping Mary and I really don't want to ask Eric for help. Instead I line up again and try to make sense of the guides. I try to prepare myself before I pull the trigger but find it hard. Another gun goes off next to me, the sound hurting my ears, and I see Tilly grinning from ear to ear.
"Man, my folks would disapprove of this!" she giggles nervously, high on adrenaline. I can't help but be impressed with her when I see that she hit the outer ring of the target. Fox is the next to shoot, and being determined not to be the last again, I ready myself and hesitantly squeeze the trigger.
I'm wholly unprepared for the recoil. My arms are thrown up and back and I stumble backwards until I hit the wall behind me. I have no idea where the bullet goes. I find that I don't care, either. I'm overcome with a mixture of adrenaline and horror, too shocked to move.
I have never intentionally hurt anyone in my entire life. Now I stand with an object designed to injure and kill. I felt the kickback of the shot and can imagine how much damage that will do to the receiving end. I feel slightly nauseous at the thought and hurriedly activate the safety.
"Hey, Asta, are you okay?" Tilly asks. I exhale shakily and nod. I have to get myself together. I can't show weakness here, I remind myself.
"Y-yeah. I think I may have hit the ceiling, though."
Tilly gives me an empathic look and nods before turning back to her target. This time I watch everything she does, from the way she lowers her head to how she holds her breath right before shooting. I watch her fire four times before he interrupts.
"You won't learn how to shoot by watching others do it, freckles," he remarks dryly. I clench my teeth in frustration. Freckles. What a horrid nickname.
"It's how I'm used to learning," I inform him.
"Maybe back in Erudite. You're in Dauntless now. You can't learn from any other fuck-ups than your own," he sneers, walking around me. His voice is reduced to a low rumble. I doubt anyone else can hear him. "Take aim."
Grudgingly I do as told, adopting the same firing stance as before and lifting the gun.
"Is the safety on?" He asks, and I quickly check and nod before going back to aiming. Suddenly a sharp blow strikes my right shoulder, and I stumble back, wincing. The idiot punched me.
"Ow!" I whine, rubbing my shoulder.
"That," He points at me, "is what happens when you aren't balanced. Get back to the line." I do as told, my face hot from embarrassment. He nudges my feet further apart with his own and instructs me to bend my knees slightly. Then he moves to my arms, straightening my right elbow and bending the left slightly.
"Now, with the safety on, align the top of the front and rear sight, and for fuck's sake, use both eyes when you aim."
I huff in annoyance but find that his instructions make sense. Being balanced assures that I won't be blown backwards when I shoot, aligning the sights keeps the gun level and possible to aim, and aiming with both eyes increases my depth perception. Surprisingly, breaking the activity down to the physics behind it seems to calm me.
"When you aim, make sure the front sight touches the bottom of the bulls eye. When you feel like your aim is good, remove the safety." He says, and I nod, immersed in the task. As soon as I remove the safety I feel the nerves come creeping again, sending a slight tremor through me.
"Take a deep breath and hold it. Calm your body," he mutters, "and look at how the sight moves with your heartbeat. Squeeze the trigger when it graces the bottom of the circle."
I don't nod this time. I feel slightly hypnotized by the figure-eight pattern the sight traces. Then, when it's just below the bottom, I squeeze hard. The recoil runs through my body like a shockwave, but this time I'm prepared and remain standing, completely breathless and filled with raw emotion.
I blink back tears and focus on the target. There's a bullet hole in the top of the outer ring, and I release the breath I've been holding. I actually hit the target.
"Well, that was pathetic," Eric sneers, "I don't know why I wasted my time on you." He might as well have punched me again. That hurt. I arrange my face in a passive expression, not willing to let him know.
He leaves me to myself and I make eye contact with Tilly.
"What on earth was that?" She whispers, and I shake my head at her. I have no idea.
"For a moment he wasn't as big an idiot as I'd made him out to be," she says.
"And then that moment passed," I add. "He's a complete sadist."
"I don't know," Fox chimes in, "I think he's kind of hot."
Tilly and I both look at her, mollified by the statement. "You're not normal," I tell her, only half-jesting.
She just shrugs and resumes shooting, leaving Tilly and I slightly shell shocked. He could look like a god for all I care. It wouldn't do anything to aid the urgent need to run far away every time he's near.
Thank you ever so much for reading. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the positive response I've had to this story. Thank you, guys. You're the best!
I don't know when I'll have time to post the next chapter. My thesis deadline is rapidly approaching, and like Asta, I want to flee as well. Until then, have a lovely Christmas and a very happy New Year.
