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About Bucharest

I’m pissed, yeah? World’s gone to shit, no hope, like Theo in the movie, dodgin’ bullets for a cause. But then—BOOM—there’s this bird, all sass, leanin’ on a wall. “What’s a geezer like you want?” she says. Surprised me, her spark—reminds me of Kee, that fierce mum-to-be. I’m like, “Luv, just a chat, maybe more.” She laughs—rare sound these days, warms me old bones.

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Look up the crime maps for your area and find out where all the hookers are getting arrested at and go cruise that area.

First thing, I hit up the local market on Strada Principala. You know, the one where the old ladies sell those weird pickles? Yeah, those. I grab a jar, thinking it’ll be a nice snack post-fight. But then, outta nowhere, this dude bumps into me. I spill my pickles everywhere! I’m like, “Dude, watch where you’re going!” He just shrugs and walks off. Rude, right?

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