<div class="floatright">(http://pcdn.500px.net/1457206/db808eb72ec7f66c5fee911270793ffb863a582d/3.jpg)</div>Cassandra Keisling/Fang<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Stun Damage:  2<br/>Edge:  6/4<br/>Lethal Damage: 0<br/>Spirits:  <br/>Tuatha deDanan (Force III Spirit of Man, Bound) 11 Services.  <br/><br/>Spells:  <br/>Increased Reflexes IV (+3 Passes.)  <br/><br/>NY: 1,250<br/></div></div><br/>Fang hissed as fatigue washed over her.  The spell had drained her, but not a lot.  She suspected from the quality of the rifle that she’d face much worse when she got to the balcony.  With a quick gesture, she further heightened her perceptions, so that the world slowed down around her.  The spell flowed smoothly, perfectly, ‘til her reflexes were as honed as any chipped out street samurai.<br/><br/>Fatigue washed over her again, still not enough to slow her down, but enough to remind her that magic was not without its price.  The black girl started towards the door, vaguely vexed that this spell wouldn’t speed her pace as it did the rest of her.  She drew her sword—a modern steel katana etched with orichalcum kanji—and kicked open the door to the choir loft.<br/><br/>Ready to defend herself, but not slowing down, she hurried up the stairs.