One hundred twenty seconds to get clear.
BenDavid pushed the red ‘commit’ button on the
plastique’s timer, shoved the anti-radiation drug injector
hard against his neck, hoping it would be enough when the
Iranian cyclotron’s nuclear stores went up. Ben David threw
the injector hard against the control console as he started to
run, not concerned about the droplets of his blood that were
still clinging to the injector’s needle. He was running, nearly
a dozen yards down one of the lab’s sterile corridors by the
time the syringe shattered against the North Korean built
computer screen.
One hundred seconds.
BenDavid leapt to the side as machine gun fire
ricocheted down the corridor. A smoke grenade exploded
with a dull pop and the corridor went the grey of television
static. The Iranians must have found the two bodies he
dropped on his way into the complex. The Israeli spy took
cover behind a vending machine, glowing a surreal red and
white in the grey haze. BenDavid knew didn’t have time for
this, as he pulled his twin swords from their sheathes in the
lean muscles of his thighs. The bone daggers danced with
silvery runes as they caught the light.
Ninety seconds.
More gunfire, covering fire as the Iranian security
detail moved forward. BenDavid gripped his knives tighter,
folding them against his forearms the way he’d been trained.
He tensed, crouched, knowing he’d have to trade precision
and safety for raw speed. The first of the Iranians was in
sight; even through the smoke BenDavid could smell the
plastic odor of his Kevlar and the stink of his adrenaline.
Eighty seconds.
Leap out from behind cover, surge forward and up,
slide the edge of your knife across the surprised Iranian’s
throat, and duck down low as the man’s blood exploded
up, splattering the low banks of fluorescent lights, so the
dying man took the bullets meant for you…..
Seventy nine seconds.
BenDavid blocked four bullets with his bone knives, the
shock of their impacts thrumming up the blades and
through his forearms, resonating within his shoulders.
Than BenDavid took two shots to the chest. He stumbled,
his own blood joining the spreading pool on the floor. He
winced, and sliced off the fingers of the man who shot him,
screaming obscenities in Hebrew.
Seventy eight seconds.
BenDavid brought his blade down on the last
gunman, slicing through jugular and watched as the man
crumbled. The young spy caught his breath, coughing up
bits of lung tissue and black blood as the last gunman died.
Somewhere, he found the strength to start running again.
Seventy seconds.
The soul that empowered his blades may have
died for Israel, but BenDavid had no desire to join him.
BenDavid staggered down the corridor, running as fast has
he could, and the martyred soul within the blades hummed
comfortingly.
During the waning days of the Roman Empire, a small Jewish garrison held off a much larger Roman force at the mountaintop fort of Masada. In the end, when defeat was inevitable, they chose death over capture and slavery, becoming symbols of Jewish defiance and valor.
The Scions of Masada are a secretive, highly trained and impeccably equipped sect of elite assassins and saboteurs within Israel’s feared MOSSAD agency that carry on the spirit of the martyrs of Masada.
The Scion of Masada incorporates martial arts, Zen swordsmanship techniques, counterintelligence and military expertise and ancient esoteric arts into a seamless whole. All Scions carry deadly stealth daggers, undetectable my most conventional weapon detectors, as their badges of office, and these blades are imbued with the spirit of defiance of the heroes of Masada.
Written by Chris A. Field & Daniel M. Perez
Artwork by Anthony cournoyer.
Included in the listing is a full Flash Demo of the product, as well as a Publisher Audio Commentary.
Available at Your Games Now, and the ENWorld Download Shop.
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