[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=b8860b]Reginald Keystone[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
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[hr][center][color=b8860b][b]Location:[/b][/color] Qasr El Nil Barracks [/center][hr][hr]
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	[i][color=b8860b]"Oh I say, marvelous! Simply marvelous."[/color][/i] thought the Lord Major, simply resplendent in his battle dress uniform in the midst of what looked like a vision of a turbulent, war-soaked afterlife. It confused him as to why there were others present, particularly others to which he had recently spoken. Did one not speak with departed relatives when one died? Admittedly, this was most decidedly [i]not[/i] how Pastor Billingsley described the hereafter. From his descriptions, there was far less in the way of animal headed monstrosities doing each other in with sharp objects, and a touch more gently strummed stringed instruments and winged messengers of the Lord. 

	He finally attempted to say something aloud. [color=b8860b]"This is quite the locale, is it not? I ... I wonder if [i]this[/i] is the afterlife if one dies in Egypt? How exhilarating!"[/color] It really was, for an old soldier like himself. Reginald was never really one for the concept of Valhalla, but now seeing what appeared to be an eternal battle being waged between gods? There was some appeal in utilizing a long lifetime of combat experience after his demise. Comforting. It got his blood moving, frankly. Or at least it did, until his heart was unceremoniously removed by what he assumed was A Nudist. Anudist? Anoobis? Well, no matter. Heart gone, and whatnot. Frightful stuff, that. 

	If this as his afterlife, that must mean that he was dead. And so were these other people. But he didn't remember dying bravely at all. No glorious passing, no chucking it in like all of his fellows, in honorable combat or giving his life for another. [color=b8860b]"Dear merciful Lord, did I die in my sleep like a common gardener? Fiddlesticks!"[/color] This was not how he wanted to go. Not at all.

	It suddenly occurred to him over the truly depressing thought that he had very mundanely expired (likely with a freshly shat bed, for good measure) that his actual [i]heart[/i] was floating before him like a meaty, substandard party favor. As the thought dawned fully, a blast of ripping pain flooded him. 

	[i]And then he woke.[/i]

	At least his bed was as yet unsoiled. That was a plus. The Lord Major swung his feet around and set them onto the floor. Slowly he stood and toddled toward his private lavatory, when the sight of a manila envelope caught his eye from upon the floor next to the door to the hallway. [color=b8860b]"Ah, catalogue results..."[/color] he mumbled to himself. But priorities dictated an immediate shuffle to his toilet. 

	A few minutes later, Reginald addressed the matter of the envelope, giving a quick once-over. There were only a couple of things he needed to see before his face grew very stern. But true to the actions of a good Officer of the Empire, he made ready to wash and dress before attending to less civil matters. He was, after all, a gentleman. About the time his trousers were properly suspended about himself, a knock reported from his door. Along with it, his nephew's voice. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, sweeping his hand back behind him as welcoming gesture. 

	[color=b8860b]"Yes, yes. Indeed we might need to speak, Nephew. Please, do enter."[/color]