What You Thought (on hold)

Strategy and Unexpected Hate

Tris P.O.V.

After I found my  refuge, I stared pondering what it is I had to do to win a war. What must you do to get people to see your point of view. Then it occurred to me...

I need to take out our guards. Our military. Take out Dauntless.

For reasons unknown to me, I have a subconscious hatred toward Erudite, causing me to want to bring them to their knees. Then I realized that was not a smart move. 

Erudite may be smart, and they may have weapons, but they are in no shape to fight wars. Although, they would be a good second target. Since they would have good strategies to give Candor, who would probably be in better shape to fight then any of the remaining faction, assuming I succeed in my plans. 

Now that I have my strategy, I know my next move would be an ally. 

I would recruit the help of the factionless, but considering the fact that I am in a perfectly good abandoned building, in the very heart of factionless territory, and no one is walking, I have to assume that sometime in these last sixteen years, the factionless have been disbanded. I wonder what happened to Abnegation.

Abnegation. My home. My safe place. It wasn't perfect, but nothing is. My parents. I start to cry. 

I stop suddenly when I hear a noise. And footsteps. I hide in the shadows but stay close enough to my spot where I can hear what the people are saying. 

I'm a little far away, the voices forming words I can't understand. But the voices, or voice is familiar. It's the voice of Marcus Eaton. 

For some reason, the voice of one of my fathers most trusted friends sends a shocking wave of an emotion I can't describe. I hate this man with a burning passion, an utterly and complete repulsion, and I don't even know why. 

A small voice whisper to me, this is a very bad man. A small flash of an image flashes before my eyes, but before I can fully grasp it, it's gone. 

But regardless, I step out of the shadows and address him, "Marcus." My voice cold showing only a hint of the spite I feel for this man.

He whips around at the sound of my voice and when he sees my face, he screams. A rather girly scream. One you would not expect a man a his size and position to make. He pales and whispers, "Beatrice?"

Somehow my birth name bothers me even more so then when I woke up in the hospital. I suddenly remember the name I was addressed by the man who claimed to be my boyfriend. "It's Tris."