Four/Tobias Eaton Imagines

Under My Skin

Most people are scared of what is about to come. This is unusual– not that people would ever feel fear, just that they would show it. This is Dauntless, after all, the place kids born without inhibitions go for cheap thrills and a superiority complex. No one here likes to give off any indication of terror if they could avoid it.

This is different, though. This isn't another day of Phase One initiation where you're jumping over the sides of buildings or throwing a few punches. Those are tests, you know how to pass those. The fear landscape, however? Now that's something no one has any clue how to handle.

The mystery surrounding it all just makes the whole experience worse. Even the few initiates amongst your numbers who've managed to win over some older Dauntless can't glean a single piece of information from their already established compatriots about what you're going to encounter in the simulations. It's all in your head, literally. There are no limits to the nightmares your own brain can dream up.

Thus the first afternoon of Phase Two of Dauntless initiation finds a hallway lined with apprehensive trainees all waiting for their turn in the simulation. A couple of rooms are being used for fear landscapes at the moment, so there's a slow trickle of traumatized initiates coming out of shadowy doors every few minutes or so. Some trainees take longer than others. Some are in there so long you half doubt if they'll ever come out. All emerge looking like they've just had their heart ripped out of their chests.

The screams don't make the waiting any easier, either. Every now and then, a shrill cry of terror will issue out from one of the locked doors, a clear hallmark of the mental warfare going on inside. In the beginning, everyone would jump the second they heard a muffled yell down the corridor, but hours have passed and fraught tempers have grown weary. Now all you do is sigh to yourselves whenever another victim screams, wondering how much longer you'll have to put up with all of this before it's your turn instead.

Waiting is only just that, though, waiting for some grander goal, and at some point, your time of waiting is done. A scared looking boy exits the door on the left, clutching his hands as if searching for wounds that aren't there, and then your name is called instead. It takes a moment to get up, your body lagging half a second behind your brain, and then you're out of your chair and down the hall before you even know what's happening.

There isn't much time to think between hearing your name and closing the door behind you. You look up and realize the room looks quite similar to the place you did your simulation prior to the Choosing Ceremony. At least there are no new threats. The only change from before is that, instead of some wary looking woman with sleeves pulled low over tattoos, you're greeted with the sight of one of the initiation leaders. Four.

You can't help feeling a slight rush of relief. Of anyone here delivering your test, you'd much rather have Four than, say, Eric Coulter. Four is just as intimidating, of course, but Eric's got this way of making you uneasy. He's too cruel. At least Four can be counted on to be fair.

Four gestures towards the chair in the center of the room. "Take a seat. Are you ready for this?"

You arch a brow as you settle yourself into an uncomfortable reclined position on the seat. "Was there a chance you'd let me out if I said no?"

Four might chuckle, either that or he was struck by an urgent need to cough. "No, there wasn't."

He disappears somewhere behind the range of your peripheral vision and emerges a few moments later holding a needle. It looks highly unpleasant, the metal gleaming in the dim light of the simulation room as if proof of how much this is going to hurt. This is Dauntless, however; this is not a place where you can afford to wince or shrink away from anything lest you see your rankings drop in a second.