Inquisition Files I- Burning Man

==The Mystery of the Eternally Burning Man==

 

Inquisitor Galliard took a long drag on his lho-stick, as he shuffled through the case-library. He was on probationary duty, looking through the Inquisitions "x" files, after he'd accidentally crashed that 4-wheeled speedster into the Lord-Inquisitor's private hover-carriage. Long story. Short of it was, he was stuck here on Nemesis Terressa, the Inquisitor's secret archive-world, looking through the cases the Inquisition had been unable to satisfactorily resolve, for one reason or another.

 

There were at least ten million such files. He'd likely be here till Sol burnt out. No matter, he didn't have to do them in any particular order. But he was expected to do -all- of them, or at least untill tempers had cooled.

 

He put away one labelled "CASE LIIVI"- some ridiculous story about a vindicare failing to execute a farseer- and picked up the next Case file. CASE LIIVII- THE BURNING MAN. Intrigued, he flipped through it. The details were fairly scant. Best of all, the subject was still here, on Nemesis Terresa, in a deep, underground cell. He extinguished his lho-stick, flicking ash over the assortment of ancient vellum without care. He adjusted his hat, and went to go investigate. Way to kill time at anyrate.

 

 

The Servitors looked at him nervously as he made his request. Apparently noone had wanted to see the Burning Man in over two hundred years. He'd been there, as far as anyone knew, still screaming, since he'd been found on his homeworld of Prima Sigil, some backwater colony that the records were sketchy on. As far as anyone could tell, he posed no threat to the Imperium, he exhibited no outward signs of taint beyond his obvious condition, and that nothing could be done to gain any information from him. Efforts to extinguish the flame by placing him in a vacuum or using pysker abilities had failed, as had complete immersion in a vat of water, which he had simply reduced to steam. Eventually they'd given up, locked him away, and marked the Case with a big black, X, making it an X-file.

 

Descending in an old lift, the heavy cogs whirring, he could taste the dust in the air. The planet was riddled with these vast tunnels and networks of cells, storage rooms, and forgotten libraries. For thousands of years the Inquisition had been collecting this stuff and just...dumping it here, for the most part. Huge armies of servitors and scholars worked to catalogue and understand it all, but their work was very rarely fruitful.

 

Eventually, they came to a floor that was identical to the fourty floors above it. A long, perfectly smooth corridor, with many numbered, heavy iron doors. Floor 41, Case 52-7. The floor did seem warmer than the others. As he passed the cells, there was the occasional whimper or moan, some human, some alien, some truly...alien noises. He didnt have time to investigate them all, but he supposed at some point he probably would.

 

For now, he was focused on meeting This...Burning Man.

 

 

The Jailer-Servitor reluctantly inserted a heavy brass key into the cell-door, which activated a number of cogs turning, heavy counter-weights moving, shields deactivating, as a chunk of door-shaped adamantium and iron a foot thick swung inwards, revealing a completely bare cubic cell, about 6 by 6. In the very middle, chained by the hands and feet in heavy, blacked iron chains, was the Burning Man himself. He stood about average height for a human, and was a naked man of blackened skin and indistinguishable facial features. He rested on his knees, his eyes dim coals with a spark. The flames were low, dim, evidently 200 years of total isolation had seen the flames abate a little.

 

"Good day, Ignatius is it? I'm Inquisitor-"

 

The Man took in a huge breath, as if he hadn't breathed for eons. Perhaps he hadn't. He choked a bit spluttering, then took in another huge deep breath, before exploding into full blaze, accompanied by his screams of agony.

 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

 

Galliard stood unfazed, having brought earplugs for this purpose. He also flicked on a noise-dampener, which immediately reduced all sound in the cell to like that of being deep underwater.

 

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM" His screams now sounded distant and foggy.

 

"Right, lets see if we can't communicate civilly." He psy-pulsed the Burning Man. "My name is Inquisitor Galliard. I am here to close your case."

 

 

 

"THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO FOR ME. I BURN, MY AGONY IS TOTAL. YOUR INQUISITION FAILED, AND WILL ALWAYS FAIL TO UNDERSTAND WHY."

 

HIs thoughts came back like hammerblows, obviously coming with great effort. Its very difficult to think coherently when you are on fire, after all.

 

"I see you have improved your ability to communicate after two hundred years." Galliard mentally remarked, pacing the cell, feeling the backwash of heat coming off of the man. "It took them great effort to even find out your name the first time."

 

"TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF AGONY, ALONE. I ADJUSTED. IT...TAKES GREAT EFFORT."

 

Galliard stopped his pacing.

"I notice that you were silent, even dim in flame, when I arrived. Yet you flared up when you became aware of me. Why is that?"

 

"THE AIR IS STALE, HERE. YOU BROUGHT NEW AIR, FEEDING THE FLAME."

 

"Now that can't be true. You were vacuum-isolated several times, and still you burned as brightly. Yet you were dim."

 

"I...DO NOT KNOW."

 

Galliard sensed a lie for the first time, and was excited. Could he really crack this 200 year old case so soon?

 

"What else changed? Ah. of course. My arrival. Yet why would my arrival after 200 years trigger you?" He mused.

 

STOP, PLEASE. IT IS HURTING.

 

"You've endured the pain for 200 years, yet it remains ever-fresh? I think after 200 years I might almost get comfy with being on fire." Galliard smirked, taking out a lho-stick, which immediately was ignited into cinders by its proximity to the burning man. Galliard admitted he was finding it a tad uncomfortable, like strolling around a blast-furnace, but he could manage.

 

THE PAIN. IT IS TOO GREAT.

 

"And what...causes the Pain?"

 

 

 

 

 

The Burning Man thrashed at his chains, trying to rip them free. He blazed like a torch. Galliard pressed on, harder, feeling close to an anwser, his will like a pyschic auger.

 

"What is it about my presence that discomforts you so? Why do I make you pain, eh? Is it pyschic energy that feeds your flame? But then why burn at all when isolated for 200 years?"

 

PLEASE, NO MORE. NGGGGGGGGGH....

 

Galliard gleefully probed deeper.

"I can see it now. Your past. The moment you first began. The agony. The screams forced from your charred lips. The knowledge that it would persist forever, for as long as you...but now you try to block it. Your strength is returning. curious."

 

The Burning Man thrashed harder and harder, and the ageing, charred chains began to snap and buckle, popping loose. Galliard ignored this.

 

STOP. NOW. OR ELSE.

 

"Or else what? You'll burn me? As you burned...her?"

 

 

The Burning Man roared, throwing himself across the room, centuries-stiffened muscles creaking as he tried to lunge at the Inquisitor. Even if he hadn't been a smouldering corpse-man, Galliard saw the attack coming, and nimbly dodged. But it wasn't enough simply to avoid physical contact. The man blazed with ever greater heat, and he found his skin blistering and sizzling just by close proximity. The man was growing hotter, blazing to furnace and above levels. Galliard found himself having to exert greater power in his pyskic powers, throwing up a mental shield of rimefrost, as he tried to dodge the Burning Man and probe still deeper.

 

"Rusty, I see. Curious isnt it, that they never thought to do this. Simply...starve you, and then let one person in at a time. No, they tried to hammer you with multiple minds, multiple techniques, impatient for the anwsers. All the while feeding you."

 

SHUTUPSHUTHUPSHUTPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP

 

"I don't think so. I'm finally getting...through..." He winced, his mental feelers penetrating a literal mental firewall, the agony of centuries of burning briefly flooding his own mental senses. He staggered, and his shield flickered for a second.

 

The Burning Man swung his fists, like two blazing comets...

 

 

Galliard threw all his pyschic might into throwing the Burning Man against the opposite wall. It worked, a little too well, the blazing man flung so hard that he dented deep into the metallic walls, where he began to smoulder, falling down, but not unconscious.

 

I AM DENIED EVERYTHING BUT THE PAIN. LEAVE ME ALONE, PLEASE.

 

Galliard stood up, gently feeling the burn marks along his face and skin. Technically he'd briefly ignited himself, and was covered in burns. Somehow that training to ignore pain had held up. A pity Ignatius couldn't learn the same thing.

 

"Well...I think I understand now. Enough to close my case at least. I..don't think we can cure you, but we can minimise the pain. If you're...just left here...for the rest of time, it shouldn't be so bad. I'll include a note that the prisoner is not to be disturbed, unless its by...automata."

 

THANK YOU. PLEASE...JUST GO NOW.

 

The Burning Man began to weep, tears of flame streaming down his blackened cheeks. He should be rechained but...Galliard didnt see what threat he could pose, really. In the grand scheme of things, he was just.. a man. Cursed, but still a man.

 

"I will pray the Emperor grants you mercy." He said, lamely, before leaving. The great vault door began to swing back, clicking into place, with a heavy clang.

 

"Man, that was gakked up." He shuddered, shaking himself. Knowing what that man was...why he burned...It made him feel soiled to the core. Such was the price of delving too deep. He made the sign of the aquila.

 

"Alright, whats next? Servitors, bring me those damn X-files again..."