But the Heavy just did his trick with gravity again, and now down seemed to be the end of the hallway. The Jap began to fall, but whipped his sword out and jabbed it into the floor, and he was hanging there as Amish tumbled down the carpet past him. The window barely slowed him.
Amish opened his eyes inside the shower of glass to see that he was gliding over the street ten stories below. I'm flying! It was the most wonderful thing he'd ever experienced, until he reached the end of Sullivan's range, then gravity returned to its normal direction and the street rushed up to meet him.
"Who are you supposed to be?" Sullivan asked.
The man at the end of the dim hall threw open his coat, revealing the blue-wrapped hilt of a sword. His hand hovered over the handle of the blade, waiting.
Jake's curiosity did not run as deep as his apprehension at facing a crazy guy with a giant razor. He Spiked, bending gravity's pull to a different angle. The dead body and the cross-eyed Reader slid down the floor, but the other drew his sword in a flash as the Power hit, took it in two hands, and drove the silver blade deep into flooring. The Reader zipped past, hit the window, and took the whole assembly with him into the city.
The swordsman hung from the end of the blade, parallel with the carpet, dangling, patiently waiting for the Spike to subside, watching Sullivan curiously the whole time.
The Power needed to distort gravity for so long was too much, and Sullivan let go, letting himself fall against the doorway. The swordsman landed on his hands and knees, then took his time getting up. He pulled his blade from the wood, then spun it once quickly through the air, before letting it dangle loose in his hand. His fedora had gone out the window with the Reader, but other than that, he seemed fine.
"I did not realize the Americans had developed their Heavies to this extent."
"I'm big on self-improvement." The man was an Oriental. Sullivan had worked in a few Chinatowns before, and the truck drivers that had driven the First Volunteer around France had been Vietnamese, so he had more cultural exposure than a lot of his countrymen, but this man spoke English better than Sullivan did, and had a much nicer suit. Probably almost fifty, but strong and fit, he was remarkably tall compared to the other Asians Sullivan had known, probably just under six feet, and appeared a little too confident. "You ain't from around here, are you?"
"I am impressed with your level of mastery, Mr. Sullivan," he gave a very formal bow. "It is a great honor to battle one such as you."
Sullivan raised the Lewis gun to his shoulder. "There's nothing honorable about battle," he replied, pulling the trigger.
A short burst of 30 caliber bullets hit the swordsman square in the chest. Sullivan lowered the machine gun, but the swordsman was still standing. "Impossible." A string of.30-06 should have put even the toughest Brute on their ass.
The swordsman started forward slowly, raising his weapon, both hands on the hilt, blade held rigid next to his head.
Sullivan leaned into it this time. When the first Heavies started drifting into the First Volunteer, they had been put to work as machine gunners. Even the least powerful Heavy could carry five times as much weight as a Normal. An Active Heavy could lower the tug of gravity on his weapon, so even a pig like the Lewis Mk3 was handy to run around with. But the less a gun weighs, the more it recoils, and the harder it is to control, so a clever Spiker actually increases the pull on his weapon when it's time to put the hammer down.
The giant barrel barely moved as Sullivan pounded the remainder of the drum magazine into the swordsman. Each.30-06 bullet hit with an impact sufficient to quarter an elk, but instead of tumbling through flesh, the bullets exploded into fragments against his body. The hallway was pummeled with noise, the air was thick with unburned powder, and shining brass cases bounced along the floor.
When the Lewis bolt finally fell on an empty chamber, the swordsman was still there, clothes tattered, but flesh unharmed, and his slow walk turned into a charge. The sword descended as Sullivan desperately used his Power, hurling his attacker back. The swordsman fell a few feet but instantly adjusted, and drove himself back toward Sullivan in a leap. The big man shouted as the end of the blade flickered through his skin.
Sullivan stumbled back, blood pouring down his bare chest. He Spiked again, totally reversing gravity, and the swordsman fell toward the ceiling. Again, his foe adjusted, twisted, and took the impact with his hands, rolling across the roof, getting closer. Sullivan cut the Power and the swordsman dropped, hitting the ground in a perfect crouch, coat billowing around him, sword extended behind. He looked up and smiled.
"What are you?" Sullivan gasped, reaching deep, gathering Power. He had one last trick.
"I am Rokusaburo of the Iron Guard, Herald of the Imperium, warrior of the Emperor of Nippon. Know that before you die." he said with pride. He rose and extended his sword, aimed directly at Sullivan's heart. "I represent the future."
"Not if we can help it."
A grey shape appeared through the wall, colliding with the swordsman, locking up on his extended arm. Both of them crashed into the wall, cracking through the boards. The swordsman roared, the grey shape was instantly flung off, and the German from the stolen dirigible landed at Sullivan's feet.
"Need a hand?" the Fade asked.
Sullivan shrugged. "I suppose."
The swordsman came out of the wall swinging. The blade was insanely fast, and Sullivan was barely able to raise the Lewis to block. The German started pumping rounds from a pistol into the attacker and Sullivan was rewarded with bits of bullet jacket hitting him for the effort as they ricocheted off the Jap's skin.
Rokusaburo spun into the hall, and they had to leap back to avoid being eviscerated. The sword lanced forward, and Sullivan barely blocked it, the Lewis flying from his hands under the impact. The blade instantly returned, humming through the air, and the tip pierced his bicep. The steel came out in a splash of red that painted the wallpaper, and Rokusaburo stepped back, triumphant, as Sullivan crashed, bellowing, into the wall.
The sword flicked back to finish him, but the swordsman's head rocked as he was struck from behind, and the blade passed within a hair's width of Sullivan's throat. He jerked his eyes up to see a bespectacled man walking down the hallway, firing a handgun repeatedly into Rokusaburo's back. It was just as ineffective as before, but at least it was distracting. The swordsman turned toward the new threat.
The Fade came off the floor, leaping past Sullivan, and kicked the Imperial in the back of the legs. The Japanese went to his knees, but simultaneously reversed his sword and drove it up, right through the German's guts. The Fade was too quick with his Power, and the silver blade erupted through nebulous grey smoke. The mass sidestepped, re-formed into solid flesh and bone, and kicked Rokusaburo square in the skull.
The swordsman's head snapped back hard, but then came right back wearing a vicious snarl, and the German had to dive away to avoid the sword.
Apparently hitting him did about as much good as shooting him. Sullivan pushed himself off the wall and stumbled forward, splattering blood in great pulsing gushes from his arm, but still he was calm, analytical, trying to find a way around Rokusaburo's Power. Even while bleeding out, Sullivan was able to note that the Jap's clothes were shredded, but it was like his skin turned to hardened steel on impact. He had never heard of the Power of indestructibility before, but like any other Power it had to have limits. It had to run out eventually, or break when pushed too far.
Sullivan cleared his head, using his Power to see the world as it really was-mass, density, and force. He could feel the Power of his opponent, and he understood then what was happening. The Jap was like a reverse Fade. Instead of making himself hazy until his body could pass through solid things, this one was increasing it until nothing could pass through. It was taking a staggering amount of energy.