When they appeared saying they were from the future I was skeptical. The desperation in their souls screamed agony but their words landed in a nervous whisper. A second American Revolution was going poorly, and they needed a hero. All I needed was to grab my rifle. Looking up I could see Martha had questions in her eyes. I gave her a soft, farewell kiss on the cheek. Because Tyranny never dies; she only slips into hibernation. And I reckon it’s time to put that wench back to sleep.