Hide was impressed. For someone who had spent the last ten years on the Rooftop, the Golden Ladder—the Paradise's most important military force—was not unfamiliar, but in all that time he had never seen them in action. The national guards, androids armored in Elentite polymer in the three common colors, were the ones who patrolled the Rooftop far and wide.
The blues were the most numerous and the lowest rank: enough to stop ordinary people, designed to keep order against a pair of thieves or rioters. They even had primary orders not to kill criminals, only to subdue them. The reds, leaders of the blues, were fewer—about one for every ten blues—and capable of suppressing even a mob of ten men.
Finally there were the violets: roughly one assembled per hundred. They were considered the last line of defense against public disorder. That was why Hide had never seen the so-called Heavenly Stairs, which were known to be the commanders of the three highest categories.
—Who is he? —he asked, almost not expecting an answer. To his surprise, the professor to his right—who had already taken a seat, watching the chaos as if the film had reached its best part—explained:
—The man in gold is Grand Captain Trinnus Thors, recognized as the third rung of the Golden Ladder.
Hide mentally recalibrated how much—or how little—he knew about the Golden Ladder. Although the world now relied on androids for security, the highest ranks remained reserved for mechanically modified humans: cyborgs serving the Paradise's government.
—It shows you don't know much about them —the professor said when he saw Hide's face. Hide only shook his head, so the professor continued—: The Golden Ladder is made up of humans; you should know that. The important thing is that they divide into three ranks. The bronzes: unmodified humans, but capable of facing and defeating blue guards with basic gear. The silvers: those who have survived one or more biotech operations; with those upgrades they are superior in every way to the red commanders and equal to elite violet androids.
—Match a violet guard? —Hide murmured—. A human can't stand up to that…
To Hide it seemed impossible. A violet guard was the only man-made entity by the Paradise authorized to descend into the Abyss and face Alpha-class mutations; a squad of them could hold off Omega ranks. Just thinking that a human—even modified—could face something so different gave him goosebumps.
—And they're not even the most dangerous monsters in the Paradise —the professor continued—. The highest rungs of the Ladder, known as the goldens, are considered Overmen. Their bodies barely retain a biological appearance; the brain and part of the torso are the only human parts they mostly keep. In every sense of the word… they are cyborgs capable of facing Omega mutants one-on-one.
Hide swallowed hard, impressed. He couldn't help thinking that this Rex Tyranus—the one who dragged so many memories up—should get away as soon as possible. But the screen showed something else.
—Come on, let's start the show, or did you all just come to watch? —Rex proclaimed brazenly, spreading his arms.
Captain Trinnus, watching the threat head-on, realized in seconds that he was looking at a one hundred percent organic human. He frowned in disgust and proclaimed:
—This is a waste of time. Why didn't you deploy violet units? —he demanded, outraged.
—According to reports, all nearby violet units are engaged with a mutant three hundred kilometers from here, Captain —someone replied at his side.
—Damn those from the Abyss. If they would just die once and for all, we'd save ourselves so much trouble.
The two executives beside him lowered their heads at the captain's remark and looked back at the young man and his vehicle—without ignoring, of course, the massacre of guards that preceded him.
—As a gesture of goodwill —the captain launched—, surrender yourself, boy, and you will only face trial. Otherwise we will be forced to arrest you… or kill you, depending on your resistance.
—Do I look like a coward? —Tyranus shot back, beginning to stretch his arms and legs, preparing.
The captain, as if he had predicted the outcome from the start, made a hand gesture and sent his lieutenants:
—Deal with him.
—Yes, Captain —answered the black-haired lieutenant, removing her cap before leaping in front of the young man, ready to fight.
—I see they sent me a little doll; don't be upset if I break it.—Excuse me, but I've fought hands much bigger than yours.
And so the clash began.