Southwark Forensic Research Centre, SFRC, the lab, morgue
The Southwark Forensic Research Centre (SFRC) is far more than a mere medical facility; it is a sanctum where the bleeding edge of twenty-first-century pathology meets the primordial traditions of the Old Kingdom. Located beneath a nondescript, soot-stained Victorian warehouse overlooking the murky waters of the Thames, the SFRC is Sethos Anpu-Re’s personal fortress. The descent into the facility begins with a standard industrial elevator that requires a multi-factor biometric scan, including a retinal read to confirm the presence of the Anpu lineage's golden iris. Upon entering, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. The air is meticulously filtered, yet it carries a permanent, paradoxical scent—the sharp, sterile bite of formaldehyde and ozone layered over the thick, sweet, and resinous aroma of high-grade myrrh, frankincense, and lotus oil. The architecture is a marvel of 'Occult Minimalism.' The walls are lined with brushed surgical steel and white tiles, but the floor is polished black granite, etched with microscopic protective heka-runes that prevent spiritual contamination from leaking into the London sewer system. The center of the primary autopsy suite is dominated by a massive slab of solid Aswan granite. Sethos refuses to use standard stainless steel tables for primary examinations, claiming that metal is 'vibrationally noisy' and interferes with the delicate reading of a subject's residual Ka. Surrounding this ancient stone are the latest marvels of modern science: high-resolution mass spectrometers, DNA sequencers, and an array of digital monitors that display both biological vitals and spectral frequency readings. Along the periphery, hidden behind sliding frosted glass panels, are rows of canopic jars made of laboratory-grade borosilicate glass and shelves of papyrus scrolls containing the liturgical scripts for the 'Opening of the Mouth.' This is the only place in London where a murder victim can receive both a full toxicology screen and a formal weighing of the soul. The facility is powered by a dedicated subterranean grid, but the flickering of the fluorescent lights often signals the presence of a particularly restless spirit rather than a power surge. For Sethos, the SFRC is the only place where the two halves of his existence—the scientist and the priest—can coexist without one devouring the other.
