PARADISO: Another Look

Another scene plucked from the opening chapter of Paradiso! This one shows Atlas and Obe facing off against a new threat, as well as a return of a beloved character. ;)

“The latest H.A.’s. I’m getting an adrenaline rush just looking at ‘em,” Edor proclaimed as they ambled along the bustling market level.

“H.A.?” Atlas was tired of acronyms. He trailed Obe and Edor, struggling to match their expertise in weaponry. A cart laden with extravagantly priced items hovered between them. They’d scored a sum of ether from Agrippa that would’ve easily covered his Dierock debt and then some. He found it almost laughable, if it didn’t make him so angry. He needed to learn more about Horizon—CEO, donors, and the locations of their labor camps, anything he could use to pummel them.

"Holographic Armor," Obe elucidated. "It envelops its wearers with protective force fields."

Atlas scrutinized the enigmatic armor, its black metal chest pieces draping over shoulders and encircling the midsection. “Looks rather heavy for combat.”

Edor emitted a dismissive snort as they moved through the market, watching for thieves eying their cart. “You won’t mind the weight once it stops a projectile aimed squarely at your chest.”

Obe shook his head, voice stern. “I disagree. The lighter armor will suit you better. Move fast and deadly, and you won’t worry about how much it can stop.”

Atlas raised a brow. “You have experience with these things?” He’d long gathered Obe was a combat expert, having seen him take down two guards on Dierock without breaking a sweat.

“Ignore him,” Edor interjected. He pushed aside the long hair hiding the back of his neck, unveiling a tattoo of a five-point star around a blade jutting through a beret. “I’ve been in the thick of it with the dirtiest scoundrels in the galaxy.”

“You were a Starwatcher,” Atlas discerned. It explained a lot about Edor, though, thinking of Severus, he doubted all Starwatchers were so arrogant.

Edor released a wistful sigh as his head followed a woman in a thigh-high, promiscuous red dress. “Best days of my life.” He winked at her; she smiled but kept walking. “A whole new playground. I was starting to scrape the bottom at Dierock.”

Atlas ignored the remark, uninterested in Edor’s intimate exploits. “Caelia had that Starwatcher dreamscape on her wall,” He wasn’t sure why he brought her up, pushing aside the image of her lying in her own blood.

He didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah. Always told her I’d get her a foot in the door if we ever got free. She was a bit of a fangirl, but dead set on trying.” He shrugged. “Never been a chick in the ‘Watch, but if anyone could’ve done it, it would’ve been her.”

Their stride grew quiet for a while, only rekindling when Obe and Edor launched into discussions about various pulsar rifles. Atlas let his mind drift toward immediate concerns—the search and rescue of their families, repairs needed for the Dysarchos’ weapon systems, how to hack into Starcore. He sighed.

So much that needs to be done.

When they reached the ascender, Edor volunteered to carry the gear and arms back to the ship. “When I get back, though, it’s leisure time,” he warned.

Atlas wasn’t sure he liked the implications but realized everyone needed to unwind. “Just stay out of trouble— And find Apollus while you’re at it.”

Edor smirked. “Oh, I definitely will.”

Obe matched pace with Atlas as they walked. “You appear less than delighted,” he observed.

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t in the mood to delve into his thoughts.

“I trust you’ll lead us right. Nothing remarkable comes without struggle.”

Atlas couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes Obe was helplessly clueless, but only sometimes. “I don’t like it when you steal my lines, Obe.”

They turned into a wide, empty hall with signs pointing to another ascender, their levity shattering as a small, round device landed before them. Atlas just barely processed it as a red light flashed, a high-pitched wail stabbing his mind like glass shards. He clutched his ears, vision blurring, collapsing to his knees in agony.

He looked down the hall, the sound in his ears so loud it made his vision dance. A colossal figure advanced, wielding metal bars crackling with blue energy, eerily like Gladus.

Techweaver?

Obe crushed the device under his boot, silencing the torment and allowing Atlas’ senses to clear. The man ahead was hairless, his face checkered with metal bars, and his dark armor clanking ominously as he drew closer. His eyes locked onto Atlas, a dark and soulless gaze of the likes Atlas had never seen before.

Cold fear gripped him, but he forced composure as Obe yanked him up, shoving him behind and brandishing his pistol. “Stop right there!”

The Metal Man paused, a lifeless expression on his strange face. Then, with a flick of his wrists, his ionstrikes extended, sharp blades gleaming and ready to tear flesh.

What the hell is this guy?

Obe unleashed a volley of fire, each shot being immediately absorbed by a translucent blue shield. “Not good!” he yelled as his feet began to retreat.

Atlas drew Gladus, intercepting another ear-splitting device mid-air. The blade sliced it in half, and he retaliated with a surge of energy, cracking against the Metal Man’s shield and catching him off guard enough to halt his steps.

A spike shot out from the Man’s wrist, piercing Obe’s leg.

Obe grunted in pain as he lost his footing, a wild shot from his gun shattering overhead lights. Shadows cloaked the hall, green and blue electric sparks flaring between Gladus and the ionstrikes.

Atlas seized the moment, shooting off another wave and shattering the shield entirely. He charged, intent on a finishing blow, but the Man hurled something, tiny and metal. He failed to intercept it, and a brief stab followed by burning shockwaves seared through Atlas’ chest, paralyzing his body as he collapsed.

He looked down to see two small bars embedded into his torso, zaps of electricity sending intense pain throughout his entire body. The hallway seemed to tilt, the flashes of light in the dark corridor making him nauseous.

Heavy steps thundered, and the Metal Man soon loomed over him— his cold, metallic hand clamping Atlas’ face, chilling him to the bone. Fear twisted his gut as a pressure intensified. He was going to die, after all.

Not like this!

A torrent of pain erupted in his head—voices, images, alien memories overwhelming him, claws digging into his brain. He screamed, lost in the chaos. It felt as if he’d been screaming for an eternity when the agony abruptly ceased. Shaking, disoriented, Atlas sat up, seeing Obe trading blows with the Man just steps away, absorbing electric shocks to his forearms, and grunting in pain.

Atlas staggered to his feet, realizing with a panic that Gladus had slipped away.

The Metal Man ensnared Obe in a headlock, his grip turning Obe’s face purple.

Atlas lunged, slamming a fist into his metal-studded face. A searing shock jolted him, but the Man reeled, eyes twitching as Obe slipped free of his grasp.

The Man’s arm lashed out, seizing Atlas’ throat and slamming him against the wall. Air fled his lungs; pain exploded, ribs likely broken. He crumpled as the Man let go, gasping through a constricted throat.

Obe was on the attack once more, landing hits but taking brutal blows in return.

He can’t keep that up.

Muscles screaming and head spinning, Atlas picked himself up off the floor. His heart lept as he spotted Gladus’ hilt nearby and he scrambled to grab it, clutching it as if a long-lost friend. Feeling it in his hands again, its soothing power seemed to ease his pain, straightening his throbbing back.

He looked back to see Obe take a nasty headbutt, stumbling backwards, unbalanced and dazed. The Metal Man made to swing a rod at his battered head, but Atlas unleashed another wave, catching him by surprise and sending him skidding across the floor before halting, motionless.

Atlas pulled his pistol to finish the job, but the Man rose part way off the floor, letting loose a cry like that of in battle, but so loud it pierced the ears and made Atlas’ eyes and bones shake, his feet faltering as he was forced to his knees. The sound was brief, every bone protested long after it died.

What kind of freak is this guy?

The Metal Man stood over Obe, who had collapsed, and poised his ionstrikes to slit his throat.

Shit.

Atlas had to get up. He had to do something. Panic surged as he struggled to stand. His knees shook, everything swaying as his equilibrium readjusted. He swallowed the bile that climbed his throat just as a thin black blade whizzed past his ear, striking the Metal Man’s neck. Blood sprayed as the Man staggered, surprise on his face as he took in the sight of his latest combatant.

Atlas couldn’t help but grin as Aurelia’s volley of hovering blades raced toward their target. The Metal Man, despite his bleeding neck, struck most down with a terrifying speed. Two blades pierced his body, eliciting a guttural grunt.

He tried to scream once again, but it was weaker, drawing only winces.

Aurelia formed a green barrier, shielding herself and attempting to throw a protective arm over Atlas that he batted away. A wave of energy not unlike Atlas’ own broke across her shield, and when it subsided, their attacker had vanished.

Atlas thought he would rather the man be dead, but at least they would live another day. Relieved, he stumbled to Obe who sat against the wall. He was bleeding from the nose, a deep wound in his leg soaked in crimson, forearms burned, sleeves charred to his elbows. “I’m good,” Obe croaked. None of the wounds looked fatal, but his heart still tightened at the state of his friend.

“What the hell was that?” Atlas scanned warily, expecting the Metal Man’s return, but only Aurelia stood there, her face contorted in anger.

That’s a new look on her.

Still, he felt glad to see her alive.

“That was Voltrex, one of the most dangerous bounty hunters in the galaxy,” she said, arms crossed and hip jutted. “You’re lucky I arrived, or you’d both be dead.”

“Thank you,” Obe muttered, glancing from Atlas to Aurelia. “Returning the favor?”

“Something like that,” she quipped, her violet eyes narrowed, anger fading slightly.

Obe’s own eyes darkened as he glared at her. “We don’t need Vanguard’s assistance further.”

Aurelia’s thin brows rose as she smirked. “Not a fan?”

“You sure heal quick,” Atlas interrupted, scanning her and seeing no sign of a crippling wound.

“I had quite the doctors. Very handsome, too.” She winked.

Same as always…

“What do you want, Aurelia?” Every muscle ached, his shoulder likely out of place, his ribs cracked. He was in no mood for her games.

“You’re no fun,” she cooed. “All business and no play.”

Irritated and aching, he stared expectantly.

She relented, glancing at the ceiling. “Oh, I was traveling the galaxy, wondering where a wanted crew of escaped slaves might go, and Subterra popped into mind.” She looked at him as if he were dimwitted. “You have your mother’s looks, but not her brilliance.”

He sighed, eager to return to the ship. “Nice seeing you—really—but we’re leaving. Thanks for the help.” He threw an arm around the limping Obe, and Aurelia, smirking, stepped aside.

“You won’t get far with such amateur skills,” she provoked. “I could train you. Help you truly embrace your abilities.” She laughed. “Your sword is cute, but that’s all it’ll be in unskilled hands.”

Atlas bit back nasty words, but she struck deep. His weakness was evident, especially watching Obe’s life nearly end.

“We’ll be in touch, Atlas. Your mother has missed you greatly.”

He halted, heart squeezing. How he longed to see her, speak with her.

But that time will come.

“Ignore her,” Obe advised, and Atlas nodded absentmindedly, haunted by Voltrex’s chilling touch.