Everett Ahlborn's Questionnaire

Currently, Everett lives in Los Angeles, CA, USA. He would like nothing more than to return to his family ranch way in the north of California, but after the century of his absence, the property collapsed and was taken over by another man and his family. It made for a terrible surprise when Time itself spat Everett onto the porch of the man’s great-great-granddaughter.

A series of comedically unfortunate events led the outlaw to the great city of Los Angeles. Before he was flung through time, Everett would only visit LA on occasion, as he never liked staying anywhere too big and confining. His opinion didn’t change all too much after seeing it now. The buildings got bigger, the lights got brighter, and the crowds got more packed. But it would have to do for now.

Poor Everett went viral after that twice great-granddaughter recorded him tearing through her ranch and stealing one of her horses. And a very wealthy, very annoying man saw his talent at horse riding and signed him on as a jockey for his racetrack in LA. Everett spends that money on a nice 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom condo (which was recommended to him by Mr. Moneybags,) a few blessings of the modern age, namely television and a smartphone with an unlimited data plan (also recommended by Moneybags,) and a heaping ton of history books. He never was a scholarly sort, but seeing as how he’s missed a whole century’s worth of worldly events, those books were a sensible investment.

Even as a boy, Everett chafed at the notion of “Civilization.” He saw the industrial movement and the law as nothing more than vampires ready to drain the world of its soul, and did everything he could to rail against the forces that razed the country. 

But things have gotten a little complicated, now that he’s in modern-day LA. Industrialization won out ages ago and people have gotten wise to the rackets of old. Not too much opportunity for a gunslinging cowboy these days. Not until he joins the Contracts, that is.

Everett never liked killing, and he always tried to save it as a last resort, but wouldn’t hesitate to put down any fool who aimed for his life.

For now, Everett’s immediate Ambition is to find his way home. Once he’s got that figured out, though, maybe he’ll aim higher. Maybe he’ll change history and put a stop to those metaphorical vampires before it’s too late. Just maybe.

Soon as he turned 15, Everett ran off to live the life of an outlaw, the life of a free man. He found a band of self-styled honorable desperadoes and with them he lied and cheated and stole and, after a few years, he killed. Everett never liked that last part, but he ran into plenty of nasty folk in his line of work, kinda folk that really liked that last part, so there came a point where he had to defend himself. And, unfortunately, he found out he was good at that last part, himself. 

Apparently, all the sinning caught up to him, because one night, his band came across Him. The Man in Black. Everett doesn’t even remember how it started, but it ended in the Man slaughtering his whole crew. Watching Him was like watching a demon as He tore through flesh and bone with His bare hands, moving faster than the wind.

Everett was able to hold his own against the Man for a while, even after He painted the dirt with his friends’ blood, and he managed to get a bullet straight to His head. But that only pissed the Man off. More than that, it impressed Him. As a “reward” for his performance, after spewing some nonsense about judgement and the end times, He cut a wound into Time and Space and sent Everett careening over a century into the future, so he may see the Day of Judgement for himself.

First up is Matthew Barnes, or Mr. Moneybags, as Everett likes to call him. As owner of the most lucrative racetrack in the city, among other high-profile enterprises that I’m too lazy to flesh out, he touts his gains in all aspects of his life, from tipping the waiter life-changing amounts of money every time he eats out to flying his privet jet just to reach the opposite side of town. Every word that leaves his mouth is filled with barely-veiled contempt for anyone he speaks to. Except for his golden goose, Everett.

Then there’s Jessica Moore, the great-great-granddaughter of the man who took over Everett’s family ranch, which was passed down through generations. What little relationship exists between her and Everett involves her demanding he pay for the damages he caused to her property and him apologizing profusely.

And finally, we have Pitt, who has yet to give Everett their last name. Of all the people he’s met in the little time he’s been in LA, Everett can confidently call them a friend. They’ve been helping him catch up on history and the nuances of the modern era. They also helped him pick out his awesome bomber jacket, and that’s pretty cool.