It’s been a week since we started training in hand to hand combat and all I’ve been progressing in, is the amount of bruises I get by the end of the day. I’ve made no friends since I’m at the training cell the whole time -courtesy of Francis. Heck, I’d be glad if someone except my team recognises me as a trainee from their batch!

We’ve learnt how to punch, defend against a rear attack, go for a frontal attack from long range and a few other things, but Francis seems to find fault in everything I do. It’s almost become routine for the boys to leave hours before I do.

And I think of what they might be doing every single time I’m down here just to make myself angry so I can strike harder, hoping that Francis would let me go earlier. Never happened till date.

My ankles hurt from the number of times I’ve kicked the punching bag. We were learning roundhouse kicks today and I knew the moment I tripped that he’d have me stay back again.

The punching bag swings back and forth as I kick at it, trying to time myself right so I can hit it when it’s coming at me. I’m drenched in sweat and I’ve started growing used to how the room smells. My hands are calloused from practice and I’m bruised all over, the only reason I’m not in the infirmary is because my healing is slightly above the average human.

I flinch when I hear something move behind me, turning around immediately, scanning the area for Francis as I instinctively blocked the punching bag as it swung towards me. I still had about an hour to go, why was he so early?

“Sumerin.” A boy a few years older to me called as he stepped into the light. I frown slightly, trying to remember when I’d met him. “Surprised to see you here.”

“Right back at you.” I mutter bitterly.

“Why are you here?” He asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I scowl, turning back to the punching bag. “I’m practising.”

“Did Francis put you upto this?” He asks,  coming closer.

“You think I’m here,” I kick once again, “out of choice?”

“Well, I’ve never seen you talking to anyone so I thought this was an excuse to stay away from the other trainees.”

My next kick sends the punching bag farther than ever before and I hope he gets the hint cause I’m certainly not doing that again, my ankle’s still throbbing from it.

“You’re wasting too much energy.” He says.

“Trying not to end up dead.” I grit my teeth.

“The Death week’s not so bad…”

“Thank you for reminding me.” I scowl, “but I was talking about how Francis will skin me alive if I stop.”

“And I was talking about how your stance gives you the worst disadvantage ever.”

“If you know so much about this, do teach me.” I spat out, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“Sure.” He shrugs. I look back, moving away when I saw he looked serious.

He performed a roundhouse kick that sent the punching bag right off the hook. I gaped at it, then him. He seems unaffected, as if he’s been doing this for ages.

“Show off.” I grumble, picking the heavy punching bag and trying to put it on the hook again. He does it for me, not even wincing at the weight.

“I could teach you how.” he says nonchalantly.

I hesitate, “And what are you going to ask for in return?”

“I’ll think that over later.”

I don’t like the sound of that. But if there’s any way I could get out of these extra hours, it was by taking his help. “Fine.”

For the next half hour he taught me how to take the best stance in all kinds of situations, something Francis was expecting us to learn on our own.

I almost leapt with joy when my kick sent the bag over the hook. I lie down, having had enough for the day, my ankles still aching.

“You know, if Francis sees you do that, he’s gonna ask you to practice for another hour.”

“Right now, I don’t give a damn.” I mumble.

“Tired?”

“You kidding me?” I glare at him. He seems unfazed as ever.

“Never mind.” He mutters, sitting down beside me. I tense slightly, knowing I still have to do whatever he says cause he helped me.

We stay silent for a while before I ask, “Where did you learn that?”

He looks at me for a while, “Francis used to teach me.”

I frown. How does this guy know how to hit so well when he had such a lousy teacher?

“Death week starts in three days.” He says.

“How do you know that?” I frown, nobody was supposed to know that, at least none of the trainees were…

“You’ve forgotten me, haven’t you?” He accuses, his expression unreadable. I don’t say anything, not knowing if I’d anger him.

A small smirk forms on his lips, “You’ve been training with someone for the past hour and you don’t even remember his name. How unfortunate!”

“Stop bugging me.” I grumble, closing my eyes to avoid his teasing smile, “All I seem to remember now is how to fight. I’ll be surprised if I remembered the track we raced on the first day.”

“You were doing well until you fell into that ditch.”

I sit up, eyeing him wearily. This was getting beyond creepy. He knew my name, he was watching me on the trek and he’d somehow ended up here when I was practising.

“Why did you come here?”

“Francis asked me to keep a few things in place.” I didn’t believe that.

“Okay, I’m gonna practise till he comes back then.” I stand up, going over to the punching bag yet again.

“That’ll be till day after then.” He stands up, walking over to me, “he’s on a mission.”

“How do you know that?”

“Third year, Sumerin.” he taps on my forehead mockingly. “Try to remember.”

I scowl at his back as he leaves, trying to rack my brains for his name.

“You should go back to your room, get some sleep.” He calls before he’s gone.

I stay still for a while before sneaking up to the other side of the room divided by a partition. That’s where he’d come from. I was trying to figure out whether he was lying about Francis asking him for something. The partition seems to be hiding a space to store equipment...

I freeze as something scattered across the floor of the main room. I make sure I’m hidden before I peek around the partition. It’s a three trainees. I can’t see their faces from here, but they seem to be planning something.

All I hear is that they’re saying something about the Death week, some sort of trials and the captain, before the sneak back out.

I look around the storage room again, trying to put some time between me and the trainees when I notice a glint of steel. I tip-toe to it, gently pushing the cover aside to reveal a hideous face. I keep myself from screaming as I push more of the cover off. It’s some kind of a robot.

I leave immediately, hastily going back to my room and getting under the covers.

I know I’ve asked for adventure for ages, but I think I’ve had enough to last me a week.

I toss and turn the whole night as whispering trainees with hideous faces dance through my dreams. And the guy who’d taught me tonight, tapping at my forehead, taunting me to remember. I did recall his name now.

Robin.

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Hello everyone!!!
(Yeah, I'm late, I know it, forgive me)

Shruti: Apologies my friends, college's started and assignments and yada yada (you don't need to hear of my miseries)
And what did you think of the robot???

Love all you readers!!!!