Ebio sat crouched in the truck, fingers plugging her ears as she prepared for battle.<br/>Her eyes were lightly shut, lips moving, making foreign words of strength, words of encouragement.<br/>Finally, as she felt the truck shuddering to it's stop, she opened her eyes, flashing a brief yellow, before disappearing behind her bangs.<br/>She'd re-braided her hair, placing sharp metal spikes through the weaving locks. Her clothes had been re-bleached, though, oddly enough, the blood on her knee had given way to a hole in the fabric. She'd shrugged it off and tied them tight to her body. Her leather sandals creaked as she stood (as much as she could) in the truck, scimitars not belted to her sides, but strapped securely to her back.<br/>She wanted to have every ability to move as she pleased, and the extra protection at her blindspot wouldn't hurt.<br/>She rolled out of the truck, pulling the ribbon keeping her braids in check and unleashing them to fall about her shoulders.<br/>She counted them, all nine, and grinned.<br/>"Hodie pugnamus habitare, et perire."<br/>She drew the first scimitar, station in sight, "I am glad to call this group my comrades in arms.Try not to die too quickly. Honor the dead while bolstering the survivors at every chance you get. Good luck, and Goodbye, comrades."