It's the third time Ward's been in the room, and he already hates it. The first time, it was a room full of rotting corpses; everywhere he stepped, another rancid smell or the sound of a skull snapping assaulted his senses. The second, he's drowning in a pool of blood, the metallic taste and foul viscosity coating the inside of his lungs as his body gasps for the air that his lips can't find. He knows that the key to these tests is to lower his heartrate, his breathing, to force his body to calm down and ignore the fear. But in the moment, when the simulation feels so real, it's nigh impossible to counteract the body's natural defense against fear.
This time, it's pitch black, and he's tied to a chair. He strains against the bindings, trying to get an idea of what might be coming, but there is no give in the ropes.
He sits in the dark and silence for a while, growing increasingly more nervous about what might be coming. He takes the opportunity to focus on his breathing, on calming his body even as his mind is racing.
A loud, high-pitched screech erupts from behind him, and he jumps at the sudden sound. Silence descends upon him again, only to be broken again a few seconds later. He's familiar with this form of torture. The irregular intervals between sound and silence are designed to drive him mad, and he knows that it's working.
By the time the simulation ends, Ward is so agitated that he stalks out of the testing room, despite the leader begging him to just sit a minute or two, get your senses back.
He's not sure how he gets there, but he finds himself in the training room, beating the tar out of a practice dummy. He hits the dummy so hard his hands hurt, but the physical pain is something to take his mind off the numbness of his mind.
"You're Ward, right?" A tall Dauntless-born initiate comes up on the other side of the dummy.
"Yeah." He offers no handshake, no greeting. As soon as the Phase 1 rankings were released, all of the Dauntless-born wanted to be his best friend. He likes the attention and the perks that come from friends on the inside, but right now, he wants to be alone.
"You want to go a couple rounds?"
Ward sizes up the boy. He's big, with broad shoulders and a stocky frame, but Ward doesn't recognize him, meaning that he can't have scored too high in Phase 1. Nevertheless, Ward shrugs. "Sure."
"I'm Mack," the boy remarks as he wraps his hands.
"Nice to meet you, Mack," Ward says, the words flowing off his tongue. That sort of meaningless sentiment would be the height of rudeness in Candor, but the downside of a culture where lying is acceptable is that one is socially expected to lie about the littlest things.
The fight lasts far longer than Ward thought it would. He's the tallest and probably the strongest of the transfers, so he's become accustomed to only fighting people smaller than him. He lands a solid kick on Mack, one that would have brought any of the transfers to the ground, but Mack hardly moves. As they continue, trading blows and defenses, Ward learns that, while he's certainly got more skill than Mack, there is something to be said for brute force. A punch to the stomach from the Dauntless-born, and Ward staggers back, desperately struggling to recover. Mack makes his move, aiming for Ward's chest. Ward just barely manages to deflect the worst of the blow, but the shock of the impact knocks him off his feet.
"You're good," Mack comments as he helps Ward back to his feet.
"Thanks," Ward replies. "You're great. What was your ranking?"
Mack looks down. "Let's just say if I had been much lower, one more transfer would be here instead of me."
"That doesn't make any sense. How did anyone beat you? There are only two Dauntless-born ranked above me, and I'm not sure even they could take you down."
Mack murmurs something under his breath.
"What?"
A bit louder, Mack repeats "I don't like hurting people."
"So you threw your fights?" Ward asks, stunned.
Mack nods. "I won just enough to keep myself from being dead last, but I'm not the kind of guy who knocks people out just because I can."
Ward isn't sure if Mack is implying that Ward is that kind of guy, but he figures this isn't the time to ask. "You didn't seem to have a problem taking me out," he says, hoping his tone is light enough that Mack knows he's teasing.
Smiling, Mack replies "Yeah, you looked like you could use a fight. I asked you. You agreed. Not everyone here did that."
"Everyone chose to be Dauntless," Ward counters.
"Being Dauntless is about a lot more than getting into pointless fights," Mack replies. As he turns to leave, he mutters so softly that Ward is sure Mack didn't intend for Ward to hear him as he says "Or it should be."