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Rated T: violence and swearing.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome!

Enjoy!

Chapter Four

Henley was going to die.

Stupid. She had been so stupid. Eric had told her would she pay for being so snarky with him and like a fool, she had ignored him.

She had arrived early to training that morning for the first time ever, strolling in with five minutes to spare, crunching on a fresh apple, the sweet, sugary juices dripping down her hand in little rivulets. Thinking she had been alone, Henley had tried to lick them off, chasing the delicious streams down her arm with a small, pink tongue. She had twisted her hand, trying to catch a drop before it reached her elbow when she had caught sight of Four and Eric, watching her, important looking papers clutched in their hands. She had clearly interrupted them mid-conversation and she had frozen, standing there like an idiot with her tongue still stuck to her arm.

Four had been giving her a weird look, eyes glimmering with puzzled amusement. Eric, on the other hand, had been staring at her mouth, oddly transfixed before he had blanched and given her a disgusted look, abruptly turning away and dismissing her presence entirely.

Henley had quickly come back to herself, hastily lowering her arm and giving Four a sheepish wave. She had plopped down on a mat, starting her usual stretching routine in preparation for the no doubt exhausting day ahead of her.

The door had slammed open and Felix had flown inside, bounding over to Henley and beginning his own stretches. "Hey, why are you up so early?" He had yawned. "Bella normally has to drag you out of bed. Have I missed something?" He had asked, dropping into a lunge.

Henley had sighed irritably. "Eliza tricked me. She made me think it was 6:15 when it was actually 5:45 and I only noticed at breakfast." Henley had looked distinctly unhappy about it.

Felix had snorted, "you're such a mess, Henley, how did you ever make it this far?" He had said it jokingly, giving her a teasing grin.

Henley had stuck her tongue out at him, opening her mouth to reply, when she had been cut off.

"My thoughts exactly," Eric had said smoothly, a glint in his eye that Henley really had not liked. "How do we know she isn't cheating?" He had smiled viciously at her.

Vincent, the bloodthirsty hyena that he was, had sensed an opportunity. "Yeah, she was right at the bottom of the board last week and now, miraculously, she moved up a few places in the rankings, even though she has yet to win a single fight." He had wandered into class at the perfect moment to aid in Henley's torment.

Eric, who was usually openly contemptuous of Vincent, had given him a cold mockery of a smile. He had looked at Henley in false concern. "Well, that is rather suspicious."

She had ground her teeth together, refusing to say anything that might provoke them more. They had damn well known that she had moved up a few spaces on the board because of her talent with a gun.

"I think," Eric had continued, casually moving closer and invading her personal space until he was standing right above her, blocking out the light, "that Amity should prove herself. Prove she didn't cheat. Prove she deserves to be here."

She had glared furiously up at him; jaw clenching almost painfully. Still, she hadn't been stupid enough to speak.

"If little Amity here," Eric had drawled, "can complete a challenge of my choosing that requires the appropriate bravery and strength to demonstrate that she is Dauntless enough to be here, I will bump her up three places in the rankings. If she loses, however, she goes back to being last."

She should have said no.

Even though she wasn't in last place anymore, she was still light years away from being in a position that would save her from being factionless at the end of stage one. Her new fighting style was just about ready to be used but she only had one month before the first round of initiates were slashed. One month before the end of stage one. It was cutting it close. Even if she won every fight she participated in there was still a good chance they would kick her out anyway. Those extra places Eric offered her could be the literal difference between life and death for her, and he knew it.

She had bit her lip, chewing it indecisively as Four had subtly shook his head from behind Eric. It didn't make a difference – this was a risk worth taking.

Henley had nodded her agreement, scowling spitefully at Eric and he had grinned smugly, leading her, and the rest of their nosy class, out of the training room and to the Pit.

It was a well-known fact that the Pit was dangerous. It was the centre of Dauntless, the beating heart of the faction, and was carved haphazardly into the surface of the city. The rest of the Dauntless compound spiralled out from it in a confusing web of rooms and traps, designed to confuse any unwanted guests.

Eric had led her right to the very back of the cavern, pointing up at the towering, frighteningly steep rock face that made up one of the Pit's many walls. He had smirked. "Climb it."

And there Henley was now, half way up and half dead, clinging onto a jagged piece of stone that cut into her hand. Her knees wobbled, her arms shook and her lungs burned. She wanted to cry but didn't have the energy.

The wall was a minefield of danger - slippery, sharp and completely vertical. There were almost no footholds or crevices she could use to claw her way to safety. It was purposefully designed to be a death trap, making it very difficult for any intruders to utilise and making it fucking impossible for Henley to scale as well.

She imagined she felt the same way Sisyphus did, in all those all Greek myths the Erudite liked so much. Bone grinding exhaustion, sizzling rage at the world and despair at a climb that seemed small but felt like a fucking mountain. She really didn't want to join Sisyphus in the Underworld; the Dauntless compound was close enough, thanks.

Henley stretched, reaching for a small dip in the wall to pull herself up with, thanking every deity she could think of for her tiny hands that easily slid into all the nooks and crannies in the rock, something someone with bigger hands would have struggled with. Muscles aching with fatigue, she hauled herself further up, just over half way there.

The first couple of metres had been fine, tiring and painful but manageable. Now, however, it was becoming increasingly difficult to go on and she paused, glancing down at the fatal drop below her.

She had never been truly terrified before. Everything she had done in Dauntless up until that moment, while alarming, was never actually scary – she had always known she would survive. At that moment though, clinging to the sinister, looming rock face that thirsted for her blood, death was a very real possibility. One slip up, one mistake, one moment of bad luck and she would be sailing the river Acheron to join her good friend Sisyphus. Fuck, she thought to herself, what the hell is up with all these Greek mythology references?

She wondered if anyone would miss her if she were to die. Would her family even know? Would they feel it? Would Henley feel it? Or would it be just like going to sleep? She looked down again. The sun was shining through the glass ceiling, bright, happy, untouched by the murky, malign depths of Dauntless. It caught the strands of a blonde head, illuminating Eric in a radiant halo and Henley had to stifle a snort at the irony – Eric was the least angelic person she had ever met.

Strangely though, seeing him standing there, arms crossed, relaxed and smug, Henley's fear dissipated, replaced instead with fiery indignation. And spite. She was going to climb to the goddamned top of this goddamned wall without goddamned dying and Eric was going to eat his goddamned words. Fuck him, fuck Dauntless and fuck everyone.

She wasn't weak, she wasn't dumb and she didn't belong in Amity. She belonged right where she fucking was and she was going to prove it.

Henley climbed and climbed; body screaming, chest heaving and mind crystal clear. She was no longer afraid. If she died, she died. There was nothing she could do now but keep on going. She reached the top, her hair kissing the top of the glass ceiling, the midday sun blinding her as she madly groped for a handhold.

"Alley Cat!"

Henley jumped, almost loosing her grip on the wall as she looked down. Zeke stood below her, grinning widely up at her from a small balcony that overlooked the Pit. He waved his arms enthusiastically, gesturing for her to climb down onto his ledge.

Henley smiled brightly at him, little dimples forming on her cheeks, but it faded as Eric appeared behind Zeke, face blank and emotionless. She hadn't even noticed that he wasn't watching her from the ground anymore. Henley scrabbled towards them, dangling herself over the edge before dropping lightly in front of her friend.

Gathering her into an overzealous hug, Zeke cheered, swinging her around in delight. Henley laughed with him, giddy with relief. He put her down, kissed her on the cheek and then strolled off, whistling loudly. He's a bit of an odd one, Henley thought to herself, smiling fondly at his disappearing back.

Then she remembered Eric. Henley turned to him; smile gone, exhausted, slick with sweat but eyes shining triumphantly, defiantly.

Eric scoffed at her, "you climbed one wall, Princess, not a mountain."

Henley scowled, "I proved myself. Admit it."

His voice held a warning tone, "you only proved you're a suitable initiate. Don't get cocky."

She sighed, rolling her eyes at him. "Whatever." She moved to leave but he stopped her, stepping out in front of her and blocking her path. Colliding with his chest, Henley stumbled back, impressed at how solid he was despite herself. She glared up at him.

He looked down at her, cold sneer in place. "You paused halfway. Was the big, bad wall too scary for you?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes again. "I was thinking about Sisyphus, actually," she blurted out, not quite sure why she told him that.

His eyes flashed with surprise and, for a moment, a heartbeat, he didn't look threatening. "And what? Dauntless is the Underworld?"

She smiled at him then, genuinely; her cheeks dimpling softly as she momentarily forgot that she hated him. "Absolutely."

He was quiet for a moment. "Who does that make me?"

Her smile turned sharp. "Hades."

His eyes glittered in clear amusement, his mask slipping slightly before it slid back in place. He studied her for another beat, face unreadable, before he turned around and strode away, his walk powerful and unrelenting.

"Well, that was weird," she muttered to the empty silence.

When Henley rushed into training the next morning, her name was three spaces ahead on the board, putting her in the lower middle section of the rankings. Her heart sped up at the sight, fists unconsciously clenching in anticipation. She was almost there.

Four announced the first fight of the day and everyone gathered around to watch Felix and a boy named Lucas punch it out. Lucas was one of Vincent's friends and had the personality to prove it – violent, petty and dumb. They crawled into the ring and faced off.

"Begin," called Four, watching them closely.

Four hadn't even finished speaking when Felix lunged forward, knocking Lucas to the floor with a devastating blow to the jaw. Lucas groaned and tried to scramble away but he was too dazed from the hit he had just taken and Felix had no trouble catching up with him, pinning him to the floor with his hips. He suddenly stopped, fists raised, looking to Four for further instruction. Four nodded and called it, declaring Felix the victor.

Bella, Henley and Eliza all cheered from the sidelines, grins wide and happy for their friend. When they weren't in training, it was hard to imagine the dopey, soft-spoken boy being able to hurt a fly, let alone another person. But when he stepped into the ring, there was a hard glint in his eyes. His posture would change rapidly, his shoulders going from slouched and relaxed to wide and strong, his walk becoming more of a prowl. The only initiate in their class ahead of Felix in the rankings was Vincent, and that was only because of his propensity for beating his opponents unconscious. He lacked Felix's mercy.

The next hour passed in a blur of fights. Bella was called up to face a large, bumbling Erudite initiate, easily defeating him with a series of sharp jabs and punches to the face and abdomen. Henley watched with growing nerves, both dreading and excited for when her name would be called.

There was only a half hour left until lunch when Eric strode in, hair meticulously gelled in place and leather jacket spotless. He ignored everyone as he marched towards Four, stopping next to him and speaking lowly in his ear. The room strained to hear what he was saying but his voice was too quiet. Four nodded and, when he didn't look too concerned by what he had just heard, the room breathed a sigh of relief. They were always on edge whenever Eric appeared.

Henley was the only one who remained uneasy, tensed in preparation for what was to come. She knew he was going to pick her next.

Sure enough, after an embarrassingly short fight between two lanky Candor initiates, Eric gave a broad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Amity, you're up."

Her hands shook as she climbed into the ring and she didn't know if it was from fear or anticipation. This fight was either going to make her or break her. It was one thing to practice sparring on her friends and another thing entirely to face an opponent who would do everything in their power to take her down. Zeke had been a useful test dummy but he was only one person – how did she know her technique would work on someone else? I should have tested this on more people, Henley thought regretfully as she straightened up. She just hadn't had the time – there was only one month until the first round of initiates would be axed. It was now or never.

Eric pretended to scan the room for her opponent but everyone knew it was an act. He enjoyed toying with her, dragging out her suffering for as long as possible. They all knew he was going to select Vincent to be her challenger; ever since he had beaten Henley unconscious, Eric took vicious pleasure in making her fight him whenever he could.

"Vincent, get in the ring."

Bella rolled her eyes from behind Eric, locking gazes with Henley and pulling a face at his back. Henley's answering smile was wobbly but she appreciated Bella's attempt to cheer her up all the same.

Vincent swaggered up into the ring, grinning as though he were about to win a prize. "Do you think I will knock you out today again today? Or maybe just give you another black eye?"

Henley smiled sweetly at him. "Go fuck yourself."

He laughed at her, the sound breathy and irritating. She saw Eric grit his teeth out the corner of her eye and felt smug satisfaction at the thought that Vincent's hero couldn't stand him either.

"Begin," called Four, eyeing the scene in front of him disapprovingly, his mouth tilted downwards. He thought she was going to lose and he disliked unnecessary violence.

Vincent immediately sprang forward in a lunge designed to wrestle her to the floor. Henley was quick though, and small, which made it easy to duck under his arms and land a punch directly to his solar plexus. Unlike all the other times Henley had managed to land a hit, it actually had an impact. Vincent instinctively curled in on himself, looking to protect his vital organs as he stumbled back in order to breathe, winded and slightly dazed. Henley paused for a moment, surprised that it had been that easy. She had tilted her hips further back than Four had taught them to when punching, as the book had suggested, and it had actually fucking worked.

The moment of surprise cost her and Vincent used it to recover, raising his fists to protect his centre as he lifted his leg to kick her. Henley easily dodged, circling around him and trying to knock his knees out. Vincent expected her to make that move, however, and blocked her kick with his shin while he aimed a right hook at her face.

Henley was forced to duck and move away, searching for another opening. They circled each other, both trying to find a weakness they could exploit. There weren't any – they were too well trained and too used to fighting one another – they could predict each other's movements. Henley needed to break the pattern. She needed to do something unexpected.

She darted forward abruptly, like a bird of prey giving chase, aiming a jab at Vincent's face. The move didn't make sense – it left her vulnerable and briefly unprotected but she was too quick and Vincent was too surprised to do much about it. It was brazen and rushed and, if she weren't so fast, ill advised.

She heard Eliza sigh irritably from behind her and had to force herself to ignore the distraction. Henley was often too brash and didn't think things through, didn't plan ahead. Eliza constantly nagged her to show more restraint, doling out unwanted advice and opinions when she wasn't asked but Eliza was too cautious and it cost her just as much as Henley's impulsiveness did.

Henley's daring attack proved to be the correct course of action when Vincent raised a hand to block her blow to his face, leaving his throat open. Henley was more dexterous and more agile than his broad, lumbering frame could ever hope to be and she suddenly changed the direction of her fist, adjusting its course so it landed directly on his neck. There was a quiet thump as it connected with the delicate skin there and Vincent let out a strangled, choking sound. Stumbling back, he coughed and gagged, heaving in deep, ragged breaths as his body tried to cope with the sudden lack of oxygen and blinding pain.

Henley refused to let him recover. In a move that took a week of frustrating, never ending practice, Henley jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and twisted, bringing him to the floor and pinning him in place. He was helpless against her, unable to move and free himself. He struggled weakly.

Eventually, still wheezing from her blow to his throat, Vincent held up a shaky hand, "I yield."

And just like that, the world came crashing back around her again; the loud excited chatter of her classmates, the howling wind outside, the gross stench of sweat. She hadn't even noticed she had blocked it all out. Eyes wide with delighted surprise, Henley rolled away from Vincent, releasing him as she processed what had just happened.

Holy. Shit. She had won.

Not only had she won her first match, it was against Vincent – the initiate ranked at the top. She had just saved herself. She won't be factionless. Not yet, anyway.

She could hear her friends behind her, congratulating her, calling her over but she ignored them. For the second time that week, Henley turned blazing, triumphant eyes to Eric. Take that, asshole.

I decided to cut this chapter off here because otherwise it would just be block after block of action scenes and I wanted to pace the story better. The next chapter will be longer, I promise.

For those unfamiliar with Greek Mythology:

Sisyphus: A figure in Greek mythology. He was a very cunning and crafty human king who played several tricks on the Gods and got sentenced to a nasty punishment in the Underworld. He had to roll this massive boulder up a massive hill and, upon reaching he top, had to start all over again. For eternity. I know, sucks to be him. I recommend him looking up, his story is entertaining if you're into Classics.

The River Acheron: A mythological river in the Greek Underworld. The souls of the dead would be ferried across the Acheron after paying Kharon, the ferryman, into the Underworld.

I would apologise for the all Greek mythology references but I'm not sorry. As someone getting a degree in Ancient History, I just couldn't help myself; expect more in the future. I figured, as a former Erudite and current Dauntless leader, Eric would really admire the ancient Greeks and their feats, ideas and stories of strength and bravery.

Thank you so much for reading!