Deacon didn't waste any time in leaving the room, taking the long way around as to avoid having to walk past the bloody corpse of his scribe. He still couldn't believe it, but this was an Inquisitor. He would have to put his faith in him, the Emperor's divine will given flesh. There was little else to do than simply sending a message off to the cardinal. Orders hastily, and still somewhat shakily, given caused guardsmen to run off in several directions. The armoury had to be checked, the astropath needed to be examined and messages had to be sent. Just as he'd given the last order, Deacon remembered that he would need a new scribe as well. He'd almost looked over his shoulder to see if he was keeping up taking notes of the orders, though his corpse now stained the hallway. He sighed, this was too much for him. He'd always known there were Heretics, but his scribe? He'd known the man for eleven years, this was too much to comprehend. He found solace in the Emperor, his divine will had sent not one but two Inquisitors to this place. Surely together these would rid the system of all the vile henchmen of Chaos.<br/><br/>A whisper along the hallways, one guardsman to another, and on to another. "Blindman's Visions..." It would travel all the way through the station, to the one man who knew what it meant. They could torture a hundred heretics and all the Inquisition would get were screams and blasphemous exclamations. This plan would not fail, it was thorough. This was just a setback.