The initiates awoke with the sun to another breakfast of rations, shivering from the cold, and weary of what turmoils the day would bring. Afterward it was Four that had them running laps around the fairgrounds and leaping through and over obstacles. Eric sat in the background watching their every move.

They were given a surprisingly long break of a few hours, the initiates taking advantage of the lapse in training to talk joyously among their friends.

The two Dauntless trainers watched them for a brief period.

"Listen up," Eric interrupted, just barely raising his voice. He didn't have to; it was silent enough to hear a pin drop. "It's just as important to lead as it is to follow orders. Soldiers are natural born leaders. Now let's see which of you are just that and which of you are sheep." he grinned. "You'll divide yourself into two teams. Who's in which team? Well, that's up to you. Team leaders will be responsible for the flags." Eric looked around the faces of the initiates. "But choose wisely. Losing team faces a penalty in the next round." Once he'd turned his back to them, a chorus of nervous chatter started. They thought they were done. Someone had said that they heard that there was usually just drills and one round of capture the flag. Not this time.

"New rules, huh?" Four heard Christina snort then sigh. "Well, let's do this thing."

Naturally Tris and Peter had unanimously been elected leaders. Eric rubbed his chin with a grin while he watched the initiates divvy themselves up. Tris stood to the far right and Peter the far left. Al and Molly went to went to Peter's side. Molly gave a scrowl in return to her frown. Tris didn't know why she was feeling betrayed but she was. Molly had pat her on the back and said what she had done was cool, even praising her skill even though they stood on opposing teams. Most of Peter's former team members joined him, a few mouthing empty apologies. Tris' side gained a few of the other team's members aside from Christina and Will, but there were still more members on Peter's side. A few from Tris' had defected.

"Looks like we've got Skill versus Underdog," Eric laughed, amused. "Begin."

"So I bet you're rooting for Tris?"

Four shrugged and Eric snorted. "You don't have to pretend."

"Still mistaken-"

"I mistake nothing," Eric interrupted and walked off. Four followed without preamble and almost wished he didn't when he saw Eric nimbly climb the Ferris Wheel that Tris had the day prior, but with far more grace. He was careful with his footing, not putting all his weight on any of the rusted lateral bars, impressive arms lifting until he got to the vertical spokes and Four was shakily trailing after.

"You've got to be kidding me," Four groaned. Twice in two days he was a flightless bird ascending to a height that would surely kill him if he fell. And really? The Ferris Wheel of all places? The piece that hadn't seen maintenance in so long rust was slowly consuming its fortitude?

"You did it once. You can do it again," Eric retorted smugly while gripping the spokes and climbing onto it, shimmying carefully until he reached the outer ridge and climbing into the small carriage.

"Are you nuts!" Four shouted. Eric grinned and Four couldn't get his leg to move. It was as if his body was simply not entertaining the idea of him falling to his inevitable death; go figure. Still, Eric peered over at him like a pleased feline who had won some grand prize. Not one to be shown up, Four gripped the axis with enough force to turn every one of his knuckles white and muttered not to look down, surprised to see Eric staring at him intensely. He had expected teasing, not this deep stare. "Okay, wait, wait," he stuttered, seeing Eric climb out of the Ferris' carriage and and back on to the axis. "Okay, yeah, you're definitely nuts." Four's grip grew tighter as Eric came closer, visions of the rickety metal cracking, breaking - failing somehow - and the two of them coloring the concrete below splaying across his mind.

He was so sweaty in fact that his hands had moistened the bar enough for him to invert completely, hanging upside down with his arms and legs folded over the axis in a death grip. He told himself over and over not to look down but curiosity was a dangerous and powerful thing. More alluring than sense.

Eric purposely let himself swing into the same position as Four, coming close, then leaning in and kissing him. It was a series of butterfly kisses.

"You're crazy," Four breathed unevenly as they righted themselves and began their descent. Somehow the way down was even worse than up, Four's toes tingling in anticipation and fear at a fall that never occurred.

"You don't give yourself enough credit." Eric grinned, a rare compliment.

Four took note that Will was formulating most of the strategy of anyone who would listen, but Tris had given her people free reign after an overconfident few had said they knew what they were doing, and that had turned out to be a costly blunder. Initiates skilled in arms were uselessly guarding the flag. Those with barely enough skill to hit an immobile target were running patrols, lead by whoever volunteered to be sub-squad leader.

In contrast, Peter's team worked like a well oiled machine. He took full control, directing the crack shots to the front and the initiates most likely to miss to guard the flag.

Howls of pain came from both sides, the click of triggers, the whizz of neuro-stun darts.

Peter lead the assault and an hour and a half later, nearly all of Tris' group was downed. What little order was left dissipated, initiates all turning to their own strategies. Will had been shot three times: one in the stomach, another in the arm, and in the chest because he had stopped to help Christina who had taken a dart to the neck. Even for all her skill, Tris was outnumbered.

Eric chuckled. "That's what happens when sheep follow sheep. A lack of a good leader leads to chaos and disorder on the battlefront." Nice, kind, likeable; none of those things helped Tris here when she had not taken the initiative. Four nodded, twining his fingers with Eric's.

Some of Peter's teammates had begun to turn on each other though, shoving and yelling and giving away positions. Peter yelled at them to get back in formation but his low-standing with them made them disloyal, a few ignored him in favor or their own methods.

"Unless your people know you, they have to trust you to follow you," Four replied just as Molly waved the flag she had effortlessly taken from Tris' team.

"In the end, none of that matters though," Eric laughed. Four laughed too. Eric was right; such was the nature of things.

Eric and Four passed out rations and doled out the punishment. Losing team, Tris' team, was not to sleep inside their makeshift encampment. They had to find somewhere else to lie their heads.

After the complaining died down, Peter jeering the initiates who already were digging their heels in, they slowly began to disperse.

Four addressed them before they had a chance to take off. "The next game is groups of two. Pick your partner. They will be your lifeline and you will be theirs. Your strengths-"

"And your weaknesses," Eric cut in, "will also be yours. Choose wisely. The game will begin in the morning. Or right now. Up to you if you want to give the enemy time to rest their eyes. But I won't guarantee they'll give you the same."

Four surmised it probably felt like the choosing ceremony all over again and the initiates didn't seem too excited. This exercise was wearing on them.

They started out by leisurely looking about the group, friends and sort-of acquaintances sidling up next to each other. Eric piled up all of the neurostun guns and shrugged in a manner that said have at it. The smarter of the bunch grabbed theirs first. Then the rest got a clue. Less than a third of the initiates still had yet to grab a weapon when firefight broke out. A few jittery initiates, nothing that hit the mark, but it drew the aim of more accurate guns.

Four looked to Eric, who was looking particularly self satisfied. "You planned this?"

"I did no such thing. Told them they could start in the morning. Thing is, war is never so organized. Fear causes people to do the most unfortunate of things."

Four nodded, turning back to his view of the initiates.

Somehow Tris had ended up with Molly while to one's surprise, Will had chosen Christina, Peter with Al.

The problem that quickly surfaced, on top of already being exhausted, were opposing forces with no skill on how to blend them. The initiates hadn't trained one-on-one, side by side, with their friends. Eric and Four had purposely not allowed anyone to spend too much time training with one person. The hardest thing to do when it all came down to it was fight in-sync with a stranger. And there would always be strangers; different personalities, weaknesses, strengths, ideals. None of that was ever taken into consideration when the group was formed for a mission. Just soldiers thrown together for a similar task.

Four admired Eric's foresight on this one.

The game continued into the wee hours of the morning. Al had been taken out pretty quickly, Peter left alone shooting targets with angry, deadly accuracy. He was gunning for the one that had taken down his partner: Tris. In the end it had come to a close call but Tris had won, Peter kicking at the ground and screaming, stun dart still lodged in his neck.

Eric announced the scoreboard. "Al, below the red line." he finished. Four heard the angry growl from Peter who'd unsurprisingly scored above. Tris had knocked Al out of the running. If she hadn't scored above him, he would still be above the dreaded line which divided the Dauntless from the Factionless.

The final game went by as a blur. It was supposed to be Four's team against Eric's, but their skill was so far above those of the initiates that it turned into a competition between the two.

They had to call it a draw after several hours of stalemate had passed though, the initiates eager to board the train back to their now home.

Four sat atop a case that was just latched closed, the stun guns inside having been haphazardly thrown in. Eric's eyes were focused on the group and Four let his wander.

Tris and her friends were quiet. No one really made much sound, exhaustion mixing with anxiety. The next round of cuts were coming soon and any and every action was being judged.

"If we don't do something about her soon, you're going to be factionless." Peter whispered to Al in the desertion of the halls after meal time. Most of the initiates, Tris included, had turned in for the night. Molly was the only one who had passed by, making her way into the room and punching the sandbag repeatedly, as if that would change the fact that she had not made it above the line this week.

Al's face lost its color. "We're not going to...hurt her, are we?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "It her or you. Make the choice."

"I can't-"

"But don't take too long," Peter interrupted, as if he hadn't heard the beginnings of Al's protest, "or it'll be made for you. Besides, someone like her won't last in Dauntless. She doesn't have the guts to make the tough decisions. She's weak, and she'll get everyone killed trying to play the hero."

Eric slid from the wall he had blended himself into and continued down the hall. "Interesting." he muttered to himself.

A/N:: It's shorter than usual but I knew if I didn't get this out now that I never would. Apologies to those still reading for the lateness. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long, for my own sake (a few of you had very sharp prodding sticks).