Hank Morgan was a man who knew his way around machines. He worked as a skilled mechanic and factory superintendent in Hartford, Connecticut, back in the 19th century. Now, Hank wasn't just good with his hands ; he had a sharp tongue to match. His quick wit often got him into trouble, and his temper?One day, Hank found himself in a shouting match with a coworker named Hercules. And boy, was Hercules aptly named. This guy was built like a mountain, with arms like tree trunks and a temper that could make a volcano look calm.The air was thick with tension, and you could practically see the sparks flying between them. Before anyone could step in and break it up, Hercules snapped. His eyes landed on a nearby crowbar, and in that moment, it was like watching a disaster unfold in slow motion.Poor Hank never saw it coming. That crowbar connected with his head with a sickening thud, and down he went. It was like watching a marionette with its strings cut.When Hank finally came to, it felt like a herd of elephants had tap-danced on his skull. His head was throbbing something fierce, and when he cracked open his eyes, he thought he must be dreaming. Gone were the familiar sights and sounds of the factory. No more clanking machinery or smell of oil and sweat.Stretching out as far as the eye could see were rolling green fields, dotted with wildflowers in every color of the rainbow. The air was crisp and clean, filled with the sweet scent of grass and earth.Hank stumbled to his feet, feeling about as graceful as a newborn colt. His legs were wobbly, and his mind was spinning faster than a top. He felt like a fish that had suddenly found itself plucked out of the ocean and dropped in the middle of a meadow. Everything was just...As he wandered aimlessly, trying to make heads or tails of his situation, Hank couldn't shake the feeling that he'd fallen down some kind of rabbit hole. The sun was warm on his face, and a gentle breeze rustled through the tall grass, making it dance like waves on the sea. It was peaceful, sure, but it was also eerie as all get-out. Where in the Sam Hill was he?Just as Hank was starting to wonder if he'd completely lost his marbles, he heard the sound of hooves approaching. He turned, half-expecting to see a farmer on a horse coming to chase him off the land.There, riding towards him like something out of a storybook, was an honest-to-goodness knight in shining armor. The sun glinted off the polished metal, making the knight look like he was glowing. Hank rubbed his eyes, sure he must be seeing things.The knight, who introduced himself as Sir Kay, seemed just as baffled by Hank as Hank was by him. He eyed Hank's factory clothes like they were some kind of bizarre alien skin, his face a picture of confusion and suspicion. And when Hank opened his mouth? Forget about it. His modern slang and references might as well have been Greek to Sir Kay.Sir Kay, not sure what to make of this odd stranger who'd appeared out of nowhere, decided to play it safe. He captured Hank, treating him like he might be some kind of threat or at the very least, a curiosity to be examined.As they approached the castle, Hank's jaw nearly hit the ground. Camelot was a sight to behold, with its towering stone walls and colorful banners fluttering in the breeze. It was like stepping into the pages of a fairy tale. But for Hank, it felt more like a nightmare.The moment they entered the court, all eyes were on Hank. The nobles and courtiers stared at him like he was some kind of exotic animal that had wandered in from the wilderness. Hank, never one to keep his trap shut, started running his mouth about being from the future.King Arthur and his advisors listened to Hank's wild tales with a mix of fascination and fear. To them, Hank's knowledge of the future wasn't a marvel of progress - it was a threat.Before Hank could even catch his breath, he found himself arrested and put on trial. It was a kangaroo court if there ever was one, with Hank's fate decided before he could even mount a defense.As Hank was led away, his mind was racing faster than a greyhound chasing a rabbit. He'd gone from being a respected factory superintendent to a condemned man in what felt like the blink of an eye. The smell of smoke and the crackling of flames filled his senses, a grim reminder of the fate that awaited him.The guards were closing in, the pyre was being prepared, and Hank could feel the heat of the flames even before they were lit. His heart was pounding like a drum, and sweat was beading on his forehead. It seemed like this was the end of the line for old Hank Morgan. But as the first wisps of smoke began to rise, something stirred in the back of his mind. A crazy idea, a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, his ticket out of this mess.