<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJRIVD3GrTk" rel="nofollow">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJRIVD3GrTk</a>
Inquisitor Yvonne held his fists together as he stared through the one-sided glass into the interrogation room. Within the Halls of Torment in the Basilica Inquisitorii of the Hecuban Spire of Judgement, the young man held within was visibly consumed by hatred. His black eye, bloodied clothes, the indomitable will to remain silent even in the face of the cruelest tortures. The captive known as Silas, a free runner that plied the Black Run, was proving to be impossible to break. He had been brought back with the acolytes of the now late Inquisitor Scriptotus, an ambitious man who had taken to his role as an Inquisitor with a particular zeal Yvonne disdained. The man was like a grox, blundering through everything in his way in a rampant charge, ignoring the damage he caused in the wake of his inquests. In this particular case, the infamous warp dabbler known as Jebiden, posing as a illustrious member of the house of Mann, had brokered passage with the rogue trader patriarch of the House of Carlege. Having been reported to be in possession of the Eye of Damaskinos that allowed him to broker passage through the warp, rather than practice the abhor-able practice of child-sacrifices he had become famous for in the bordering Finial and Ixaniad sectors where he plied his trade, had been exposed by none other than the Black Run Operatives the Inquisition had seeded throughout the years. It was only with some trepidation and careful maneuvering that the House of Carlege had been encouraged to give up one of their own - and none other by the brother of the patriarch himself. And Scriptotus, in his rampage, had destroyed more than he had realized. The damage wrought by the strike would back track the Inquisition an entire generation of subtlety as their links were burned, exposed, and lost to the ravages of the Imperial Navy and the fleets of the Adeptus Arbites. The Explorator Fleets, even, had been called to perform in this joint task, to hide beneath the umbra of their mantle to entrap the Carlege's flag ship, the Gadston Martin. Mengsk watched as the interrogator, the chem-brute acolyte of the late inquisitor, worked the man with another punch and another line of inquiry. The words of his peers had fallen short of satisfying his need for the truth. And yet, this man was resilient to the end, shouting sly remarks and testing the chem-brute's patience with each word that escaped his bloodied lips. There was something about this man that Yvonne admired. Hard, immutable in the face of danger. Not quite unlike himself, only molded by the wrong hands. But were they truly wrong? He had seen the worst of the Imperium. The dredges, the slums, the overcrowded hab blocks. Entire generations spent on the construction of void ships. Entire families cast into eternal servitude in the worst of the chem-dregs that littered every hive world. This man had a taste of freedom. Mengsk put a finger to the locket that he kept hidden beneath the body glove he wore. In it, were the two people he had dared loved the most. His wife, now long gone by a stretch of decades. And the child he had been forced to give up. In his line of duty, love was a luxury often denied. But in these moments, he recalled, and their ages would have been around the same. The Chem-Brute screamed at some insult, launching into a fury as the man known as Silas began to laugh furiously at his attempts to break him. It would only be a matter of minutes before he would kill him. They would have been the same age, and if he had grown to be a man, Yvonne would have hoped that his son would have the same resilience against his fate. "Stop the interrogation," Yvonne said, pressing the button to the loud-hailer. "Your dismissed," He ordered, which resulted in the chem-brute shouting in rage and punching a hole in the ferrocrete wall. Yvonne Mengsk let his left hand slip from holding the body glove above the place his locket rested. This man was not his son. This man knew nothing of duty to the Imperium, but after hours of interrogation, and beyond the breaking point, he had endured, unwilling to sacrifice his humanity. Unwilling to sacrifice his own humanity, as Yvonne was once forced to do. "Stand, Silas, for your fate has been decided," The loud-hailer commanded. "Stand tall, for you have been proven innocent, and for that, you have been deemed worthy of service." When Mengsk entered the room, the man stood defiant, his right eye swollen shut by the most recent impacts. "Service? to you?" Mengsk simply gave a nod. Silas muttered beneath his breath, near unintelligibly, "You sure you don't just want to have'em hit me some more?"
