the garden within the wasteland

Pedro, 2

The stars stared down onto the earth, and as the man now stared into the floor, his steps were aimless; they had been for hours now. The factory and the house were burned to the floor by the lion mask; he was then taken to stand before the crown, then the lies that were told.
"There was no factory."
"Pedro was alone."
Those lies told by the same people that had arrested him and burnt the factory had now gotten him out of prison.
Pedro took a sigh as he looked upwards, glaring at the stars, his eye still itching; it could have been from the dust. The street he was on was a run-down commercial district; most of the stores shut down or closed this deep into the night. Only one store was left open, and the bright glow that had illuminated from it was the only light source in this entire district. The light gave a comforting, familiar glow; in his eyes, there was nowhere left to go; he was still in the same tattered clothes he was in back when he was arrested.
When he stopped his walk, pushing the door open and letting the light embrace him more and more, the sound was unbearable. His own footsteps weren't heard from the ruckus of the tavern's crowds, each one laughing over shared stories, making new stories, or crying over failed loves. His eyes peered all across the room, searching for a single isolated seat. He wasn't even much of a drinker; he just needed some place to sit where he wouldn't appear as the odd one out for once.
Despite his search, he found no empty seats except for the one next to the jolly man at the bar, the man with hair that twisted like a whirlpool and was as black as the ocean's sky. He was all alone, dressed in a sailor's uniform, but what was peculiar about this man was the book he carried, a children's tale, the same one Pedro had back on the coffee table. He saw no choice but to take his seat next to the man. He struggled for a moment trying to balance comfortably on the stool, and when he found that balance, he rested his arms on the bar itself before turning to the man, struggling to find his confidence, which he finally let out.
"What are you doing there?" Pedro cleared his throat as he waited for a response, wondering if the man could even hear him.
"Ah, to the average man, I'm reading a childish book, but to the boys who know, I'm searching for the lie. Which one are you?"
Pedro stood dumbfounded, blindly staring into the man. Other than the sudden interrogation, the man appeared so out of place; his beard was unkempt, yet his face was spotless; he spoke with a heavy accent yet sounded like a nobleman.
"I'm just messing with you, lad; I have no clue what I was blabbering on about. I was told to read this for the lie, yet I can't find shit. I've been at it for more than a month now."
The man spoke, his voice switching between joking and irritated in a split second, slamming the book on the table.
"If a project takes me more than a month, I'd just give up." Pedro responded.
"Some things in life, you just give up your life for—an obsession if you may; life is driven and made by it."
The jolly man raised his hands, ordering a drink for the two of them.
"Nothing heavy for me; I can't handle it." Pedro warned a few seconds late.
"I gotta go back to my duty tomorrow, knighthood and all."
Pedro fell silent at the mention of knights.
"If you aren't here to get hammered, then what brings you here alone, mate?" the man finally receiving his shot glass and passing the other to Pedro, still not facing him
"...an obsession didn't end as we planned it."
"Part of the deal, kid, you just gotta keep the drive in you. You know, this reminds me that back when I was training still, I had this drive. I still got it to this day. I hated the small village I lived in, the one next to the river. I wanted to see what else there was, from all corners of the kingdom to outside the walls. On one expedition, I was like 13, or was I 15...?"
Pedro closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, taking the shot as the man kept talking.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter. I was sent with a couple of other lads on a simple test: kill and bring back a good amount of meat and other ingredients for some feast the king was hosting. We were given a darn map to help navigate around; I hate maps; they limit your exploration and remove the joy of finding new landmarks. I decided to go off the beaten path, you know, find something new! return a hero dumb child things; instead, I brought the attention of one of those disgusting dragons; that damn bastard killed most of my lads... did I blame myself? No, everyone else did. Did I stop exploring? I'd be dead when I stopped exploring. I went back not a week later, stole some tools from Saint Michael, and brought back the dragon's head. It still stands in my living room to this day."
Whatever emotion the man was trying to convey to Pedro, it fell on deaf ears; the jolly man seemed quite proud of his tale.

"... sounds like something out of a story," Pedro replied after a few moments of awkward silence.
"Still, I get the knack to explore from here and there, but I've seen everything on this darn island."
"You haven't been out of the island?"
the man clicked his tongue
"No one man can leave this island; you get a boat on the water, and a thousand waves slam into you."
"Is that why you were reading the queen and the Enkidu?"
"I'm grasping for straws here with the book, but over the last years I've got a new obsession, my job as a knight to the prince, so nothing is lost."
"I want to ask," Pedro barely let out from under his breath.
"shoot."
"Who would you choose?"
The man paused for a second, puzzled by the question.
"Which one would you choose if you couldn't keep both obsessions?"
"And why can't I pick both, kid?"
"What if you couldn't pick? If your obsession was burnt in front of you, and no one else can see the things you can?"
Pedro now turned over to the bar, staring directly into the wooden table.
"Then kid," the man signed as he began to stand up.
"You may just rip out your own eyeballs; then the blind will see the same as you. I can tell you got some obsession you won't take pride in, but you gotta understand people like us with dreams and passions can see what others can't, and we can't see what the normal man can; just gotta be bold; the ocean favors the bold."
The man had left Pedro to think over those words. Now long gone, Pedro's thoughts began to slowly march, a mixture of his memories around the factory and the words of the man.
He did have something special, but he had wasted it, nor did he have the opportunities to take pride in it. If he was in the man's shoes during that story, he would have been discarded for how he could possibly return now. He single-handedly caused the burning down of their livelihood; he began to wonder if it was worth the effort. Giving them another plate to fill with food, he remembered the struggle before the factory, and he knew that was awaiting him when he returned.
What if he didn't have to return? None of them would miss him now that his work was done indefinitely; no one else in the kingdom would miss a lower-class rat like him.
.
.
The wind blew kindly and softly; it helped. It was the tallest building in town; it was a surprise that no one was near him. He took one full look around him before taking one step towards the ledge, looking downwards at the stone floor that was beckoning to him, the second step before he began to feel nostalgic; his life was flashing before his eyes; he felt at ease, accepted; he felt-
"You're going to give up like that, Pedro?"
Pedro turned around as quickly as he could, tripping over his feet and falling downwards.
The figure grabbed him by the shirt with inhuman strength, pulling him back towards the roof.
Pedro grasped his chest, his breathing heavy and rigid as he looked up towards the man.
his eyes scanned him only to focus on his skin, the pure silver skin
"You're the genius, Pedro. Your name hasn't been written about yet. You're going to give up?"
the man stared downward at him with the eyes of an animal, which animal he couldn't tell
"Life is fair, but they made it otherwise, didn't they?" WHAT CHOICE DID YOU HAVE? BUT TO STEAL AND SMUGGLE? WHAT DID YOU DO TO DESERVE LIVING LIKE A RAT, WHEN THOSE DISGUSTING SAINTS LIVE LIKE GODS?"
Pedro stood up, his breathing slowing down. He turned towards the man.
"I... I just was born wrong, then nothing much, uh, who—"
"BORN WRONG?" the man roared as he turned Pedro
"NO MAN IS BORN WRONG; A MAN IS BORN, AND THAT IS FINAL. NO OTHER DIFFERENCES MATTER. Now listen to me: you were beaten, humiliated, and now given pity by those fake gods? Will you let them win?"
"...let them win?.. No, I won't."
"Then I want to see the genius live up to his potential and make them pay. Every second of pain you experienced, pay it back 60-fold."
Pedro nodded, still pondering the man; he did not know his name, but he felt familiar. He was searching his brain for any memory of the silver man.
"Do you hear it, Pedro?" the man spoke once more
"I... I can hear it, yes, the call."
"The call of steel, they are asking to be given purpose; will you deny them that purpose? Deny them the blessing of being worked on by the genius Pedro."
the man threw something towards Pedro, a tool used by blacksmiths; next to it was a small metal slap
"Can't get an itch to disrupt your destiny."
The man spoke one last time.
as Pedro began to enact his destiny
.
.
.
The stars stared down onto the earth, and as the man now stared forward, his steps were with meaning; they had been for hours now. The palace and the kingdom will be burned down by the cyclops; he will then be taken to stand in front of the crowds, a hero reborn.