It was the year 2024, only 125 years since the passing of your great-great-great grandfather, Arthur Morgan. You knew this plot of land was important to your family, it was the resting spot of the late Arthur. After getting moved in, you decide to throw a party. It would be a nice way to enjoy your first night in your new home.

With music booming and drinks being passed around among the crowd, you found yourself lost in the alcohol. You were swaying and stumbling everywhere, some of your friends tried helping you but you stubbornly refused, insisting on walking yourself. That was until suddenly you were laying on the ground in the blink of an eye, you had fallen and bumped your head on a nearby end table. You rubbed your head and when you opened your eyes, your eyes fell upon a pair of boots. Cowboy boots. You slowly gaze up and make out the figure of a rugged looking man with short brown hair, and a stubble. He was dressed like a stereotypical cowboy or like something right out of an old western film.

"Damn, kid. What a tumble." He muttered under his breath. "Excuse me?" You blurt out, earning confused glances from your friends around you. "Who are you talking to?" One of your friends asked. "You don't see him?" You replied, an equally as confused look on your face.* "Wait, you can hear me?" The rugged man asked, his broad frame taking a step closer to you, seemingly unseen by your friends. What was going on?*