Jim and Medusa walked through the park—a broad, open space in front of the mall. At its center lay a man-made pond, ringed by fruit trees and a winding smooth stone path. Fountains erupted at intervals from the lake's surface, spraying water in intricate, shifting patterns. Grass, shrubs, and vibrant flowers dotted the park, and benches offered peaceful views of the water. Casually dressed families and children filled the sunny area with the sounds of their play.

  Medusa slithered along beside Jim. She kept glancing around, taking in the overwhelming sights and sounds—a dynamic mix of colors, noise, and motion. The scene was alive in a way that overwhelmed her senses.

  "How are you feeling?" Jim asked.

  "I fare well enough, I suppose," she said, still scanning her surroundings. "This place... is quite magnificent."

  "It's a park," Jim explained. "Built for everyone to enjoy."

  Medusa looked around, taking in the open space. "There's nothing like this where I come from. Aristos have grand courtyards and beautiful gardens. There isn't a place like this in any city, where everyone can walk and play freely. "

  "Do you like it?"

  "Yes, it's quite nice. If a place like this existed out there, I'd visit often."

  Jim's lips curved in a quiet smile, the kind that suggested her words had settled something in him.

  After a brief pause, Medusa turned to him. "I wanted to ask you something."

  "Of course. What's on your mind?"

  "You said earlier that you and your people are mortals from the future, correct? From about three thousand seasons ahead of my time?"

  "That's right, though we don't measure time in seasons anymore. We call them years now."

  "Years," she repeated, nodding thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about this time-traveling concept you've brought with you. Something about it intrigues me."

  Jim responded with interest. "What do you find intriguing?"

  Medusa's gaze held steady, her voice taking on a more deliberate tone. "I wonder what would happen if someone changed the future at this very moment. Consider this—what if harm came to one of your ancestors while you're here? Would you... cease to exist?"

  Jim chuckled, nodding. "That's a brilliant question. One of the better ones people ask when the subject of time-travel comes up. The good news is that it's almost impossible considering the machine we have."

  "Oh?"

  "It's called the Push-Pull Theory—something Major Chang came up with."

  "Push-Pull Theory?" She tilted her head. "Such an interesting name. Tell me more?"

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Sure," Jim said. "You'd imagine the device either travels through time, or it's a portal–where people enter and reappear in a different historical period."

  Medusa nodded. "So, yours is different?"

  "Our system is much different," Jim said. "The time machine isn't here—it stayed in the future and pushed us back to the past. When our pre-determined time is up, it'll reach out and pull us back to our original timeline."

  Medusa rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "So, any changes you make here...?"

  "Stay in this timeline, which branches off," Jim confirmed. "They don't affect our original timeline."

  Medusa nodded slowly. "That's... clever... But a concept that remarkable must have drawbacks."

  "Absolutely," Jim said. "For one, we can't leave early or stay longer. We have to be in the boundaries of Fort Bogart at the exact moment the machine pulls us back. No exceptions. And as of now, we have 483 days left."

  "So, everyone must be inside Fort Bogart to return?"

  "That's right."

  "And those outside... they're left behind?"

  "Unfortunately, yes. And there's more," Jim added. "We have no communication with our people in the future until extraction. No resupplies, reinforcements, or any way to call for help. We're on our own."

  Medusa's brow furrowed. "So, recruiting as many as possible, but avoiding trouble... for the next 483 days?"

  "That's the plan. Think we can pull it off?"

  "Perhaps... but I have my doubts. Your presence alone has already drawn attention. I am certain of it. I fear what would happen if the gods turned their full attention upon this stronghold."

  "Yeah, me too."

  She paused, her voice more curious now. "There's something I don't understand. You have powerful weapons, machines that soar through the sky, chariots that race without horses—and yet, you seek superheroes?"

  Jim met her gaze, his expression earnest. "Sure, weapons are powerful. But they're nothing compared to what you can do."

  Her expression darkened. "So, you intend to use me as a weapon?"

  He sighed, choosing his words carefully. "I wouldn't put it like that. Asking for your help—that's the right way to say it. But yes... in a sense. And I mean that in the best way possible."

  She arched an eyebrow. "How can this curse be used to benefit others?"

  "It can if it's for a worthy cause," he said calmly. "To save lives and protect people. That's what heroes do—it's what being a superhero is about."

  Medusa tilted her head, curious. "Tell me—these superheroes... do they already walk among your people in the future?"

  Jim nodded.

  "Then why seek me—and others ?like me—to bear this burden?"

  "Because for every hero, there's someone just as powerful—only they use their strength to hurt, not help. Supervillains. And the more heroes we have to stand against them, the better."

  Medusa's brow furrowed. "And what of the gods? If they are truly immortal, they must still roam your world. Do they not?"

  Jim shook his head. "No. There are no gods anymore. We don't know when or why they vanished—only that they're gone. And not to scare you, but... everyone with your kind of power in your time? Heroes of your era killed them."

  Medusa crossed her arms. "That's... terrible. But what if I choose not to be a hero for you?"

  Jim let out a sigh. "The decision is yours. You're free to leave at any time; however, the pressing question is: will you assist the people of Argos?"

  She looked down, silent for a moment. "You ask much from one whose acquaintance you've just made."

  "I understand," Jim admitted.

  Medusa paused, her thoughts swirling. "You want me to take part in something dangerous and overwhelming that I don't fully understand. It is overwhelming. And yet... to save a princess? To spare a city from ruin? It is a noble cause, one worthy of honor."

  Jim offered a small, hopeful grin. "So... is that a yes? At least for now?"

  She met his gaze, steady and composed, though a flicker of doubt still lingered. Then she gave a single nod—measured, firm. "So be it. For now, I lend my strength to your cause."

  "Thank you. I'm glad you decided to help us," Jim replied.

  "But if you ever ask me to do something I'm not comfortable with, you're the one getting stoned." Medusa replied, her voice stern.

  Jim's throat went dry under the weight of her gaze. "I understand perfectly," he responded.

  As their fate was becoming increasingly apparent, the two proceeded in silence.