A hand, calloused and strong, reached down. Attached to it was a young man with a lean, athletic build and a shock of dark hair styled into an aggressive crest. Several silver rings glinted in his earlobes.

Behind him, the chaos of the arrival was in full swing. A blur of bodies was cascading from the roof, their whoops and hollers echoing off the cavern walls. Some landed with practiced grace, others with less dignity. A tall, broad-shouldered boy slammed into the net inches away, bouncing hard and groaning.

Below, the Pit was a sprawling, industrial space carved from what must have once been a massive underground warehouse. Train tracks ran along its center, and balconies dripping with ivy and laundry lines lined the walls. Music pulsed from somewhere unseen, mixing with the cacophony of conversations and the clang of metal against metal. Everywhere, there were Dauntless—tattooed, pierced, scarred, laughing. It was overwhelming, raw, and utterly alive.

A figure separated from the crowd. Tall, with a shaved head and piercings that seemed to snag the dim light, he looked them over with an expression of practiced disdain.

He let that hang in the air before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving the new initiates standing in a tight, wary cluster. Four watched him go, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before he turned back to Y/n.