Bently McQuinn Saves Literature

Bently woke up on his own in the dark. He had no idea what time it was; of all the days he didn’t wear his watch to school, it just had to be the day Pansy came to get him to go fight a brigade of fairy vampires.

His thoughts stopped right there. He hadn’t thought about Pansy in a while, but now he felt guilty for not doing so. He had no idea if she was okay, or even where she was. Now that he thought about it, Jacob had taken her, and probably to Meyer, who was in Oz. What would Meyer do to her? Turn her and use her against him? Destroy her? Or, did he dare think it… send her to the Blank World? Either way, he had to get her back. They would need her to fight Meyer.

In the artificial glow of the machines and the dimming darkness, Bently pulled out the notebook and pen and sat in silence, breathing deeply. He cleared his mind, focusing on what he wanted to write. And then he began.

He worked until the sun was almost all the way up. He tore the page out when he was finished and folded it into a rod that would fit through the holes in the crates.

“Pst, King,” Bently whispered, catching his mentor’s attention. “Pass this down to Meggie. Tell her she needs to read it when we get to wherever I’m going to fight Fang.”

King caught the paper by the tips of his fingers; it was just long enough to pass between the crates. King turned to pass it to Meggie. Bently prayed she wouldn’t drop this paper. He didn’t know if he would be able to fight his way out of this one if he didn’t have writing to help him.

“I got it, Bently!” Meggie whispered excitedly.

“Good,” Bently whispered back. “You know when to read it, right?

“Yeup!”

“Awesome, then hide it and wait,” Bently said just as the lab door opened.

“Rise and shine, kiddies,” said Rosalie’s song-like voice. Bently had to admit she sounded a lot more like Bella. But what he wasn’t sure about was who was more of a psychopath. “It’s show time!”

They were let out of their crates and forced into a single-file line. They were lead down many twisting hallways and out into a very open room. Instead of concrete for a floor, this floor was dirt, and the room was made up to imitate terrain. The roof overhead was a tall dome made of a thick glass that seemed to concentrate the sunlight. It was in this sort of faux-outdoor arena that the flock was waiting for them. Each of the flock took one of Bently’s companions (and Max) and they all made a sort of loose circle around Bently and Fang.

“You won’t be able to kill anyone else after this, McQuinn,” Fang growled as they started circling each other. “Especially not Max.”

“Dude, she’s not Max!” Bently cried out. “She’s the real one!” he said, pointing to the real Max.

“Liar, that’s the vampire. We captured her ages ago, no thanks to you.”

“Meggie, now would be a really good time!” Bently said in somewhat panic as Fang unfolded his black wings. They were a lot bigger close up.

“Bently didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was boiling from the inside; he could feel his blood bubbling. It reminded him of a how taking Polyjuice Potion was described, but—”

“NO! Stop her!” Rosalie screeched. But Meggie turned herself into a corner and kept reading.

“—it was on his insides, not outsides. His back and shoulders felt like lava, and then it spread all throughout his body. Bently fell to his knees in agony. It was almost too much.”

Bently began to feel the bubbling. It was painful, but he was thrilled. ‘It’s working!’ he thought with excitement. He heard struggling noises, but then Meggie continued.

“Finally, his shoulders seemed to explode, and something began growing out of them. That something, or rather, somethings, were twelve foot long bird wings, powerful enough to send him into the sky with a single beat. Bently felt everything in him growing stronger and stronger until the lava in his blood ebbed away into his heart, making him feel like he could throw a car or fight a pack of lions. He faced his opponent, ready for the challenge.”

Bently saw Angel rip the piece of paper from Meggie’s hands just before he fell to the ground, but that didn’t matter; she had finished reading. Just like how he had written, his blood and everything else inside him felt like molten lava. Then his shoulders did indeed explode and his wings began to grow. It was like someone had mixed Skele-Grow and crack and he was growing bones at the speed of light. The wings feathered themselves, and power coursed through him. He stood, smirking, and faced Fang, who hadn’t joined in with restraining Meggie.

“Now, who’s going down?” Bently asked, and they charged each other.

Fang obviously had an advantage with the wings, because he could use them smoothly and elegantly. Bently was clunky, but he had power on his side. They wrestled on the ground, their wings being tweaked and flapped at each other. They were getting covered in dirt.

Then Fang got away and lept into the air, hovering with his wings. Bently tried to join him, but Fang rammed him back down to the ground. Bently hit hard, and he started to feel his power waning. He had never set a time limit, and the story must have created its own, which was inconveniently short. He jumped up and was going to Fang’s ankle. He would have missed when Fang swerved, but he beat his wings a little and caught it. Bently dragged Fang to the ground with all his power. Fang hit just as hard as Bently had, and Bently went for the first weapon he could find; a handy, semi-large rock. As Fang came up to hit Bently, Bently swung the rock and hit Fang in the head. His eyes rolled and he dropped like, well, like a rock. There was no blood, and Bently saw that he was still breathing, so he felt alright about that.

“NO!” Rosalie screamed. She sounded eerily like Bella. “Everyone, attack him!”

“Wait!” Max yelled out, and everyone in the flock stopped and looked at her. “Look at me! You all know me! She’s the one who’s the imposter! Would I really have sent Fang to fight? I would have done it myself!”

There was a look of dawning on Angel and the black girl’s faces. “That’s… right…”

“No! She’s the imposter!” Rosalie screamed.

“And this morning… she made breakfast for all of us… that we could eat…” said the younger boy. Bently smirked. Rosalie’s hold on them was breaking.

“No, that, that—”

“You’re not the real Max,” said the taller boy fiercely. “She is.” He pointed vaguely in the direction of the real Max.

The flock all gathered around Max, who walked up to Bently. She set her hand on his shoulder, which hurt because his wings were now going away, making a pile of feathers around him. “I think we got this one, Bently. You try and bring Fang around.”

“Be my guest,” said Bently, kneeling on the ground. “But you might need this.” He took the Horcrux-Seeking Medallion from around his neck and handed it to Max, who slung it over her own. “It weakens them when you get close.”

“No, NO!” Rosalie cried out, but the flock was already upon her.

-

Pansy’s dull grey eyes flickered open. She was lying face-down in grey. Slowly, she sat up, looking around her. All she could see were shades of grey. There was no dimension, no shape, and yet, there was, because the grey went on for all eternity in all directions.

She got up and started walking. She had no idea where she was, or how she had gotten there. All she knew was that she needed to find someone to ask what was going on.

She walked and walked for an unknown amount of time. Time didn’t exist here, and she never got tired in the least bit.

Without warning, she found herself next to someone. This someone was dressed all in black, and had a funny black mask on which made odd breathing sounds.

“Hello,” Pansy said.

The stranger looked down at her and said a low, somewhat robotic voice, “Hello. Did you just get here?”

“Yes. Where is here?”

“No one knows,” he replied. “And I’ve asked many people. But people here come and go in an instant; you never see it happen.”

“Wow.”

There was silence for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. There didn’t seem to be any such thing as awkward in this world. “What’s your name?” Pansy asked.

“Anakin Skywalker, although like this, I was known as Darth Vader,” Darth said, gesturing to his black suit and mask. “And yourself?”

“I’m Pansy Parkinson.” She said this plainly, without a trace of snobbiness that had been in her voice before. “I’m from the Harry Potter books.”

“Star Wars movies.”

They sat down next to each other, staring off at the grey horizon, or more of what could have been considered the horizon.

“How long have you been here?”

“A very long time it seems, but then again, not long at all.”

“I feel the same way.”