A loaded question, really, with an answer bound to be unpleasant no matter how he replied. After a moment of thought, however, he was able to soften it at least a little.

To fight. To protect us.

It was better than saying "To kill", which was the fully honest answer, but really, Toulon hadn't been a hard or cruel man before the Nazis. Killing wasn't the purpose of his puppets, before everything went wrong.

He nodded slightly, opening his coat enough to show a slaughter hook on one hip and Bowie knife on the other before typing again.

They were my hands.