CHAPTER EIGHT
Cato's POV
Cato watched the other fights with detached interest. He had already disappeared inside himself into the familiar zone of pre-combat. It felt good to slip back into the old mindset. He had probably lost the element of surprise now that Clove had showed her strength, and the way Peter was looking at him told him he would have to work a bit harder.
Tris managed to beat Myra with ease, though her fighting technique left a lot to be desired in Cato's opinion, and Christina lost to Edward, though she managed to walk from the circle herself which seemed like some achievement considering the pattern of fights.
"Next up!" called Four as he wrote down the result of Christina and Edward's bout. Cato curled his fingers in and out once and walked slowly into the centre circle. Peter puffed up his chest and strutted forward.
"Better watch it newbie," he called almost good naturedly. "You'll have to learn who's boss around here."
Cato ignored the taunt and stared straight at Peter. With satisfaction he saw the arrogant smile on Peter's face flicker for a second. It was back though as they faced each other across the circle and took their starting positions.
"Begin", said a quiet voice Cato distantly recognised as Four. Already everyone else in the room was slipping away and his concentration was focusing to the space around his opponent. Their movements seemed to slow as they prowled around each other, neither willing to make the first move, both knowing that the first move would be a failure. Pity he no longer underestimates me thought Cato dryly, it would have been fun to destroy him. He lost all concept of time as they slowly circled each other, it could have been only minutes or it could have been half an hour. Cato was completely tuned into his opponent's movements, every twitch of a muscle, every breath revealed to him the language of his opponent's fighting.
"C'mon Peter! Kill him!" came a loud cry from nearby. Peter's head didn't flick around at the noise as a lesser fighter's would have but Cato still pounced on the distraction he knew it would provide. He saw the flicker in Peter's eyes and knew that he had the briefest of seconds to make a move and he would have the advantage. He was able to land two rapid punches on Peter's body before he was forced to spiral away from his retaliating fist. He felt the sting of his knuckles with satisfaction and hoped that it was sevenfold on Peter's ribcage and jaw where his blows had landed. Now that the first move had been made the dance was a flurry of rapid blows. Peter was decent but he lacked finesse and Cato was able to land four times as many blows as he received. He barely felt the knock he received to the side of his head as he ducked under Peter's arm to pummel his torso. He knew where to hit for maximum damage, something Peter did not, and so with three rapid punches to the vulnerable spots under his ribcage Peter was on his knees, moaning as he tried to raise himself back to his feet. Without hesitation or mercy Cato raised his elbow. The old fire of combat was flooding through his brain and he momentarily forgot his newfound disdain for killing as Peter's eyes raised to his. He saw the hate burning there and as he dropped his elbow, catching Peter on the temple and knocking him out cold, he knew that he had just made himself his first enemy in this place, Dauntless.
...
"Good fighting initiates," Four remarked when they were all gathered around him after lunch. Molly and Peter lurked at the back of the group, nursing sore muscles and bruises. Cato and Clove had been well and truly accepted into Tris' friendship group and they stood amidst the chattering teenagers. Christina, who had latched onto Clove and had planted her between Tris and herself, was chattering away about her fighting style. Clove smiled politely every now and then but she was distracted by the hostility that was clearly radiating from Tris. Obviously their combat skill had done nothing to appease Tris' suspicion. Cato stood silently with Edward and Al, listening to the girls chatter with bewilderment.
"We will be revisiting weapons training this afternoon," Four declared loudly, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. Silence fell as they all looked towards him. "Good. Now, we will be starting with firearms and then moving onto knives." Cato's stomach dropped at the mention of guns but he saw Clove's head flick up at the mention of knives. She glanced across at Cato and although her expression didn't reveal anything he could see her eyes were bright with excitement.
"Pick a station, in pairs please!"Everyone rushed towards the line of tables which held the menacing black shapes of guns. Targets were lined up against the far wall. Cato moved reluctantly towards them, feeling his instinctive dread at the dangerous metal.
"No!" Four called striding towards them. "Tris you go with Clove. Will, you go with Cato."
Cato walked towards the station where Will stood, and looked across to the next station, locking eyes with Clove.
"Good luck," she mouthed at him with an anxious smile. He nodded.
"You can go first," Will said, nodding him towards the table. Like the others he treated Cato with a mixture of wariness and awe after his fight with Peter but he seemed friendly enough. Cato looked reluctantly at the gun sitting on the table. It was long and ugly and looked completely different to the limited knowledge he had of firearms.
He reached out a hand and wrapped his fingers around the cold metal. Lifting it up he was surprised at how light it felt. I can do this he thought to himself, how hard could it be really? If the numbskull Peacekeepers could use them surely he could.
He raised the gun and steadied it with his left hand and pointed it towards the target. Holding his breath he pressed down on the trigger. It clicked. Nothing happened.
"You need to put the magazine in," Will said quietly from behind him.
"Oh," said Cato, not understanding the words.
"Here." Will gently took the gun from his hands and showed him how to slide the row of ammunition into the gun. It clicked comfortably into place. "And you need to pull the safety back too." Will clicked the notch towards him. "Aim." He held the gun up before him. "And fire." He squeezed the trigger and a volley of deafening shots echoed around the room. Cato ducked slightly, instinctively. Luckily no one seemed to notice.
"You try," Will said when he had inspected his aim. He handed the gun to Cato who felt even more alarmed at the prospect of firing it now. But he took it without flinching and stood where Will had and aimed at the target.
"Exhale as you pull the trigger," Will said from behind him. Cato looked down the barrel towards the target and let the breath hiss passed his teeth. He exhaled and squeezed his fingers. The gun bucked in his hand but he was tensed enough and strong enough to be prepared for it. Once he had recovered from the noise again he focused on the target. He had actually hit it, nowhere near the centre, but there was a scattering of bullet holes around the middle ring.
"Not bad," said Four, who he realised had moved to stand behind him. "You're a natural." As he walked away Cato gingerly placed the gun back on the table. He felt a cold chill shiver up his spine. He wasn't sure he wanted to be a natural with this weapon. Its ferocity terrified him.
