He had grown old and fat. Time had been unkind, and he felt its weight upon his shoulders. He looked down once more at the package that had been delivered only hours ago—a key, a deed, and a death certificate bearing his father’s name. The voice of his father, it seemed, rose from its hellish resting place to mock him, enjoying one final laugh at his expense.

“Fool, bastard.” He said. “I’m too old for this—and so were you. Or, at least, you should have been.”