As usual, I claim no ownership to any Games-Workshop stuff used here.
Storm-coat flaring behind me, I jumped off the apartments roof and rolled, my heavy-grade boots absorbing most of the impact. My opponent is one-hundred meters away, shouldering his way through a crowd, eyes wide and panicky. He'll wish he was dead when I get my hands on him. I start running again, drawing my hell-pistol as I close with him. The crowd parts before me, mothers protecting their sons and husbands protecting their wives from the madman with a gun. If they knew what I really was, they would be in even more of a panic. Ha.
My quarry has stopped and is making an arcane gesture. My sources told me he was witch, so no surprises. He hurls a bolt of green fire at me, setting my storm-coat on fire. Cursing, I rip the coat off and cast it down. Raising my hell-pistol, I put a hell-round through his leg, causing him to pitch left and scream. I walk up to him, my hardest gaze upon my face, and say, 'In the name of the Emperors Holy Orders of the Inquisition, I place you under arrest for ten counts of witch-craft, eight counts of heresy and a dozen counts of pissing me off. Please resist again, so I can end your miserable life.' As he lies there, screaming bloody murder at his wounded leg, I put a black metal mask over his head, since he has been know mesmerize people and I put him in flex-cuffs. My 'companions' catch up with me a moment later.
'Are you alright, Janis?' my Interrogator, Korren Nera asks breathlessly, the heavy carapace on his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. He's been with me for about two years, but was apprenticed under one of my fellow Ordo Hereticus Inquisitors, who was killed by the man I just captured. Behind Korren, my two Imperial Guard bodyguards stand wordlessly at ease, their eyes constantly on the watch. They are twins, taken from a hive-gang regiment several years ago. I had to have them mind-wiped and re-educated because of how much they hated the Inquisition. The one of the left is Ajax, or is he the one of the right? I can never tell them apart. Shouldering through them, my Orders Hospitaller Sister, Regina. She is definitely not the kind, nice Sister the Orders Hospitaller is famous for. She's hard-bitten and serious about her work and pushes my buttons about everything, but her medical expertise has saved my life more than once.
Scowling at me, Regina bandages the witch, but speaks a prayer of purity to keep his taint from spreading to her. Dusting her hands off, she nods a greeting at me. Chuckling, I wrench the witch to his feet, smacking him across the back of his head with the butt of my pistol. Suddenly serious, I spin him around, and snarl, 'This is what you get for messing with the Inquisition.' Ha.
Later that day, aboard my ship, the Pride of Terra, I sit in my quarters, sipping a glass of ten-year old amasec, I flip through the information I have about the witch. I can't interrogate him yet, I have to get the Inquisitorial fortress on Nemesis Terresa before I can do that, but I have to find his weaknesses to break him well. As I am about to finish reading the data-slate, I stumble across something that angers me to my soul. The damn witch has a coven on a nearby planet, Greta Minor. Cursing myself for not finding that before, I scramble to the bridge of my small ship.
Oh, I haven't introduced myself yet. I am Inquisitor Janis Kethen, of the Ordo Hereticus. I've been a full-fledged Inquisitor for almost two decades, and an Interrogator for a decade before that. I've got a pretty good game going; I've got a company of Storm Troopers at my disposal, a great ship, and some good companions. Heretics and witches beware; Inquisitor Kethen is on the prowl. My ship, the Pride of Terra, is some four-hundred meters of elegant steel and adamantine, bare-metal except for a black Inquisitorial symbol. Most of it is quarters for the Storm Troopers and myself, the rest is void-cells and interrogations chambers, for my, more entertaining, duties. Ha.
'Captain,' I shout as I enter the bridge, (none of the crew have names) 'change course for bloody Greta Minor!' The veteran Captain follows orders instantly, decades of experience ingrained in his mind. Every other memory had been erased long ago, so that chaos has fewer avenues to enter his mind.
Alright everyone who reads this, give me some feed-back so I know if its worth continuing. N. Kage