When I enter Eric's apartment his living room is dark, I make out several shapes of his scarce furniture. His abode is almost identical to mine with one less bedroom.
I flick the light switch on before entering and shut the door quietly behind me.
My bag lay on his table with my jacket slung neatly over the back of the only chair at it. I proceed to shrugging my jacket on first before unzipping the bag to produce my scarf, which I wrap around my neck.
I've already informed Gus, the control room operator in charge of night shifts that I would be leaving Dauntless tonight, the route that I intend to take is through our restricted side to minimize potential discovery, he had told me to be careful and not stay out too late.
The others there, including Zeke and Four curious to my being there were satisfied by my answer of employment.
Gus is one of the most important individuals in Dauntless, as he is always the one behind surveillance when I need him to be.
I zip my jacket up to my scarf and sling the bag onto my back. I suddenly wonder, why I am even bringing it tonight.
"Leaving already?" Eric asks tiredly, as he enters his main room from what would be his bedroom. He stands wearing only a shirt and boxers while rubbing his eyes before squinting at me.
Instead of answering him I make my way back to his door. "Wait." He says sternly, I turn sharply at his demanding tone. "Coffee, in the morning?" He asks leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, expression is expectant, patient and his lips turn up at the corners.
It is becoming his normal stance.
I flick the light switch off, bathing the room in darkness before opening the door and exiting, shutting it quietly behind me without locking it and start down the deserted tunnel.
I sit on the frigid ground of one of the trains cars far in the corner, my scarf is pulled up over my nose and mouth and my breath keeps me warm.
The only sound is the roar of the wind through the open doors on both sides and constant clicking and vibration from the train along the tracks.
My first destination is not directly into faction-less territory, it is much too large.
I've decided to search between Erudite and Abnegation where I had seen several scarce traces of faction-less residing.
The Erudite building is always lit up brightly even throughout the night, I spot the tall illuminated glass tower over the other desolate dark abandoned and crumbling buildings and wait till I've gone far enough past it before standing to jump.
I had come this way to get to Abnegation once, if I stay on the train for another 40 minutes I will have made it to their borders.
Another hour and a half and I'd make it to the outskirts of the darker parts of the city.
I land in the soft slush and it seeps its way into my boots. These roads do not get plowed. It's hard to be silent when I am boot deep in white mush that crunches under foot, but I am far from concerned about being discovered this area is rarely visited by anyone of consequence.
I adjust my gloves and check the time on my watch. It reads dimly 1:40 A.M.
Chastising myself to leave earlier tomorrow night.
My mask is safely in my jacket pocket along with my knife, ready if needed although I am reluctant to use it. I feel as though I should've left it behind.
I wade my way through several buildings, occasionally wiping fog and frost from glass to look in, peering in through broken windows and open doors.
Some of them I enter, to check the upper levels, most staircases are crumbling and precarious but every one I search is empty, abandoned, with no trace of anyone having been here before.
After making my way through several blocks of all vacant buildings I'm alerted to the soft sound of coughing. I stop to listen and start in the direction of the noise immediately before I can lose it.
Soft snowflakes fall and brush my cheeks and dampen my clothing while I rush to follow the pitiful noise.
The crunching of snow and my silent breaths of white are the only other sounds. The building I end up at is boarded up, the broken windows covered as though the occupants have been residing here for some time.
I circle around to an alley on the other side and spot a window on the second floor. Deciding that it may be the best chance of entering quietly. Removing boards or breaking glass could alert the residents.
I have to jump to reach the last rung of a ladder that leads to the steel staircase on the side of the building, going all the way to the roof and if it weren't for my gloves I might have slipped as the metal is cold and decorated with ice, it takes me a few jumps to finally get it.
At first the window won't budge but I wiggle it back and forth and soon enough it slides open, sticking from the temperature.
I drop the bag silently on the ground in the empty room, it's bare with bits of trash and ratty hollowed out frames of metal furniture scattered around, stripped of all its burnable components.
I smell faint smoke mixed with stale air, as well as a putrid rotting stench. Before I exit this first room I don my mask, and retrieve my pocket light, and sling the bag back over my shoulder.
The scarce moonlight from the open window is not enough to work with. The walls are cracked, paint peeling in countless areas, the floor is covered with a thick coating of dust and rubble, each step I take disturbs the long abandoned atmosphere, the untrod-den floor creaks in protest at being awakened.
Cobwebs twinkle when I shine light over them dressing the empty corners and quiet spaces.
It is fascinating seeing the remnants of our history that still linger. Aged and destroyed items that still resemble things we use regularly today.
I step lightly through the halls, pausing to check each room. The air in here is just as frigid as outside but the stench is strong even through the obstruction on my face, I find myself breathing as little as possible, starving my lungs, each swallow travels thickly down my throat.
The source of the smell seems to come from the burning of spoiled food and in some rooms lay bodies, cold and blue, frozen and stripped of all clothing, the winter air has kept them from decaying.
Lawless faction-less steal the clothes off the dead for themselves. The indecency and disrespect glaring.
I ignore those rooms and head to the stairwell and go down rather than up. The first floor is not easily navigated, several areas are obstructed with rubble from crumbling supports.
Soon enough though I reach a room with faint light coming from under the door.
Inside the room lay two faction-less men on different ends of the room covered in rags and tattered makeshift blankets.
In between them is a small metal canister with burning embers in it, just beginning to die out.
Numerous articles of trash and other unmentionables litter the corners and around the two, creating beds of garbage, cardboard mats and scattered cans.
I step over the first one and I can tell he's already passed. His face is white and chalky, lips purple and chapped, cracking in several parts.
His fingers are darkened wrapped stiffly over a corner of his jacket.
"Have you… C-come to finish the… Job?" Asks a raspy weak voice, coming from the other Faction-less bundled in the same articles as the corpse.
The elderly faction-less starts coughing, covering his mouth with a shaking fist, it is apparent in the way his fingers are also slightly darkening at the tips, and how his breaths come out in struggled huffs that he will not likely make it through this night.
I push the thoughts of what his body may be experiencing from my mind as I kneel near him, and drop my bag to the side, before sliding my mask onto the top of my head between my hair and the hood.
His dark eyes narrow a fraction when he views my face. "Dauntless." He coughs.
I calmly unzip my bag and pull out the first sheet that was stuffed on top and a small box flies out along with it, sliding across the floor.
Matches. I had not packed these.
I drape a sheet over the faction-less man and proceed to picking up the matchbook, and several more items I can use to burn.
He watches me warily as I add things to his meager fire, stoking it with the end of a short metal frame I found.
The smell from the burning items indicate plastics and I try not to wonder at their chemical makup and their burning temperatures or the safety of their vapor inhalation.
"I'm looking for someone." I tell him after becoming satisfied with my work. "Faction-less."
"I don't know if I can be of any help. . ." He says. unsure and he starts to sit up, struggling, his entire body is trembling, teeth chattering. He starts hacking again, attempting to pat his sternum to stop himself. "I…"
"He looks like this." I say, pulling the most recent photograph of surveillance Garret could find for me. "If you cooperate-"
"You'll put me out of my… Misery?" He laughs ruefully, accusingly and raspily but coughs again, his movements are lethargic and his words come out sloppy, slurred, he falls back flat, gazing up at the ceiling.
I pull out a shirt and roll it up to prop under his head while I rummage for the container that has the propofol and syringe. Noting that his symptoms range from hypothermia to. . .
"Will it hurt?" He asks quietly.
"No." I reply, though now I wish I had brought Jeanine's new death serum instead of propofol.
He hacks up more rough coughs, his body shakes violently as he continues to sputter and I help him sit up, once again finding things around the room to help keep him propped up.
I produce the map and he very shakily puts a finger to a section far in the corner on the edge of faction-less territory after studying the photo a bit longer.
I notice a small plastic sheen in the corner of my bag when I tuck the map back in after making a mark on it.
Eric has packed a piece of chocolate cake.
I rub my temples and listen to the faction-less man's raspy breathing before stalking back over to him and dropping myself to the floor unceremoniously, to sit cross legged to hold the container of cake out to him.
He takes it hesitantly without a word and I go back to preparing the drug, poking the needle through the rubber of the vial and tilting it, filling the glass syringe completely with the white liquid. A lethal dose.
He chuckles weakly but the corners of his eyes begin to water, and they become glazed.
His hands are shaking, and he breaks pieces of the cake off with his dirt encrusted fingers. I'd not seen a fork.
I remove my gloves, pulling them off slowly and offer them up as well. He shakes his head. He won't be needing them.
"T-thank. . .you." He says, his teeth chatter lightly and his breathing becomes rapid as he struggles to calm himself, his cheeks are red, bitten by the cold.
He swallows dryly, his slightly light-blue and chapped lips move stiffly and he does his best to chew although he has a hard time and coughs a lot more due to how dry cake is.
I rummage around my bag one more time, and find a bottle of water which he accepts gratefully. Sloppily drinking it all down, and coughing the spittle everywhere.
Patiently I wait, until he moves to lie back. Recovering for the fit. "Will it hurt?" He asks me again, wiping his mouth and beard.
"Does this not hurt already?" I ask him, genuinely curious, gesturing to him, referring to his condition.
He considers me a moment before trying to lie back down. I assist in shifting the makeshift back rest and replace it with the rolled up shirt.
"Okay." He says quietly, looking up at the ceiling. His eyes begin to gloss over and he closes them.
I bring the sheet pooled up at his waist back up over his shoulders and he moves one arm out from under it.
He is still trembling uncontrollably. With fear and with cold. I roll up his sleeve and insert the needle, pushing the plunger of the syringe till the liquid empties into his pale arm.
I check my watch and see that it is 3:56 A.M. I may be on time to have coffee with Eric.
The water in the shower is ice against my already cold skin. I tilt my face up against the spray, letting it all cascade over me.
My insides still and tight, tensed. I try to imagine hypothermia, becoming so cold that you begin to feel warmth. An uncomfortable warmth.
I scrub myself roughly until my skin is pink and raw and I can no longer handle the smell of Eric's shampoo or fighting the thoughts of what ingredients are used in it.
The impatient knock at the bathroom door signifies my time is up and I dry myself off before dressing in a fresh black shirt and sleep shorts,
I put my watch back on and check the time. 6:21 A.M. I stuff my previous clothing into the waste bin, the smell of smoke lingers off of them.
Eric had said I smelled like 'shit' an oversimplification, I did not argue, instead I went straight to the bathroom. I have more clothing, and a spare pair of gloves.
"Tired?" He asks me with an unplaceable expression when I make my way into his living room with the towel wrapped around my wet hair.
I sigh deeply and admit I am with the nod of my head, but I don't tell him that I haven't been able to sleep well.
"It's 6 in the morning, you know." He adds taking a sip from his cup of coffee as he hands me one of my own before taking a seat at his table.
Today he is dressed appropriately for the weather, all of his tattoo's are covered, save for the ones on his neck that are exposed over the collar of his jacket.
The liquid is scorching hot and bitter on my tongue, it spreads warmth down my throat and insides through my slightly stiff limbs, my numb fingers get feeling back into them, curled around the warm paper.
Eric reaches for me, clasping my wrist and pulls me into his lap and in a rare moment of exhausted, weakness that I would never permit myself otherwise, I lean back and into him.
He brushes his warm cheek, nose and lips into the side of my cold neck, breathing hot air over my shoulder with a contented sigh.
He presses his hand into my abdomen, to pull me tighter against him and holds his coffee in the other.
"I have leadership classes today." He says conversationally before taking another sip.
This casual familiarity is unprecedented but much like with the others, Kat, Jade and the rest it's un-effectual.
"I'm not interested in your schedule." I reply flatly, before taking my own sip.
His hand travels down the side of my hip and rests on my thigh, it causes an almost electrical current through my gut, I stand and place my cup on his table before returning the remaining contents back into my bag.
Eric had not asked what I had done, where I had gone or why but when he left his apartment just before me, he had invited me back again tonight.
"Were you successful?" Max asks conversationally he taps the keys at his computer with two fingers slowly, computer illiterate. His eyes squint a few times and occasionally he holds the backspace to delete a long stream of his mistakes.
To his credit, he persists, determined to accomplish it on his own without assistance.
"No." I admit, settling into his leather guest chair. He looks over to me and scrutinizes my appearance before chuckling. "I have a general location, to narrow my search." I offer up unable to fully admit failure.
"Excellent, it's a shame though. Wouldn't you agree?" Max asks before leaning back in his desk chair the loud creak is hollow in the room. "He managed to cull faction-less numbers effectively and efficiently, as well as discretely. Up until now."
"We believe he was trying to send a message." Falen says gravely, he approaches the chair with a tablet and hands it to me. The electronic device is cold and light in my hands.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and push my fingers into my eyes till I see red through the veiny skin of my eyelids.
"Someone may be watching you." Max adds blowing an obscenely large amount of smoke out. The chemical smell burns my nostrils and throat before filling my lungs. "We already know you are not guilty but the time frame is a little too coincidental. Someone may be trying to incriminate you."
"It's possible he still has connections to Dauntless." Falen warns putting a hand to my shoulder. "Max and I will investigate, go over surveillance, monitor comings and goings. Meanwhile it may be best to put off your hunt for a few days."
"No." I reply tersely.
This is exactly the reason why he should have been executed long ago.
Max laughs heartily. "Seems like you have a personal vendetta." He says slyly, before puffing his cigarette, the red flares up consuming the paper as he inhales the toxins. "It's not good to harbor grudges."
Falen squeezes my shoulder a warning, it is not the Dauntless way. "It is not a grudge, but an obligation." I tell him in response while I look over the reports again.
It sends a thick almost painful sensation through my veins. No one can see how close I am to snapping the tablet in half. Such vast waste.
"Be careful then." Falen says, with something of concern in his voice.
Max nods his head sagely, and for once they both look much older than they actually are.
I drop the tablet onto Max's desk.
I've got a deadline to meet and if he's waiting for me then it may be easier to find him. My odds of success are weighted in my favor.
"So." Kat says slyly nudging me with her elbow, her green eyes narrow deviously, her hair is now a lavender color. I vaguely wonder at what time during the night they had done her hair. Only that they had been unable to sleep.
The topic and my actions may have wrought undesireable reminiscence for her. I clench my fist.
"How was it?" She asks, betraying nothing but interest her tone. Her eyes however, tired.
Jade giggles and continues to eat a sandwich, picking bits of greens out. "I thought there was a rule about kissing and telling." She says loyally giving me a wink.
I take a sip of the soda Amar gave me at the start of lunch before bounding out with Bud to find a suitable power source with enough energy to power the Ferris Wheel.
He had managed to get volunteers to help clear frost and years of neglect off of it as well. He claims that one day it will be used 'Every fricken' day.'
I muse silently at the process of engineering required for the feat and ignore the conversation.
"Oh come on we know who it was already." Kat says impatiently rolling her eyes, she takes my hand in her warm grasp and gives me a pleading expression, I avoid looking into her eyes. "I noticed that he isn't around though… And he used to like, stalk you." She says looking around the canteen. "He's not one of those hit it and quit it types is he?"
I shrug complacently. "We are not exclusive."
"Aww I thought it would be like a secret romance or forbidden love." Jade says swooning, Kat tries to pry details of my night from me and Jade starts tickling her.
"Dude the point of a secret is to keep it." She says sternly and jabs her in the gut.
I continue to sip my soda.
"What secret?" Gabriel asks while sliding into the bench, his ankle is still bothering him, I identify it as a strain due to his symptoms. Joseph follows along, as well as Zeke.
"Nothing." Kat sighs deeply with disappointment. "Well Gene did set a new record for fastest job quitting." she adds perking up again, the others start laughing while I focus running my fingers over the precipitation on the can, coating my fingertips with it.
"What is your next job Genie Weenie?" Joseph asks playfully while ruffling my hair.
I did not realize I had gotten a new nickname.
"Surveillance." I reply flatly, waving his hand away from my hair. One such job I am mildly interested in.
"Oh yeah! I forgot you mentioned that!" Zeke exclaims before expressing his excitement over having another person to 'hang out' with in the control room because it's so boring. "Oh, I almost forgot did you guys hear about the fire?" He asks bouncing in his seat.
It is obvious of his relation to Uriah. Though him being older in age could be questionable.
"Oh my gosh what fire?" Jade asks, becoming completely interested. Everyone leans toward Zeke as he pauses for suspense, he takes my drink and gulps down the rest of it before handing me an empty can and they pester him to continue, with palpable impatience.
I press my elbow into the table and rest my cheek in my palm to listen, showing feigned interest.
"One of the buildings a few miles from Erudite burned down, like…To the ground. You can still see the smoke from here if you guys want to go look outside." Zeke explains with excitement. "It's still burning but because it's snowing, damage control isn't going out there, Amar told me that the weather should put it out."
They make plans to head outdoors for a snowball fight and watch the pillar of smoke.
The wisps of silver-gray, curling and dancing through the hazy winter air, shifting like ghosts in the breeze, climbing higher into the clouds of the dark overcast sky.
Four teaches me how to use his console, even though I already have experience. He hands me earphones that I slide onto my head and shows me the levers that adjust volume and how to switch through the feeds manually skipping their timed rotations.
Gus handles the important camera's in Dauntless while his employees handle the training, recreational and civilian areas.
Four types in his codes to pull up some footage in rotation of a specific area and together we watch people going through ordinary everyday life.
Dauntless sitting and eating in the cafeteria, everyone outside playing in the snow at the entrance to Dauntless, people training and mock fighting in the pits.
Even through the lenses of the camera the Pit looks ethereal and glittery with the blinking lights.
"Why did you leave during the leadership course introduction?" Four asks suddenly, with a curious tone.
Pulling me from my silent musing over the way surveillance cameras work.
It has been long since that day where they passed out the info sheets and I stood up and walked out after filling out just my name.
I blink at him and remove the headphones, there was no sound because we had not isolated a particular screen, all the earphones did was muffle his voice and keep heat on my ears.
Four leans back in his chair and grips his legs comfortably. His hair is a little longer, some of it falls in front of his eyes. He's overdue for a cut.
His face is more pronounced, sharper, chiseled and hard.
"I don't want to be a leader." I respond with honesty before relaxing into my own chair. I had only really expressed this to Amar. I do several Leader responsibilities but I'm not a good face for Dauntless.
Not if my aptitude may be Erudite, and I still chose Dauntless. Or even if I didn't.
Aptitudes are absolute.
I glance back over at the console screen at the far corner where I can see the outside, at the Ferris Wheel in the distance on the back side of Dauntless.
Gus had already given me codes to look through all the footage stored up from the very first time I left Dauntless to sneak into Abnegation, around the time of the first murder this year.
I've elected to watching the current screens during my first day at work here and then tethering a connection to a tablet I was lent by Falen to watch the remaining weeks when I don't have company.
I have a day to look through more than a month, weeks, days, hours, and minutes. I'd tried not to calculate the time it would take.
"Neither did I." Four admits with a sigh. "When Max had first approached me with his 'offer' I wasn't really in a position to decline, or well… He didn't really give me an option."
I reply with a slow nod.
Max has always been an enthusiast. Falen is getting older but that's no reason to try and influence a decision. Four was impressive but skill doesn't determine preferences.
During initiation and then leadership courses they look for individuals with the most potential and enthusiasm for our faction and the future, but even then they're selective.
"Yeah but then after a while he was actually really understanding." Four says with a thoughtful expression. "He respected my decision to become an instructor instead, even though it's seasonal work and even my request for a job here in the control room."
I nod my head listening intently. Pleased.
"You'd be a good instructor." I offer up simply. Turning in the chair. I remember he had coached Shauna in her victory against Ashley. Evidence enough of his ability to gauge and tutor capability and potential in individuals.
I look over at Gus who is faced away from us with earphones on, I know that he is asleep from the way his breathing is loud and an occasional snore sounds off, where he stirs and grunts loudly.
"Thanks." Four shifts uncomfortably at my compliment. "I'm actually really looking forward to it."
I reply with a deep sigh, leaning all the way back into the cold leather, the chair creaks and groans under my weight.
"It won't be too bad, I'm sure." Four says reassuringly. "You'll have all your friends."