My natural talent at knife throwing left me in a buzz as we got to lunch break, and I happily munched down on a large cheeseburger. However I slowly realise it didn't nearly go as well for any of the others.
"That was terrible. I thought I would be at least okay at knife throwing, I've improved so much with guns in one week, and we were throwing at such a short distance!" Beth complains as she sits down opposite me.
"I know, I thought it was a joke when we set up at 10m, but it's harder than I thought." Jay agrees, glancing up at me. "Though someone managed to do exceedingly well." There's the usual teasing laughter in his voice, but underneath I can sense his discomfort. I'm not going to lie to myself, I expect myself to do well in all of the physical aspects. I'm naturally quite fit, and I trained before coming here. I'd be in an absolutely foul mood if I didn't excel at the first thing I've actually been allowed to do. But they don't need to know that.
"Oh please, I'm not getting anything from guns or fights." I reason. "Besides, Kasper was thoroughly fucked, much more than any of the other transfers, you're in a great place for ranking first." It's easy to convince any suspicion over me to disappear, and soon the conversation moves on to general technique.
"I was flicking my wrist too much to start with, got a nasty but helpful scolding from Four and I started sticking some, but not all." Ben says. "I think it'll come with repetition though."
"I think I'm just rushing." Lily says. "I have to make sure I'm completely ready to throw, instead of just pulling the trigger continually with a gun."
I stay silent as I listen to Lily's words. Out of all of us she's struggling the most. I still haven't seen her shoot so I really hope she's as good as the vibes I'm getting from her.
"Speaking of which, when will you be able to shoot?" Jay asks me and I ponder the thought.
"Actually… I should be starting tomorrow, as this damned cast is coming off after dinner." I realise.
"That's good! Your arm really has you at a disadvantage, though we are moving back to mid-distance shooting…" Lily says sadly. I don't understand how she's so nice to me. I really don't get it, I am her competition.
I leave the table after finishing my food quickly, and head back to the dorm's to change into a tank. I had worn a cropped black hoodie to pair with the high waisted black leggings for knife throwing, stupidly forgetting how sweaty I'd get if I wore it for punching bags as well. I strip of the hoodie as I reach my bunk, and just as I reach of the loose sleeveless t-shirt I notice someone else enter the dorm.
"You'll be shooting with the other transfers tomorrow morning." Eric says and I turn around caught in my sports bra. His stare is apparent, and shameless as his eyes trail down my body, then back up resting on my chest. A light blush scatters my cheeks and I pull on the top. All my training gear is loose and tends to coverall, so him seeing me so bare is a first, yet somehow I don't manage to feel as though it were unwelcome.
"Yes, I guessed so sir." I finally reply and his eyes are on my face after I'm dressed. "Though I heard they'll be onto mid-distance shooting."
"That's true, though some of their pitiful excuses for shooting should really stay close range." He grumbles. He seems to be leading towards something, but at a guess is still hesitant since he's not saying it outright.
"Sir, is there something I can do for you?" I ask bluntly, and his eyes lock onto mine, a smirk on his lips, and I hope it's because I've pushed away any hesitance of what he wants to say.
"Your performance with the knives was acceptable, and though I haven't seen any of the sparring work yet, Four tells me you're not abominable. If you hadn't decided to fuck your arm up you could be ranking first right now." He tells me. Though I am almost flattered by what must be his version of praise, I still fail to see what he's getting at.
"My fault entirely." I say, and his smirk widens.
"I'll pick you up after your cast is off. Bring a jumper, it's cold on the roof." He says before stalking out on his heel.
The roof = shooting range.
I continue to pummel my knuckles raw as I repeat multiple left punches into the punching bag. After finishing the set I take a step back for a breather. I'm getting sick of these punching bag sessions. I'd use them to strengthen my pathetic arms but if I only work on my left my strength won't be proportional. I always end up just making sure my leg work is still strong, imagining all the different places I could use to force someone to their knees.
As soon as the session ends I don't wait for the others and head straight for food, before heading straight to the infirmary.
"Why it's our lovely little amity transfer. I think you've been my most eager patient all week!" Jen bustles as I walk in. "Give me one second and we'll get that cast off."
After a few moments Jen's removing my cast and handing me a brace.
"You know you must be a very promising transfer. I've seen you running all over the compound at all times of day. How did knife throwing go?" Jen asks.
"Acceptably." I answer shortly, using Eric's description of my work.
"Ha, that sounds like something Eric would say. Maybe I'll pop round in a break, I feel like I need to see what's gotten Eric so excited." She replies, a twinkle in her eye. Eric and excited are not words I've associated together before.
"What do you mean?" I ask hesitantly.
"Why do you think I've cleared you for shooting before your brace is off? Honestly he thinks he rules the world… probably does…" As she's putting information into her computer, Eric walks in.
"Ah Eric, always a pleasure. Just give me a sec and you can be on your way." Jen says.
"Make it quick." Eric jabs impatiently.
"Right. No fighting." Jen towers up to her full height in front of me and points at me sternly. "No punching. Eric convinced me to let you shoot early, but I'm limiting you to two hours of it a day, otherwise stress could build up. Stay throwing with your left arm as well!"
I bow my head in thanks. "Thank you."
"Come on." Eric orders gruffly, tugging my shoulder lightly as he guides me through the compound. Good thing too as when we pass the usual shooting range above the training room, he pushes me forward, and my eyes dart around trying to figure out where he's taking me.
Sure enough, we end up on almost the opposite side of the compound. The dorm is near the centre, whilst the training room is on the east side with the infirmary, and now I'm certain we're in the west. He leads me through a narrow archway that leads to a set of stairs and as we pass the first flight it opens to a smaller training room, vacant at present. But we carry on up and after the second there are smaller, more secluded training rooms, before the third flight indeed leads to the roof and a shooting range, vacant as well.
"Start with the handgun. They went through it earlier in the week and won't go back to it till next month, so it's important you get it done." He instructs and I move to stand in line with one of the targets. Recalling back the image of Four on the first day of training, I square my shoulders and move my feet parallel to them, and grip the gun with the new freedom in my arm. However as I prepare myself, it's impossible to ignore the burning stare I feel on my back. Right, recoil. That always seems to be the main topic I've heard from Lily, Beth, Jay and Ben whenever I happen to pick up their conversation. Prepare, prepare, prepare…
And I shoot. My eyes dart to the bullet whole, narrowing at its position in the lower shin. Miles from where I aimed.
I take another shot, and it's better. I carry on, emptying the magazine then moving my hands down to examine the shots. Like with the knives I aimed for the heart each time, and once again all my hits were on the right side of the target. They had grown increasingly close, but the closest was still the shoulder.
I don't even glance beside me as I feel the judgemental gaze of my leader on me, and reload to take another round. Preparing myself once more, adjusting my stance ever so slightly, I take six more shots, and once again they move closer to the heart. My shots dance around the outer circle around the heart, and I scowl at myself.
"A perfect copy." I almost jump as his voice is much nearer than I remember his body being, but not a moment later his hands enclose mine bringing me back up into my stance. "It seems you have an impeccable photographic memory, and even though you're adapting Four's stance, it isn't what's right for you."
I try not to falter as his hot breath falls on my ear once again, and my whole body heats up with the warm presence pressed up against me. He moves his own body around me, nudging me into a more sideways stance, relaxing my elbows compared to the more straight stance Four had.
"You're a girl, so your stance can be more rounded. You're muscles are less developed and are likely to stay on the smaller side in comparison to others as well, so allow your arms to move back with the recoil, just remember their former position. You shouldn't have any trouble." I take in his advice, and wait for him to move away as he lowers an arm, but I shouldn't have assumed so. He merely deftly grabs another mag, reloading for me, before strengthening his support behind me. I hesitate, as my finger rests on the trigger, before taking the six shots, in steady succession. Even though I'm looking down to aim, his arms guide mine regardless, and as the last one is fired all bar one lie in the centre circles of the heart.
"Of course…" I mutter to myself, but I feel the rumble of his chuckles from his firm chest behind me.
"Only the first was off, you hesitated." He states, and I don't deny it. We lower our arms, and I don't fail to notice the way his hands stroke against my sweater-clad arms and past my waist as he moves away.
"Do another four rounds. If a single one is out of the second circles, you'll be cleaning the mats after next fights." He commands. To be honest, cleaning the blood of the mats wouldn't be a big thing, but I don't want to disappoint him. So I do as he says, and empty the gun four more times, the heart and head of the target completely demolished.
We move onto a rifle, and a slightly longer distance to match. The recoil is larger than before, and it causes me to take a step back after my first shot, straight into the leader's arms. I don't know what to think of all the physical contact. It could just be a dauntless thing. Is it a dauntless thing? It must be a dauntless thing.
After a similar amount of work on the rifle, we move onto a final gun and the process repeats. I try it out by myself, then he comes and criticizes me, and uses his body behind mine to push me into a more suitable position, then I finish of destroying the target.
If I was worried about my newly braced arm, I needn't have been, as it was really my shoulder aching as we came to the end of the training session. My shots had become consistent, all within the inner circles for all three guns. I do notice that barely one shot actually hit the centre, but since Eric hasn't shown any displeasure at it, I can assume it's acceptable. I pack away the guns, as Eric moves to put the cardboard target it the bin.
"You've just bypassed an entire week of gun training. In fact, you started shooting twice the distance the others did, you should be fine tomorrow." He says and my eyes watch him warily. My curiosity still courses through me. Why are we doing this now in the first place?
"Sir, may I ask something?" I ask, and he turns with an eyebrow quirked, before nodding. "Why exactly are you training me now? I was under the impression I'd get no help to catch up on work that I'd missed."
He stares at me, and I can see him deciding how to answer me behind his eyes.
"It's my job to be the supervising leader of initiation. That also includes scouting out potential initiates for important positions in the future." He says. I ponder his words before questioning.
"Surely that's Four's job as well?" I ask, my eyes following his gruff stare.
"Four's soft. He tries to help everyone make it. I make sure no one unworthy makes it." He says, his stare willing me to catch on, though I already did at his first sentence. He walks up to me and looks down on me, not breaking eye contact as there's barely a breath of space between us.
"I've seen what you can do, and I want to make sure you place first. That would be easy, except you decided to go and break your arm putting you at a disadvantage, so I'm making sure you'll be strong enough when you join the game." He explains point blank and I nod. "Don't mistake this for an act of kindness amity, I'm only doing this so when you come out the other side, I get the credit where it's due."
He doesn't move an inch as he waits for my response, but I know how I feel.
"Then I'm honoured to be benefitting from your actions." I say, and mirth seems to dance in his eyes.
"Miss your morning run tomorrow, you'll be running in the afternoon anyway, and I need to see how you hit. Be downstairs at five." He orders, though his eyes and smirk are still mirroring my own.
"m'okay." I reply. "Where are we, by the way?"
"The training block for leaders and higher ups." He says. "Now head back to the dorm, initiate."
"Avery, you get your cast off?" Beth calls as I enter the dorm. I wave the brace in the air as an answer.
"Great! We were thinking of getting our hair cut! I mean at least mine is getting on my nerves, it gets in the way in training!" Lily says, frowning at her waist-length blond tresses of hair.
"And I want to get mine coloured! I mean boring old brown come on, I want to look dauntless!" Beth agrees. I quite like my hair really, it goes straight down to my wait, and its natural dark red hue has always been part of my identity. But I don't mind spicing it up a little…
"…sure. I've got some ideas actually." I answer, and we head to the hair salon.
Sure enough, Lily gets her hair cut to shoulder length, though just waits for mine and Beth's hair to be coloured. Beth ends up going for jet black, giving her a stark contrast against her pale skin. She also plunges straight in getting one side of her head shaved. I meanwhile, get my hair layered but not shortened really, then have the lower half of my lengths laced with random sections of murky purple all the way to bright vibrant red, some strips left my natural colour.
"Wow Avery, I wish I had your natural colour! Plus it looks amazing now!" Beth says. "This is a good break from training, all sweaty and disgusting."
"Yeah, I think I'm going to forever have scars on my knuckles from the bag punching me back." Lily says and I smile while Beth laughs at Lily's first attempts at humour.
"I'm sure it'll all be worth it, but for now I think we need to have time to enjoy ourselves." Beth says. "I mean I don't know how many more gun sessions I can take before I go deaf."
"I don't know how much longer it'll take for me to be stuck running until I fucking die." I agree dryly and there's the usual laughs from Beth, giggles from Lily and chuckle from me. We leave the salon feeling new, and we get back to the dorm and go straight to bed, ready for the next day.
Of course I merely lie in my bed, my eyes closed, resting. I don't sleep actually, at all, ever. All I know is that when my watch reaches 4:30, I get up, and head back to the leader's training block. The compounds deadly silent as usual at this hour, and I weave through the corridors of apartments before I see the stairs tucked away behind the archway.
I arrive twenty minutes early, and unsure of what he wants to do, I merely to some warmup exercises, sprinting up and down the stairs in quick succession till my thighs and calves burn. After a third set I crouch on the floor, a hand securing me next to the wall, regaining my breath when a shadow looms over me.
"I said five, not god knows what hour you woke up." I swallow as his voice is noticeably lower and husky, supposedly from the morning.
"I won't apologise for being awake, sir." I reply quietly, taking in his broad towering form above. He chuckles.
"Of course not, come on." He says, yanking me up by an arm before moving me into one of the smaller training rooms with a couple of punching bags at the side. Nope, I don't think his warm presence behind me will ever stop causing my breath to hitch. He moves straight over to the punching bags and starts roughly punching the one on the right, waiting for me to start.
"Should I do kicks since my arm is still bloody useless, or work on my left arm?" I ask.
"What have you been doing with Four?" He asks gruffly, scowling as soon as Four's mentioned.
"Kicks, I didn't want my arms to be disproportional." I answer.
"Then kick." He says. I hesitate myself. How far should I go? Though I'm sure I don't want to disappoint him, I'm not sure whether prior training to initiation is allowed. However I guess he's allowing extra training…
I'll go at around 50%. There's not much point going full out anyway if not in a fight. Though I have a bad feeling he'll be able to tell. Even at 50% as I start, my kicks are accurate, moving up and down the punching bag, which sways at a reasonable amount for someone my size (I reason to myself, as Eric's bag is swinging like nothing I've ever attempted…). I switch legs and do a quick warm up, before starting small successions and combinations of kicks. We carry on in silence for a good part of an hour and a half. I stop to remove the thin long-sleeve sweater I have on to leave me in a loose tank, and add in some left arm punches somewhere around halfway, silently observing the powerful movements of the man next to me. When it gets to around 6:20, sweat has drenched me from head to toe, despite not going full out. I don't know how I miss the loud thuds against the bag neighbouring me stopping, but I don't miss the burning gaze I feel on my body.
My eyes flicker to his for but a moment, but I carry on with my movements under his scrutiny.
"Your kicks are accurate, and still give the same impact as they did at the start. Your technique, is also impeccable." He says and I stop. Though his words are a massive compliment from him, there's an underlying tone of scolding to his voice. "They haven't changed at all from the start, so either you have amazing stamina, or you're holding back." He's growling now, and I'm proud of myself for not letting a single emotion flash on my face. "And if your running is anything to go by, it's not amazing stamina." He finishes.
We're locked in a staring contest, me challenging him to continue, him challenging me to confirm his words. He breaks it.
"I have half a mind to attack you right now, see if you stop holding back." He growls, and I can tell he really is irritated. I look up at him through my eyelashes.
"I would accept, but my fighting tends to involve two fully operational arms, and I'd have to have exceedingly great amounts of luck to win." I tell him honestly, yet there's still a glint in his eye. I barely have a second to register his one step forward, that manages to bring him right up close to me as his fist swipes to my abdomen. Time to play hit and avoid.
I swiftly duck his first punch, but he doesn't relent as he continues to hit and grab for me. Unfortunately for him my kind of fighting works best against opponents like him. I bend my body around his arms, moving swiftly across the room occasionally using the wall to push of away from him. I can tell he himself is only working at 50% because he's nowhere near as rough as he was with Four on that fight sparring session. I'd call myself lucky, but soon he raises his game, and as I crouch to avoid his right arm grabbing for my shoulder, his left fist quickly moves closer to where my head now is. Crap.
My body reacts naturally, no matter how much I want to hide my true potential, I react to protect myself. My body falls back, and I land on my left working hand, head leaning back his fist right above my eyes. Time seems to slow for me as I use my left hand on the floor to move my body closer to him, my left foot securing itself on the floor behind his ankles. My body's still barely half a metre of the ground as I turn it to the side, my left hand and foot supporting my weight. And Eric is unable to do anything as my right leg launches up completely vertical, between his two still outstretched arms, hitting where his collarbone meets his throat, knocking him backwards. And in that very same second I pull my left foot towards me, sweeping against his ankles as he falls to the ground.
See someone of my strength would never be able to physically push him to the floor with any punch, the difference in strength is too great. However, when his upper body is pushed backwards, while his lower body pulled forwards, no one is able to prevent their falling.
As soon he touches the floor I stand up, a good few steps away before I realise he's out. This is what happens when I act in self-defence - any restraint goes out the window.
"Ugh… fuck what did I do?" I mutter to myself. Brilliant, I just knocked out a leader. I have a feeling I won't want to be here when he wakes up, which by the looks of it shouldn't be too far from now. Hopefully he'll cool off a little, so I can explain I just panicked. To be completely honest it was what he was asking for… now I think of it, maybe he'll see it as confirmation I was holding back. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he was happy, if I can knock him out, I can knock anyone else out in the ring can't I.
With my resolve weaker than I would've liked, I flee from the training room, and make it back to the dorm a couple of minutes before Four arrives to wake everyone up.
"I suggest everyone hurries up, a large patrol team just got back so breakfast will be busy." Four grunts before taking his usual glance and nod at me before turning on his heel. I know my heart rate is faster than usual, as I feel unsettled in my own skin.
"Hey Lily, you heard him." I convince her out of bed and help her get her arms through the correct holes of her strappy tank, before heading to the pit. My nerves are still on edge as my eyes dart to each entrance of the pit, watching for the dauntless leader. He doesn't usually eat here, but whenever I've seen him running in the morning beforehand he always has. I tap my foot at a quick pace, an old habit of mine, which abruptly stops as a blond, tall figure stalks into the pit. He moves to get food, glancing around himself before his eyes find mine. For a moment both our expressions our blank until… his lips quirk upwards, his usual smirk firmly on his face. My eyes strengthen in return, and just before I realise I've been staring too long-
"Well look who's here…"
Yay new chapter! I'm getting a good amount of writing done at the moment, so enjoy the reasonably regular updates while they last! By the way, alike most OC Divergent fanfics, the "plot" will start being introduced when the simulations begin (duh). I have hinted at small things, like her insomnia (yes she has insomnia, though an unusual case), but if none of it makes sense yet don't worry, it isn't supposed to Enjoy the chapter and please review!