[@Plank Sinatra]

[b]Gratia Mindaro - Practice[/b]

Having already made her way to the beginning of the obstacle course before Jericho had even revealed himself to be the class demonstrator, Gratia Mindaro was tying her long hair back into a ponytail, a black hair-tie hanging loosely from her mouth as she gathered her flowing locks into position. For the purposes of her current class, the Mistralese girl had eschewed both her signature coat and the dark, pressed uniform of Haven Academy for a simple, black and viridian exercise tracksuit: an outfit far more suited to the intensive physical activity required in Practice.

If some obstacle course could even be [i]considered[/i] 'physically intensive'. Only the shittiest excuse for a Hunter would treat it as anything more than a mere facsimile of the struggles that plagued the rest of one's hunting career. It was not a matter of life and death. There was no sense of danger, no eager expectation for the moment where the slightest of stumbles would bring an end to everything they lived for. Even with an Atlesian agent having somehow fucking managed to take command of the course (not that she was particularly surprised; Vale was always willing to open its arsecheeks wide for a pounding from whatever 'innovative' new sexbot Atlas had manufactured in the past week), she had absolutely zero expectation in the obstacles' ability to come even close to killing her.

Not that she would have even given them the chance. What huntress would she be if something like an obstacle course could fuck her over? That was something exclusive to drooling retards, and fortunately for her, she was the scion of parents who weren't so incompetent to slam an infant's skull into a wall. Gratia Mindaro was a Hunter. Her prey was not some junkheap of scrap metal. It was wealth. It was fame. It was power.

It was the Grimm. And the prize for their eradication -

[right][i]Her mother hugged her tightly.[/i][/right]

- was their happiness.

She breathed in quietly, loosely stretching out her legs. Onyx eyes locked onto the track before her, scanning the course with cold, clinical efficiency.

Practice was warm-up. A way to keep her reflexes sharp until the next mission.

And she would complete it with nary an issue.

Her ponytail was held in place.

She wasn't going to waste any more fucking time.

Gratia Mindaro started running.

[i][color=66cd00]Let's see what bullshit you've pulled out of your arse, Piper.[/color][/i]