Someone asked me to write this story, and gave me a plot to follow, which I did for the most part. The story stands incomplete as it is, and will not be finished. Characters in this story such as both Benjas and the bacca Jerome are based off of real people. Baccas are also based off of something within Minecraft.
Black suits, and black dresses filed down a line, in solemn observance of a funeral. Or, rather, bacc suits, as today, thousands of baccas mourned their leader, Benja. Outside the glass dome, even more players were in cheerful hysterics, held back only by a ring of stony-faced bacca-riot guards. As the procession reached its final destination, time seemed to stop. All was still for hundreds of blocks in each direction, and people waited in tense silence. A pair of baccas stepped forwards in unison, and lowered their leader to his earthen grave. Tossing flowers and other farewell-gifts, individuals stepped forwards and bid Benja farewell. As four blocks of dirt were respectfully lowered over the coffin, the riot outside grew to an unprecedented pitch, and a mass of people broke through the ring of guards.
Sprinting forwards, they advanced in a war-formation towards the graveyard. Three men stood in the front, and the one in the center shouted, “Good evening to you, men of the bacc. Greetings from Joey Graceffa, our leader. We are here to claim this land for our mighty leader, and extinguish the bacca race.” At this, the men behind him spread out like a deck of cards, armed with heavy equipment. A small group of baccas, disorganized and clumsy, approached from behind. Without a signal or leader, they tried mustering the courage to repel the invaders, but lacked coordination.
With a single will, the men stomped once on the ground, and dared the baccas to approach. However, that single shaking of the ground caused a nearby building to shake, and a dark figure fell from the top floor. He stood up, and dusted himself off. Approaching the two parties, he coughed, and said, “Hello, my dear baccas. And your tidings are indeed good ones, men of Joey Graceffa. For I am Benja, the real one. And I am glad to have this chance to extinguish you, pitiful beings.”
“Hah, nonsense. You’re probably only at 1 heart from that huge fall. You should have known better than to sit in so perilous a perch. Fool, prepare yourself. You bear no arms, nor do you bring with you a set of armor. And you were just buried, if I’m not mistaken. This world has no ghosts.” The Joey spokesman chuckled. Two warriors turned towards Benja, and casually walked over, weapons in hand.
“Ah, but you see, that is where you are incorrect. That fall? Yes, you saw it. From that building behind me. You are wrong. It did not deal me 9 hearts of damage, for it did 27. But that was a mere scratch to my total health. You are the fool, and the one who just died, in my eyes at least, for you have just signed a death-warrant. Behold! The power of the real Benja, RC the Fabulous!” And with that, he dashed forwards, crossing dozens of blocks in a mere split-second.
Lunging to the right, he yanked a soldier to the ground. Taking the iron axe, he slid it across the back of the fallen man, who disintegrated into tiny particles a moment later. Continuing on to the second knight, he feinted to the left, only to dash around from the right and behead him, with apparent ease. Slowly straightening up, he had a deadly grin on his face. Dramatically walking to the army, he stretched the arm that bore the murder weapon. Steadily gaining speed with what appeared to only be a walking stride, he rapidly closed the remaining distance. In the blink of an eye, he was above everyone, and fell upon his prey with the ferocity of a lion. Whipping the gleaming weapon back and forth between newly-bloodied bodies, he cut through iron armor like it was budder. His body a blur, weapons simply couldn’t touch him. In mere seconds, he had a brand-new diamond axe pressed against the neck of the spokesman, who now laid on the ground in shock.
“What? How is this even possible? We were so… Joey said we wouldn’t fail! He said he had confidence in us.. no! We’ve failed Joey!” He choked in madness, unable to continue.
“Simple. You dared challenge my loyal subjects. You dared to challenge me. For that, the punishment is death.” Benja, now known as RC the Fabulous, slowly let his new weapon taste flesh. Once the foul deed was done, RC stood up, and addressed all the stunned baccas. “Hello, baccas. I am your true Benja. I have awaited the day that you would bury the impostor, Mitch. He has done a horrible thing, turning my beloved baccas into his personal army. No, he is not Benja. Long ago, he stole the title from me through treachery. I would have claimed it long ago, but you, my dear baccas, would have been hurt in the process, for he was guarded by your kind. But alas, I have returned!”
A single voice resounded through the silent graveyard, and a single bacca walked forwards to stand in front of RC. The original bacca, Jerome. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Or rather, who? Why, I believe it’s the mighty king, Benja! Welcome back, m’lord. Three cheers for Benja!”
As one, the baccas roared their approval. Bowing, RC whispered to Jerome, “Quick, I need to know what I’ve missed. I haven’t spoken to you in too long, my good man, too long.”
Jerome responded in an equally low tone, “We may not have much time, m’lord. There’s still a giant mob outside the dome, and all they could see from there is that Joey’s men fell, while we’re still standing. Mitch ruined the baccas, he did. Turned them into a horror-story in themselves. Are you sure you’re up to the task of righting their wrongs?”
Standing, RC walked closer to the baccas, and announced, “People of the bacc! I come to you today as your new Benja! But before we can celebrate and fix whatever has gone wrong, we must first escape. I ask that you take a weapon and suit of armor from one of the people that I have slain here before you, and help get everyone suited up. You shall need all the firepower and protection that you can get. Please give elders and children the Protection IV armor, and take for yourself according to your needs. We will have to move swiftly and effectively in order to escape this confinement, and for that we need potions. I have with me a set of Swiftness potions, which I will distribute. Once we are all suited up, please approach a bacca with a potion, and right before we all move out, we’ll have the potions splashed onto ourselves. Does everyone understand?”
After hearing their confirmation, he approached Jerome again, who had just finished showing a baby-bacc how to swing an axe like a true man of the bacc. “Ho, there, Jerome. Good to see that baccas still hold axes as a sacred instrument of true power. Before we set out, I need to make sure that you know where I’ll be taking everyone.”
Jerome looked up, and slowly replied, “Wait, no. Surely, you can’t be serious.”
“I am. Very much so, in fact. I intend to take it as our own before the night is up. But I need to make sure that you know what to do while I’m gone.” RC gravely confirmed. “You know I’ve done little but wait for a good opportunity to take back the throne. This is part of it, for what is a king without a kingdom? I have two agents working an inside job. They’re loyal, but they’re not baccas. I have promised them both a life on the outskirts of the kingdom, hidden from the view of baccas. Once this is all over… but that is still a long way to go, so for now we must deal with the issues of the present. I need you to take our people, and bring them back to the farmhouse until later tonight. Once I’ve emptied the new place, I’ll send a message-pig. You can handle it - have faith in yourself, if only because I have faith in you.”
“This would be a suicide mission from anyone aside from you… Out of curiosity and concern for your safety, will you answer one thing? How did you defeat those bastards? Twenty-seven hearts? That’d kill me nearly three times over! And your speed!? I’ve never even seen Mitch stand up that fast when someone told him they had a beer for him. What in the blazes was that?”
“Oh, that? I have custom feather-falling boots, sold to me by an Administrator, altered to look like my feet. I used a diluted invisibility potion to make the blurred-appearance. No one, to my knowledge, can actually move that fast. However, I still have increased my speed insanely. I still doubt Mitch would be able to keep up with me, even in the prime of his life.”
Walking away, he looked over his new comrades with a sense of pride, knowing that they would soon know the monstrosities and lies that the fake Benja had hidden behind, and that he had been able to help his beloved baccas.
He reached the stairs of the graveyard officer, and addressed the congregation. “Can I have your attention, please! I’m seeing that you all are ready, and so we will begin to distribute the splash potions. Every splash potion must be used on at least 10 baccas, as we do not have unlimited resources. As soon as you are splashed, please face the north. I will be at the front, and try to clear a path. Our dutiful bacca guards have been instructed to aid in our assistance, and will protect from the sides and rear, while I myself will defend the front. If at any time you fall behind, do not hesitate to let us know. No bacca left behind!” As the crowd separated into smaller groups, he handed out the potions, and headed north, where he found an old comrade, xTopBacca.
Surprised to see him, he called out, “Hullo, xTopBacca! What have we here? A real, live member of the original baccas? Wow, this is indeed news. I could only ask so many questions of dear Jerome, so I’m afraid I must ask you some things.”
“Why, Benja! It is so good to see you again. You’ve no idea how thoroughly Mitch trashed our kind. We’re disrespected by nearly all! You must save us, as you’re the only one who can. I trust you have taken the appropriate steps, eh?” xTopBacca smiled, and rubbed his paws together. He quickly splashed his potion on a few children, and hurried over to the front lines, where he could talk to Benja easier.
They chatted for a few brief seconds, and then RC had to shout “Advance, my baccas! To freedom, to safety, and to redemption!”
Charging forwards, RC swung his axe overhead. As they reached the line of riot guards, the guards converged on them, forming a tighter defense. Confident in his comrades, the fighter quietly disappeared. Slipping through the gaps in bodies, he twisted and turned, and soon emerged, disguised as just another player who had gotten low on hunger, and needed to return to their home for the day.
Traveling by minecart was efficient, but only if you’d already had tracks lain. His lonely journey was over rough lands and through vast mountain ranges, so he preferred his steed, Wert the Pig. Straddling the mighty beast, he soon arrived in front of a massive wooden fortress.
Protected against griefing by cleverly exploited server features, the building had done nothing but grow in the time he’d been absent. Walking in casually, he was greeted at the door by an armed, but slacking, guard. RC took careful note of the strengths and weaknesses, and who roamed where. Clearly, politics had changed, as there were many new people in the most sought-after rooms and lounges. Due to Mitch, the impostor Benja, dying, people had been drinking extra nausea potions, unaware of the Benja that was walking through their midst. He walked over to the main hall, where his soon-to-be throne would rest.
Moving over to a gloomy hallway, he pulled aside a random passerby, covering their mouth with a handkerchief that he’d lifted from an inebriated woman. Pulling out his axe, he muttered to them, “Listen here, mister. I need you to do me a favor. Do it, and you’ll be paid well. Fail, and you die within the hour. It’s very easy. Walk to the main hall, and shout ‘Benja has returned,’ and nothing else. Got it? Now go.”
The intimidated stranger, knowing very well that baccas loved axes, did as he was told, and soon a throng had gathered around him, threatening him with various punishments if he didn’t say that Benja had died. With the people distracted, RC stalked over to the hidden armory, and donned the best suit of armor they had. Preparing his axe and health potions, he walked over to the main hall, and yet remained unnoticed.
Standing on the stage, he muttered, “System announcement! ‘The True Benja has returned!’” and waited as the server followed his command. A small group of drunkards, noticing it was him who said it, walked up and uttered slurred foul oaths at him, but were too stoned to realize what was happening. A guard, noticing the commotion, walked over, and realized only too late what had taken place. RC leaped forwards, axe drawn, and let it do its work.
Finishing up in a matter of seconds, he walked out of the room, blood dripping from the blade. He made another system command, this time to teleport everyone within the building in front of him, guard and civilian alike. When people realized he’d done it, they ran towards him, fists flying and weapons flashing. But just as before, the one true Benja dashed around, hewing necks with the grace of a dancer. Glancing around, he estimated there to be something near to 46 people in the room aside from himself. He activated a custom skill, known only to himself, which he dubbed ‘The RC_4777’, which allowed him to flow from slice to slash with minimal effort, as a single movement, rather than making each blow an individual slash. Ducking, he knocked the legs of a pair of people together, causing them to fall into three others. His mind went on auto-pilot, sliding his blade along from one stance to another, as an extension of his soul. Damage potions served where sheer numbers were troublesome, and he gradually decimated the opposing force to less than ten. Looking for his two agents, he located them at the back of the room, standing in awed silence. Walking over to the last remaining foes, he quietly beheaded their stunned bodies.
Picking up items as he walked towards his agents, he said, “Hello, Half Squirrel and Arena Master. I see you’re still in good health. You may take your leave now. You’ll find the houses prepared as we agreed, fully stocked. If you do so desire, feel free to take any items from the slain. You’ve earned all we agreed on, and more. Consider it my apology for exposing you to such a slaughter.”
After cleaning up and locking the gate, RC retired to his old chambers, untouched and unseen since his exile.
