Main street, Slapton Town.
A group of teenagers on bikes had the red convertible completely surrounded.
The leader—a short-haired punk in a brown T-shirt—looked cocky as hell. He planted one foot on the hood and stomped twice.
"Yo, bro, sick ride. Mind if we borrow it for a couple days?"
Soren pushed the door open and stepped out slowly. His cold eyes swept over the punks, and a small smile touched his lips.
"Go ahead. Try it."
The short-haired kid smirked and shot his buddies a look that screamed this guy's all talk. He kicked his bike aside and swaggered toward the driver's seat like he already owned the car.
As he passed Soren, he lifted his chin in a deliberate challenge.
Soren didn't stop him. He even nodded politely, waving the kid toward the car.
The punk sneered. What a spineless rich boy. How the hell does a coward even afford a car like this?
The second the kid put one hand on the door frame and started to swing himself in—
Soren's hand shot out, grabbed the back of his skull, and slammed his face straight into the top of the windshield.
CRACK!
The kid's forehead split open instantly. Blood poured down his nose.
"FUCK!"
He clutched his head and cursed, already yanking a switchblade from his pocket and stabbing viciously at Soren.
Soren's expression never changed. He caught the kid's wrist, twisted hard.
Snap.
The sound of breaking bone cut through the air. The knife clattered to the ground.
Soren caught it mid-fall and drove it straight down into the punk's thigh.
"AAAHHH!!!"
The short-haired kid screamed like a stuck pig. His one good hand froze in mid-air, unsure whether to grab his bleeding head or yank the knife out of his leg.
He shook with pain and rage, screaming at his crew. "What the fuck are you idiots just standing there for?!"
The rest of the punks glanced at each other, then pulled out their own cheap folding knives and rushed Soren all at once.
Soren didn't even move his feet. He just raised one hand and delivered a few crisp, open-palmed slaps.
The charging thugs flew backward like ragdolls, hitting the pavement and clutching their swollen faces, howling.
The only one who didn't charge was a chubby girl in the back. The second she saw how bad it was going, she spun her bike around and pedaled away like her life depended on it.
The short-haired leader, still sprawled on the ground, watched her disappear and screamed after her, "You fucking bitch!"
Soren looked down at him, casually wiping the blood off his fingers onto the kid's shirt.
"Get lost."
The punk nodded frantically, dragging his stabbed leg as he crawled away.
A short distance away, Rose and Christopher had been watching the whole time, ready to jump in if things got ugly. Now they hurried over.
"Mr. Soren! I can't believe we're running into you here!" Rose exclaimed, pulling her husband forward. "This is my husband, Christopher."
"Thank you, Mr. Soren… we don't even know how to repay you," Christopher added, a little awkward using "Mr." for someone so much younger.
Soren raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised to see them in this backwater town.
Small world.
He gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
Rose looked down at her daughter with a gentle smile. "Sharon, do you remember this uncle?"
Soren's eye twitched at the word "uncle."
He crouched down, ruffled Sharon's blonde hair, and asked, "What are you guys doing all the way out here?"
Rose explained with a warm laugh, "After everything that happened, we wanted to take Sharon on a road trip. Clear our heads, you know? We're just passing through Slapton for a couple days to rest up."
Soren nodded. "Hope you guys have a good time."
Then his tone turned serious. "But as a former client, I'd strongly suggest you stick to crowded areas. Stay out of deep woods or isolated spots."
"If anything comes up, call me."
Rose's face grew solemn immediately. After what she'd seen in Silent Hill, she trusted Soren's warnings without question. If he told her to turn around and drive home right now, she would do it in a heartbeat.
Seeing how seriously she took it, Soren didn't press the issue.
It was the best advice he could give. This country was crawling with psychos and monsters. Once something had its eyes on you, hiding wouldn't save you.
After filling up the convertible, Soren checked into the same motel as Rose's family.
He had barely kicked off his shoes when a knock sounded at the door.
Rose stood outside in a tasteful long dress, makeup freshly done.
"Mr. Soren, we left Silent Hill in such a rush last time. I never got the chance to thank you properly. I'd like to treat you to dinner tonight—if you're free."
Soren had nothing urgent to do, and free food was free food. He agreed with a smile.
That night.
A cozy family diner in town. The four of them sat around a table, eating and chatting.
Rose was excitedly going over their travel plans. "After we leave here, we're heading north to Crystal Lake Campground. The water and scenery are supposed to be perfect for camping."
"What do you think, Mr. Soren?"
Soren was cutting into his pizza when the name "Crystal Lake" hit him. In his head he immediately saw a masked figure with a machete.
"You guys don't check the news before picking spots? A lot of people have gone missing up there lately."
Rose blinked, then quickly flipped through her guidebook. "How about Texas? There's a beautiful highway route—"
Soren shook his head. "Wouldn't recommend it."
She tried several more destinations. Soren shot down every single one.
In his mind, Rose had some kind of curse that attracted trouble. Every "scenic" place she picked was straight out of a horror movie. He had no idea where she was getting her travel data from.
Seeing her carefully planned itinerary shot down one after another, Rose looked a little defeated. She closed the book and asked, "Do you have any recommendations?"
Soren set down his fork. "Buy plane tickets. Go to the old East. It's safer there."
Rose nodded, though she didn't look entirely convinced.
Just then, shouting erupted from the next table.
A set of parents were arguing with their kid over something trivial.
Rose watched with a small smile at first, thinking it was just normal family bickering—she and Christopher had their share of those moments too.
Then the mother suddenly exploded, slapping the child hard across the face. "You useless little shit! All you ever do is cause problems!"
Rose's smile froze. She quickly looked away, embarrassed.
To smooth things over, she turned back to Soren. "So where are you headed next, Mr. Soren?"
"Back to Los Santos," he answered around a mouthful of pizza.
After dinner the group walked back to the motel together.
As they passed the parking lot, everyone stopped short.
Soren's red convertible was wrecked.
All four tires slashed flat. The windshield cracked. The entire car—inside and out—was covered in foul-smelling waste.
Even after a wash and repairs, that thing was never going to smell right again.