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mindcrackloveOne choice – one selfish, stupid choice – became the starting point for all-out civil war. It was a crack down the middle of Mindcrack that could never be repaired. One split into two, a pair of teams that would fight to the death – twenty-one people who were willing to spill the blood of those who had once been their closest friends.
It seemed senseless, and it was.
But every story has its beginning, even one that doesn’t make sense. This is the CrackPack’s.
Gen-fic: no shipping/pairing/etc. Warning for gore and death – not violent enough to where I think it needs to be marked, but notable all the same. Relatively dark.
BdoubleO was the first to die. He was struck down in a blind haze of rage by Pause’s own hand, the blood spilling across the Town Hall’s stone flooring and running down into the catacombs beneath. Pause watched as the blood ran, felt the warm arterial spatter hit his face and run down his chin – but he could feel nothing at all. Instead, he laughed, clutching his sides and falling into the puddle at his feet in complete and utter disbelief.
What was the point of grief, now? He had done what he swore he’d never do. He had killed someone and expected them never to return – without thought, without remorse.
And so what was there to do but laugh?
--
It wasn’t long before his so-called treachery was discovered. Guude, Etho, Seth, and Baj confronted him violently – cornering him in his home like some kind of animal, an animal that he probably was. They stared him down, Etho’s feelings of betrayal evident in his irises, cold and pleading at the same moment.
For a second, Pause felt a twinge of remorse shoot up his spine. But what was the point of guilt, now? He couldn’t undo what he had done.
And so Pause just wanted it to end. If they were to kill him, why wouldn’t they just do it? He spewed his side of the story when asked, stumbling over his words here and there, until Baj’s sword relaxed from his jugular and went to his side. Guude protested, the words hot on his tongue, but Baj only shook his head.
Pause breathed a sigh of relief – and of disbelief, too – as Baj turned, suddenly intent on the other three instead of Pause himself. In his attack, he managed to gouge Etho across the chest, and the man fell back, bleeding profusely.
Seth stepped up in defense, and Pause drove his sword through the man’s stomach. He hadn’t meant to kill him – he hadn’t, really – but as the body collapsed onto him, eyes wide in death – well, his excuses died on his tongue.
Seth hadn’t deserved this. It had been instinct.
But instinct wasn’t innocence.
--
Guude screamed as he watched Seth’s body fall, and raised his sword with the apparent intent to attack. He pleaded with Baj to help him, help him – but Baj just stood aside, watching the blood pool around his feet with something akin to shocked acceptance.
Guude’s pleadings fell to whimpers, and suddenly he screeched at them to go, flee – to never come back. His eyes fell to his remaining ally, whose blood was already mixing with their dead comrade’s. His back turned as he kneeled next to the bleeding man, almost as if he was accepting his death if it came, almost as if he were asking to be felled by their swords.
But Pause couldn’t kill him. He should have, logically, if he was as far gone as he was portraying himself to be – but he found that he just couldn’t. And so he turned away, shaking his head in some form of emotion that he didn’t dare to identify.
Baj came with him, then, leaving Guude to tend to the downed Etho and muttering flimsy explanations as to why he had decided to side with Pause over his older friend. Pause took it all in stride, believing the sincerity of Baj’s words even as he doubted the sincerity of his own. Together, they walked past what was loosely considered to be the border, and together, they disappeared into the night.
What they hadn’t known was that they were being watched. Beef crouched in the darkness, his eyes mere slits. He didn’t understand – couldn’t understand. But if Pause was leaving, then he had to go, too. And so he followed, faithful to the end – an end he was sure was coming, and sooner than anyone thought.
--
Nebris was more than happy to assist with any dastardly plan Pause had in mind, even when Pause assured him again and again that he had no such plan – that he had simply reacted. But instead of acknowledging Pause’s desperate explanations, he regarded the trio’s bloodstained hands with nothing more than a raised eyebrow and a half-smirk, claiming smugly that they had fallen to the dark side at last.
The three fell in behind him, Pause too tired to argue and Baj still too shocked to care, and together they began to plot and plan. Nebris chuckled briefly, laying out blueprints and schematics that would bring any nation to its knees, even the one he had helped build.
Beef protested briefly – who were they to destroy what they had worked so hard to create? – but eventually he too fell silent, acquiescing to the madness that was taking them over, one by one.
After all, if you couldn’t beat them, join them.
Right?
--
Allies were the first thing on the list, of course, Nebris had informed them in no uncertain terms. And so he had brought in several of his own friends – Coe, Sevadus, and Wes, he introduced them briefly. For a moment, Beef thought to ask where they had come from, but finally he shook his head and again held his tongue, unwilling to fight against the current he had found himself in.
The first thing the three had done upon arrival, the newcomers explained when questioned as to why their weapons were encrusted with half-dried blood, was take out three people themselves. They would be the ‘replacements’ for Millbee, Kurt, and even Vechs, because they had all met their ends at the end of a blade and didn’t need their positions any longer.
Pause had gritted his teeth at this news, clawing at the oak table that had become their base of operations with something like agitation, but he couldn’t change the past – he could only look to the future. And so, after only a moment’s hesitation, he shook hands with the three, introducing himself to them with all the cordiality the new allies required, ignoring the part of him that had just died away.
Unhappiness was temporary, after all.
--
Thejims was more than happy to join the impromptu rebellion that was forming, despite not knowing the exact reasons why. He had shaken hands with them almost immediately, unhappy at being ignored and pleased with the newfound recognition, and had fallen into line almost as quickly.
None of them doubted his loyalty or his dedication to the cause – whatever the cause may have been. Perhaps it was just a hunger for power that couldn’t be sated; perhaps it was a bloodlust that wouldn’t be quenched. Regardless, they were forming, coming together as some sort of team.
They were better than the others, after all. They should rule.
--
Adlington’s, Generik’s, and MC’s respective demises were met by little more than shrugged shoulders and whispered condolences to those who had known them best. It had been a fool’s errand the three were running – they had been nothing more than the Light Brigade, riding futilely into the Valley of Death.
And, half a league onward, they had met the combined forces of what Nebris liked to call Justice, and what others would call the beginnings of insanity.
The three had spewed insults and questions, trying to force a what, a why, and a how out of them in an almost desperate fashion. But the rebellion had maintained silence on all counts, cutting them down as ruthlessly as Pause had cut Bdubs open all those weeks ago.
And as the would-be heroes lay dying on the cobblestones at their feet, no one shed a single tear.
Madness, after all, was highly contagious.
--
Aureylian had come to them in short order. There was no real reason for her decision, but there was nothing left for her from whence she had come, and perhaps madness was not only contagious in close quarters.
Regardless, they welcomed her and her spirit, which lifted them from their own pits of bloody despair.
Whispers had begun circulating, questions of why they were doing what they were doing. There were no answers forthcoming, no plausible explanations for their actions. But still they executed them, out of a mechanical compliance more than anything else.
Nebris continued to preach the cause – but what cause, exactly?
All Pause could feel was exhaustion.
--
Anderz had wanted to join long before now, he explained with gusto as he was allowed entrance into their base. He was drenched in blood, the remains of Paul and Mhykol covering him from head to toe, making the gleam in his eyes that much more maniacal as he explained the drawn-out battle, making himself out as some sort of hero.
Beef’s stomach had clenched in disgust, and somewhere underneath it all he could have sworn remorse gleamed in Anderz’s eyes, but when he looked again, he could see nothing.
He wanted to see something – deep down, Beef wanted to find something more than emptiness and apathy in this world, a world he had willingly entered. But there was nothing to be found. Nothing.
After some deliberation, it was decided that there was nothing else to do but to welcome Anderz, and so welcome him they did. That night, the alcohol ran until it went dry and they ate until their stomachs were filled to bursting.
But that didn’t matter much, because all they could feel was emptiness.
--
Pyro came of his own accord, as well. He had no blood on his outfit or on his sword, and, like Aureylian, he gave no real reason for his decision to join them. He merely said something about evening the sides, and it was in that moment that they realized that this was not merely a disagreement but an all-out war.
They had killed, they had plotted, and they had shown no sign of turning back or feeling any kind of remorse. And their stomachs clenched and each felt their pulse quicken – what had they done, what had they done? – before they allowed their hearts to harden once again. It was easier to feel nothing, after all, and so they shut themselves down without much thought to alternatives.
They were supposed to be evil, Nebris reminded them after the whispers had grown more pronounced, his scowl dark. They weren’t supposed to give in. They were supposed to be ruthless, maniacal – like the killers they were, like the murderers they had become.
There was no option but to continue on their current path. Their treason could not be taken back, their actions could not be recanted, and the blood they had spilled could not be lifted from the ground it had stained.
Their bridges were burned. Their end had come.
--
In the end, they ran away. Guilt ate at the corners of their vision, overwhelming in its intensity. Pause itched whenever he as much as touched his blade – all he could see was a red weapon when he knew that the sword should have been blue, and all he could feel when he touched any surface was a slick coating of blood, blood he had chosen to spill.
Guilt ate him from the inside out, and finally he announced that he couldn’t take it anymore. Perhaps they had been better than the others, once, but now they were nothing but monsters, chomping at an invisible – or maybe even nonexistent – bit. They were the things that every child was afraid of, the very people they had not wanted to become.
And finally, the others agreed.
Their rebellion was moot, their point absolutely pointless. There was nothing to do but turn tail and run.
And so run they did.
--
Everything that they had known had been all but destroyed; every structure held ghosts and demons that could not be overcome. Guude had aged ten years in those tumultuous months, and grief peppered his days until he swore he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t lead a broken community when he was broken, too.
The cracks and fissures were all too simple to find – Etho had regressed into a deep depression, spurred by the betrayal of two of his closest friends and allies, BTC had quieted until he was to the point of absolute silence, and even Arkas had ceased to build. It wasn’t natural, it wasn’t right – but then again, nothing was, not anymore.
The grief and suffering that permeated those of them who were left was suffocating. It leeched away everything that remained from their very bones. Something had to be done, but what?
And so, after a while, the remnants of what had once been a thriving society banded together. Nine survivors became ten with the addition of Biffa, who had quickly and efficiently integrated himself into their ranks. And as for the coalition of their forces – well, what else could they possibly have done? Alone, the grief would eat them alive. Together, they could perhaps deal with the majority of their heartache.
But even with their newfound camaraderie, there was nothing that could save them. The others had betrayed what they had known, and none of them could understand why.
Beyond all else, they needed to know why.
And so when the ‘better’ team fled, the newly dubbed ‘best’ team followed – for tracking them was their best hope of not only finding answers to their questions, but also of coming to peace with themselves and the situation they had found themselves in.
Soon, they would find their answers. And if it was to cost them their lives?
Well, that was a price they were willing to pay.
It seemed senseless, and it was.
But every story has its beginning, even one that doesn’t make sense. This is the CrackPack’s.
Gen-fic: no shipping/pairing/etc. Warning for gore and death – not violent enough to where I think it needs to be marked, but notable all the same. Relatively dark.
BdoubleO was the first to die. He was struck down in a blind haze of rage by Pause’s own hand, the blood spilling across the Town Hall’s stone flooring and running down into the catacombs beneath. Pause watched as the blood ran, felt the warm arterial spatter hit his face and run down his chin – but he could feel nothing at all. Instead, he laughed, clutching his sides and falling into the puddle at his feet in complete and utter disbelief.
What was the point of grief, now? He had done what he swore he’d never do. He had killed someone and expected them never to return – without thought, without remorse.
And so what was there to do but laugh?
--
It wasn’t long before his so-called treachery was discovered. Guude, Etho, Seth, and Baj confronted him violently – cornering him in his home like some kind of animal, an animal that he probably was. They stared him down, Etho’s feelings of betrayal evident in his irises, cold and pleading at the same moment.
For a second, Pause felt a twinge of remorse shoot up his spine. But what was the point of guilt, now? He couldn’t undo what he had done.
And so Pause just wanted it to end. If they were to kill him, why wouldn’t they just do it? He spewed his side of the story when asked, stumbling over his words here and there, until Baj’s sword relaxed from his jugular and went to his side. Guude protested, the words hot on his tongue, but Baj only shook his head.
Pause breathed a sigh of relief – and of disbelief, too – as Baj turned, suddenly intent on the other three instead of Pause himself. In his attack, he managed to gouge Etho across the chest, and the man fell back, bleeding profusely.
Seth stepped up in defense, and Pause drove his sword through the man’s stomach. He hadn’t meant to kill him – he hadn’t, really – but as the body collapsed onto him, eyes wide in death – well, his excuses died on his tongue.
Seth hadn’t deserved this. It had been instinct.
But instinct wasn’t innocence.
--
Guude screamed as he watched Seth’s body fall, and raised his sword with the apparent intent to attack. He pleaded with Baj to help him, help him – but Baj just stood aside, watching the blood pool around his feet with something akin to shocked acceptance.
Guude’s pleadings fell to whimpers, and suddenly he screeched at them to go, flee – to never come back. His eyes fell to his remaining ally, whose blood was already mixing with their dead comrade’s. His back turned as he kneeled next to the bleeding man, almost as if he was accepting his death if it came, almost as if he were asking to be felled by their swords.
But Pause couldn’t kill him. He should have, logically, if he was as far gone as he was portraying himself to be – but he found that he just couldn’t. And so he turned away, shaking his head in some form of emotion that he didn’t dare to identify.
Baj came with him, then, leaving Guude to tend to the downed Etho and muttering flimsy explanations as to why he had decided to side with Pause over his older friend. Pause took it all in stride, believing the sincerity of Baj’s words even as he doubted the sincerity of his own. Together, they walked past what was loosely considered to be the border, and together, they disappeared into the night.
What they hadn’t known was that they were being watched. Beef crouched in the darkness, his eyes mere slits. He didn’t understand – couldn’t understand. But if Pause was leaving, then he had to go, too. And so he followed, faithful to the end – an end he was sure was coming, and sooner than anyone thought.
--
Nebris was more than happy to assist with any dastardly plan Pause had in mind, even when Pause assured him again and again that he had no such plan – that he had simply reacted. But instead of acknowledging Pause’s desperate explanations, he regarded the trio’s bloodstained hands with nothing more than a raised eyebrow and a half-smirk, claiming smugly that they had fallen to the dark side at last.
The three fell in behind him, Pause too tired to argue and Baj still too shocked to care, and together they began to plot and plan. Nebris chuckled briefly, laying out blueprints and schematics that would bring any nation to its knees, even the one he had helped build.
Beef protested briefly – who were they to destroy what they had worked so hard to create? – but eventually he too fell silent, acquiescing to the madness that was taking them over, one by one.
After all, if you couldn’t beat them, join them.
Right?
--
Allies were the first thing on the list, of course, Nebris had informed them in no uncertain terms. And so he had brought in several of his own friends – Coe, Sevadus, and Wes, he introduced them briefly. For a moment, Beef thought to ask where they had come from, but finally he shook his head and again held his tongue, unwilling to fight against the current he had found himself in.
The first thing the three had done upon arrival, the newcomers explained when questioned as to why their weapons were encrusted with half-dried blood, was take out three people themselves. They would be the ‘replacements’ for Millbee, Kurt, and even Vechs, because they had all met their ends at the end of a blade and didn’t need their positions any longer.
Pause had gritted his teeth at this news, clawing at the oak table that had become their base of operations with something like agitation, but he couldn’t change the past – he could only look to the future. And so, after only a moment’s hesitation, he shook hands with the three, introducing himself to them with all the cordiality the new allies required, ignoring the part of him that had just died away.
Unhappiness was temporary, after all.
--
Thejims was more than happy to join the impromptu rebellion that was forming, despite not knowing the exact reasons why. He had shaken hands with them almost immediately, unhappy at being ignored and pleased with the newfound recognition, and had fallen into line almost as quickly.
None of them doubted his loyalty or his dedication to the cause – whatever the cause may have been. Perhaps it was just a hunger for power that couldn’t be sated; perhaps it was a bloodlust that wouldn’t be quenched. Regardless, they were forming, coming together as some sort of team.
They were better than the others, after all. They should rule.
--
Adlington’s, Generik’s, and MC’s respective demises were met by little more than shrugged shoulders and whispered condolences to those who had known them best. It had been a fool’s errand the three were running – they had been nothing more than the Light Brigade, riding futilely into the Valley of Death.
And, half a league onward, they had met the combined forces of what Nebris liked to call Justice, and what others would call the beginnings of insanity.
The three had spewed insults and questions, trying to force a what, a why, and a how out of them in an almost desperate fashion. But the rebellion had maintained silence on all counts, cutting them down as ruthlessly as Pause had cut Bdubs open all those weeks ago.
And as the would-be heroes lay dying on the cobblestones at their feet, no one shed a single tear.
Madness, after all, was highly contagious.
--
Aureylian had come to them in short order. There was no real reason for her decision, but there was nothing left for her from whence she had come, and perhaps madness was not only contagious in close quarters.
Regardless, they welcomed her and her spirit, which lifted them from their own pits of bloody despair.
Whispers had begun circulating, questions of why they were doing what they were doing. There were no answers forthcoming, no plausible explanations for their actions. But still they executed them, out of a mechanical compliance more than anything else.
Nebris continued to preach the cause – but what cause, exactly?
All Pause could feel was exhaustion.
--
Anderz had wanted to join long before now, he explained with gusto as he was allowed entrance into their base. He was drenched in blood, the remains of Paul and Mhykol covering him from head to toe, making the gleam in his eyes that much more maniacal as he explained the drawn-out battle, making himself out as some sort of hero.
Beef’s stomach had clenched in disgust, and somewhere underneath it all he could have sworn remorse gleamed in Anderz’s eyes, but when he looked again, he could see nothing.
He wanted to see something – deep down, Beef wanted to find something more than emptiness and apathy in this world, a world he had willingly entered. But there was nothing to be found. Nothing.
After some deliberation, it was decided that there was nothing else to do but to welcome Anderz, and so welcome him they did. That night, the alcohol ran until it went dry and they ate until their stomachs were filled to bursting.
But that didn’t matter much, because all they could feel was emptiness.
--
Pyro came of his own accord, as well. He had no blood on his outfit or on his sword, and, like Aureylian, he gave no real reason for his decision to join them. He merely said something about evening the sides, and it was in that moment that they realized that this was not merely a disagreement but an all-out war.
They had killed, they had plotted, and they had shown no sign of turning back or feeling any kind of remorse. And their stomachs clenched and each felt their pulse quicken – what had they done, what had they done? – before they allowed their hearts to harden once again. It was easier to feel nothing, after all, and so they shut themselves down without much thought to alternatives.
They were supposed to be evil, Nebris reminded them after the whispers had grown more pronounced, his scowl dark. They weren’t supposed to give in. They were supposed to be ruthless, maniacal – like the killers they were, like the murderers they had become.
There was no option but to continue on their current path. Their treason could not be taken back, their actions could not be recanted, and the blood they had spilled could not be lifted from the ground it had stained.
Their bridges were burned. Their end had come.
--
In the end, they ran away. Guilt ate at the corners of their vision, overwhelming in its intensity. Pause itched whenever he as much as touched his blade – all he could see was a red weapon when he knew that the sword should have been blue, and all he could feel when he touched any surface was a slick coating of blood, blood he had chosen to spill.
Guilt ate him from the inside out, and finally he announced that he couldn’t take it anymore. Perhaps they had been better than the others, once, but now they were nothing but monsters, chomping at an invisible – or maybe even nonexistent – bit. They were the things that every child was afraid of, the very people they had not wanted to become.
And finally, the others agreed.
Their rebellion was moot, their point absolutely pointless. There was nothing to do but turn tail and run.
And so run they did.
--
Everything that they had known had been all but destroyed; every structure held ghosts and demons that could not be overcome. Guude had aged ten years in those tumultuous months, and grief peppered his days until he swore he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t lead a broken community when he was broken, too.
The cracks and fissures were all too simple to find – Etho had regressed into a deep depression, spurred by the betrayal of two of his closest friends and allies, BTC had quieted until he was to the point of absolute silence, and even Arkas had ceased to build. It wasn’t natural, it wasn’t right – but then again, nothing was, not anymore.
The grief and suffering that permeated those of them who were left was suffocating. It leeched away everything that remained from their very bones. Something had to be done, but what?
And so, after a while, the remnants of what had once been a thriving society banded together. Nine survivors became ten with the addition of Biffa, who had quickly and efficiently integrated himself into their ranks. And as for the coalition of their forces – well, what else could they possibly have done? Alone, the grief would eat them alive. Together, they could perhaps deal with the majority of their heartache.
But even with their newfound camaraderie, there was nothing that could save them. The others had betrayed what they had known, and none of them could understand why.
Beyond all else, they needed to know why.
And so when the ‘better’ team fled, the newly dubbed ‘best’ team followed – for tracking them was their best hope of not only finding answers to their questions, but also of coming to peace with themselves and the situation they had found themselves in.
Soon, they would find their answers. And if it was to cost them their lives?
Well, that was a price they were willing to pay.
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Date: Sunday, June 22nd, 2014 10:46 pm (UTC)that was great. would make an interesting series...interesting and sad.
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Date: Monday, June 23rd, 2014 02:17 am (UTC)Thanks again! :)
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Date: Monday, June 23rd, 2014 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, June 23rd, 2014 06:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, June 23rd, 2014 06:24 am (UTC):D
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Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, June 23rd, 2014 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 12:28 am (UTC)Unfortunately, as I work and attend university full-time, I am often unable to keep up with any more than the Mindcrackers I enjoy most, as I am just too busy. To that end, I attempted to mostly gloss over the ones I did not know much about, and left their deaths (in my own personal opinion; I could have failed on this count as well) ambiguous enough to where details could be perhaps filled in.
Regardless, I am quite glad that you found it interesting even with the mistake with Vechs. If you have any suggestions on how I could have improved his death (as it was unfortunately a requirement, due to the fact that he is not taking part in the CrackPack series), I would truly love to hear it - I am always looking for ways to improve.
Thanks again! :)
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Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 05:46 am (UTC)kinda pulling the villain theme to the extreme, but... it does give you a way for him to disapear, while making him fit in the villain archetype he is know for (or well, half of him is).
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Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 03:09 pm (UTC)It was unfortunate that I had to kill him off, and though I agree disappearing would have been suitable, he does not play on the CrackPack server. To that end, my intention was to give no chance of return to anyone that did not play on that server.
Thank you very much for the elaboration - I will definitely take this to heart! :)
no subject
Date: Wednesday, June 25th, 2014 05:31 am (UTC)more than welcome! I just like to help.
Okay, thanks for the fix. Actually, I though t ti was three 1v1 battles, but whatever.
In my opinion though, the idea might be salvageable, as Vechs has stated interests in playing FTB in the past, and only refused due to too many series on his channel (though I am not sure how he would the the 'war' theme). I also thought that the Vechs uncertainty could actually serve as a springboard to ignite further ideas (as I really would like to see more), but I can totally understand if you would like to leave it where you left off, as it does what you set out to do.
Even if you do mot like that idea, descending into the darkness could very well be a one-way trip, or just a trip to a different world/dimension altogether (with no return). I think it could be easily explained, though it might give Vechs an uneven amount of mention. BTW, idea to insert it without interrupting an scene is to add an extra scene with Nebs talking to the assassins, where they admit their failure (Nebs response is up to you).
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Date: Wednesday, June 25th, 2014 05:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 07:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 03:21 pm (UTC)It was meant to be along the same lines - the story (or at least my story) of the CrackPack began with the slaying of BdoubleO, which was in and of itself a senseless killing... at least without knowing the context, which I purposefully did not provide. Additionally, the entirety of the so-called 'rebellion' didn't make much logical sense, either.
I never wanted to actually make why they were doing what they were doing clear - I simply went off of the Better Team repeatedly making references to themselves as the 'evil' team due to having Nebris. Basically, my intention was to give a reason as to why they were the 'evil' team - excluding Nebris's 'cheaty' ways, of course!
Good catch - thanks again for the feedback! I very much appreciate it :)
no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 11:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Tuesday, June 24th, 2014 03:22 pm (UTC)