Chapter 5: Mr. Pendleton`s Laboratory

　　In the small town of Blackthorn, nestled at the crossroads of a winding road, there stood a peculiar and tall observatory perched on a tall hill. Its presence intrigued the townsfolk, who couldn`t help but be curious about the mysteries hidden within its walls. A weathered sign, adorned with red paint, proudly proclaimed its name: "Pendleton Laboratory." However, the mischievous youth of Blackthorn found humor in defying conventions and, from time to time, would playfully attach an additional sign that read, "Geezer Industries." It was a tradition since the day old Mr. Pendleton arrived in this town fifteen years ago.

　　The observatory and its eccentric owner, Mr. Pendleton, had long been a source of fascination for the townspeople. The townsfolk would often catch glimpses of Mr. Pendleton engrossed in his experiments, his white hair disheveled and his coat covered in patches. They would whisper among themselves, sharing tales of strange contraptions and peculiar inventions that were said to fill the laboratory.

　　Mr. Pendleton`s reputation as a brilliant yet idiosyncratic inventor had spread far beyond the borders of Blackthorn. Some regarded him as a visionary genius, while others dismissed him as a mad scientist. Regardless of the opinions held, there was an undeniable aura of curiosity and anticipation that surrounded the observatory.

　　The townsfolk would occasionally catch glimpses of Mr. Pendleton strolling through the town square, lost in thought. He would mutter to himself, occasionally stopping to jot down notes in a weathered notebook. His mind was always brimming with ideas, and it seemed as if his thoughts were perpetually intertwined with the gears and mechanisms of his inventions. They often spoke ill about some incidents he caused, and some praised his asinine idealism.

　　Today, Bridget Mansley, his young assistant, approached Mr. Pendleton leisurely with a cup of coffee while he sat atop a colossal machine that towered over her, making her feel as tiny as an ant.

　　"Mr. Pendleton!" She said, tapping her feet on the floor.

　　"What seems to be the problem, Bridget?" Mr. Pendleton asked, as he was tinkering with the pulsating steel heart machine. "I`m actually quite busy right now! You have only got around& thirty seconds to say what you want before this machine explodes."

　　"I have your coffee, ready sir." Bridget replied. "That`s all I wanted to say to you."

　　Mr. Pendleton hit the machine again, and then the machine whizzed out of control. It brought Mr. Pendleton crashing down towards the floor and then his toolbox hit him in the head. The thud was large, and a small tear of blood dripped from his forehead.

　　"Get the first aid kit, Bridget." He said, before losing consciousness.

　　Bridget hastily went to the cupboard where all the first aid kits were. This was the twenty-seventh time that this kind of thing happened, and the first of this year. It was always a ritual for Mr. Pendleton to screw up an invention by hitting it with his hammer. Bridget applied alcohol to the wound in his head, before wrapping it up with bandages. She then took out an awakening elixir and poured a spoonful into his mouth.

　　"Are you awake, sir?" Bridget said, shaking the unconscious Mr. Pendleton. "This medicine should be able to wake your sorry ass up."Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

　　Mr. Pendleton slowly woke up from his short slumber, and he looked as though he was in a dreamy daze; hazy and absurd. Bridget cleaned up the scene, afterwards she began administering a safety check on all the machines that Mr. Pendleton had built up over the years. It was even a miracle that he survived.

　　"Gah. That tastes awful!" He wailed with his tongue out. "Lord, have mercy because I hate the medicine you`ve given me Bridget!"

　　Bridget rolled her eyes at Mr. Pendleton`s complaining. It was always the same every time he got injured, he would grumble and groan about the pain and the medicine, as if it was her fault he got hurt. But she knew that he would never change, and she had grown accustomed to his eccentricities over the years.

　　"Well, sir, it`s either that or you stay unconscious on the floor," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and polite. "You know I`ll be the only one to attend your dirty funeral after you kicked the bucket."

　　Mr. Pendleton grumbled but didn`t say anything else. Bridget continued her safety check, making sure that none of the other machines in the room were dangerous or malfunctioning. Steam was not exactly as moldable as pure magical energy, but given that he was adamant in using it, Bridget complied. Everything she checked was in perfect state, save for the ruins of what Mr. Pendleton was working on.

　　After a few minutes, she finished her check and turned to Mr. Pendleton, who was now sitting up on his office chair and rubbing his head.

　　"Are you feeling alright, sir?" she asked, concerned. "No cuckoo clock running over that silly brain?"

　　"I`ll live," he replied, still looking a bit dazed. "Just another day in the life of an inventor, I suppose. Next time you go out and buy me metal for the next great invention, get a boyfriend in town."

　　Bridget ignored that comment, knowing that there was no use arguing with him. She helped him up and led him out of the workshop, making sure he was steady on his feet before leaving him alone.

　　Mr. Pendleton, on the other hand, thought differently of the predicament he faced.

　　The heart machine, which he called the Lederfalhen, was nearing completion, and the explosion was a detrimental blow to his progress. It was meant to be a sort of power station. He looked towards Bridget, who was heading towards the laboratory`s kitchen. He could not help but feel a bit confused, as she still stuck by after all of those years. Ever since he met her in that park, she`s been confident in helping this sorry inventor on his feet.

　　He took out a paper on his desk, which was a detailed letter signed personally by the owner of the bank. Mr. Pendleton wanted to find out how the bank owner could fit such an aggressive spiel into this letter, and he put it under with the rest of the letters. He then took out a blueprint and laid it open.

　　It was intricate and complex, possibly the most complex machine he had ever done in his lifetime, and he pondered on what the flaws of the machine were. He then stared at the framed doctorate on his wall, and he smiled with pride. Then, Bridget returned from the kitchen, with a plate of delectable Black Forest cake. She placed it on the desk next to Mr. Pendleton, who looked up from his thoughts with surprise.

　　"I thought you could use a treat after all that chaos, sir," Bridget said, offering a warm smile.

　　Mr. Pendleton`s grumpy expression softened as he looked at the cake. "Well, I suppose even inventors need a break and something sweet to lift their spirits."

　　He picked up the fork and took a bite of the cake, savoring the rich flavors. It was evident that Bridget had put time and effort into making it.

　　"This is delicious, Bridget. Thank you," he said genuinely, a rare moment of gratitude in his voice.

　　Bridget`s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "You`re welcome, sir. It`s always a pleasure to see you enjoy something I`ve made. My mother taught me this recipe."

　　"This is another inspiration!" Mr. Pendleton exclaimed, before backing down due to a severe back issue. "Oooh& An oven which can cook anything by reading a page off of a recipe book! It`s genius! We better start buying up all of the cookbooks in Serres or even Sordveld!"

　　"Here we go again&" Bridget said disappointedly, as she stuffed her mouth full with cake.