A harness. Metal. Industrial. Strapped to his chest was a device that looked like the offspring of a cannon and a welding torch—two polished brass tanks glinting in the low light, hoses coiling like vipers.

Here are the most likely corrections, along with a short article for the most probable one.

He stepped out into the toxic rain of the Obsidian Sector, the darkness swallowing him whole, leaving only the memory of the light and the heat behind.