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Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent or any of the characters associated with it. Divergent and it's characters are property of Veronica Roth. Some situations and dialogue are borrowed directly from her text.

Chapter 3

First I gather up all the knives and then I rehang the punching bag. Seven fifteen. I have time to get a few practice rounds in before the transfers arrive. I take a gun out of the locker and line my self up with the target. I square my shoulders and set my feet shoulder width apart. Aim. Inhale. Exhale. Fire. The bullet hits dead center, making a small hole in the paper targets heart. I fire several more rounds lost in my own thoughts. "Four. " a voice says behind me. I unexpectantly jump and the round goes sailing to the side missing my intended target by several inches.

"A little jumpy today, are we?" I hear a snicker in her voice. Then a curious look comes across Lauren's face. I close my eyes and sigh in annoyance before turning around. I must look annoyed, because Lauren's expression of amusement fades and is replaced by one of concern. I don't like the feeling her concern gives me. It reminds of the looks from the other Abnegation when my father would get sloppy and my bruises would show. He was always careful to concoct some story of how a factionless had been buligerant when we tried to help them. No one would question him. He was a council member after all. He would never lie.

"I don't need your concern. " I snap forcefully. "If I wanted to be babied I would have joined Amity. " Lauren looks a little hurt by my words. But she doesn't press the subject. I glance at the clock. Seven forty five. I walk past her to start setting up like our exchange never happened. I pull guns and ammo from the storage locker and she does the same, but I can feel her watching me with that same concerned look. I turn and in a second have her pinned against the wall, my hand around her throat. Pity is not something I tolerate.

"I am not your concern!" I shout, inches from her face. Shock and fear replace the concerned look in her eyes. "If you want someone to pity, then pity the transfers. They will be the only ones needing sympathy when today is finished." I spit the last words out of my mouth and shove her against the wall hard. She falls to the ground when I release her. I look of rage replaces the terror from moments ago and I know I have lost control and become him once more. She looks as if she is going to come at me. But just turns and leaves the training room. I hear her angered scream as she walks down the hall.

The transfers enter the room, looking nervous. I know that I cannot give into my Abnegation side and go easy on them for one second. Eric is waiting for me to slip up. He will either be here watching in person or watching from the monitors in the control room. Either way he will pounce on any opportunity I give him.

"The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight." I press a gun into each of their hands, a little more forcefully than necessary. I look straight ahead, avoiding eye contact so that I won't lose it on any of them. "Thankfully, if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that."

I walk over to the firing range, if you can call a half crumbling wall in a shell of a room a firing range. The transfers stare around the room some looking scared, which I expected. Others just look sleepy. Not what I want with loaded weapons in their hands. I decide to go over the ranking system to let them wake up before I demonstrate how to fire a gun. I turn and face them again.

"Initiation is divided into three stages. We will measure your progress and rank 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 staring at the gun in her hand like a snake about to bite her. I remeber the first time I held a gun, how alien it's metal exterior felt in my hand. I break my gaze from her, realizing I have paused a little too long, and continue.

"We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear," I say. "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…" A skinny looking Candor boy yawns through his words. "What does firing a gun have to do with…bravery?" The look on his face and the flippant, know it all tone in his voice reminds me of Eric.

I feel my anger burning in my chest once more and without thinking I flip the gun in my hand pressing the barrel to Peter's forehead. I click a bullet in place. Peter freezes with his lips parted, the yawn dead in his mouth.

"Wake. Up." I hiss. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it." He opens his mouth to speak, but changes his mind when I press the gun into his forehead. I drop the gun from his head and make a remark about not wetting your pants and crying for mommy if you know how to defend yourself. The initiates seem to breath again. They had all stopped the minute I pointed a loaded weapon at one of their heads.

"This will also be information you need if you are going to make it through stage one." I turn and face the target. Once again I line myself up and square my shoulders. Aim. Inhale. Exhale. Fire. I perfect bullet hole appears in the direct center of the targets forehead. The exact same location I had held a gun to Peters forehead seconds ago. I turn and face the transfers once more. I threateningly stare down Peter as I cooly ask "Any questions?"

I see Christina's mouth start to open, but Tris grabs her and gives her a warning look. Christina closes her mouth again. I can tell that her time observing the needs of others in Abnegation has paid off. They all stand there staring at me like they are waiting for me to say something else. "Well?" I say, gesturing with the still loaded gun in my hands towards the initiates and then to the targets. No one waits for a second invitation and they all begin firing at the targets.

Lunch comes sooner than expected and the transfers have made decent progress. Most of them have manage to hit the target these last couple of rounds. I see Tris message her wrist as we enter the dining hall. She wouldn't back down today. Maybe she is Dauntless after all. I catch myself looking at her and divert my eyes.

"Sup bro?" I turn and find Zeke staring at the group of intiates. "I don't know why you look so mad. I would give my right arm to get to hang out with those fine ladies all day." He nods his head in Christina and Tri's direction. "Not to mention I would have an excuse for beating my little brother half to death. "

I see Max nod in my direction and sit down before he can see that I noticed. Lauren sits across from me looking frustrated. "Dauntless borns not living up to expectations?" I say with s a smirk. She grunts at me and rolls her eyes. I only half listen to the rant that ensues. I catch myself looking over at the initiates again.

"Four...FOUR! Are you even listening to me?!" Lauren's voice snaps me out of my haze.

"What is going on with you lately? First, I find you shooting at a target this morning, like its trying to murder you and then you attack me like I am trying to help. Your a real ass sometimes... You know that?" She storms away before I can answer.

Zeke shudders. Then a sly smile creeps across his face. "She is kind of sexy when she's angry. " he winks at me and jumps up to follow her.

I laugh out loud. He will hit on anything with legs and a skirt. If only he knew, I really did throw her against the training room wall this morning. I look over at the initiates. She sits there lost in thought. Christina waving her hand in front of Tris's face trying to get her attention. I see one of the boys look at her with a gentle smile. Tris just looks away in disgust.

I see two to the transfers kissing and Tris says something to the others at the table. Her face looks like she is going to be sick. The others smile at her and make comments about her being too uptight. I hear someone sit down next to me. Max.

"Have you thought anymore about our conversation, Four?"

I look over at him. "I am considering it for now." I know this what he wants to hear and telling him what he wants to hear is the fastest way to get him to go away.

"Good." he says. He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it in approval. I have to bite down hard on my cheek to keep from ripping his hand from my body.

I meet the intiates at the entrance to the dinning hall after lunch. I lead them to the fighting arena. I step into the middle of the ring. It is not fancy. It consists of a faded mat on the floor with rings resembling a bullseye painted on the mat. There is a chalkboard on the wall behind me. All of the initiates' names are listed alphabetically on it.

"As I said this morning, 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."

I lead them over to the punching bags hanging opposite the chalkboard. "We will go over technique today, and tomorrow you will start to fight each other." I few of the transfers look alarmed by this news. They won't last long. "So I recommend that you pay attention. Those who don't learn fast will get hurt." I intend this last part as a warning. I hope, for her sake, Tris is a fast learner. Hurting people won't come naturally for an Abnegation...at least most Abnegation. I seem to be a natural at it, a trait I must have inherited from my father. For some reason the image of the hurt bird enters my mind. I push it away. "I suggest you start practicing."

I walk around the transfers as they practice, pausing to correct form and offer advice on attack strategies. I have almost made it through the whole group when I see her. I stop in front of her. I can see her breathing quicken, I can tell she is nervous. I study her movements. Following her body, from head to toe, studying her technique.

"You don't have much muscle," I say, not taking my eyes off her. "Which means you're better off using your knees and elbows. You can put more power behind them."

I press my hand to her stomach. My fingers are so long that the heel of my hand touches one side of her rib cage, my fingertips touch the other side. I can feel her heart pounding in her chest. I don't know if it is from the physical exertion of the training or my hand. She stares at me, wide-eyed.

"Never forget to keep tension here," I say, in a quiet voice, pushing my hand firmly against her core. Her breath catches in her chest. I lift my hand from her and keep walking. I can still feel the pressure of her rib cage against my palm. I have to pause, for a moment to clear my head, before I can continue.

I dismiss the initiates for dinner. As I am leaving, I overhear Tris talking to Christina. "...he's definitely intimidating." I don't know why but her words stick in my mind. I don't like the fact she described me as intimidating. Usually, it is something I would find amusing. After all, I work very hard at appearing intimidating to the initiates. They would never survive Dauntless, otherwise. But for some reason, when she says it, I feel like I am doing something wrong, like I am picking on something small and weak, just because I am bigger and stronger. When she says it, I am reminded of my father.