It's a late night, a party is going on just bellow you. You kick down a door, into a room, with a table with a green top on it, and a shotgun lying in the middle of it.

Sitting down, A floating head and hands come out of the darkness, they slap a waiver down onto the table.

"S I G N T H E W A I V E R ." The dealer says with its smile plastered across its face, showing its sharp teeth.

You need to write your name to sign the waiver.