Author's Note - Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and follows. I know it's been ageesssss since I updated this story but it will get done! And I will be making a major effort to get each chapter up quicker so please keep giving me feedback and supporting this story.
Soon I'll be getting up to the knife throwing scene and just wanted to know whether you actually wanted me to write it or just put in VRoth's version... So let me know your thoughts. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, full credit goes to Veronica Roth.
Chapter in Book: 8
I woke with a start, gasping, trying to fill my lungs with the icy air. I look to the clock on my right, 5:57am. Just over two hours until the initiates will be starting training. After the dream – the one that constantly haunts my sleeping hours – I know I won't get back to sleep. So against my body's request I go down to the training room.
I spend the next hour abusing a punching bag with my life's frustrations and then the initiates start to trickle into the room. I assume a place on the far wall and once all nine are present I begin.
"The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight." I go along the group who are now in a line, pressing a gun into each of their hands. "Thankfully, if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train teach you that."
After all of them have received their guns, I step back so I have a clear view of the line up. "Initiation is divided into three stages. We will measure your progress and rate you according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time."
I notice Tris at this point. She is looking at the weapon in her hand and she appears to truly understand the danger she could put others in with it. Everyone else appears to just be relishing in the fact they're holding a gun as if this makes them an honorary Dauntless member.
I continue, "We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear. Therefore, each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way. The first stage is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third, primarily mental."
"But what..." Peter yawns through his words. "What does firing a gun have to do with... bravery?"
This sets me off. How could he not comprehend the power this little weapon holds? I flip the gun I hold in my own hand and move to press the barrel to Peter's forehead. I click a bullet into place. He freezes with his lips parted, the yawn dead in his mouth.
"Wake. Up." I snap. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it." I lower the gun and Peter's eyes harden. No doubt, he's probably already plotting his revenge against me. I don't care; he needs to learn respect for authority. If that means pointing a gun to his head, so be it. His cheeks redden with the effort of holding his tongue.
"And to answer your question," I proceed. "You are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you're prepared to defend yourself." I stopped walking at the end of the row and turn on my heel. "This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch me."
I turn and face the wall that is home to the targets. I spread my feet apart; raise the gun – which I hold in both hands – and fire. It goes through the bullseye. Perfect.
The transfers step towards their own targets and begin trying to imitate my stance. They begin firing, some showing more natural ability than others. Edward, Will and Peter seem to all be doing quite well. Edward definitely has potential. Will has deadly accuracy within the first few rounds and I'm certain he would be able to take down anyone if ever faced with such a situation. Peter is not as good as Will but is still a stand out. Damn.
Everyone else is painfully ordinary and not getting the hang of things very fast. Tris is definitely not the worst, there's a frail Erudite girl who is struggling profusely. My gaze still falls on Tris, though. She cringes away from the gun and the sound that follows a fired bullet. She seems to want it as far away from her body as possible. This leads to poor control and, in turn, even worse aim. She keeps trying, but to no avail.
"Statistically speaking," says Will, grinning at Tris. "You should have hit the target at least once by now, even by accident."
"Is that so," she replies, without inflection.
"Yeah," he says. "I think you're actually defying nature." Stupid Erudite smartarses.
Tris grits her teeth and turns towards the targets. Her small face is taken over by a look of pure determination. Her stance exudes strength and she locks eyes on the bullseye and fires the gun. Her hands jump back but her feet stay planted – she hit her mark. She turns to raise an eyebrow at Will.
"So you see, I'm right. The stats don't lie," He says. She smiles.
It takes her a few more rounds to hit the middle but she gets it eventually. It is visible the rush of adrenaline that goes through her. Her posture changes and she seems more comfortable – like she's starting to believe she belongs here.
The first time I saw her I thought she was tiny and weak - a child. At this moment I realise that she is anything but. Her physical appearance deceives you. She is not frail, but firm. She is not weak, but strong. She is not a child, but a woman. And her eyes – now full of triumph – hold the weight of a life of self sacrifice. A weight I know all too well.
We break for lunch and I find my usual place easily. Zeke and Shauna are already at our table but Lauren hasn't yet made an appearance. This means sitting in on their not so subtle (although they think it is) flirting. They've had feelings for each other for at least as long as I've known them, which is two years. Everyone knows except them it would seem.
They are in their own little bubble and basically ignore me other than asking how the transfers went this morning.
My eyes roam the faces of those in the cafeteria and land on Tris. They seem to be making a habit of that. The exact moment I look at her is the exact moment her face changes and when I follow her line of vision I see why. Edward and Myra are kissing. All of her Abnegation instincts would be telling her that to do that in public was wrong, wrong, wrong. I remember when I first arrived her how uncomfortable it made me feel and it seems to be the same way for her, but as time passes I have become used to it, as will she. Her new formed group of friends seem to find her reaction endearing, as do I. I let a small smile creep onto my face. Trying to hide my showing of what could be called affection for the small blonde I bow my head and look at the left over scraps of food on my plate hoping no one saw.
"Four..." Shauna begins, unsure. "What was that?"
Well shit. They did. Out of all the possible moments to look at me, why now?! Why can't I just see her as another initiate? Why am I so drawn to her? Why bother asking myself these questions I have no answers to. I don't know. I do know, however, that no one can find out about my feelings (if you could even call them that) for her.
Raising my head slowly, my face now composed I say, "Nothing," and walk away. Smooth.
After lunch I take the group to one of our other training rooms – the one used for fighting. It has the bare essentials: punching bags and a fight ring. The group line up behind the former and I walk to the middle.
"As I said this morning," I begin, "next you will learn how to fight. The purpose of this is to prepare you to act; to prepare your body to respond to threats and challenges – which you will need, if you intend to survive life as a Dauntless." Which some of you won't.
"We will go over technique today, and tomorrow you will start to fight each other," I continue. "So I recommend that you pay attention. Those who don't learn fast will get hurt."
I start off my demonstrating different punches against the air, naming them as I go, before moving to the punching bag. After repeating the demonstration I invite them all to start trying to replicate it.
As I move along the line I find that the naturals with the guns also seem to be the natural fighters, but that's to be expected - they're male. They master these basic punches quickly. Tris is not such a natural; her body is definitely not built for this. She will need to utilise her strongest areas to stand a chance in this stage of the initiation process.
"You don't have much muscle," I state matter-of-factly, "which means you're better off using your knees and elbows. You can put more power behind them."
Being this close to her I have an overwhelming urge to touch her, and against my better judgement, I do. Putting my hand on her stomach means that I can feel her pattern of breathing which a bit irregular. Her heart is pounding so hard that I can feel that too. Interesting, but probably due to her not being used to getting touched by a man. By the look on her wide-eyed face that must be it. I should probably say something now.
"Never forget to keep tension here," I get out quietly, hoping she doesn't find me strange because of this exchange. I remove my hand from her torso and keep walking.
I don't look at her for the rest of the session. When I dismiss them, though, I can't help but appreciate the soft curves of her body and the subtle sway of her hips as she walks out the door.
"Oh God, what am I doing..."