From:	Rand Ratinac docwagon101@*****.com
Subject:	Sweet Oblivion - Part 3
Date:	Wed, 21 Apr 1999 22:12:26 -0700 (PDT)

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From whawk61@*****.com Thu, 22 Apr 1999 20:29:19 -0700 (PDT)
Date: Thu, 22 Apr 1999 20:29:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Brown whawk61@*****.com
Subject: Sweet Oblivion - Part 4

Okay, this is the last one for the week. You'll have to wait until next
week for more - if you care. :)

=========
SWEET OBLIVION - Part 4

A brilliant, blue flame flared to life before Shannon’s eyes. She
winced and brought an arm up quickly to shade her eyes. The action was,
in fact, totally unnecessary, due to the flare compensation system
implanted in her eyes, as was the pained squint. She had, however, been
trained to react to such stimuli in that fashion. It wouldn’t do for
people to realise she possessed such an enhancement. Flare compensation
was generally considered a combat augmentation, and rightly so. There
were very few people in legitimate lines of work who truly required
such a system.
Shannon blinked and slowly lowered her arm as the light receded. The
flame came to rest in the hand of a man seated on what could only be
described as a throne. The heavy, wooden chair sat upon a raised
platform in approximately the middle of the warehouse. The man was tall
and lanky. Dark eyes glared at her balefully in the glow of the
cerulean blaze and his entire demeanour was foreboding. -God, that’s
pretentious!- Shannon thought.
The light provided by the flame was just barely bright enough to
illuminate an area about twenty metres in diameter. Normally that would
have been enough for Shannon’s low-light vision to make out just about
everything in the warehouse. Somehow the edge of the magical fire’s
glow was almost a solid barrier, though, and Shannon could see nothing
past it. That, she had to admit, was a neat trick.
"You are Sweet Oblivion?" Shannon could instantly tell that the voice
of the mage seated on the throne was not that of the man who had
berated Frankie the Goon earlier. She nodded once, firmly, and the mage
smiled humourlessly. "Not a particularly impressive performance against
Frankie," he observed.
"If you want to hire me, it’s not for my fighting abilities," Shannon
replied.
"True. Quite true. I do want to hire you; and you’re right – it’s not
for your combative skills."
Shannon’s answering smile was rather sour. "Do tell."
"There is a man," the mage informed her. "He has become troublesome to
me."
Shannon’s lips quirked. "I wouldn’t think that would prove a problem
to a man of your obvious power."
"Ordinarily, no," the mage said, choosing to ignore her sarcasm.
"However, I cannot be seen to act against him. There are other people,
even more powerful than I," he admitted, "who would frown upon such
actions."
"So instead, you wish for me to…act against him."
"Not exactly. Even that could prove too dangerous. It would not be
beyond the resources of these people to discover who you are and my
involvement in the matter. And that would be unacceptable."
"Totally. So what is it that you actually wish of me?"
The mage paused, then smiled again. He waved his hand and a ghostly
image appeared in the air between them.