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[B]DAY 69[/B]
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Repeated hard thuds were heard amongst the cacophony of shouting and screams as Richard tunnel visioned slowly into his training. The last two months had been frustrating, to say the least. There was very little combat to be had, and they weren’t given any missions. Gritting his teeth as his bound hands slammed repeatedly into the sandbag, the Englishman finally let out a single frustrated cry, punching with all his strength in his right hand. With a loud ripping noise, the leather bag of the sandbag burst open, spilling white sand over the floor. Breathing hard, Richard continued to stare at the sandbag for a few more seconds, before realising what he had done. Pulling his hand out of the hole he had made, in the process allowing even more sand to spill out, Richard stood up straight as gym attendants rushed over to inspect the damage. After being asked a few questions by the staff, as well as a rudimentary wrist check, Richard was allowed to leave without visiting the infirmary. Taking that as his cue to leave, Richard entered the change rooms and started to change back into his casual clothes.

Dressed in dark jeans and a light blue button up shirt, Richard exited the gym facilities. Almost immediately, he felt around his person for the familiar boxy package that would usually be in his pocket. Finding it in his rear jeans pocket, he pulled out a small box of cigarettes, producing a lighter moments after with a flick of his wrist. Lighting up one of the few remaining sticks of tobacco, Richard took a deep draw which eventually culminated into a smoke stained sigh. Starting back towards the dorms as the artificial sun began to dip towards the horizon, Richard blankly stared forwards as he drew his arms closer around his body. Like how Luna imitated the solar cycles of Terra, it also imitated the seasons. Autumn was drawing closer, and the days were progressively getting chillier, which made Richard wish that he had brought himself a jacket. Around him, people were chatting happily as they passed him, talking to teammates, acquaintances, even their partners. The Englishman scoffed. His team was nothing like them. Out of the three of them, he seemed to be the only one capable of speaking normally. One was a mouse who would run at the very mention of being seen, and the other was incapable of striking up a conversation. For all their skill in piloting violent machines of death, they weren’t exactly a bubbly bunch.

Deciding to stop for a little while, Richard took a detour towards the little park that they kept on campus. After a few metres of concrete, he came across a little oasis of greenery, flowers dotting the grass and occupying flowerbeds. Taking a seat on one of the ornate wooden benches, Richard stubbed out his cigarette and threw it into the waste disposal machine, which promptly liquefied it. Leaning back onto the back of the bench, he muttered to himself as he stretched, feeling the tension spread through his body before melting away. Too much had happened since he had come here. For one thing, Roman had stopped tailing him, which he found a welcome relief sometimes, but he also felt somewhat lonely now, which was uncharacteristic of him. He let out a slight chuckle as the thought spilled through his head. Well, it was about time he learned that Richard wasn’t his mother. Propping one leg onto his knee, the Englishman stared into the middle distance. Too much had happened since he had come here indeed… Once again, the botched mission came to mind, and he felt his teeth gritting hard. With a bang, he slammed his fist on the bench. What was done was done. He couldn’t change it. Still, their team had been reduced to a mere three members, and had effectively taken them out of combat situations, which irritated him even more. 

After a few minutes of loitering, Richard lit up another cigarette and proceeded to leave the park, having brooded enough on negative thoughts for the day. Any more and he’d have a personal storm cloud following him all day. More students passed him, arguing, chatting, teasing. Its dynamic was completely different to his team. He sighed. He wished for once he’d get someone he would at least be able to converse with without making him feel like he was forcing them to. Taking a drag and pulling the cigarette out of his mouth, he let out yet another smoke-filled sigh. The worst part was today was a Sunday. He would have to spend the rest of the afternoon with his two other team members in probable silence. One would be reading a book and the other would be sitting quietly in the corner. It was times like this he wished that he could have brought his powerful computer on board the shuttle, but he did not think he would need it, and getting it delivered now would only bring bad omens. Resigning himself to his fate, Richard entered the dormitory complex and started towards the elevator. Somebody please save him from this mess…

Pressing his hand onto the gel scanner, Richard found that he was the first one there, or perhaps his fatigue addled mind prevented him from seeing anyone. Almost immediately, he made his way towards the fried, opening the bottom half and checking for any leftover food. There was plenty of reheating take away containers, but none of them looked particularly palatable. Pulling out a box of Venusian Karkal, he sniffed at the contents, before recoiling and throwing it into the trash. It smelled bad at the worst of times, but that one smelled like it had been stewing in the sweat of morbidly obese people for the last three days. Karkal never did keep well. His appetite thoroughly crushed, Richard stepped away from the fridge and collapsed onto the couch, closing his eyes. And to think he had another two and a half years here…would he survive that long?