The Bonds of Unity || A Percy Jackson Divergent crossover

A Kind-of-Real Weapon with Surreal Training

"Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one," Eric said as soon as they entered the training room the next day. His posture was rigid, tense, which Annabeth assumed was a result of losing the previous night. She hid a smile. "You will resume fighting then. Today, you will be learning how to aim. Everyone pick up three knives. And pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them."

Instantly, Annabeth, Reyna, and Thalia leap forward, followed closely behind by the other initiates. Thalia frowned as soon as she picked up one. It was too heavy on the blade-- a thick, long, steel thing that was sharpened to a blunt point. The grip wasn't right either, made of a light wood with leather over it that didn't balance out the tip at all. There was bound to be some drop, even if it was just a little bit. And that was vital if you were throwing a knife at an enemy, aiming for the heart but hitting the leg.

Four demonstrated, handing the horribly crafted knives with ease. Each knife sunk cleanly into the center of the target. Reyna glanced down at the knife again, understanding some of it. The heavy blade was meant to have more momentum behind the throw, letting it drive the point in. The handle wasn't there to balance it out, it was meant solely to let the thrower have a grip before they launched it.

"Line up!" Eric spat.

The knife was never Nico's preferred weapon. He had trained with it before, but not much. And only close hand to hand combat, not throwing. Neither had Percy. Add the fact that these knives were nothing like Camp Half-Blood's knives, and they were almost impossible to throw.

"What the hell?" Reyna asked in frustration as her third knife hit a few centimeters below the bullseye and clatters to the ground, the too-dull point not sticking to anything. "How is anyone supposed to hit anything like this?"

Then a loud thunk drew everyone's attention over to the center board, where a knife had buried itself deep in the target. Not in the center, but it was the first one to stick. Tris smirked.

Encouraged or enraged by Tris's short victory, several other knives went flying (luckily not in her direction). Peter's hit off to the side of the target and fell with a splat, his face slowly growing redder. The next one impaled itself deep in the top-- he aimed too high. But he hit it.

Eventually, only Al hadn't hit the target yet. His knives clattered to the floor or bounced off the wall. He tried again. He missed again.

Fed up, Eric marched over to Al and glared. "How slow are you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"

Al's face turned red. He threw another knife, and this one sailed a few feet off the target.

"What was that, initiate?" Eric asked quietly, leaning closer to Al.

"It-- it slipped," Al said.

"Well, I think you should go get it," Eric snarled. Everyone fell silent, and he glared at them all. "Did I tell you to stop?"

Percy bit his lip in worry. They'd all seen Eric mad before, but this time he was furious, almost rabid.

"Go get it?" Al repeated, eyes wide with panic. "But everyone's still throwing!"

Eric waited. "And?"

"And I don't want to get hit."

"I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you," Eric said, smiling cruelly. "Go get your knife."

Al set his jaw. "No."

"Why not?" Eric's eyes fixed on Al. "Are you afraid?" he demanded.

"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?" said Al. "Yes, I am!"

Eric grew very still. "Everyone stop!" he shouted.

Everything instantly fell silent.

"Clear out of the ring." Eric looked at Al. "All except you." He waited until everyone had left. Annabeth gripped her knife tightly. Drop or no drop, she was sending that knife in Eric's heart if he killed Al.

"Hey, Four." Eric looked over his shoulder. "Give me a hand here, huh?" Then he turned back to Al. "You're going to stand there as he throws those knives, until you learn not to flinch."

"Is this really necessary?" Four asked in a seemingly bored tone as he approached. But he did not look bored. His stance was tense, alert.

They had a miniature staring contest.

"I have the authority here, remember?" Eric said in almost a whisper. "Here, and everywhere else."

Instantly, Four's face flushed but his expression didn't change. He turned very slowly to Al.

Then all of a sudden, Tris stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists. "Stop it."

Four and Eric both turned, very slowly, and faced her.

"Any idiot can stand in front of a target," Tris stated. Her hands shook, though her voice didn't. "It doesn't prove anything except you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice."

"Then it should be easy for you," Eric said calmly. "If you're willing to take his place."

Tris hesitated only for a second. Then she stepped forward and into the ring. Al stepped away, his face flushed.

Tris stood in front of the target. Her head didn't even reach the center.

"If you flinch," Four said, very slowly, "Al will take your place. Understand?"

She nodded, tipping her chin high. As soon as the motion stopped, a knife buried itself a foot away from her cheek.

Tris shut her eyes tightly.

"About done, Stiff?" Four asked quietly. Tris's eyes snapped open, and she stared at him with defiance. The next knife sailed above her head, nearly touching it.

Tris didn't move. Her hands pressed tightly to her sides.

The third knife sailed dangerously close to her ear, almost hitting her face. Thalia saw a drop of blood trickle down the side of her face and fall down her earlobe.

Four let out a breath of air and stepped back. Tris stepped forward, and Eric walked up to next to her.

"Well," Eric drawled. "I'd love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as her, but I think that's enough for today." He squeezed Tris's shoulder, fingers digging into the skin like claws. Another drop of blood splashed on the back of his hand.