"Guns," Eric says, passing the floor before us, behind a table topped with loaded handguns. I've never seen one before, let alone nearly ten of them in a neat row, fully loaded, one of which I'll have to shoot. Repeatedly. "They are your main weapon whenever one is at your disposal. If you are being attacked and you have a gun, use it. If someone wants to fight you and you have a gun, use it. If you have it, you use it. Now, come and take your gun and get ready to fire at the targets."

We all step forward and take our guns and our stance as Four shoots, showing us the proper stance and grip. I mimic it, line it up with the target, and shoot.

Miss. I miss the center by a good foot, hitting the wood to the side of the target. I shift my gun a bit more to the right, trying to keep my spine straight and my grip like Four's. "Lean into it." Speak of the devil. "And don't cross your fingers, cup your left hand over your right and rest your right thumb on top of your left." He shifts my grip before giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze and walking away. I smile and line up the sights. I shoot and nearly hit the center, landing in the third ring from the center.

Lining up the sights this time around helps. Last time, I just pointed the gun in the target's direction. I shoot a few more times, quicker than before, getting closer to the target than before. I fire. Rapidly. It's working. I'm hitting the center.

"Why aren't you aiming?" I turn around to see Eric glancing at me.

"I can't shoot and aim. I can just shoot. My aim is bad - it always has been bad - so why should I even bother to aim before each shot when I'm making it perfectly fine?" I ask, bringing my gun down.

He thinks for a minute, spinning one of the piercings in his eyebrow. "Shoot." I hold up my gun towards the target, put it to where I believe that it'll hit the target, and shoot. Repeatedly. Rapidly. My way. "Very well. Continue."

"How?" I stop shooting to see Tris looking at me. "How did you do that without getting yelled at?"

"I'm just that good." I start shooting again. The guns echo as some of the bullets ricochet off the boards around the targets and onto the ground. So far, I'm the only one who's hit the target. Made a whole. A mark.

"Guns down!" Four yells. We all lower our weapons. I quickly switch on the safety, like it was when we had gotten it. "Time for lunch. Meet back here in an hour." We all place the guns back onto the table and walk to the cafeteria where all the Dauntless are.

"What'd you do?" Christina asks as I sit down next to her, Tris, and two boys, one an Erudite and the other a Candor transfer.

"What do you mean?"

"Peter giving you death glares." I turn around to face where she's pointing to see the infamous Peter glaring at me before turning to his friends and food.

"I don't know."

"She hit the target before any of us, more than any of us," Tris supplied.

"How?" the Erudite boy asks. "Statistically speaking, we all should've hit the board at least once now by accident, but how'd you do it so much in the couple hours we've been doing it?"

"Found my rhythm. And what's your name?"

"Will," he says before patting the other boy's shoulder. "And this is Al. That's Tris, who I assume you know, and Christina, as I also assume you know."

"You assume right."

"What faction are you from?"

"Abnegation."

"And your relationship to our instructor?"

"Which one?"

Will thinks for a minute before speaking again. "Both, I guess, but mainly Four. When we first came, I remember you hugging him and you always seem a lot happier when around him."

I didn't notice that last part before. "You are fairly observant."

"Yes, I am. Now, answer the question."

"He and my brother are friends," I say after a moment, not knowing if I should tell him the real truth. Tobias just seems to fit in with everyone so well. "My brother transferred the Dauntless and I haven't seen him in the two years that he has. But I've always seen Four as another older brother. Partly because he looks so much like my brother."

"And Eric?"

"Eric just hates me. And everyone else. Sort of like Peter."

"That is absolutely fascinating."

"Well, that's how it is."

I bring my fork up to my mouth to start eating when Eric starts talking. "Initiates! Lunch is over! Back to training!"

I roll my eyes and grab a piece of bread, quickly eating it on our way out.

A week later, we are back in the room where we shot guns. I look around for them again, but instead of guns on the table, I see knives. After a week of boxing and wrestling and fighting each other, all of us have grown stronger, and it's clear to see, but even that has made a few of the others nauseated when they see the knives, especially those who did bad on the guns. Fighting isn't my strongest point, but luckily my aim has gotten better with Four's help in the middle of the night.

Four shows us how to throw them, like last time. We then line up with three knives of our own. I fix my stance like Four and throw. I hit the wood. I change my grip and throw once more. Closer. I shift myself ever so slightly more, almost like I'm about to throw a ball instead of a knife. I bring my arm back and do a few practices, miniature swings before bringing my arm all the way out and hitting the target, a few inches right of the center.

I wait for everyone else to get done with their three before we are ordered to get our knives and practice again. I keep adjusting my stance and grip until I start hitting the center every time.

"What was that?" I stop mid-throw at the sound of Eric's voice, my arm thudding against my side as I completely leave the stance and the zone I was in just a second before. "Go pick them up."

"But everyone's still throwing." Al.

"Then you aren't a real Dauntless if you can't go get them." By now, everyone has stopped. "Did I tell you to stop?" Everyone goes back to throwing except for my and Tris, who is also watching it. "Now, are you going to go get it?"

"Eric, that's not being dauntless," I say before I even know it. Both whip around to face me. "That's just being stupid."

"Everyone stop." Everyone stops at his command. "Go stand in front of the board." Al stays where he is at. "Go!"

"Anyone can stand in front of a board," Tris says just as Al takes a tentative step forward. "It doesn't prove anything."

"Well, then, why don't you go take his place? And if you flinch, he goes back. Four! Get over here!" Four, who was leaning against the wall, walks over and picks up a knife. He looks over at me and I try to silently beg him not to, but he keeps walking to Eric. "You know what to do." He gets into his stance and throws a knife at Tris, hitting a few inches to the right of her head. "You can get closer." An inch about her head. "Closer."

"Want me to give her a haircut?"

"Just a bit off the head." Four sighs before throwing once more, hitting just above her ear. But also nicking it. A small trail of blood runs down it, which Tris quickly wipes away. "Class dismissed!" I stare at them a moment longer before following the rest out.

A/N: So, I have a question. I am not going to spoil anything, but here is my problem. I can either go with the ending that I have for the fanfiction poems that I made that this is based on or go a totally different route. It's up to you out there, but either way, it won't be what you think. You can review or PM me what you believe and I will show the results (if anyone actually votes or anything) on the chapter that has the major decision. So, take time to think, but I've been flying through the poems quickly (to the point where I just finished with what's in poem nine out of thirty-nine and the others just give short little details about stuff). And, also, if you want to read the original poems, just tell me and I will start posting them after a while. So, thanks for so many views and favoriting/following. It means a lot!