<div style="text-align: center;">Ebio's eyes narrowed further, now enraged slits, complemented by a scowl on her face.  She tensed as she sensed the tides of battle change. Retreat was on its way. She was standing next to an exit. <br/>She grinned and ran her scimitar over one arm, failing to draw blood. She was immune to most blades by now, but she'd glimpsed a katana in the heat of battle, and had no doubts if any, then that blade would mar her skin.<br/>"But only once."<br/>She stepped into the doorway and struck down a fleeing human, the action taking no more than a swing of one arm, and the snapping forwards of her blade. She raised her hands after that, scimmies flashing as she dealt with the next human, and the next. <br/>They were a whirlwind, a dervish of steel and swining braids. She felt one man stab her, yet it felt like the barest of pressures, like an iron rod, jammed uncomfortably, but harmlessly into her stomach. He soon lost his arms and was kicked aside to bleed to death.<br/>Her tempest of blades continued their whirls, and more fell at her feet.<br/>She had to admit, there were good enemies here, but when they stabbed her, or tried to shoot her (bullets she tried to dodge, even if she'd been shot by the same gun before) she merely rolled the blows off and took advantage of their momentarily dropped guards. <br/>She lapped the blood off of her blade, unable to resist the smell of iron. Cravings be damned, but at least this was better than gravel.</div>