"Alright, Miss Harmaa, listen up!" Alfred stated, the large girl infront of him jumping at attention. So, she knew how to listen to orders. His hand gripped on the shaft of his ol' trusty pitchfork, his other hand moved up to stroke his mustache. "We need to trim the hedges." He held a moment of silence, watching how the girl's silver eyes moved around to just affirm the length in meters, bordering on kilometers, of hedges there were. He expected protest, a slip up in her facial expression or just even the setting of her spine when it trickled through the sheer amount of work that had been done. He had heard the protest a thousand times. 'I'm no gardener. I'm a hunter. I don't do this.'
Though, his eyes widened as Mathilde nodded. "Understood sir Walters, what would be the best plan of action?" Well-mannered, focussed on the task at hand. It were these little things that made a man, or woman, a soldier. Even though he was a janitor now, he was an excellent judge of character. A smirk burst through the old man's stoic appearance.
And so, the two begun their work. By day, trimming the hedges. With military precision. The communication was on point, the efficiency was top notch. A well oiled and exemplary functioning strikeforce that was expertly... Trimming hedges. Running across with a scythe. Shoveling it in a weelbarrow at the speed of sound.
In short. It looked ridiculous.
However, neither cared. Alfred knew he could beat any of these welps in straight combat with both legs and an arm tied. And Mathilde. Well, she just didn't care that much for public opinion. The sun set, which was an indication for Alfred to start the actual work. He drove his pitchfork in the ground and leant in on it. Watching Mathilde go about cleaning up the last trimmings, before moving up to him. She had performed quite well. And, quite well as in. She didn't complain, she had the energy for the job and most of all, she didn't come across as a kiss ass. She was someone capable of doing what needed to be done. Or so he hoped, since the mission that would ensue was banking on that. He was present, but from what he had seen, this girl was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't a threat to Alfred. But if he was otherwise occupied whilst fighting her, it might end up just a bit worse in his favour.
"Alright, now the real job begins," Alfred stated, before turning around, pulling his pitchfork up and moving towards the toolshed. Pushing open the door. He opened a drawer and started to assemble several pictures with pins on a corkboard plate on the wall, connecting them with red cords. "You see, Grimm aren't our only enemy."
Mathilde could hear the change in his voice. The hint of warmth and courtesy had just disappeared. She put the scythe down against a table and folded her arms underneath her chest. Nodding slowly. "We'll be taking an airship into the city, breaking up an illegal dust and arms trade." He motioned at one of the pictures. "This guy's the only one we need to capture alive, the rest." He took a deep breath. "Look, when push comes to shove, alright? We need to try and resolve this peacefully." Alfred himself was always a warm and friendly person. Though he had done his fair share of sins in the military. He didn't care for the despots that were present at the meeting, though senseless killing also wasn't an option. But he mostly cared for this girl's mentality. The stress and duress of the night would make or break her as a huntress. But, she had to be confronted with reality somehow. A lot of these students were delusional, thinking they'd be heroes. Which was correct. But they always forgot the other side of the coin. Best to make them remember early. "Understood." Mathilde responded, without batting an eye, without flinching or even stuttering. The same cold and steel look she always had. There was more to this girl that he initially realized.
The trip was short. And Mathilde was sneaky enough, considering the massive scythe. It showed her mastery with the weapon. Able to stow it. Move around through crowds like it was nothing at all. It didn't obstruct her. Only helped to augment her image as a rather intimidating individual. Several meters later, Alfred ducked into an alley, Mathilde immediately followed him. A set of metal stairs, she wasn't sure they'd support her weight, but luckily. Alfred told her to have the door. While he would take high ground.
A balcony in the abandoned warehouse that overlooked everything. A great spot to sit with a firearm.
The suspected individuals came in and started to negotiate, bargain. Though it was obvious to even Alfred, that the situation was tense. Then a gun was pulled. Though the first shot came from him. In the roof. A warning, before he aimed the pistol at the one who drew first. The pitchfork still in his hand.
Mathilde, who was anticipating this, immediately kicked the door from it's hinges and stepped inside, scythe brandished. A cry came from one of the mobsters. "They sold us out!" And like that, hell broke loose. Mathilde's shield receptors hummed to live as several pricks of dust infused ammunition smacked to smithereens on them. Failing to halt her charge. Alfred, who was priorly on the balcony, swore under his breath and holstered his pistol, jumped down the balcony. Smacking his pitchfork down in the ground to send a massive shockwave through. Mathilde was already in the thick of battle, though her moves were still obviously from a student. She was good. Though didn't mind herself properly. A loud click resounded, and a rocket-propelled pitchfork was hurled forward, smacking the thug behind Mathilde, who saw an easy chance to knock her out, in the face and down on the floor. A small shield, not larger than a dinnerplate had formed around Alfred's left hand. Utilised to block some of the bullets when rallying to Mathilde. "Cover me," he then shouted, before breaking formation again. Smacking someone off of their feet with his shield. In the same movement, grabbing the pitchfork again and hurling it once again towards their target, pinning him through the leg, down against the floor.
He turned around again to rally to the silver eyed girl again, aiming to assist her again since she had to take on the brunt of mobsters. Though what he saw was surprising and shocking. She moved with grace and strength, controlling her field of battle. Mowing down enemies, either taking their lives or knocking them out. It didn't seem to matter to the girl, as if she had killed before. Whatever suited her current movement. He stood there for a moment, before shaking his head and turning around to apprehend the big boss of the entire deal. Now trusting fully that the girl would be fine. Physically. He had to wonder what mental state she was in to fight so indiscriminately. The previous students he had, shied away from killing other humans or faunus. Which was good, a moral obligation. Though it also put themselves at risk and was dangerous. So it was surprising to see Mathilde so readily fighting for her own survival. Yet another thing he noted, she never once had struck at someone's back, while she had a lot of opportunity to.
The target apprehended and the fight broken up, it was time to mend and heal. Alfred had taken it upon him to explain the situation and explain they had engaged with nothing but appropriate force, that weapon usage was allowed and responsibility sheets were signed. Mathilde's earlier statement to the policing force was nothing but the truth and matched his own. So she also made no attempt to make excuses for herself. Alfred walked up to Mathilde, who stood watching the sun slowly crawling upwards, leaning against the scythe with folded arms. She heard his approach and took a deep breath.
"How're you feeling?" She glanced at him, meeting his eyes with the same cold gaze. "Fine. Why?" Oh dear lord. "Well, it was a hectic mission. You did.. Well, good. But you killed other people." She nodded slowly. "Correct. It was me or them. I killed the ones I couldn't knock unconscious safely." Taken aback slightly, Alfred could only shake his head. "No regrets?" A mirthless huff, half chuckle, came from Mathilde. "Ofcourse. But the mission was a succes. And I'm still alive." Alfred let out a breath of relief. So she did feel remorse. Just not as severe as others. And not during missions. Which was... Good. He had seen both of her sides. The more relaxed and undoubtedly more fun hedgetrimming. The joking and social aspect, the compassion and sympathy a leader required. And then the gritty, down to earth and cold mind needed to properly be a hunter. A rare breed.
Though the fact that he thought that was good gave way to an internal conflict. A girl in her twenties shouldn't be used to killing like this.
Though, his eyes widened as Mathilde nodded. "Understood sir Walters, what would be the best plan of action?" Well-mannered, focussed on the task at hand. It were these little things that made a man, or woman, a soldier. Even though he was a janitor now, he was an excellent judge of character. A smirk burst through the old man's stoic appearance.
And so, the two begun their work. By day, trimming the hedges. With military precision. The communication was on point, the efficiency was top notch. A well oiled and exemplary functioning strikeforce that was expertly... Trimming hedges. Running across with a scythe. Shoveling it in a weelbarrow at the speed of sound.
In short. It looked ridiculous.
However, neither cared. Alfred knew he could beat any of these welps in straight combat with both legs and an arm tied. And Mathilde. Well, she just didn't care that much for public opinion. The sun set, which was an indication for Alfred to start the actual work. He drove his pitchfork in the ground and leant in on it. Watching Mathilde go about cleaning up the last trimmings, before moving up to him. She had performed quite well. And, quite well as in. She didn't complain, she had the energy for the job and most of all, she didn't come across as a kiss ass. She was someone capable of doing what needed to be done. Or so he hoped, since the mission that would ensue was banking on that. He was present, but from what he had seen, this girl was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't a threat to Alfred. But if he was otherwise occupied whilst fighting her, it might end up just a bit worse in his favour.
"Alright, now the real job begins," Alfred stated, before turning around, pulling his pitchfork up and moving towards the toolshed. Pushing open the door. He opened a drawer and started to assemble several pictures with pins on a corkboard plate on the wall, connecting them with red cords. "You see, Grimm aren't our only enemy."
Mathilde could hear the change in his voice. The hint of warmth and courtesy had just disappeared. She put the scythe down against a table and folded her arms underneath her chest. Nodding slowly. "We'll be taking an airship into the city, breaking up an illegal dust and arms trade." He motioned at one of the pictures. "This guy's the only one we need to capture alive, the rest." He took a deep breath. "Look, when push comes to shove, alright? We need to try and resolve this peacefully." Alfred himself was always a warm and friendly person. Though he had done his fair share of sins in the military. He didn't care for the despots that were present at the meeting, though senseless killing also wasn't an option. But he mostly cared for this girl's mentality. The stress and duress of the night would make or break her as a huntress. But, she had to be confronted with reality somehow. A lot of these students were delusional, thinking they'd be heroes. Which was correct. But they always forgot the other side of the coin. Best to make them remember early. "Understood." Mathilde responded, without batting an eye, without flinching or even stuttering. The same cold and steel look she always had. There was more to this girl that he initially realized.
The trip was short. And Mathilde was sneaky enough, considering the massive scythe. It showed her mastery with the weapon. Able to stow it. Move around through crowds like it was nothing at all. It didn't obstruct her. Only helped to augment her image as a rather intimidating individual. Several meters later, Alfred ducked into an alley, Mathilde immediately followed him. A set of metal stairs, she wasn't sure they'd support her weight, but luckily. Alfred told her to have the door. While he would take high ground.
A balcony in the abandoned warehouse that overlooked everything. A great spot to sit with a firearm.
The suspected individuals came in and started to negotiate, bargain. Though it was obvious to even Alfred, that the situation was tense. Then a gun was pulled. Though the first shot came from him. In the roof. A warning, before he aimed the pistol at the one who drew first. The pitchfork still in his hand.
Mathilde, who was anticipating this, immediately kicked the door from it's hinges and stepped inside, scythe brandished. A cry came from one of the mobsters. "They sold us out!" And like that, hell broke loose. Mathilde's shield receptors hummed to live as several pricks of dust infused ammunition smacked to smithereens on them. Failing to halt her charge. Alfred, who was priorly on the balcony, swore under his breath and holstered his pistol, jumped down the balcony. Smacking his pitchfork down in the ground to send a massive shockwave through. Mathilde was already in the thick of battle, though her moves were still obviously from a student. She was good. Though didn't mind herself properly. A loud click resounded, and a rocket-propelled pitchfork was hurled forward, smacking the thug behind Mathilde, who saw an easy chance to knock her out, in the face and down on the floor. A small shield, not larger than a dinnerplate had formed around Alfred's left hand. Utilised to block some of the bullets when rallying to Mathilde. "Cover me," he then shouted, before breaking formation again. Smacking someone off of their feet with his shield. In the same movement, grabbing the pitchfork again and hurling it once again towards their target, pinning him through the leg, down against the floor.
He turned around again to rally to the silver eyed girl again, aiming to assist her again since she had to take on the brunt of mobsters. Though what he saw was surprising and shocking. She moved with grace and strength, controlling her field of battle. Mowing down enemies, either taking their lives or knocking them out. It didn't seem to matter to the girl, as if she had killed before. Whatever suited her current movement. He stood there for a moment, before shaking his head and turning around to apprehend the big boss of the entire deal. Now trusting fully that the girl would be fine. Physically. He had to wonder what mental state she was in to fight so indiscriminately. The previous students he had, shied away from killing other humans or faunus. Which was good, a moral obligation. Though it also put themselves at risk and was dangerous. So it was surprising to see Mathilde so readily fighting for her own survival. Yet another thing he noted, she never once had struck at someone's back, while she had a lot of opportunity to.
The target apprehended and the fight broken up, it was time to mend and heal. Alfred had taken it upon him to explain the situation and explain they had engaged with nothing but appropriate force, that weapon usage was allowed and responsibility sheets were signed. Mathilde's earlier statement to the policing force was nothing but the truth and matched his own. So she also made no attempt to make excuses for herself. Alfred walked up to Mathilde, who stood watching the sun slowly crawling upwards, leaning against the scythe with folded arms. She heard his approach and took a deep breath.
"How're you feeling?" She glanced at him, meeting his eyes with the same cold gaze. "Fine. Why?" Oh dear lord. "Well, it was a hectic mission. You did.. Well, good. But you killed other people." She nodded slowly. "Correct. It was me or them. I killed the ones I couldn't knock unconscious safely." Taken aback slightly, Alfred could only shake his head. "No regrets?" A mirthless huff, half chuckle, came from Mathilde. "Ofcourse. But the mission was a succes. And I'm still alive." Alfred let out a breath of relief. So she did feel remorse. Just not as severe as others. And not during missions. Which was... Good. He had seen both of her sides. The more relaxed and undoubtedly more fun hedgetrimming. The joking and social aspect, the compassion and sympathy a leader required. And then the gritty, down to earth and cold mind needed to properly be a hunter. A rare breed.
Though the fact that he thought that was good gave way to an internal conflict. A girl in her twenties shouldn't be used to killing like this.
![Shadow / Major - Go out and settle a dispute & Breaking the arms trade. [Closed] Lo and behold, for the reaper is Magnificent. Affili10](https://i.servimg.com/u/f39/18/03/53/05/affili10.jpg)
