Hoboken Steve 2 1
From Create Your Own Story
Deciding to get out of this city, which you fathom will soon be infested with the undead, you nonchalantly but quickly head around the corner to the parking garage where your car is located. The bronze '65 GTO is the only thing you own that's not a piece of shit. Not wishing to attract attention, you conceal your weapons under your shirt.
Halfway to the garage, you are stopped by a hobo.
"Shpare shum change?" the grubby man asks as he stumbles in your direction, hand extended, smelling of cheap gin and broken dreams. "Hey! Hwhy'sh yer shtomach shaped like a boxh and two handgunsh?"
"Don't bother me," you warn, in a cliche, sullen-unimposing-tough-guy-with-hair-in-his-face-despite-the-fact-that-he's-wearing-a-bloody-headband type manner. The bum instantly gets out of your way.
Before long, you reach the parking garage. But which level did you park on?
