[u]Cassidy Lynn Daniels[/u]

Cassidy Lynn walked with a seemingly permanent smirk on her face. Not the sort of arrogant smirk that tended to annoy people. It conveyed no condescension or elitism, but rather, it very quietly and very subtly said that Cassidy Lynn Daniels was in on a joke that was going to leave everybody on the ground when the punchline hit. Her tailor-made purple suit clung to her form quite nicely, and while Cassidy Lynn wasn't the most shapely, by no means falling into anyone's definition of a bombshell, it certainly...

...suited her nicely.

Normally, Cassidy Lynn had her hair styled in such a way that part of it fell over one of her eyes, a little purple highlight cutting across her brown locks and over her right eye. Today, she'd merely opted to let her short-cut hair fall around the back of her head, a little ways down her neck, with a pair of mirrored sunglasses resting lightly upon her face. The playful child's smirk that flashed her pearly whites drew a small bit of attention to the little dueling scar on her left cheek. Nothing major. Nothing serious. Hanging from Cassidy Lynn's white leather belt was an empty sword sheath, which was presumably just there for stylistic purposes. Her well-polished shoes click-clacked across the sidewalk as she moseyed on at her own little pace, and one got the feeling she could tap dance, kick ass, or casually stroll about with equal ease in them.

One got a lot of feelings about Cassidy Lynn-most of them contradicting the others.

Cassidy Lynn didn't feel like engaging any passerbys as she walked down the street, contemplating how she'd spend her night. This, of course, is a rare little insight into Cassidy's psyche that most normally wouldn't get-from her expressions, her mannerisms, you would think Cassidy had rigged her entire life's schedule from the get-go, set up to play out just the way she wanted. The idea that the Fox still wondered about where she was getting dinner each night would've been a bit of a surprise to those who kept up with her persona-which was admittedly a small number of people. Most didn't follow magicians these days as celebrities, but in a few more years, they might. Everybody loves magic tricks.

And if not, hey hey, Cassidy Lynn would just make 'em disappear.

Cassidy Lynn, enjoying to be abreast of current issues (supposing she couldn't be two steps ahead of them) listened softly to the passing conversations around her. A few snippets here and there could usually amount you with something substantive. Usually.

[i]"I swear, man, I was just fuckin' going over to look at the thing and the car doors swing open and knock my ass down! Nobody was in the damn thing! Must've-"

"Yeah. Blood all over the damn place. Ever since their kind started comin' in Mendel, we've just had-"

"I dunno, but Skeleton is gonna lose his SHIT when he hears-"[/i]

Oooh. Murders. Grisly. Cassidy Lynn supposed it was that cute little Whisper, yes she was the killer. It was her in the dining room with the candlestick. Whistling some old showtune to herself, Cassidy Lynn turned the corner, figuring she could take a bit of a shortcut and get to the Club 76 a little faster. They had decent food. Of course, the clientele was usually a little annoying-see, people who mark themselves as good guys, more often than not, tend to mark you as a bad guy if you don't fall in with their ranks. Cassidy Lynn didn't really fall squarely into either camp. What do you call somebody who's just in it for the hell of it? Cassidy Lynn Daniels. That's what you call them.

Cassidy turned the corner and came to a slow, controlled stop. One of the more minor effects of her supreme reflexes was that Cassidy Lynn was never caught off-guard. Sure, she might've been surprised as hell inside, but she had the control to recover from her shock at such a level it didn't even look like she was. A trench-coated man and two teenagers were just passing one another a bag of ice when she turned around. Cassidy Lynn's eyes, masked behind her shades, blurred between the three. Trench coated man. Suit's got tiny little bulges in it. He's hiding a lot under there. Tattoos barely peeking out from underneath. Probably gang-affiliations. Kids are wearing pants that are way too baggy. Can't catch up to me if I run normally, but these shoes aren't good for running. And the trench coat's got a piece tucked in his belt.

"Get lost," the trench coat snarled, recovering more quickly than the two teens that were glancing around at each other with wide-eyed surprise and confusion. What, was this their first show? "You feel like telling anybody what you saw, you're not gonna feel anything below the neck."

A faux pout masked Cassidy Lynn's face. "This would be a shame. But I'm afraid I need to get past you. I've got a date."

There was a moment of stunned "is this bitch that fucking stupid" on the three of their faces, and the trench coat started to inch his hand towards his piece, trying to assess whether Cassidy was the least subtle undercover cop of all time or just a hopelessly stupid bystander.

Not stupid. Crazy. Crazy like a fox.

The moment his fingers curled around the butt of the revolver, Cassidy let her right hand fall to her side, half a deck of cards slipping out of the suit (and, curiously, the suit seemed tailored rather too tightly for a deck of cards to be hidden up in here, so how had she...) and into her open palm. This sped up the trench coat's draw, and he had the barrel of the gun just barely clear from the front of his pants when Cassidy Lynn made her move.

In about half a second, there had been a gunshot and all three of them were on the ground. A small pool of blood was soaking through the front of the gunman's pants-he had made the very grave mistake of keeping his finger on the trigger while drawing the gun. The others were clutching their eyes, and may need to borrow some of their mothers' makeup to hide the bruises by tomorrow morning. Cassidy calmly walked over and rolled the screaming trench coat over with her foot, very careful not to get any blood on her. Blood. Ick. She tugged the trench coat off of him-the man offered no resistance, rather preferring to curl in the fetal position and comfort himself with denial. Cassidy dragged the trench coat along with her for a minute or two, the drug-lined pockets bulging for a moment or two. When she'd turned the corner, the trench coat was gone, as were the playing cards, and Cassidy Lynn continued on her way to the Club 76. her trembling fingers the only betrayal of how much damned adrenaline was running through her body.

She could put on a good show if nothing else. Cassidy Lynn calmly strode into the bar and took a seat in the corner, alone from everyone else. The Vanguard wasn't really her crowd. She figured they'd clear out soon-if they cared about the gunshot outside, for one, and if whatever was going to piss Big Bad Skeleton off was their doing, she figured a little gang war might be on the horizon. Cassidy Lynn wanted to be somewhere nice and high like the 76 so she could have a great view of all the fireworks going off.

Cassidy took off her sunglasses, folded them up and placed them across the table from her, and leaned back into her seat, one leg folded over the other. Waiting for a server to come by was no problem at all. She could always play solitaire or something if she got really, really bored.

[u]May[/u]

[i]Coming soon[/i]