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ilguna · 3 years

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Anteric - Chapter Six (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing. FIGHTING, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, GORE, BLOOD, INJURIES.

wc; 8.6k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Finnick is still picking blue paint out of his hair this morning. Each time he goes to run a hand through it, he’ll get stuck halfway through, due to a clump of knotted blue hair. You try not to laugh, but every now and then a cough will slip out. At some point, he gives up and goes to take a shower in hopes to fix his problem.

Since you woke up fairly early again, you have enough time to get ready at a leisurely pace. Unfortunately, you're sure that the sun has already risen, so there wouldn’t be a point to go up the Pit to see. And you think that’s for the best, because it’s not safe up there anymore. Not now that Finnick knows where you’d go if you need a moment to breathe.

Well, that’s one of the places. Hopefully he won’t figure out the other.

You’ve realized that you probably need to speak to him sometime soon, considering the rift that’s continuing to grow. The only problem is that you’ve already apologized for your sudden distance. He just ignored it.

You think you’ve said this before, but Finnick will get extremely upset to the point where he’ll stop talking. He used to do that all the time to a couple of other people that you knew in Abnegation. You weren’t his only friend, just the best. There’s only been a few times where you’ve been on the receiving end of his cold behavior. And he’s always bounced back from it.

Half of the time it’s because you gave him space to think about what he wanted. He would just wander back on his own, heart in his hands to give to you. In those moments, it was always his fault. Which is why it was so easy for him to come talk to you again.

Other times, you’d persist after Finnick, trying to get him to budge and talk to you again. This is how you found out that it would be harder to talk to you again. Because you were constantly trying to get him to. It just built up annoyance more, and prolonged the silent treatment. This option is always the second choice, a last resort for dire situations.

Which is why you’re so caught right now.

Finnick could really need you to go after him, or he could really need you to stay away. And honestly, you don’t mind either of those plans, except the latter one has a problem hidden within it. Normally when you’d leave Finnick alone, it would be because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

If you go on and move onto Trink circle for the time being while you wait for him to come around, he won’t be alone. He won’t have time to think about why he’s angry by himself. He’ll have someone else to delay that entire process. You know Finnick like the palm of your hand, he can and will put talking to you off for as long as possible.

You thought that Thyme could be a nice addition to yours and Finnick’s friendship, but it seems like she’s going to be making things more complicated. And there’s a hot, sticky feeling in your chest that’s telling you it isn’t a coincidence. From the moment she’s gotten here, she’s been weird.

A hand slaps your foot, making the laces slip from your fingers, your foot falling to the floor. Thyme passes in front of you, and sits down on her bed. It’s only when she starts to lace her first shoe, does she look at you, “Keep your dirty shoes off my bed.”

You stare at her for a moment, and the only thought that comes to your mind is the fact that you’re too tired for her bullshit. You fix your laces before standing up, leaving her alone. You stretch your arms and legs, moving toward the middle of the room. Caspian said that training wouldn’t resume until tomorrow, but that just means you’ll be stuck shooting guns for ten hours.

Finnick comes out of the bathroom, briefly catching your eye. He’s fully dressed, a black towel hangs around the back of his neck to catch the water from his hair. You move out of his way, not thinking too much into the movement. All you know is that you don’t want to be caught in the storm that might be brewing at the moment.

Which ultimately means you just unintentionally made the decision you’ve been worrying over for the past couple of minutes. You guess that your first instinct has never been to pry. And you also guess that this is a result of the Abnegation conditioning. You’re not supposed to ask questions, especially if it might hurt the other person.

But you aren’t in Abnegation anymore, are you?

You spare a glance in Finnick’s direction, wondering if it’s too late to go back and change your mind. His back is already turned toward you, and he’s talking to Thyme. He turns his body slightly, going to sit down on his bed. The smile on his face is almost unforgivable, a light feeling arising in your stomach.

There’s a split second where you recognize that he’s going to look toward you, his head is already turning, his eyes still on Thyme. You think that you’ll be able to muster up enough courage to talk to him. But it all disappears the moment his eyes land on you. And you find yourself turning before you say to.

Trink is stretching her arms above her head, her tank top rides up slightly to reveal her belly. She lets out a slight yawn, and then she pulls her top back down and looks between you, Eytelle and Allio.

“Breakfast?” she proposes.

You wonder how far is too far with Finnick.

“Yeah.” Eytelle agrees, Allio raises to his feet.

Trink’s eyes land on you, waiting to see what you have to say.

You roll your shoulders and give her a bright smile, “Well, obviously.”

Trink leads the way out of the dormitory, with Eytelle and Allio in the middle, and you taking up the back. Up until the door slides shut smoothly behind you, your hands are balled into fists and you can’t relax your shoulders no matter how hard you try. You just feel safer now that you’re out of sight, at least their eyes won’t be on you.

For a while, you focus on Allio and Eytelle’s voice echoing off the walls, as they talk about what they think their rank might be. It’s an easy enough conversation for you to escape to. Since the answer should be pretty difficult to find, because of technicalities and all. But the mystery is solved two minutes later, and the distraction is no longer here.

You’re lucky that the walk to the dining hall is short.

“You two head inside, we’ll follow in a minute.” Trink says, giving them a polite smile.

“Do you want to sit with the Dauntless-borns?” Eytelle is walking backwards.

Trink makes a face like she’s telling them ‘obviously’, but speaks anyway, “Make sure it’s with Lennox.”

Eytelle nods, and the two of them disappear inside. Trink turns to you next, her smile fading from her face, “Why didn’t you say anything to her?”

You press your lips together for a moment, and then you speak, “I know what I’m doing with Finnick.”

“Really?” she rolls her eyes, “Come on, (Y/n).”

“I’ve been dealing with him for my entire life.” you tell her, drifting towards the doorway. You two might be friends now, but you don’t have to reveal all your secrets to her just yet. It’s been less than a day, “Thyme won’t last, trust me.”

She raises her eyebrows, “You should still talk to him.”

“I will.” you say, she’s starting to follow you now, “I’ll do it tomorrow before the final fight.”

Trink shrugs.

The two of you stand together for a while, before she’s the first to spot your group from last night. At the table, she greets Lennox and slides right in next to him. She serves herself a small portion of toast and blueberry pancakes, as always, and starts talking as if they’ve been friends for a long time.

Ameer and Mirza are sitting across from each other, a path is cleared between them to allow the arm wrestling match. It seems like they’re both struggling, since Mirza will stay on top for a while, straining. Then Ameer will get a burst of strength and push his brother’s arm down toward the table. Neither of them have won yet.

Sydney is twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, talking to Nestor and occasionally Ameer. It’s always through gritted teeth and gasps if he does respond. She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, no one looks bothered over the twins’ shenanigans.

Claris isn’t gathered with you guys, she’s actually sitting on the far end of the table off to the left. Hallie sits beside her, the two of them talk every now and then between long stretches of silence. However, the person that is sitting here with you guys, is Blaire.

He’s got one of his black curls pulled out, talking to Lennox and Trink. When he lets go, the curl bounces back into place as if it wasn’t out in the open just seconds before.

“Four people are going to be cut after this last fight, right?” Trink says, she’s squishing a blueberry between her fork and her plate.

“Yeah,” Lennox says, “The two lowest ranking initiates from both groups.”

Trink hums, “Who’s your two?”

Blaire gives her a look, and then you, “You first.”

“Amos and Ossie.” you say, carving your fingernail into the wooden table, “No question about it.”

Trink’s face twists for a moment, eyebrows raising, and then dropping. Like she’s trying to tell you that it isn’t set in stone. Like she’s trying to tell you that you’ve lost your last two fights, technically Ossie is ranked above you at the moment, and so is Trink.

That won’t last long. You’ll be winning tomorrow’s fight, no matter who it’s against.

“That was easy.” Lennox breathes out a laugh, and then he jabs his thumb to Claris and Hallie, “They’re out. Neither of them have won. They talk shit but the rest of us are taller and stronger than they are.”

Sydney pauses what she’s saying to Nestor to lean in, “The two of them talk like they own the world. Should’ve seen their faces when they got their asses kicked on the first day. Or when they couldn’t even move the punching bag.” Nestor nods in agreement.

“Huh,” you let out.

Blaire shrugs, “Just how it is.”

Trink leans her head against her hand, pushing her plate away now, “How was it working with Finnick and Thyme?”

The question makes Mirza lose at the arm wrestling match. Blaire stares at Trink for a long moment, his eyebrows drawing in, “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. I guess I should’ve asked if he mentioned anything about (Y/n). And what exactly did he say?”

You want to stomp on Trink’s foot beneath the table, but she’s not across from you. You wish that she wouldn’t go around asking questions like this. You don’t care what he said about you during the paintball match. In fact, you could guarantee that it’s not anything bad, because Finnick doesn’t bad-mouth until he’s absolutely certain that the other person is his enemy.

You press your lips together and scowl.

“Well,” Blaire looks uncomfortable, as he probably should be, “It’s complicated… I guess.”

“Oh, come on.” Trink waves her hand, “You can’t hurt her feelings, she’s a brick wall.”

You’re suddenly glad that she hasn’t seen you vulnerable just yet. And that you held yourself together after the incident in the Pit, hanging over the river. Otherwise she might be saying something else right now.

Blaire looks to Mirza for reassurance, but the twins are gone. The two of them have vanished without a single word. Blaire sighs, “Finnick said that the two of you had grown up together.” his eyes are on you, “And that you know everything about him, including his weaknesses. He also said that your actions are predictable which is why you aren’t threatening.”

Silence sweeps the table. You let the hotness take over your face first. Anger so rich and raw that you might as well be a reincarnated god. But there’s something bubbling in your chest, light and friendly. The exact opposite of war and bloodshed.

You try to stay straight-faced, but there’s a crack at the corner of your lips. Until you burst, tears forming in your eyes. The laugh is loud, but draws no attention from the other Dauntless around you. With the exception of the group you’re sitting with, of course. You end up covering your mouth, trying to be a bit more modest.

“Not threatening, huh?” You smile, running your finger over the divot you’ve carved into the table. Then, you look up to Blaire, “If I were you, I’d be skeptical.”

Blaire doesn’t respond right away, “What does that mean?”

“Well, for starters.” You place your palms on the table, getting ready to leave, “He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks.”

You stand up from the bench. The clock on the wall says that it’s ten minutes to eight, which means you’ll be arriving in the training room early if you leave now. It’ll give you a moment to think and reassess your next move.

You take a step forward, but then stop, “Finnick isn’t as put-together as he likes to show. It’s all a façade. I’ll be in the training room.”

You take your time leaving the dining hall, not seeing a reason to rush. You have more than enough time to get there, and you need to spend it all.

On the way out, you pass Finnick and Thyme.

You were wrong. You thought that Finnick would keep his opinions of you to himself. The two of you don’t know these people, and they weren’t in your business to begin with. So what is he doing, basically telling people that you’re weak?

A hand hooks around the inside of your elbow, keeping you from talking further.

You yank your arm out, turning to face Finnick, while putting distance between the two of you. The mere look on his face is enough for you to set your jaw, clenching your teeth together. A deer in headlights, a child acting like it doesn’t know what it did wrong, an act.

“Hey,” he says, even his voice is soft, like he’s trying to coax you, “Are you okay?”

Your first instinct is to snap and then run. Leave him blinded and shocked just like you were a couple of moments ago. But the longer you stare at him, the more you begin to realize that he’s not acting. He’s being genuine.

“I’m fine.” you force yourself to calm down, standing up so that you aren’t hunched over, “Thanks for asking, though.”

“Are you sure?” Finnick straightens out too, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You can see Thyme stalking over his shoulder, eyes boring right into yours. Watching, waiting. Probably wanting material to spread around to the others. Look at (Y/n), upset over this and not nearly as scary as she can seem at times. She’s probably the one that managed to convince Finnick that you aren’t threatening.

“Not with her around.” you snarl, looking past him, “You’re a goddamn coward, you know that? And it’s no surprise, you come from Amity.”

She backs up, face twisting when Finnick looks over his shoulder.

“Really?” you ask, moving forward. Finnick presses a hand to your chest, keeping you from going any further. You look at him dead in the eyes, “You’re stopping me? Why? She can take care of herself. If she’s going to cause problems, then she’s going to deal with the consequences.”

“You’re not thinking straight.” Finnick says, not affected by how angry you are.

You slap his hand off and shove him back in one move, “So? Does that scare you, Finnick? What happened to me not being threatening?”

Finnick’s confused for a second, but then his face smoothes over, and he’s shaking his head, “That’s what this is about?”

You grit your teeth, “Yes, Finnick, that’s why I’m upset.”

“You don’t know the context--”

“No!” your voice is loud, “Blaire told me the context. You said I wasn’t threatening because I’m so fucking predictable.” you shove him again, “If I’m so predictable to you, then why do you bother to stick around?”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, there’s an overwhelming silence that sits between you two. Thyme doesn’t even move from where she is, her hand is pressed against the wall as if she’ll fall over. What a drama queen.

It seems like you have attracted attention, though. Out of the corner of your eye, you’re able to see Damon coming your way. Why he’s still inside of the dining room when he eats earlier than everyone else, you don’t know. What you do know is that you’re about to get in trouble.

“Back up.” Damon says, motioning, “Now.”

You do, hands balling into fists. You should’ve hit him when you had the fucking chance to. Or lunged straight towards Thyme, who’s playing up the innocent act again.

“Where are you going?” he looks at you first.

“The training room.”

Then his eyes land on Finnick and Thyme. Finnick’s the one to speak, “For breakfast.”

“Go.” he tells them, not leaving from where he stands. He waits until Finnick and Thyme are clearly inside before turning to you, “I remember being told that Laurel issued a warning about fighting.”

“Yeah, I was there for it,” you say, “But I didn’t hit him, so it doesn’t count.”

“Shoving counts.” Damon says, “Don’t do it again.”

“Sure.” you say, “Sorry.”

You turn and leave before he tries to talk to you anymore. You’re already testing his patience by being short with him. You head straight into the darkness, nails digging into your palms. The walk to the training room isn’t as serene as you originally wanted it to be. With every step you take, you can only find more reason to be angry.

There’s so many things you should’ve said to him.

By the time you get to the actual room, you’re only slightly calmed down. There’s no doubt that you just made things worse between you and Finnick. But to be fair, it’s no thanks to Trink. You don’t know whether or not to be angry at her. If she hadn’t asked the questions in the first place, then you’d still be on the road to recovery with Finnick.

It all conflicts with the fact that you wouldn’t have known what Finnick said if she hadn’t asked. You didn’t know he was talking about you like that. And sometimes it’s good to be underestimated, but here it’s not. It’s the simplest way for you to end up factionless.

Laurel and Caspian are already inside when you get there. They barely look up at first, too focused on what they’re hovering over. Laurel then suddenly raises her head, a murmur sounding from her. Caspian has to turn his body to see.

You give them a gentle wave.

“Don’t touch anything just yet.” he says, motioning you to stand somewhere.

Along the wall of the entrance sits tables with knives on them. All of them black, with identical blades and sizes. On the other side of the room are targets, much like the ones you’ve used to shoot guns. It looks like you get to try your hand at something new today.

It’s hard to be excited when there’s a hateful feeling in your stomach, telling you that Finnick will have no trouble keeping his streak. He’ll nail the middle of the target and then immediately turn to Thyme to gloat. You can’t help but to wonder if he genuinely thinks he’s winning in Dauntless right now, because you wouldn’t think so. Not when your best friend is halfway out of the door.

You pick a spot on the far side, shoving your hands into your pockets while you stare at the wood. If you strain hard enough to hear, you can listen in on what Laurel and Caspian are talking about. And it honestly sounds like they’re discussing the pairs for tomorrow’s fights. You thought they would have worked this all out this morning, but you guess you were wrong.

You have to win, no matter what. Or you will end up in last place. And instead of Ossie being cut, it will be you. You and Amos.

It’s funny, really. For a second, you really thought that you were on top of the world. You didn’t know just how quickly it would all fall back down. How you wouldn’t be able to catch everything--anything. It took a week to break all that you’ve worked towards your entire life.

You still have enough time to turn it around and end up on top. All you have to do is pass this first stage, and then you could blow everyone out of the water. You have the power to. You just have to apply yourself more.

A couple of minutes later, the others begin to arrive in their own groups. The first is Ossie and Amos, the next is your three new friends, and the last is Finnick and Thyme. This time, they’re the ones keeping their distance, placing themselves firmly on the other side of the room.

If Caspian has any questions rising, he doesn’t ask them. You do catch the quick look between you and Finnick, though. As if he’s trying to decipher it for himself. His eyes find yours again, and you give him a gentle head shake, letting him know that things are not what they are anymore. You wish it weren’t this complicated.

“Tomorrow is the final fight, and it will also be the last day of stage one.” Caspian says, he stands near the chalkboard, shouting across the room. His voice carries well, you don’t have to turn your head to hear him better.

“Today, you’ll be learning how to aim.” Laurel continues for him, “Pick up three knives, and pay attention. No one will be excused from tomorrow’s fighting, so try not to hurt yourselves.”

You all begin to wander over to the knives. You pick up the first one in your hands, and you can’t help but to notice just how light it is. It’s not as heavy as the one in your aptitude test, or the one back home in Abnegation. This is as light as a feather, easily movable. It reminds you of the knife you used to cut your hand during the Choosing Ceremony.

You pick up the other two, being careful not to cut your hands.

“I’ll demonstrate, so pay attention!” Laurel shouts.

Once you’re all back in your respective places, all eyes are on her. You have to move around a little to see better, and you can’t help but to curse yourself for choosing this end of the room. But then again, you didn’t want to invade on Caspian and Laurel’s privacy, clearly it was an important conversation.

Laurel is smooth and flawless with her throws. One after the other, each one hits the dead center of the target. Once all three knives are gone, she backs away from the target. You have to move again to see that she’s thrown her knives so that they make a triangle.

“Line up!” she yells, “And get to throwing! Caspian and I will observe.”

You remember the first time you shot the gun they gave you. It’s almost hard to believe that was only five days ago. At the rate things have been moving around you, it almost feels like a year.

Automatically, you find yourself readjusting your stance to mirror what Laurel had looked like. She had her dominant forward just a little more, body turned to the side to allow her dominant arm move free range. You extend and tense your arm a couple of times, getting a feel for the throw.

You have to remember to exhale when you let go.

And make sure not to think too much or you’ll hesitate.

You draw your arm back, knife handle in your hand. Your eyes land on the red circle in the middle of the wood. You hold your breath for a moment, pausing to readjust, and then you throw.

For a second, all you can hear is the sound of knives bouncing off the wall. No one has made it even close to their target. So why are you so sure that you’re going to be different?

Well, because you are.

The knife lodges in the red circle. It’s nowhere near perfect, since it’s off center and barely hanging on. But you are the first.

“Wow!” Trink lets out, “That’s luck!”

You prepare the second knife in your hand, drawing your arm back the same way, correcting for the middle. This time, when the knife hits the wooden board, you are much closer to the center. You’re too eager for the third knife, excitement bubbling up your throat and to your cheeks. An infectious smile fills your face when the third knife is in the center.

A hand slaps on your shoulder, “You’re a natural.” Caspian’s hand slips slightly as he moves around you to take a better look. He lets out a slight whistle.

Eytelle and Allio are nodding along, looking enthusiastic.

You can’t help yourself, though. You thank Caspian, but move to look at Finnick and Thyme, to watch them throw. You catch Finnick’s eyes for a brief second, clearly he was watching you. It’s your turn to take notes now.

You felt this exact same way when you first shot the handgun. To know that you were so close to the center circle, only for Finnick to best you. Finnick moves his hand, showing you that he still has all three knives in his hands. It’s an under-the-table move, not noticeable unless you’re paying close attention. Which means that Thyme completely misses it. The blades glint in the light.

He raises his arm, Thyme pauses what she’s doing to watch him. She’s already missed her first two knives. Finnick takes in a deep breath when he throws, and this is where he goes wrong. You’ll give him credit, because the knife hits the board. But it’s a corner, and clatters to the ground without sticking.

Finnick’s face twists, and when he turns to you--

You’ve already got both hands up, formed in an ‘X’.

Figuring that you’ve reached the point of no return yesterday, you went ahead and switched beds after dinner. Originally, you’d been sleeping over Finnick. Now you’re over Trink, since she’s the one that has an open bunk. You went to bed before you got a chance to see Finnick’s reaction, but you can tell by the way he’s acting this morning, that he’s upset.

He’s normally chatty in the morning, whether it had been with you, or Thyme. But no matter how many times Thyme tries to start a conversation with him, he only lets out one word answers. Which is a telltale sign that Finnick is not as okay as he’s been projecting. Another reason why Thyme doesn’t fit the space, she thinks about herself first and not the people around her.

Abnegation-raised children have been taught to focus on others before them. Like Candor, you begin to be able to pick out the little things from others reactions and body language. You might not be able to ask about it, but you’re supposed to notice it so that it’s easier to avoid the topic.

Thyme knows nothing about this, which means she doesn’t know when to leave things be instead of trying to fill the silence.

There’s a tight feeling of smugness in your chest. Finnick is going to be the one to apologize, not you. Not like you have a reason to, anyway. You already did and he ignored you, as if it hadn’t existed at all. You weren’t bluffing, it was a genuine apology.

You start out of the bathroom, fully dressed, shoes on, minty breath. All you have to do is wait for Trink to get ready, and then the four of you can head to the dining hall so you can watch and wait for them to eat. You already decided that you shouldn’t eat this morning. With the way everyone has been going at your stomach, it’s the only real choice you have. Unless you want to puke all over the floor, of course.

Trink’s in the middle of braiding her hair, talking to Eytelle. Allio is still in the bathroom, you saw him wander into the shower area just before he shut the curtain. He said that it should only take a couple of minutes. So, you suppose that you should correct yourself. You’re waiting on Allio, not Trink.

You start toward the girls, a question to start conversation already appearing on your tongue. But it all dies when someone appears in your path, tall and towering over you, like he always does. You press your lips together and look up at Finnick. And you can’t help but to think that this scene is all too familiar.

But the last time you checked, you moved out of the way.

“We should talk.” Finnick says, his voice is gentle, face smoothed over.

“Yeah?” you ask, eyebrows raising slightly.

You will not be the one apologizing this time.

He takes his time before speaking. Letting out a small breath, sucking in one between his teeth. He does this every single time, you know what to expect. He’ll start his sentence off with the apology, and then what he did wrong.

Finnick takes in a final breath, “I need you to hear me out.”

No.

No, this is wrong.

You stare at him, almost wanting to hold your breath.

This is the second time you’ve been wrong about Finnick would or wouldn’t do.

Finnick takes your silence as a good sign to keep talking, “When I said that to my team, I was still angry at you for blowing me off.”

Now you hold your breath, teeth settling in. He’s wrong, you didn’t blow him off. You apologized, you told him why you’ve been acting this way. It’s the other way around, he’s the one that confronted you and didn’t even listen. As if he didn’t care in the first place, and just wanted to find a way to get at you.

“I should have phrased what I said differently, though.” Finnick pauses for a moment, “Your turn.”

Your turn?

“That was not an apology,” are the first words to leave your mouth, eager, slick and pissed.

Finnick stares at you, like he’s thinking it over. It’s just five words, straight-forward all by itself. But then his lips press together, and his face begins to turn red, eyebrows turning downward. He’s acting like you’re in the wrong here. You’ve apologized, you’ve expressed your dislike for Thyme, so why does he keep on pushing it? What the fuck does he want from you?

“You are brave.” Finnick’s words are low.

He doesn’t scare you.

You know him in and out.

You know his darkest secrets.

How is he going to scare you?

“I’m the brave one?” you ask him slowly, “Last time I checked, I already fucking apologized. You were the one that didn’t listen. You were the one that brushed me off. Don’t come to me acting like the victim.

“Not to mention, Finnick,” you spit his name, “You didn’t even say that you regret what you said to your team. You said that you would rephrase it. It’s a fucking excuse, and I don’t do excuses. You owe me an apology.”

“For what?” he asks.

You explode, voice loud, “What the fuck do you mean ‘for what’?” you’re shaking your head, “I just fucking told you! Do you want another reason, then? You’ve been treating Thyme, over there, like your fucking best friend as if I’m not here. She’s the devil on your shoulder, Finnick. Won’t you open your eyes?”

Finnick shoves you back, you catch your footing in time to make it look natural. You don’t see this as a good sign, though. He’s angry, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Why not? Don’t like facing the truth--?”

“Because she’s my fucking friend, (Y/n)!” Finnick shouts back, “You called her a bitch and you don’t have a shred of sympathy!”

He gestures over his shoulder, straight at Thyme. She’s sitting on her bed, looking like she’s enjoying herself, watching the two of you go at each other like this. You watch as she fakes a pout, bites her lip, and then turns her head away. Her shoulders shake, pretending to cry. But her giggle is unmistakable.

It takes everything in you not to lunge at her.

The oven controlling your body is only getting hotter. You can feel your fingernails digging into the skin on your palm. Your eyes flash to Finnick, “Why should I? She’s not my fucking friend, she’s yours!”

You move forward, “And I know this might be shocking to you, but I’m your friend. I’ve been your best friend for years! So why are you so hellbent on keeping her, and not me? Aren’t I more valuable than this?”

Finnick stares, no response coming from him.

Your jaw sets, “During the Choosing Ceremony, before I came to Dauntless, I thought it would be an even trade. To take you, and leave my family behind. Clearly, I was fucking wrong.”

The anger washes away from his face, his mouth opening. You can see his hand raising to grab onto you.

You jerk away, “Don’t worry Finnick, this is all fine to me.” you give him a sneer, “Just don’t forget that I know all of your secrets. And there’s nothing stopping me from using them anymore.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, hand frozen out to grab you.

“It’s time to go to the training room.” Trink’s voice cuts the silence that deafens the room.

No one moves from where they are. Not even Ossie and Amos left early to get breakfast. They’re still near the door, hand poised on the handle, like they had been expecting the fight to only last a couple of seconds. Or for the two of you to kiss and make up and let this all be over and in the past.

You’re the first to straighten.

“Okay,” you say, still staring at Finnick, “Let’s go then.”

Ossie and Amos scoot out of the door first. Trink holds it open for you, before letting Allio take it next. She keeps to your side, glancing at your face every now and then like she expects it to change. But there’s an unmistakable anger that’s bubbling in your stomach and popping in your chest. Like lava.

She’s wise enough not to say anything.

You all arrive late to the training room. Caspian has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the door when you walk in. He doesn’t look happy at all, and neither does Laurel. You’re guessing it’s because Mags is standing right there, hands behind her back, assessing each and every one of you as you enter.

“Where’s Finnick and Thyme?” Caspian barks.

“Oh, they’re coming.” you snarl.

Caspian’s eyes linger on you, but you’re more focused on the board behind him. To see who’s fighting who. They’re standing directly in it, purposefully blocking your view. You hope it’s Thyme. You hope it’s Thyme. You hope it’s Thyme.

You hope it’s Thyme.

After a few more beats of silence, the door to the training room opens.

Caspian tilts his head slightly, like he’s unsure what to make of today’s newfound tension.

But then he moves out of the way.

And there’s an explosion of pleasurable bliss that fills your body.

You will not be fighting Thyme.

You will be fighting the man himself.

You grin, head turning to see Finnick’s reaction. He’s stoic, staring ahead at the board, not entertaining you. It’s fine, Finnick. You already know what you need to. You saw him reach out. You saw the look of remorse. Everyone did. There’s no point in being so guarded now.

The chalkboard reads:

You and Finnick.

Trink and Thyme.

Allio and Amos.

Eytelle and Ossie.

“Oh, she’s going to get her ass demolished.” Trink cracks her knuckles.

“(Y/n) and Finnick.” Caspian calls, watching.

“Good luck.” Trink says, Eytelle and Allio echo her.

You resist the urge to skip to the circle.

When you get there, you crack and stretch every place you can think of, letting Finnick take his time. In the meantime, you go over every single detail that you’ve logged over the years and the past couple of days. Finnick has only been hit twice, both in places that are insignificant. You shouldn’t spend your time focusing on them.

You need to watch the way he moves, and predict his hits before he makes them. If you stay ahead of the game, then Finnick will have no opportunity to get at you. And if he does, it’ll be minor chances that won’t have a single affect on you.

You will come out as the winner of this fight.

Even if that means to put the remainder of your friendship on the line.

You roll your ankles in front of you, stretch your shoulders back and forth. You can feel every little ache in your body. Unfortunately, you’re going to be defensive in some areas, even if you don’t want to be. You were smart to give up during Ossie’s fight when you did. Otherwise you’d be hurting so much worse right now.

There’s a few things that Finnick’s going to want out of this fight. The first is a quick and easy win. He wins this, he keeps his perfect streak of no losses and no major injuries. He gets to impress Mags, and the fight won’t be dragged on for longer than a couple of minutes.

So you need to do the exact opposite.

You’re the first to raise your fists, he follows suit. You can’t help but to smile, “What’s the matter, Finnick? You’re looking a little blue.” his face hardens, “Something happen?”

He moves forward, “Shut up.”

You don’t move, standing your ground, “Sounds like you’re a little scared. Am I suddenly threatening to you?”

His arm twitches, you jump back, out of the way completely just to be safe. You’re not sure if he’s going to pull an Allio and swing at you with his non-dominant hand. You’ve already made that mistake, so it won’t be happening again.

“A little unpredictable?”

If Finnick is twitching, you’ve broken the mask. Finnick is supposed to have smooth movements. He’s always had smooth movements.

“Stop fucking with him and fight.” Caspian barks.

You ignore him. You have a plan, and antagonizing Finnick is on the list. You need him to stay angry, so that his actions aren’t hidden. It’s almost like what Ossie did to Allio on the first day, except you’re being verbal. It’s easier to get under Finnick’s skin this way. You need to stay one step ahead of him.

You move toward Finnick now, remembering the way that he had started all three of his fights. You need to find a way to get Finnick down. As long as he’s standing, he has an advantage on you. There’s no way you’re going to get a good hit on his face, he’ll be able to catch your arm before you’re even close.

Maybe if you get his guard down?

You’re prepared for Finnick’s swing, he likes to take the first hit, usually. You manage to lean out of the way before driving your fist into his stomach, backing off immediately after. His face is a shade of red, slightly twisted in pain. Unlike Allio, Finnick doesn’t absorb hits as well. He’s not used to being hit.

Finnick comes closer, crossing the circle straight instead of slowly shuffling to get to you. You don’t move at first, still trying to stay with the ‘keep your ground’ strategy. But the closer he draws, the more you realize that you can’t escape this. You can’t come up with a plan and stall. You need to give Mags something to make you stick out.

You head towards him too. Finnick is not the only initiate in this room who can match energy.

You jerk to the side, watching as Finnick immediately goes to correct his path so that you’re in his line of sight. You wonder if Finnick really has a need to show off and drag this fight out for Mags. He rarely switches up routine, so you’d like to say that he doesn’t. It’s the whole reason why he can be terrifying sometimes.

Everyone knows how he likes his matches by now, which is probably why Finnick has been put to fight first after the first fight. Because his is the quickest and easiest, you know what to expect to happen and how it’ll end. You can see why people would be afraid of him for this reason. If something isn’t broken, why replace it? Finnick has won all his matches in three punches or less, why try to change that?

It’s more impressive to get someone down without severely injuring them anyway, right? It’s like a demonstration of raw power. And with you being on the opposite end of the spectrum… it’s like you always have something to prove.

You can feel your face drop, eyebrows drawing in.

No, everyone in Dauntless has something to prove. If you don’t, then there’s no point in being here. If you’re not proving that you’re strong, or brave, or--for fuck’s sake--threatening, you won’t be considered an equal. And if there’s anything, anyone ever wants, it’s to be an equal or above.

This brings you to another infuriating realization. Finnick does not see you as his equal.

Without a single thought going into the move, your fist flies across Finnick’s cheek. His head turns, eyes widening. You duck, he misses, you’re back on your feet in time to slam your shoe into his ribs. When you move forward again to keep the rhythm, Finnick backs up, eyes darting across your body.

You fix your hands before he decides that’s a good place to target. You need to make sure he stays away from your nose and stomach. Everything else on your body is free reign, you could give less of a shit. But if you break your nose again, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop the blood flow this time.

Finnick presses his hand to his ribs for a moment, his hand looks shaky. He stops backing up, now that he’s assessed the damage to his ribs and completely ignored his face. It’s a shame too, Finnick’s always been cute.

He moves towards you, you try not to back up too much. You still need a way to get him down without aiming at his face. You got lucky with the face shot, it will not happen again. Like you, Finnick tends to be more careful with spots that were just hit. If you want to try again, you’d have to find another way to wind up to get there.

Then again, you didn’t even think about it. One second you were standing there, and the next your knuckles were throbbing.

You bounce from side to side, watching him. You just barely catch the way he leans forward, throwing all of his weight into his punch. You twist your head to the side, which changes Finnick’s course of punching your nose, to your jaw instead. You recover better this way, ignoring the complaints from the nerves in your teeth.

Without much of a choice, you punch Finnick’s stomach, using the weight idea that he had originally used. The silence in the room is temporarily disturbed when he gasps, trying to suck in air to replace what you’ve stolen. You squeeze your fist tighter, bringing your arm back to do it again.

Finnick’s hand envelopes your fist, catching it before you land the hit. It isn’t until he’s twisting your arm, do you realize what he’s about to do. It’s the exact same thing he did with Eytelle. Trap her, twist her arm, two punches and she was out like a light.

You need out, right now.

You yank, ignoring the pain in your wrist. Finnick’s raising his arm, face stoic and staring into your eyes. You need to break the mask. You saw his face when you told him what happened at the Choosing Ceremony. You need to do something like that again.

You grab his wrist with your other hand, not pulling away as prominently now. You let tears flood your eyes, “Don’t, please.”

At the softness of your voice, Finnick’s arm isn’t as tensed, his face matching the emotion you’re giving him. He still plans on punching you, just not as hard. Which is good enough for you. He’s fallen for it.

Your left hand hits his chest, full-force, dead-on. He loosens his grip, but not enough for you to regain your right hand. You twist your arm until your wrist is grabbing his, before kicking his legs from underneath him.

He pulls you down with him, making you land on top. The two of you scramble to get the upper hand, but it’s easier for you. You place your hips on top of his, struggling to get your wrist free. He’s got a lock of iron, and no matter how much twisting you do, he doesn’t budge.

You lean forward for a moment, slamming your right foot on top of his wrist, keeping it from moving. This means that you have limited mobility, though. And he’s still got full use of his right hand.

Finnick knows this, his arm is already raising. All he has to do is turn his upper body and he’ll be able to hit your face. You could try to catch his wrist, but he’s got enough force to plow through whatever you’ll be able to do.

You still have access to your left foot.

Right as Finnick unwinds, you slam your foot across his jaw. You can hear his teeth snap against each other, head hitting the wooden floor. He finally releases your wrist though, which is enough for you. His hands cup his face, but it won’t last long.

The first punch is to his chest, making his body cave in temporarily. The next is to his nose, blood running down the side of his face and pooling on the floor. You aim for his nose again, and this time you’re filled with a fluttery pleasurable feeling, hearing the snap fill the air.

A pain explodes across your mouth, bringing tears to your eyes. You back off of Finnick for a moment, allowing him to shove you off of his body. You scoot back, not wanting to close your mouth. But you can’t help it anymore, gritting your teeth to combat the pain. You taste metal immediately.

And see red right after.

You lunge for Finnick, who’s trying to get on his feet. He’s moving slower than usual, which is probably because he’s rubbing the blood from his mouth to avoid the problem you’re currently facing. He doesn’t see you coming. Your body collides with his again, fist raised and slamming against his mouth this time.

Let’s see if he likes how it feels.

The two of you end up in the same position as last time, only he’s twisted at an uncomfortable angle, and you’re straddling his hip. You can’t help yourself, aiming for his cheekbone. The more injuries reside on his face, the more proof it is that you beat Finnick. The more the lesson sinks in.

You are just as good as he is. And he was stupid to think otherwise.

This is his punishment.

The tunnel vision begins as soon as you start a pattern. Each time you blink, his face gets worse. First his nose, then his swollen lips, then the red splotches across his cheekbone. Your knuckles catch his jaw, slamming his head into the ground harder. The more you lean forward, the more leverage you begin to have.

And Finnick is pushing, blocking his face while he tries to find an opening. But it’s hard to block his entire face with just a forearm. You should know, because it’s one of the flaws that he couldn’t pick at.

One hit after the other, your hands begin to coat red. Your knuckles begin to ache, arms becoming sore, too much protest because of how much force you’re using. You can’t help it, there’s no other way to keep him down. Any other place, and he would just get up again.

Your hand raises for his eye, and you get halfway through the move before there’s a pair of hands grabbing your arms, yanking you off of Finnick. You struggle for a moment, but the hands are gone as quickly as they came. The person throws you away from your former friend, and moves in.

It’s Laurel, hovering over him like she doesn’t know where to begin.

There’s throbbing in your temples, a headache beginning to form. You wonder why the room is so quiet at first, then you realize that there’s an intense ringing in your ears, taking it’s time to fade out. By the time you regain your hearing, Laurel is saying something about calling the doctor, Cleo, and having her bring an extra pair of hands to wheel Finnick out.

You can feel a dripping sensation beneath your nose. You reach up to touch the area, and come back with red. You don’t remember your nose getting hit, and you can’t tell if this is your blood or Finnick’s.

“Please.” a whisper fills the room.

Your eyes land on Finnick, who’s nothing but a mess of blood and tears. Did he call the end of the fight? You don’t remember hearing that either. In fact, you don’t think you remember anything. Only the feeling of skin-on-skin contact, over and over and over...

Laurel gently tells him that the fight is over, before she looks over her shoulder at you.

You think you can see disappointment. Or maybe it’s anger.

All you know is that you struggle to stand on your own two legs, smearing blood on the floor. You can feel your legs tremble beneath you. Your hands are the same way, not staying in the same place for longer than half a second, coated in red. Your palms, really, are the only safe place that isn’t touched by Finnick’s blood. You can feel droplets running down the back of your arms.

“Holy shit, (Y/n),”

You look over to see Caspian, drained of color. He’s surprised, why? Did he not see the way you fought Allio? Or does that not compare? Mags doesn’t look the same way, she just stares. You don’t know what to say to either of them, so you don’t. You slowly back out of the white circle.

And then the words come to mind, “I couldn’t lose,” it’s quiet, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “And he needed to.”

You’re not sure if needed is the word, you guess it doesn't really matter.

You won, Finnick lost.

And neither of you can come back from this.

Not anymore.

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

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ilguna · 3 years

Text

Anteric - Chapter Five (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing, BLOOD MENTION, GORE, FIGHTING, TECHNICAL GUN USE.

wc; 14.6k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

In the darkness of the dormitory, the only electronic that produces light is the alarm clock. Numbers that are bright red and glowing, casting a soft ring of light onto the floor. Each time you look, the numbers burn into your eyes temporarily, and taunt you. It’s beginning to feel like time isn’t moving at all, especially now that you’re paying attention to it.

You stare at the ceiling for a couple of seconds, secretly missing having your own room with a window to tell you when it’s an acceptable time to get up. With mornings like these, you had a rule; if the sun was up, then you were allowed to be too. It’s not easy to follow that rule anymore, Dauntless is underground. The only way to tell is if you go to the Pit to see for yourself, which defeats the whole purpose of just rolling over and looking.

Speaking of which, you carefully roll onto your side to take a peek around the bedframe to see the clock again. It’s only been a minute. At this rate, you’re not going to fall back asleep. You should probably stop with the wishful thinking, and just take advantage of the early start.

The pain isn’t as prominent today, your body just aches. You see this as a good sign. It might have only been a day, but progress is progress.

You sit up on the bunk, dig your clothes out from beneath your pillow, and then neatly make your bed as quietly as possible. You swing your feet in the air for a couple of seconds, liking the feel of freedom before you place your clothes off to the side and carefully lower yourself down. You’re careful to look out for Finnick’s leg so that you don’t step on it.

The bed sinks beneath your feet, you scoop up your clothes, and step off. To make sure that you haven’t woken up Finnick, you pause and watch him for a split second. He’s rolled onto his side, facing away from you. His hair is all over the pillow, blanket pulled up to his shoulder.

Thyme is almost the same way, except she’s on her back. Neither of them seem to have woken up, which means that your mission was successful. You disappear into the bathroom to brush your teeth and change, skipping out on the shower. If there’s anything that causes too much noise, it’s the squeal of the shower while it warms up.

You throw your dirty clothes back onto the top of the bunk, hook your shoes around your fingers, and leave the dormitory. As soon as the door is shut behind you, you feel like you can breathe a little louder and officially think to yourself without worrying that you’ll accidentally make noise in the meantime.

You don’t get very far down the hallway without shoes. The ground is too uneven, and the rock cuts into your feet uncomfortably. You stomp your shoes onto your feet, tie the laces tight, and then leave before someone comes to investigate the sound of your escape.

It’s a little after six, so you have a whole hour to find what you want to do. A few things come to mind, but the most prominent one is breakfast. You’re not entirely sure if the dining hall is open this early, though it doesn’t hurt to swing by real quick on your way to the Pit.

On the way, you find yourself running your fingers over the jagged wall in the dark. With no Finnick here to walk in front of you, it’s much harder to make your way through the long stretches of black. At every corner, there’s a blue lamp that gives off the same gentle glow that the clock in the dormitory gives. It’s just enough light to keep you from falling on your hands and knees.

The rock wall pokes into your fingers, occasionally catching on a particularly sharp rock. As long as you don’t start bleeding, you don’t find a reason to pull away. Not until there’s no wall to touch anymore because you made it to the hall. The lights are on, suggesting that it’s open, but there’s not the usual roar of the Dauntless. You suppose that you all normally get up at the same time, then.

Despite this, you go ahead and go in to check it out. It’s weird to see all the tables empty, no sea of black clothes and brightly colored hair to make you feel at home. It’s almost been a week since the Choosing Ceremony, and you can’t picture yourself in Abnegation anymore. No matter how hard Dauntless initiation is, you know that you’d rather be here, than anywhere else.

You’re only a couple of steps into the room when you realize that you should probably come back later.

Gathered in a small group of five, sits what you recognize as two of the Dauntless leaders, and the two trainers for the initiates. The fifth woman sitting at the table is older, with greying hair and wrinkles in the corner of her eyes. The moment your eyes land on her, you realize that she’s the first old person that you’ve seen the entire time that you’ve been here.

You move to back up and return to the original plan that’s been brewing in your head, but someone looks up at your appearance. You’re not surprised when you lock eyes with the one and only Caspian. You are when his face lights up and he motions you over, causing the others to realize that you’ve intruded in on their meeting.

Caspian sits on the left of the older woman, tongue playing with one of the piercings that run through his lip. The older woman sits in the middle, she doesn’t have any holes in her face, only an excessive amount in her ears. Tattoos are drawn up her arm, all following the theme of water. Fish, seaweed, bright blue waves with white foam that make it look like the tattoo was done just yesterday.

On her right side sits Damon, the man that you had met on the first day you got here. In fact, he was the one that cleared the way to allow you to jump off the building first, securing your title as First Jumper. Initially, when he looks at you, it’s like he’s staring right through you. As if you’re just another forgettable initiate. And then his eyes focus, and he sits up a little more.

Laurel and Pleurisy have to look over their shoulders to take a look at you. You saw Laurel just yesterday, during the volunteering, but you haven’t seen Pleurisy since the first day, either. She gives you a polite smile.

You stop near the table, your hands finding their ways to your jean’s pockets. You don’t feel as vulnerable with them there. However, it doesn’t take away from the fact that this is awkward.

“You’re up early,” Caspian says, motioning for you to take a seat.

“Early is an understatement,” Laurel scoots to the right, giving you more room, as if there isn’t a whole empty table for you to have.

You sit to her left, trying not to tense too much when you feel the coldness of the wooden bench beneath your thighs. You place your hands between your legs before crossing them.

Caspian is sitting directly across from you, which was a total accident. You think this is the first time you’re seeing his tattoos up close, though. Caspian has a habit of hiding his arms beneath the table, on his lap. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he’s ashamed of the tattoos in the first place. But that can’t be the case, especially since he’s so open about his lip piercings. There’s no way that he doesn’t realize that playing with it, draws attention to it.

Red and orange flames dance up his arms, taking on various shapes that each have their own meaning behind them. They’re beautifully inked, the gradients perfect, the shading placed nicely. As you admire, all you can make out is an eye, before he’s moving his arm. It must be on purpose, as he places it below the table.

You briefly look at him, and then to the older woman because she starts speaking, “You’re one of the transfer initiates, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You say.

“I remember her, she was the first jumper.” Damon says, “(Y/n), isn’t it?”

You nod, trying to give him a smile. It doesn’t feel confident at first, you have to lean into it to feel more natural. You’re not sure if you like your title, that now you’ve got two Dauntless leaders with their attention on you.

You should’ve just skipped out on the breakfast idea. You would have, if you’d known that you'd land yourself here. At the table, intruding on what feels like an important meeting that you were definitely not anticipated for.

“What are you doing here?” Caspian plays with his fork, the metal gently scraping against the plate.

“Breakfast.”

“Oh!” Pleurisy pushes a couple of plates toward you. You’re able to deny, because this food was made for them, but Laurel has already set up a plate for you, “Help yourself, this is all leftovers.”

Okay, no reason to feel guilty after all.

You go ahead and evaluate the options first, hash browns that’d cooked a golden brown. Eggs tinted orange because of cheese, and small pancakes. You take a small portion of each, figuring that you’ll grab more if you’re really that hungry.

“What’s her ranking?” The woman looks between Caspian and Laurel.

“Top five,” Laurel plays with a ring on her finger.

“She lost her last fight.” Caspian volunteers the information, “But it was by a hair. If she didn’t have the opponent that she did, (Y/n) could’ve won.”

Your face feels hot, especially when the woman looks you over. You’re sure she can see the evidence, the bruise that’s on your jaw is pretty hard not to stare at. Plus your nose is discolored at the moment too.

She hums.

You quietly each the hash browns, which are seasoned and make your mouth water. Back in Abnegation, it’s oatmeal and toast for breakfast. Here, there’s a lot more variety than you thought there would be. But you suppose that Dauntless doesn’t follow the same rules as Abnegation.

As you chew, you try to come up with a name for the woman in the middle, searching. You have a vague remembrance for the leaders of the other factions. Elysia Petalsong leads Amity, you only know this because you have a vivid memory of seeing her face during your brother’s Choosing Ceremony. And Haymitch Abernathy belongs to Candor, you saw him less than a week ago

You know that Abnegation is led by many people, one of them being Naida’s husband, Amon. It’s practically impossible to remember all of their names, only that they exist in the first place. As for Erudite and Dauntless, it was a complete mystery to you. You’ve only been to three Choosing Ceremonies in your life, one of which you partook in.

You think that Abnegation was in charge of Reed’s ceremony. It would explain why you don’t know much about Erudite and Dauntless past the fact they have leaders in the first place. Factions rotate leaders all the time, so it’s hard to keep track of them after a while. Especially with Amity, since they take down the elected leader if they believe that they don't follow their values anymore.

Either way, you can’t cough up a name for the woman. You’re just going to have to narrowly avoid using a name when it comes to her. At least until one of the people at the table addresses her directly.

“She won her first fight, then?” she asks, looking up at you.

“Yes, she barely took any hits.” Laurel says, “But if you think that she’s good, you should see her friend. He’s won both of his fights in less than five minutes each. Took—how many hits did Finnick take during his last round?”

The question is directed to Caspian, you can tell by the way she waits patiently, staring at him. But you clear your throat, “Two.”

Caspian motions, “After that, the fight was over because he took the girl down.”

“And he’s also a transfer from Abnegation?” The woman asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, he was the second to jump.” Damon traces a figure eight on the table, “And after him was the Amity girl.”

Caspian nods, “Yeah, they’ve formed their own clique.”

“Happens every year.” Pleurisy says, waving it off. She raises a mug to her lips, drinking from it.

“Okay, but the last time I checked, your initiates aren’t clumped together in groups of twos and threes.” Laurel says back, “And it’s interesting to see who comes together.”

“How is it surprising that the Amity and Abnegation transfers found comfort in each other?” Pleurisy turns her body toward Laurel.

You have a feeling this might get ugly, so you don’t stare for too long, and find a special interest in your hash browns. The conversation ensues just as you expect it to, with Laurel trying to hold her ground, and Pleurisy trying to point out that she’s just boring. While they’re talking, you quietly take note of what they say in the meantime.

The first, which you already know, is that Laurel designs clothes. She owns her own shop in the Pit, it’s the one you were initially too afraid to approach because of the vibe that it was giving off. The name of the shop is ‘La Lune’, the inside is--naturally--moon themed, but not in a way that makes it overwhelming.

This matters to the conversation because Laurel doesn’t typically train initiates, this would be her third time doing it inconsistently. Which then makes Laurel point out how Pleurisy only ever trains the Dauntless-born initiates, so how would she ever know anything about the transfers? Pleurisy goes to say that transfer initiates are annoying--

“You are a transfer!” Laurel suddenly bursts, “I am a transfer! In fact, everyone sitting at this table is a transfer.”

The three leaders are either smiling, or quietly laughing to themselves. You raise your eyebrows, a little surprised to hear that none of the people leading the Dauntless faction, are Dauntless-born. But you guess that’s just what happens in all the factions, when one person is better than the rest.

And you guess that to some extent, you transfers are working harder to solidify your place in Dauntless, because you’re afraid that the initiates that were born here, are automatically better than you. Basically, you’re all overcompensating for something that isn’t nearly as hard as you’re thinking it is.

It does make you wonder where they all came from, though. You know Caspian is from Abnegation, obviously. But for everyone else… well, you thought that the older woman, Damon and Laurel were the Dauntless-borns. Pleurisy talks a certain way, fun but lighthearted. She’s not brash… she’s either Abnegation or Amity, you’re calling it.

“Anyway.” Pleurisy tries to change the subject, “Go on and tell us about the clicks, then.”

“No.” Laurel says, “Not after that. How about I inform you on how much of a moron you are?”

Pleurisy sticks out her tongue.

Since you’re done eating, you neatly place everything back onto your plate, the handle of the fork hanging off. As much as you like being here with them, you think you’re ready to move on, to continue to your final destination. But you’re not entirely sure how you can squirm out of this. It feels rude, somehow.

“They’re like this all the time.” Caspian says, you give him a smile. He pauses for a moment, and then leans in, “If you’re done, you can just go, you know. Don’t have to wait to be dismissed or anything.”

Slight attention is turned to you.

You give a half-shrug, “Old habit, I guess.”

“Run, kid.” Pleurisy says, you slide off the bench, “Before Laurel can question you why you’re hanging around the people you are--”

“You bitch!”

You let out a laugh, “Thank you for breakfast.”

“In the training room by eight!” Caspian tells you.

You leave the dining hall before you can be pulled back into their antics or questions. You go to the Pit first, feeling more awake than you had initially. There are a few people that are roaming around, all varying in different degrees of awake. You take the uneven steps of the Pit to the glass building above it. Your legs are still fairly sore.

Golden streams of sunlight move through the glass, reflecting into your eyes. You shield your face slightly, wanting to see where you’re going. It seems like you spent a little too much time in the dining hall with Caspian and the others, because you’ve missed your chance to watch the sunrise.

Really, you just wanted to be able to see the run come up. To actually see the light for once, and realize that it is a new day. You push the exit doors open to leave and stand out on the grass, feeling a rush of cool air wash over your skin. For a compound that’s underground, the Dauntless headquarters are warm.

You take a seat in the grass, criss-cross your legs, and sit here while you stare at what you can see of the city. It’s not much. Besides Amity, Dauntless is one of the factions that’s pretty far from the heart of it. Candor, Erudite and Abnegation are all clustered together, though.

Yesterday, after helping the Abnegation initiates, Laurel said that the fights would resume today. She had to yell it over the wind of the train, standing right in front of the doorway. The only thing that had kept her from falling out was the one hand she had on a handle overhead. The other was firmly placed in her pocket.

She wasn’t in a very good mood during your entire encounter with the Abnegation trainers and initiates, and you have a feeling that it’s because the work had lasted more than just a couple of hours. It took two trains to get there, and there had been a lot more to carry and lift than they said there would be. At one point, Laurel had to jump down and help too.

You can’t blame her for being irritated. You were too, with the sun beating down on the back of your neck, sweat glistening. Finnick’s face was a beet red for the longest time because of how much effort he was putting into it. And when it came out that Trink, Eytelle and Allio weren’t pulling their weight, they got reamed by Laurel in front of everyone.

You tried your hardest not to laugh in front of them.

The whole process finally sped up when the Dauntless-born initiates and Pleurisy showed up for extra hands. They had this whole plan for yesterday, that the Dauntless-born would have the morning to practice with shooting guns by themselves. So that when you guys came back, you could switch with them. But when you didn’t come back on time, and wouldn’t be coming back for a while, they were sent in to help.

It was all heavy lifting, and it was constant to make sure that the job got done in one day, rather than having to go back again today. The Abnegation initiates weren’t much help, either. They tried their best, like they always do, but they aren’t as physically prepared as the rest of you are. And that would have been you too, had you stayed with them.

You got to see some familiar faces, though. You don’t think most of them recognized you, but there were a few who’s eyes lingered just a little too long. You’d see them out of the corner of your eye. It was only when they wouldn’t stop looking, would you stare back at them, a smirk as a challenge.

One of the initiates was your neighbor from the right side. You wonder if he’ll go on to tell your brother that he saw you. Face bruised, swollen in some areas, nose crooked and pierced. Or you wonder if he’ll keep it to himself, so that he doesn’t cause discomfort.

Either way, you don’t dwell on it for too long.

When you’re sure that it’s nearing eight, you get up and brush your pants off, watching the loose grass blades float to the ground. It’s easy to get back into the building, and you take your time for the most part. There is no Finnick here to ask you what you think today will look like, so you’ll just have to fill in this gap by yourself on the way there.

While you sat watching the city, you had more than enough time to review what you’ve done so far in this past week. And you thought over the fights more than anything, trying to come up with some sort of solution to the problem that you’ve created. You think you’ve finally begun to see the pattern that’s emerging with Caspian’s pairings.

The most obvious part is that Finnick is always paired with a winner, but not of anyone he’s fought already. He went up against Eytelle and Thyme in the last two fights. Trink and Ossie sat out on the last one, which you think would make them losers. And you obviously lost your fight to Allio, as Amos lost his against Eytelle. So really, the only person that’s available for Finnick is Allio. All on the assumption that your theory is correct.

After that though, you’re unsure. Caspian and Laurel might think to pair the only two initiates that aren’t hobbling in pain. That takes out Thyme and Eytelle all together, even though their height difference isn’t by any means fair. But neither was pairing Eytelle and Amos in the last fight, so you’re not sure if height is even a factor anymore.

In the end, that only leaves four of you. Trink, Ossie, Amos and you. You fought Trink already and won, she’s out of the question. The only options left are Ossie and Amos, the same options that Trink has. There is only one thought that comes to your mind at that, cruel and unwavering.

You hope you’re placed with Amos.

You shove the doors to the training room open, spilling light into the dark hallway that you’re coming from. Inside of the room are the rest of your fellow initiates, all standing in their little clique groups, as Laurel called them. Caspian is in the middle of speaking when you enter, but he doesn’t stop to address you. Him and Laurel give you a nod, no mention of the fact that you’re a few minutes late.

You take your stand next to Finnick and Thyme.

“So, again, tomorrow is a training day. You will meet Laurel and I in the gun training room. The day after tomorrow is your final fight. Winning it is important, especially if you are not ranked highly at the moment.” Caspian looks over at specific faces--Amos, Ossie and Trink. “We will also be joined by one of the other leaders of Dauntless.”

It’s quiet for a moment, before Trink leans forward, venom in her tone, “Damon?”

Caspian shakes his head, “No, Damon will be overseeing the Dauntless-born fights. You will have the pleasure of seeing our only old member of Dauntless at the moment, Mags.”

The bell in your head rings. Mags is her name. You recognize it, but you can’t place your finger on why. You had never seen her before today, you’re sure. So why is she so familiar?

No one says anything in turn.

“Let’s get to it.” Caspian moves out of the way, showing the names on the chalkboard.

Finnick and Allio.

Thyme and Eytelle.

Trink and Amos.

You and Ossie.

Your hope deflates like a balloon. You try to tell yourself that it could always be worse, you could’ve been paired up with Eytelle or Thyme. Both of them are considerably worse than Ossie. But you can’t draw yourself out of this black hole of apprehensiveness. This is not how today should go.

Finnick wants to talk to you, you can see it in the look on his face before he leaves for the ring without being prompted to. You and Thyme wish him luck, Allio separates from his trio too, meeting your best friend in the middle of the room. You think Thyme is trying to say something to you, but you’re staring right at Caspian, hoping that he’ll see the worry on your face.

He doesn’t look at you, and neither does Laurel.

Finnick hops on his feet lightly, fists raised. The moment that Allio starts shuffling in a circle, Finnick follows, moving in. He looks a lot more serious today, eyebrows drawn in so close that they almost touch. He’s not up for playing around, not that he is normally, anyway.

Finnick fakes a jerk at Allio, causing Allio to overreact and jerk back too. It gives away the fact that Allio is antsy about the fight. That’s all Finnick needs to know before he’s moving in. The back of Allio’s foot touches the white circle, Caspian shouts a warning loud enough to startle him, catching him off-guard.

Finnick launches, fist flying across Allio’s mouth in a blur. A distinct crack fills the air, whipping his body to the right. He falls, unmoving from the floor. Finnick slides his hands into his pockets, staring down at Allio. Without any question, Caspian circles Finnick’s name, and motions for someone to get Allio out of the circle.

Less than three minutes.

Eytelle and Trink go to collect their friend, Finnick comes back towards you. His hard expression softens considerably when he looks at your face. You have to manually wire your mouth shut to keep it from falling open again.

Allio is dragged across the wood floor, only Trink goes to wake him up, while Eytelle goes to the ring with Thyme.

Finnick mutters out a good luck to her.

You stare at Finnick, suddenly feeling distant. That raw power move is new to you. Normally he waits a little while longer to get a feel of his opponent before pouncing like that, but he didn’t. He just… went for it.

And you guess that he saw Allio fight Ossie, and then you. So he might have picked up on a few things. But even then, you thought he’d be a little more careful just in case Allio is a magician and had more tricks up his sleeve.

“Where’d you go?” Finnick asks, his body turned toward you when he stops.

You give him a half-hearted shrug, watching Eytelle get cocky because of her height advantage. You can’t blame her, you’d be the same way if you were paired with Amos. It’s hard not to have a power trip when there’s such a distinct difference in strength between two people.

Your eyes snap to Caspian, the gears turning in your head. This must be why Caspian didn’t put you with him, because he knows that you would easily win against him. It’s not much of a challenge, and it’s hard to measure rank when you’re fighting against someone who has lost all of their fights.

Although, to be fair, Ossie hasn’t fought past the first day. So, you’re not entirely sure if she’s even on the same wavelength as you. Of course, you did lose the fight against Allio, but you also beat Trink into the ground. Plus, now that you’re thinking about it, the only similarity that you have with Ossie is the fact that you both had gone up against Allio and lost.

“(Y/n)?” Finnick asks.

“What?” Your eyes begin to focus, you look at him.

“Where’d you go?” He repeats.

You guess the shrug wasn’t a big enough hint that you don’t want to talk about it, “Watched the sunrise. Why? What’d you do?”

“Look for you.”

His lips are turned downward, a knot forms in your stomach. Guilt. You guess you didn’t consider the fact that your disappearance would cause a little bit of trouble. You and Finnick have been attached at the hip since the Choosing Ceremony.

“Finnick, I’m sorry,” you give him a gentle smile, “I didn’t wake you because it was six, I thought I’d let you sleep in. And I really needed a moment to myself.”

Finnick opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of skin-on-skin cuts him off. The two of you look over to see that Eytelle is wincing on the floor, propped up on one elbow while she rubs that shoulder. Her eyes are locked on Thyme, who’s breathing heavily, shuffling still.

“You seem to be needing a lot of those lately.” Finnick murmurs.

You press your lips together, body slowly heating up. You’re going to pretend that you didn’t just hear him say that, for his own sake. Otherwise, he’s not going to like what you have to say about his recent attitude with the initiation. The streak, the bragging, Thyme acting as his own personal fan. But it’s hard to, especially when he has the guts to be so open in the first place.

You have to remind yourself that you only have a few friends here. You can’t afford for Finnick to turn on you. Even though it looks like he’s already slipping through your fingers, despite your efforts on trying to keep the peace. Which he doesn’t even seem to realize.

You grind your teeth.

It’s hard to pay attention to Eytelle and Thyme's fight. And it isn’t because of the shit-stirrer standing next to you. Really, the two in the ring are just a blur of skin and clothes, moving faster than you think is possible. Eytelle will swing, a perfect shot for Thyme’s head, until Thyme ducks her head when she uses all her force to uppercut Eytelle’s stomach.

They go back and forth, but Thyme seems to be dodging more hits than taking them. Eytelle doesn’t have the height advantage after all. She might be skinny, but since she’s tall, Thyme has more to work with. She can aim practically anywhere, even if it’s not directly Eytelle’s face.

If there’s one thing for sure; you’re glad that you’re not going against Thyme today, because she is determined. And if there’s anything that’s dangerous in fights like these, it’s willpower.

Thyme swings her leg between Eytelle’s, twisting at an awkward angle to force Eytelle to lift a leg to balance. It works, Thyme grabs and yanks, ultimately bringing Eytelle back to the floor, again. This time, instead of hovering over her, Thyme pounces, specifically with her foot.

Like she’s kicking a soccer ball across the field, Thyme swings her foot back with grace, and slams the toe of her shoe right into Eytelle’s chest. When Eytelle falls back, Thyme moves forward again, going for the same move, landing the kick on her stomach. And then to her ribs. And again to her side.

Your eyes slowly drag off to the side, to Ossie. She’s chewing on her nails, watching the match in front of her. She’s nervous, not a good sign. You remember what you said about overcompensating, so she’s going to give your guys’ fight her all. And considering that she really needs a win…

To be fair, so does Amos, but he’s like a little dog. Small, feeble, doesn’t know how to fight back properly. All you could do is blow air and he’d fall over. This is why you want him. Plus, the way that Ossie fought the first time was so irritating to watch. She likes to tease, wear on patience. And you’re running thin on that lately.

Thyme kicks Eytelle’s shoulder blade, causing a shout of pain to sound from her. You ball and unball your hands. You want to run from this fight when you know that you should be leaning into it. Ossie is considerably smaller than Trink, you should have an advantage. But Allio has fucked you up, and Ossie has had two and a half days to recover. You’ve had one. This isn’t fair.

“Alright!” Caspian calls the fight, he circles Thyme’s name.

She backs off of Eytelle, her black shirt is wet, darker because of the sweat. It sticks to her like a second skin. Thyme’s hair is stringy, in small ringlets, she brings her hand through it to get it out of her face.

Eytelle’s face is bloody, swollen in some places. She gets off the floor with a drag, joining Allio off to the side. Two out of three of the smartmouths are currently beaten to hell. There’s a special hope in your chest that Amos somehow comes out on top against Trink, so that all three of them could be put in their place together.

Trink saunters to the white ring, picking at her nails. Amos appears opposite of her, not as cool and relaxed. His whole body screams tense, his fists pulled so tight that his knuckles are a pale color. He breathes through his mouth, eyebrows downward. He needs to chill out before he self-sabotages.

Her blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail today, and it swishes from side to side as she bounces. Her fists are up, one higher than the other. You hope that Amos sees this mistake, because it’s the same one that you saw and took advantage of, in turn. It leaves her stomach open, a small gap that Amos will have no problem targeting.

Thyme stops on Finnick’s left side, confirming your theory that she prefers to stand by him, instead of you. Finnick’s always in the middle, but he’s normally on your right side, and she’s on the right of him, making her closest to the exit door. Today you’re the closest, a change that you don’t like.

Trink starts, throwing her fist straight at Amos’ face, joining the many forming bruises from his previous opponents. Amos jerks out of the way quickly, making him stumble to the side. Trink swings her other hand, prepared for this, and catches his cheek. His head knocks back.

He catches his footing in time, not giving up. He raises his hands again, staring at Trink, but doesn’t move in. It looks like he likes to wait it out to draw the other person to him. Reminds you of a certain person you should be fighting within the next ten minutes.

When Trink finally heads towards him, wanting to punch the living lights out of him, Amos tries to slip past her. She moves just as fast as him, bringing her knee into his stomach. Honestly, Amos pales for a moment, making you think that he’s going to lose this morning’s breakfast all over the wooden floor, but he persists past Trink anyway.

And grabs a fistful of her hair.

There’s only three gasps that fill the room. Two of them being Eytelle and Thyme, who have both fought against Amos already and one. And the third being from Trink herself, outraged and turning an angry shade of red.

She grabs a hold of the wrist that has her hair, and as if she has claws, digs her nails in, hard. In an instant, she’s drawn blood, and Amos is shouting for her to let go. His hands finally release her hair, and she swings him around with too much force. He hits the wooden floor, skin squealing against the polish.

The way she stands above him is predatory, circling her prey. Her ponytail is now ruined, no longer flat and pristine. You have a feeling that out of all the options he had, that was by far the worst to take. And she proves this when she lands on top of him, and her arm is nothing but a blur.

In no time, there’s blood leaking down his face, and he’s screaming in pain. A beg for her to stop, for someone to call the match over. Caspian circles Trink’s name, but he doesn’t call the match over. Not until Trink finally rocks backwards on the heels of her feet, going to stand up. And before she leaves Amos there, she sends a wad of spit onto his face.

“Pig.” she snarls, “That’ll teach you.”

She yanks her hair tie out, joining her friends again. No one goes to move for Amos, so he has to get up by himself. It seems like you’ve all stumbled across an unspoken rule: hair-grabbing is not allowed.

Amos sits against the wall, near the exit. You think you can hear him heaving sobs, you can’t draw an ounce of sympathy or pity for him. Although, you’re sure that you would prefer hair-pulling over whatever fucking situation you’re about to find yourself in.

Finnick and Thyme say nothing to you when you leave, no luck to be given to you.

It’s okay, you don’t need them.

You crack your neck first, despite the pain that blossoms through your jaw. And then your knuckles, one by one. Ossie watches you in silence, her short hair is tucked behind her ears. If you want this fight to be quick, you’ll have to target her head somehow. Picking her up isn’t an option, she’ll be too heavy. Which means that you need a good punch to her jaw, once and for all, so she can fall in a heap on the floor.

You raise your fists.

It’s a dance between you two while you try and spot her problems. Her face twitches each time she lands back onto the floor, so her head definitely isn’t recovered. Other than that, you can’t see a problem with her. Which makes you remember the fact that the fight between her and Allio was brief because he got a hold of her early on, and the fight ended right after that.

Compared to you, she’s practically got a clean slate injury-wise.

You’re going to have to work for your win.

You move in on her, being careful where you step and how close you get. You don’t want to be within hitting distance, but you’d like to back her up against the circle as much as possible. If she’s cornered, it means she’ll only have a few places to go.

Ossie rotates her elbow before she makes her move. You move out of the way, feeling the air get blown on your cheek. Cool and refreshing against the heat. You use your left fist as a drill into her jaw, steering away from her chin. You don't need two bruised hands. They might not be broken, but they still feel like they are.

Ossie backs off, but she moves too far. The heel of her foot is clearly outside the ring, Caspian sucks in air to yell at her. You move forward again, blocking her path from getting back inside. You wonder if she’ll get in trouble for this, completely eliminating this match. Like a forfeit.

A win is a win.

“Get back in there!” Caspian shouts.

Ossie doesn’t jump at his tone of voice, even though it’s filled with annoyance. When she moves, you move, until she lowers into a crouch, going to dive. You’re out of the way before she can hit you. She slides across the floor, giving you more than enough time to get on top of her.

She scrambles to her feet, hands a bright pink color in patches. Floor burn, you can’t imagine how badly that stings. Not your problem, though. She moves from side to side, almost as if she’s pacing. Which makes you think that she’s looking for an opening.

You’re right.

Pain explodes across your jaw, causing aches to begin in the nerves in your teeth. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be lucky if you aren’t toothless by the end of the first stage of initiation. You have to resist the urge to grab your face, returning your hands to their positions just a little too high.

She catches this, and the next pain blossoms in your bruised stomach, too loud to think. You dodge her next attack, breathing through sharp gasps between your teeth. You use your right hand to punch the other side of her face, her cheekbone, but she moves out of the way.

You try to move as quickly as her, knowing what’s coming before it happens. You can see her arm drawn back, taunting you, aimed toward one special place on your face. The area that two people haven’t been able to resist since you started fighting.

You hit the floor hard, black overcoming your vision. The explosions of pain in your nose keeps coming, pulsing with your body. You blink fast, trying to ignore the feeling of blood rushing down your face.

You have to be careful when you stand, slowly rising from the ground. The entire room is spinning around you, too quickly for you to focus on one specific thing, except for Ossie. You watch through squinted eyes, hoping that the world will stabilize but it doesn’t. It just keeps spinning.

A sick realization sprouts, telling you that you will not be winning this fight. You can hardly keep upright without falling over, and with the blood coming from your nose, you need to see Cleo, from the infirmary.

You don’t want to quit. This is admitting defeat.

But then you can hear your history teacher’s voice in your head, loud and clear: “Sometimes you’ve got to lose the battle to win the war”. Who knows how many days there will be between now and the next fight, all you know is that you need those couple of days of recovery.

You will lose now, you just have to win the next one.

You have to.

“I’m done!” You say, backing away from Ossie.

Your feet are dragging, heavier than you remember. Your hand sticks out for balance, your eyes casted toward Laurel and Caspian. You’re not sure if you’ll survive the punishment they have in mind. Not with the blurriness of their faces.

Except, Caspian isn’t totally blurry. You can make out the disappointed look on his face.

“You’re done?” He repeats.

You remember his hopeful look this morning, telling Mags that you had lost your last match by just a hair. Like he was trying to salvage her first impression of you. You even think you vaguely saw a glare get shot toward Laurelafter she told Mags.

And now here you are, forfeiting a fight.

“Yes.” You breathe, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. You can’t tell if you’re going to pass out or be sick.

“Fine.” Caspian spits, anger peeking through, “Come.”

You think that you’ll be able to take your time following him, but he harshly grabs a hold of your upper arm, yanking you with him. You can’t help but to think of the fact that he’s so moody. Happy in the morning, content during the other fights, angry now that you're barely hanging on.

You want to ask him to loosen his grip, afraid that he’s going to give you a bruise, but you bite your tongue on this one and pretend. You continue to pretend.

Caspian drags you out of the exit doors, you can hear the shuffling of everyone else’s feet behind you, scuffing against the black rock. Cool and unwavering, there's a desire to lay your face against it and sleep until you feel better. Whenever that may be.

Caspian takes you to the Pit, and you begin to grow concerned. Almost resistant to where he’s taking you, afraid that you’ve just made a mistake bigger than you realized. If he starts to take you toward the stairs, you’ll full-force stop him, you will not be dragged and thrown out in front of everyone.

He doesn’t, instead he keeps walking, straight into the darkness. He takes you all the way to the bridge that connects one side of the Chasm to the other. Below you is the river, the one you went to see the other day. Then, this place seemed so private and secretive, like your own little escape. No one would come here to bother you, but now it’s like your dirty laundry is out to dry.

Caspian lets go of you, almost throwing you. Your hand immediately grabs one of the railings now that he’s not here to hold you upright. You stare at him with droopy eyes.

“Get on the other side of the railing.” His voice is hard, mean. Just like how it was when you both were still in Abnegation. The type of mean that forced Reed to finally step in and tell Caspian to leave you alone.

Reed is no longer here to protect you.

This doesn’t bother you as much as it should, now that Caspian’s got the authority to abuse. No, it’s the fact that he’s telling you to go on the other side of the railing. Laurel said on the first day that a jump into the river would be enough to kill someone. So what makes him think that you’ll just willingly go over it.

Is he trying to kill you?

You hold onto the railing a little harder.

“I am not jumping off.” You snap at him.

“I’m not asking you to.” He’s much calmer this time around, “Get on the other side.”

This is a bad idea, but you’re not left a choice.

You slowly climb over the railing, pale-knuckling it the entire way. One little way could send you falling off. You grit your teeth hard. You can’t see the bottom below you, you only know that it exists.

“You can hang by your hands for five minutes and continue initiation, or you can leave Dauntless and become factionless.”

You were wrong, you do have a choice. You always have a choice, but it’s one you won’t take.

You swallow the regret rising in your throat, carefully getting down to just your hands without saying a word. You feel the unmistakable urge to cry when your first leg falls off, followed by the other. Your fingers curl into every crevice possible, some too small for them.

It is only open air beneath you, and further down is the rushing river and the jagged rocks. You hang low, not straining to hold your head above the metal floor. You know that you’ll need the energy to pull yourself up. Plus, you’re bracing for the inevitable.

It happens, and it’s not you falling. There’s a particular gush of cold, salty air that appears in your nose. Now you tense your body, keeping your legs out straight beneath you. You grip on harder, closing your eyes. You can hear the water hit the wall, and the sound of it shooting in the air.

A spray is thrown over your head, landing on the bridge, soaking your hair and clothes. This is what you were afraid of, the sensation of the metal slipping from beneath your fingers. You’ve got wiggle room, your entire hands are still here, but all it’ll take is more water.

You breathe through your nose.

You have to admit, if it weren’t for the circulation in your fingers and the ache in your shoulders and wrists, you would think that you were suspended in the air, jumping off the train and onto the roof. Permanently fixed in time, a picture in a book for all to see.

Another bout of water comes over you. Your hair and shirt stick to your skin, you picture Thyme the same way. Only, she’d won her fight. And you gave up on yours.

You huff out, and then freeze when your fingers begin to slide. Your eyes open in a panic, looking up to see if you’re just imagining it. You’re not, your fingers are coming out of the tiny holes in the platform as if you didn’t struggle to get them in there in the first place.

You really hope someone is keeping track of the time.

Gritting your teeth harder, you swing your body from left to right to build up momentum to bring your hands up higher. In short bursts, you can see the black shoes of your fellow initiates, and the polished one of Laurel, and Caspian. But you can’t see their faces, only their shoes.

Water drips off the metal, landing on your face. You can feel tears appearing in your eyes, pain stabbing your stomach. You want to be on solid ground again.

“Time’s up.” Caspian says, “Get up here by yourself.”

You take in deep breaths through your nose, swinging yourself from side to side, slowly pulling yourself higher. Your right hand grabs a hold of the bars, tight and slippery. The other uses the little room on the platform that you have, to pull yourself up. Only one more wave comes up the wall, like a final goodbye.

Your shoes slip multiple times, not being able to grip onto the ground. You barely get yourself upright, fumbling because of how much your hands are shaking. But the moment that you’re on the other side of the railing, you feel slightly better. Now that the threat is gone.

“Break for lunch.” Caspian stares past you, and then his eyes land on you, “Go get your nose fixed, don’t come to evening practice.”

You press your lips together, a tight feeling growing in your throat, tears threatening to swell over your eyes. You watch Caspian leave in a blur, the initiates going with him. Not even Finnick stays behind to check on you.

You stand there for a moment, holding onto the railing, staring after your best friend. In the next, you’re leaving in the opposite direction, heading toward your quiet corner, near the silver railing in the abandoned hallway. The part of the river that hadn’t tried to kill you.

In the silence of the dark, unlit hallway, you burst into tears, collapsing. Your teeth ache, your fingers are just returning to normal color, your shoulders hurt, your heart hurts.

You want to be normal again. You don’t want this, you don’t want to be fighting others. You thought coming here would be fun, that it wouldn’t be this bad because you’re supposed to have someone to lean on. You were wrong during the Choosing Ceremony. Finnick is not an even trade for Reed and Alyssum, he doesn’t even come close.

At least with Reed, he’d have moments in the living area where he’d just listen to you. No judgement, no Abnegation ideals, no scolding, he would listen. And of course, it wouldn’t be all the time because you were getting older and needed to rely on yourself more, than others. But he was there when you really wanted him to be and…

And you were so focused on the bigger things that you forgot to look into the little things too. The smaller reasons why you should have stayed. The ones that seemed so insignificant at the time of the Choosing Ceremony, that they just disappeared from your mind.

You want to tell Reed that you’re sorry for doing this to him.

You hope he comes on Visiting Day.

You stare at the ceiling, making out what you can in the darkness. Despite today’s strenuous activities, you’re not tired. If anything, you’re wide awake and dwelling over all the mistakes you’ve made in the past twenty-four hours. And how you’re going to keep them from happening again a couple days from now.

After the Chasm, you had Cleo set your nose straight. You ate lunch after you were sure the rest of the initiates were gone, and you came straight here, figuring that you could skip out on dinner. You’re not really in the mood for talking. And even if you did, the only person you have left to rely on anymore is Laurel.

Since she’s the holder of your secret, you don’t want to burn that bridge. You’d rather have no relationship than a ruined one. At least then she won’t be able to hold a proper grudge against you.

Right when you go to roll over to face away from Thyme, the dormitory door opens. Streams of light fill the room. You sit up, which causes one of the beams to land on you. You hold up your hand to block it, eyebrows drawing in as you squint through it.

“Everybody up!” A voice cuts through the peaceful silence, there’s a groan that sounds across the room. It’s Trink, face twisted into an angry expression, but she stands up.

You slide off on the left side, landing on your feet. Finnick spares you a glance, you can’t see much, now that your eyes have readjusted to the light. But if it was a look of unhappiness, you’ll personally give him a real reason to give you a look like that. As far as you’re concerned, this is his fault.

You can only name a few faces that hold flashlights, but the first three are Caspian, Laurel and Cleo. You recognize the man who pierced your nose, and a few others that wander around the Pit or sit together in the Dining Hall during lunch or dinner. Other than that, the rest are strangers.

“You have five minutes to get ready and meet us by the tracks.” Caspian snaps his fingers, “Get to it.”

You half expect him to tell you to stay here, since he has no problem shaming you in front of the others. Instead, his eyes don’t even land on you, as he turns away and leaves with the rest of his friends. On the way out, he slaps the lightswitch, causing a few complaints. He chuckles, and the door shuts behind him.

You let out a sigh, before digging out your everyday clothes to pull on. With no shame, you strip in the middle of the aisle between bunk beds. You don’t have enough time to run back and forth between the showers and the beds. Once you’re dressed, you pull on your shoes quickly, double-knot them, and you’re out the door before Finnick and Thyme.

You jog the entire way to the Pit, following behind Trink. She didn’t bother to wait for Allio and Eytelle, which you find funny. For a group of three that seem so close sometimes, they’re not. But you suppose the same can be said for you, Finnick and Thyme.

Needless to say, you and Trink are the first two transfer initiates to make it to the train tracks. There’s a cluster of Dauntless-born here already, standing around talking to each other. You run a hand through your hair, trying to catch your breath.

As you look to the left, trying to see if you can spot the train coming, you catch sight of the city lights, which are sparse but bright. You move forward, toward the tracks to get a clearer view. The buildings remind you of stars in the sky.

“That big one is Erudite Headquarters.” Trink says, stopping next to you, “I can tell because it’s glowing blue.”

She’s not wrong, you’re sure. Considering that was her home, she’d be able to spot it the easiest. Plus, if you were to begin to make guesses, that one would've been labeled Erudite anyway, blue glow or not. You have a feeling that Erudite is the biggest consumer of electricity out of all of the factions. It would make sense that they were the biggest. Just how Dauntless is probably the least.

“It’s not possible to see Abnegation from here.” You mutter, “It’s too far.”

“Yeah, I heard you guys are secluded in your neighborhoods,” her voice is getting tense, “Like you guys are planning something.”

Leave it to her to not be able to keep the peace for one minute. Also, you’re not sure why she’s referring to you as if you’re still in Abnegation, because you’re not. It’s been a week now, that ship has sailed.

You let out a sigh, wondering if you can salvage this conversation, “Trink, you act like all the other factions aren’t secluded too. Dauntless is all the way out here, Amity is all the way out there,” you point toward the fence, “Even Candor isn’t anywhere close to Erudite, so why is it Abnegation specifically that’s the problem?”

When you look at her, she’s got her mouth screwed shut, but she’s thinking it over.

“It doesn’t make sense, does it? Erudite says Abnegation does all these things, when the same can be said for the others. Why isn’t Dauntless suspicious, when they hold all the guns? Why isn’t Candor suspicious, when they’re the ones that decide right or wrong? What about Amity? They provide all this food, and they go outside of the walls, and there has never been a finger turned toward them. So why Abnegation?”

Trink shakes her head, “They’re in control of the government.”

“Which all of the factions had to agree to at some point, right? And if Erudite is supposed to know better for this city, then they should know that the government will be in good hands with Abnegation.” You cross your arms, looking back out to the city, “I just don’t think it’s smart. There’s no evidence of what they’re saying either. So they’re just creating problems with no backbone and it’s working.”

Trink hums, quiet for a moment.

You rock on your feet before turning to her, “I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you during the first fight.”

She shrugs, “I would’ve done the same if I could’ve.” she gives you a smirk, “So, where’s your friends?”

“Where’s yours?” you ask back.

She lets out a small laugh. The two of you can hear the exit doors open behind you, revealing the rest of the initiates. Before you can automatically go to join Finnick and Thyme, Trink grabs a hold of your sleeve.

“You can hang around us, if you want to.” she lets you go, “Not right now, but during whatever we're doing. I don’t care.”

You give her a smile, “I’ll see if it benefits me.”

Trink gives you a look, and then laughs, “So the Abnegation girl can be selfish!”

“And the Erudite girl doesn’t have a stick up her ass.” you retort, making her laugh a little louder.

You and the rest of the initiates gather around a black pile. You have to squint in the darkness to make out anything about it, and you’re not surprised when you figure it out. It’s a pile of guns, but it’s not the pistols you’ve been shooting for the past weeks. These ones are much longer, maybe for rapid fire?

Next to the pile is a box that reads ‘PAINTBALLS’. Must be the ammunition that you’ll be using during this. It’s not something that you’ve used before, but the name practically speaks for itself, you think. It can’t be that complex, and it’s probably better to be shot with than actual bullets.

“Everyone grab a gun!” Caspian shouts, causing everyone to move forward.

You and Trink are some of the first to get your hands on a gun and the ammunition. This gun is definitely heavier, so you’re lucky that a strap comes with it. You pull it over your head, let the gun hang by your side, and grab a box of paintballs. It’s big enough to slide into your pockets, so you carefully slide it in.

“Train will be coming any minute!” Caspian says, a smile on his face, “Don’t miss it!”

At least he seems to be in a good mood. You thought that he’d spend the rest of the day like an asshole, afraid that it would eventually trickle into tomorrow too. You remember the long periods of time of grumpiness with Caspian. And it would be the worst stretch of days to experience ever, because he couldn’t directly say his feelings. He’d only be passive-aggressive about it.

You’re not sure what version of him you prefer just yet.

“(Y/n).” Caspian says, motioning for you to go over.

A few people move out of your way, not really paying attention. Caspian walks a few paces off to the side and reaches into his pocket. You watch in silence as he pulls something out of his pocket. You’re not sure what it is at first, until he’s insisting you take it.

You can’t read what it is, but it’s food.

“Protein bars, you skipped dinner.” Caspian’s voice gets quieter, as if anyone is listening in, “The next fight is in two days, Mags will be overseeing it, so don’t lose.”

His face is grim, which starts a sick feeling in your stomach, “Who am I against?”

Caspian shakes his head, which you take as him not going to tell you, not the fact that he doesn’t know. He’s one of the Dauntless leaders, and Laurel might be running training, but Caspian has more power than she does. They’re probably been working together to figure out who goes against who.

“Okay, well, thank you.” you hold up the bars, “Can I ask what we’re doing?”

Caspian’s face lights up, a grin coming over, “You’ll see on the train. And speaking of which--”

He motions behind you, and you turn to see a small ring of light in the distance, coming up quick. The train blares it’s horn only once, alerting everyone who hasn’t noticed yet.

“Put the gun on your back.” Caspian says.

You adjust it to follow what he said, the black strap goes across your chest.

Caspian starts running first, almost going the same pace as the train. You’re right behind him, not wanting to wait. Caspian pulls himself in, and immediately turns himself around to help. You grab a hold of his hand, he yanks you in, and moves onto the next initiate. You stand off to the left, but quickly switch to the middle once you realize it.

In the hours you’ve spent in bed tonight, you’ve decided that you don’t have a side anymore. But the sudden change in Trink’s attitude tells you that it could all just be misunderstandings. Which you’re sure is the case with you and Finnick, but how do you explain to him that his personality is getting on your nerves? You’ll just sound like a jerk for asking him to tone it back.

And how do you tell him that Thyme rubs you the wrong way each time she hangs around?

Once everyone has gotten inside, with no one uncounted for, Caspian motions for Laurel to speak.

“We’re playing capture the flag!” she shouts over the voices, making them slowly quiet down, “We’ll divide into two teams, with Caspian and I picking who we want from the transfer and Dauntless-born initiates. It should be an even divide. When we get there, one team will get out and hide their flag, then the other team will when they’re done.”

“This is a Dauntless tradition!” Caspian yells, “Don’t fuck it up!”

“Transfers first! Go ahead, Caspian.” Laurel raises her eyebrows.

“(Y/n).”

Caspian motions for you to head towards him, you do.

“Thyme.”

Already at odds, you’re not surprised. You crack your knuckles in the meantime.

Caspian hums, “Trink.”

“Ossie.”

“Allio.”

“Gonna collect them all?” Laurel asks, looking at him, “Or should I take Eytelle before you can?”

“Leaves me Finnick, if you want Amos. Then you’ll have two losers.” Caspian gives her a smile.

“Finnick.” Laurel says lowly, eyes staring into Caspian’s.

On the contrary, Caspian looks pleased to have Eytelle, “Eytelle.”

“Amos.” Laurel says, “My team on the left!”

There’s shuffling in the car, until your entire team is on the right side, the Dauntless-born initiates in the middle, and Laurel on the other side. You catch Finnick’s eye for a moment, he’s the first to look away.

“You pick first!” Caspian shouts over the howl of the wind.

“Fine, Blare!” she yells.

You go to think that Blaire is one of the tallest boys in the Dauntless-borns, but there are multiple others that have him beat. Blaire easily clears six foot, just like Finnick. Except, Blaire has curly black hair, a ringlet is curled around his finger at the moment. When he smiles at Laurel, it’s contagious.

He joins Finnick and Thyme, and hits it off immediately.

You grit your teeth.

“Lennox.” Caspian says, no hesitation. He must have everyone figured out already.

Lennox is also tall, he wears a tank top that shows off his arms, which are completely muscular. He’s got brown hair that hangs in his face, and almost a hook nose. You say almost because the bump isn’t noticeable at first, not unless you’re staring directly at it. He stops next to you and Trink, arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

Laurel looks dead at Caspian, “Horace.”

Horace is the tallest of them all, a giant compared to initiates like Amos. He’s got dark skin, long dreadlocks that hang loose. You’re fairly surprised that he wasn’t a first choice but to be fair, Finnick wasn’t either. You and Thyme were the first two picks.

“Ameer.” Caspian says.

“Mirza.” Laurel retorts.

It isn’t until they move, do you realize that they’re twins. Ameer comes towards you guys, bouncing on his feet, excited. Mirza lets out a groan, “He’s been waiting for an opportunity like this for forever.”

“Yeah, and now I can do it without getting in trouble.” Ameer high-fives Lennox, stopping beside him.

Ameer and Mirza look strangely familiar, actually. You just can’t place your finger on it.

The last couple of people don’t nearly seem as important, because Caspian and Laurel take too much time deciding. And each time they think they have it, they change their minds.

The final list for Caspian’s team, though, is you, Trink, Eytelle and Allio from the transfer initiates. And Lennox, Ameer, Sydney, Nestor and Claris.

For Laurel, it’s Thyme, Ossie, Finnick, Amos. Then Blaire, Horace, Mirza, Cass and Hallie for the Dauntless-borns.

During the decision, you’ve all finally made it to the arena that you’ll be dealing with. Caspian and Laurel stand across from each other, discussing who will get off the train first and who will get off second. For a while, it seems like Caspian is set on going first, until he resigns in an instant and motions for Laurel to go.

“Now I know you’re up to no good.” she says, motioning for her team to go, “Don’t underestimate me, Caspian, you might just end up regretting it.”

“Yeah?” he says, but that’s it.

You turn your body away when Finnick passes through the door. You’ve also come to the conclusion that Finnick should be the first to apologize, and not you. He was the one that suggested you couldn’t have moments to yourself, which you’re accustomed to, thanks to your house in Abnegation. You’d have hours alone to think, and now your thoughts no longer belong to you.

As soon as the last person is out of sight of the train, Caspian backs up to take a look at you guys. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, and then he smiles, “We’ve got a good ass team. We have ten minutes to decide a strategy before we need to pick a place for our flag.”

He holds out his wrist, the one with the watch on it, and sets a timer.

You move away from the others for a moment, standing in the doorway of the train. Your eyes search, going over the land that’s offered. The more you stare, the more you realize that it’s the marsh that’s near the city. The lights are much closer now, the blue-tinted one has to be less than a mile away from you are now.

“Where do you think she’ll place her flag?” Trink asks, she’s tying her hair up when you look at her.

“Her team will probably pick the carousel, Mirza’s pretty familiar with it.” Ameer says.

“I think you mean that you both are pretty familiar with it.” Sydney says, she looks like she belongs in Dauntless. She’s pale enough to be a ghost, and her black hair is such a stark contrast that it makes her creepy-looking, instead of balancing it out.

The boy standing next to her, Nestor, looks a lot like her. But his skin is more tanned, and he’s only taller than her by a hair. Out of all the Dauntless-born boys that you inherited on your team, he’s the shortest. Nestor doesn’t say anything, only plays with the trigger on his gun..

“Whatever.” Ameer says, “Either way, we’ll be heading off in the other direction. It’s more stable over there, tall buildings and all.”

“Tall buildings?” You ask, suddenly interested. You look at Caspian, “Can I step out?”

“Don’t go far.” he says.

You only go out far enough to see the buildings against the sky. He’s not wrong, they’re pretty tall, maybe fifteen stories or less. They’d be a good advantage point against the other team.

“Okay, I say we station ourselves on top of the buildings, and place our flag on the tallest one so that they have to work for it.” you point, eyes on the furthest one, which also happens to be the tallest.

Trink comes out to join you, seeing the building that you have your eyes on, “Oh! And there’s a street in-between, so we can ambush them if they come through. We just have to make sure that we spot them so that we know they’re coming.”

One by one, everyone else comes out of the train so that they can see the buildings for themselves. Once you’re all staring and figuring things out for yourselves, adding onto the plan, murmurs of agreement begin to sound. Just like that, you guys have a solid plan on how to defend the flag.

Now what about getting to it?

Caspian’s watch goes off a couple of minutes later, while you’re still thinking over the next part of the plan to yourself. You’re sure that two brains, or multiple, would be better than one. But you think that you should at least have an outline or an idea before you present it to anyone--especially Trink.

Caspian walks in front, gun in front of him, finger on the trigger. Behind him are Ameer, Sydney and Nestor, who all seem to be really good friends. Lennox is caught between talking to them, and turning to talk to you guys. As for Claris, she’s quietly playing with her hair, taking up the back.

There’s ten of you in total. Four transfers, five born, and Caspian. You’re pretty sure that Caspian is participating, considering the fact that he’s got a gun and agreed on your strategy. You’re just not sure how hands-on he’s going to be in the end.

“I’m surprised you sabotaged Mirza so quickly.” Sydney says.

“If you guys really wanted me to, I could tell you exactly what he’s thinking right now, because it’s the same strategy every time,” his voice drops quieter, “And I’m tired of him winning each time we play out here, just me and him.”

“I heard that.” Caspian says without turning around.

Ameer straightens up, but he doesn’t seem concerned, “You’re cool Caspian, as long as you don’t tell my dad. Then I might have to kick your ass.”

Ameer raises his hands in time for Caspian to turn around. Caspian struggles to press his lips together so that he doesn’t look amused, but it doesn’t work. He lets out a laugh, and shakes his head.

“Your dad?” you ask.

“Yeah, my dad is one of the leaders,” Ameer gives you a grin and wiggles his eyebrows, “He says that one day, I’ll be the one to replace him.”

It clicks instantly, his dad is Damon. That’s why he looked so familiar on the train, because he looks almost exactly like his dad, “Oh! Right!” you say, he smiles and nods, turning back to Sydney and Nestor.

The buildings that you looked at from faraway, are clustered together, and there’s only one walkway that Laurel’s team can possibly go through. The fences around are too high, and some of them have remnants of barbed wire at the top. It would be too risky to try and go over, and too long to go around.

The first two buildings that lead into the mouth of the alleyway should definitely have people at the top. Since there’s ten of you, you’d like to say that you can spare two on each. As you keep walking though, you can see that the tallest building isn’t that far back. Really there’s only four buildings.

You stop walking, staring up at them.

Four buildings, ten of you. And there needs to be enough left over to scout out the other team and break their defense. There’s a lot you need to take into consideration with this.

“Caspian.” you call, making him come to a slow stop. You’re in the back now, half-facing the way you just came, “Do you oversee the Dauntless-born training?”

He makes a face, tilting his head from side to side, “Sometimes, Damon mostly does it when he can.”

“Have you at least seen them shoot? Or their rankings right now with the fights?”

Caspian comes closer so you aren’t speaking as loudly, which begins to create a circle between you all, “Yeah, do you want me to list them?”

“From best to worst, starting with guns.”

He nods, “For transfers, Trink, you, Eytelle and Allio. For Dauntless-born, Ameer, Lennox, Sydney, Claris and then Nestor.”

You hum, “Okay, and from best to worst fighting-wise?”

“You,” he starts, which immediately doesn’t sound right, “Allio, Trink and then Eytelle. Lennox, Ameer, Nestor, Sydney and Claris.”

You press your lips together, “Here’s what I’m thinking--we station two people on each of these buildings. Let’s say Allio and Eytelle on one, and Nestor and Claris on the other.”

You turn to face the building that’s to the left of the tallest one, “We place only one person here, and it’s Sydney.” you turn to the final building, “We place the flag on this one, Trink, Ameer and Caspian will be here to protect it.”

There’s silence, and you really hope that you don’t have to explain your thinking. Caspian is already nodding, humming, “You want the worst in the front and the best protecting it.”

“Yes.” you say.

“What about me and you?” Lennox asks, raising his eyebrows.

“We go for the flag. We’re second in guns and first in fighting, both. We might have to get physical, which is exactly why we need to be good.” you pause for a moment, looking to the others, “Any problems, or holes?”

You’re looking at Trink, who’s thinking it over. She shakes her head slowly, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Good, okay.” you throw out your arms, “Let’s get shit set up!”

There’s a roar of whoops that come from your group as you load guns and split extra ammo. Caspain, Trink and Ameer take the flag with them to the tall building, while Trink, Eytelle, Nestor and Claris head to the front two buildings. Sydney hangs around for a minute, before deciding to go too.

“Have you been to the carousel before?” you ask on the way with Lennox.

He nods, “Yeah, we play every year. Normally we get creative and hide the flags in less-obvious places, but Mirza can have a pretty big influence. Ameer wasn’t lying when he said that they play between them a lot.” Lennox shrugs, “Mirza wins every time with the carousel. Why fix something that isn’t broken?”

“True.” you say.

There’s a few seconds of silence, “What do you think that they’ll do?”

You shrug slightly, “I mean, Finnick might want to rush in, he’s top ranked in both guns and fighting.”

“What makes you think that?”

You look at him, “He’s a natural with a gun, and he hasn’t lost a fight yet. And it’s nearly flawlessly, he’s only been hit twice, and they were minor stuff.”

Lennox whistles slightly, slowly grinning, “I’ve won all my fights too, my last one was against that big guy--Horace.”

Your eyebrows draw in as you turn to Lennox, “How tall are you?”

“Six foot, but I’m still growing. Horace is six inches taller.”

“Damn!” you push his shoulder, “You must be proud.”

“I’ve been bragging about it.” he admits.

“Who do you think they’ll send out to scout?” You pull the gun in front of you, and Lennox follows. You’re far from the buildings now, which means you need to start thinking of being stealthy.

“Probably Cass, she’s the closest person we have that’s super quiet when she does anything. Have anyone like that?”

“That moves quickly? Probably Ossie. I’m not sure about quiet, though.”

“Thinking about it, they’ll probably send their entire team.” Lennox says, “Let’s go this way.”

Lennox leads you through a dark building, it’s abandoned. The building is actually pretty vacant, there’s not even shattered glass on the floor, only dust. You’re about halfway through the building when you can hear voices, immediately making the two of you duck.

You press your hand to the floor, finger on the trigger of the paintball gun. You hold your breath to hear better, but you’re not sure if it’s even needed, because Laurel’s team isn’t trying to be quiet at all. Their voices are loud, echoing through the building.

“Are you sure about this?” It’s a girl, but it’s not Ossie or Thyme, you look to Lennox to see he’s holding up his finger.

“Cass.” he mouths.

Okay, makes sense, but there’s a lot more people than just her. You hold out your fingers to count them all.

You can hear Thyme, her voice might be soft but it’s distinct in a crowd. She sounds exactly like how you imagined an Amity transfer would sound like. And then there’s Finnick, you pick his voice out immediately. You close your eyes and duck your head, trying not to get distracted.

You don’t hear Ossie or Amos, but they do tend to be pretty quiet. This would all be so much easier if you could see them…

Your head shoots up, and you press your fingers to your lips, going out the back doorway of the building, since there is no door. Lennox follows behind you, making no noise except for the very gentle taps of the soles of his shoes against the cement floor.

The two of you creep around the corner, being sure to hold your guns to make sure that they stay flat against your body. Your eyes sweep over all of them as fast as you can before one of them turns around. You count six, notice that there’s no Ossie or Amos amongst them, and then flatten yourself against the brick wall.

There’s six of them.

“What are the rules, again?” You look at Lennox.

“Color them and they’re out of the game.” Lennox says quietly, “Why?”

“Because the competition is right here.” you say, “Go on the other side of the building, we can do this.”

Lennox gives you a grin, and then moves inside of the building and disappears. You creep around the corner again, watching the group of six slowly get further away. As you rise to your feet, you firmly place your index finger over the trigger.

Lennox is the first to first, a puff of air sounding from his gun.

You aim the gun the best you can, trying to get as many people out as possible before they realize what’s happening. You get one, and then two. You think you can see Lennox hit a few people too, maybe the same people that you’re targeting. All you know is that Horace, Cass and Thyme are out.

You hold up the gun a little higher, bringing it to your face to see better. You follow Finnick for a moment, and when you pull the trigger, you watch blue paint explode over his blonde hair. His head jerks forward, turning to face you.

You pull it again for good measure. You know, just in case he didn’t get the memo.

Lennox narrowly avoids a paintball, shooting at Blaire, following him around. But so is Mirza, both of them fixed on Lennox, and not so much you. But then Lennox gets Blaire, turns towards Mirza, and they pull their triggers at the same time.

You lower your gun, not being able to see at first. You have to peer around Mirza’s, only to see that he’s got a pink splatter right over his heart.

You are the only survivor of this raid.

And you’re not even sure where you’re going.

They all stare at you, and you make sure to look around your body to double-check that you’re paint free.

“Her, really?” Thyme’s voice cuts across the silence, whiny.

Finnick’s face twists, and you can’t decide if it’s in disgust or not. But Mirza, Blaire and Cass seem to be pretty impressed.

“The Stiff made it through.” Mirza murmurs, mouth forming into a smirk, “Good luck.”

“Luck?” you ask, “You left Ossie, Amos and Hallie to guard the flag, luck is the last thing I need.”

“I can’t go with you any further.” Lennox says, “But keep going straight, you’ll see the Ferris Wheel eventually.”

You give him a thumbs up, and then you look at Thyme, “And by the way Thyme, intelligence beats brute force every single time. Enjoy your walk back to the train, bitch.”

You turn around, practically skipping. But it isn’t until you’re over the bridge and out of sight, do you begin to get nervous. There’s only one of you, and three of them. If it were only one person stationed at the carousel, you’re sure that you’d be able to take them out easily.

You can see why Mirza was smug.

Either way, you don’t have much of a choice.

This part of the city is even more abandoned, but the buildings begin to die out the closer you get to the swamp. You manage to spot the Ferris Wheel, exactly like Lennox has promised. You’re sure that the carousel will be someplace close to it.

When you get closer, you see it.

The flag.

Ossie is sitting on one of the horses, the flag is tied up high on the pole. Hallie is patrolling, her gun in hand as she wanders around the area, eyes searching for you. Amos is sitting on the edge of the carousel, feet on the floor. His knees are pulled to his chest, and he rests his arms on top. The gun is placed next to him, the strap off completely.

You circle around the area for a little, trying to spot a way you can get in, but it’s too risky. You could be caught and immediately shot because of it. The only possible scenario where you get the flag is if you shoot all three of them.

But then you hear the crackle of a shoe against the street, making you jump and point your gun in the direction. You nearly pull the trigger, but thanks to your stumbling, you’re forced to take a closer look. It’s half of your team, here to help.

Ameer gives you a smile, his eyes fixated on the flag. Sydney has her knee placed to the ground, gun slung over her back, and Trink is twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. Nestor stands behind Sydney, but he’s hunched over so that he’s hidden behind the bush with you guys.

“Nice job with the others. You got three of them by yourself?” Ameer says.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing special.” you give them a smile.

“What’s your assessment?” Sydney says.

“We just go in and fucking shoot them?” Trink proposes, “I mean, Ossie and Amos are the two worst initiates in our group.”

“I want to grab the flag.” Ameer moves to the side to look at it again.

“Okay, it’s settled. We go--” Sydney tries, but Trink has moved out from around the bush. When you go to warn her about giving Ameer a head start, you realize that he’s already gone.

The rest of you emerge too. Four against three, and you’re all pretty good shots. You manage to get Ossie in the ear, her head slamming against the metal pole hard enough for it to make a sound. Trink screws her mouth tightly, standing above Amos when she holds down the trigger, spraying paint all over his hair. Sydney takes a single shot at Hallie, but then Nestor shoots too, and suddenly a competition starts.

All while Ameer has snagged the neon flag, holding it up to display it to you guys. Cheers sound from you five, high-fives going around. But the three that were sat to wait here, don’t look so happy.

Amos shoots up from where he sat, “Fuck you--”

Trink’s already got her hand coiled back, and she slams her fist across his face. He falls back to sit where he was seconds ago. And without missing a beat, Trink turns to Ossie, “Got something to say too, or are you going to keep your mouth shut?”

Ossie doesn’t say anything, only walks past you guys and out of the fair grounds. Amos and Hallie go to follow behind her.

“Good choice.”

On the way to collect your team, you realize that you hadn’t seen Laurel. But Trink clears that immediately, saying that Laurel went to get Caspian and them. All you guys have to do is meet them back at the train. So really, you aren’t going to collect them.

Your entire team is waiting there to celebrate, and the moment you’re in sight, their voices fill the air. You watch as Ameer holds the flag up high with one hand, and pumps his fist with the other, a cheer leaving his throat. The rest of you follow, before erupting into laughter.

There’s pats on your back, voices in your ears. You know that your entire team is proud, excited that you have an achievement to put on your records. Caspian congratulates every single one of you on the way inside of the train, before you’re heading back to Dauntless.

When the train really starts going, everyone has to yell to hear each other. Caspian makes a small speech about how he knew that we were the better team from the beginning. The entire time, Laurel flips him off with a straight face, not amused at all. It got better when he called on Ameer to make a small speech too, and he immediately chose to bash on his brother, Mirza.

“When’s our next day off?” Ameer shouts over the wind.

“Three days from now!” Caspian says, “Why?”

“We should do this again!”

“Haha.” Caspian says.

“No, I’m serious!”

“What will you do for me?” Caspian asks, he’s leaned up against the wall.

Ameer thinks for a moment, and then lights up.

Caspian cuts him off before he can speak, “And it can’t involve the word ‘cool’!”

Ameer deadpans, “You’re no fun!”

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

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