"Good afternoon." Daniel waved with a polite smile, trying his best to look harmless. "My motorhome broke down. I don't know anything about mechanics. Could you give me a ride to the nearest town? I can pay for fuel."
Jim glanced at the armored vehicle, then back at Daniel. His eyes narrowed, taking in every detail: the gold earring, the military boots, the black leather jacket, the bleached haircut that practically screamed trouble. Jim's right hand rested on the steering wheel, but his fingers tapped once, twice, three times.
"You don't have a phone?" The question came out harsher than intended. If he were in Daniel's position, he would have called a tow truck. He certainly wouldn't have accepted a lift from strangers.
"Luck isn't on my side today." Daniel shrugged lightly—too lightly to be completely honest.
"It drowned and died."
Before Jim could respond, Julie appeared behind him, leaning between the seats for a better look. Her eyes landed on Daniel and stayed a bit longer than socially comfortable.
Something about him caught her attention. Maybe it was the way he stood there at the roadside alone, without looking lost. Or the way he smiled at her, casually, without the usual awkwardness of someone being stared at.
Daniel noticed her stare. Also saw the exact moment Jim caught his daughter looking. Perfect. He really shouldn't have smiled.
"Julie." Jim's voice wasn't exactly scolding, but it carried a subtle and impatient warning.
She blinked and looked away quickly. A faint flush warmed her cheeks—not out of attraction, but embarrassment from being caught studying a stranger like an interesting puzzle.
"Even if you had a phone, it wouldn't help," she said, recovering quickly as she shifted to a more practical tone. "There's no signal here. No internet, no calls. Nothing."
Jim looked from Julie back to Daniel, jaw tight. The atmosphere inside the RV thickened slightly, the way it does when a father notices his teenage daughter noticing someone who definitely doesn't pass the visual test for "acceptable son-in-law."
Daniel inhaled deeply, kept his expression neutral, and deliberately shifted all attention back to Jim, politely ignoring Julie. "Really? No signal at all around here? Strange area."
"Yeah." Jim didn't elaborate. His eyes were still picking Daniel apart like he was a suspicious math equation. He exchanged a glance with his wife, who watched from the window with a neutral expression but sharp eyes.
Silence stretched. Daniel could feel the hesitation. Jim clearly didn't want to do this.
"Look," he said, breaking the silence and slipping his hands into his pockets. "If it's a bother, that's fine. I can wait here. Someone else will come by eventually." He stepped half a pace back. "I don't want to cause any trouble."
It was the right thing to say. Jim eased a little. Not much, but enough. A man who offers an easy way out is rarely a serial killer.
"Let me take a look at your engine first." Jim opened the RV door firmly. "I'm no expert, but I know a bit. If it's something simple, maybe I can fix it here."
"I appreciate it." Daniel stepped back further, giving him space and keeping his body language open and non-threatening.
Jim climbed out. Daniel saw a woman watching from the window protectively and a child peeking with curiosity.
He recognized her, but couldn't remember her name.
Jim lifted the motorhome's hood. The metal was heavy and reinforced; clearly not a regular vehicle.
"What kind of motorhome is this? I've never seen this model."
"Customized," Daniel answered vaguely. "The previous owner was... eccentric. Liked to be prepared for anything."
"Prepared for war, apparently." Jim examined the engine critically. "Try starting it."
Daniel got in and turned the key. Nothing. Silence.
Jim adjusted some wires, checked connections, and tested the battery. After a few minutes, he shook his head. "Probably an electrical issue. Could be a broken wire, a short, or maybe the ignition module. Fixing it here will take a while. I'd need tools I don't have."
He shut the hood harder than necessary and wiped his hands on his already-dirty jeans.
"I can take you to the next town."
The words came out like they had been dragged out of his throat. Jim clearly didn't want to. But he was also the kind of man who couldn't leave someone stranded if he had the means to help.
"Perfect. That helps a lot." Daniel offered a grateful smile—the kind that says: I know this is a favor, and I won't push it.
"One second." He raised an index finger. "Let me grab a few things first. You never know. Could take a while to tow it back."
Jim nodded but didn't offer help. He went back to the trailer to wait.
Daniel headed into his motorhome. The door shut behind him with a soft click. The interior still carried a faint smell of weed—shit. He should've thought about that earlier.
[Interesting observation: This will clearly put you in a complicated situation.]
"Stop stating the obvious and help me think." Daniel grabbed a bag near the bed. "What do I bring? I can't look like I'm planning to camp for weeks, but I need the essentials."
[Clothes. Water. Basic food. Nothing that screams 'paranoid survivalist.' And for the love of Kael, leave the shotgun in the inventory. You already look threatening enough.]
"I'm not an idiot." Daniel packed fast: two changes of clothes, a water bottle, some snacks, and basic hygiene items. The Glock was at the bottom of the bag, hidden among neatly folded clothes. It would be visible if someone dug deep, but not obvious at a glance.
Everything truly important—weed cigarettes, shotgun, documents, extra ammo, grenades—was already in the inventory. The bag acted as a convenient excuse in case he needed to retrieve or store something quickly.
[Look at that, a delinquent with a plan. Kael would be proud.]
"He'd be proud if I didn't smell like weed." Daniel switched jackets, trying to mask the scent. It didn't fully solve the problem, but helped. He wanted a shower, but had no time.
[You should've thought of that before smoking inside the magical vehicle you got as a gift, genius.]
"Thanks for the helpful and timely observation, Captain Hindsight."
[Always available when you need someone to say 'I told you so'.]
Daniel rolled his eyes, zipped the backpack, and took one last look around. The motorhome stood silent and imposing. Mode One: exterior. Mode Two: interior—a marvel of magical engineering.
"Stay still and don't let anyone steal you, yeah?" he muttered, locking the door firmly.
[Talking to vehicles now?]
"At least it isn't sarcastic."
[Sarcasm is part of the package. Complaints? Call the nonexistent celestial support line.]
He shook his head and headed back to the trailer. The engine still rumbled. The smell of diesel mixed with forest humidity filled his nose. He adjusted the new jacket, which helped suppress the weed smell, but didn't erase it.
He climbed into the passenger seat. The trailer interior was cramped but functional, the typical family motorhome layout. Tabitha sat at the table with Ethan next to her, tablet on the surface. Julie had returned to the back sofa, pretending to look at her phone but very clearly monitoring every movement Daniel made.
"Hi!" Ethan turned to him immediately, bright-eyed, with unfiltered enthusiasm. "Your hair is cool!"
"Thanks, champ." Daniel smiled genuinely. Kids were easy—honest, no hidden thoughts.
Something in Ethan's cheerful innocence made Daniel's chest tighten for a moment. Memories of his own childhood, when things were simple. He pushed the thought away.
Jim watched him from the corner of his eye as he began to drive. His nose twitched subtly, and his brow furrowed.
Shit. He definitely smelled it.
Tabitha noticed too. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him with a new layer of suspicion.
Great. Thirty seconds inside and he'd already lost points with both parents.
He tried easing the atmosphere. "You've got a beautiful family. My name's Daniel, by the way. Daniel Black."
"Jim Matthews." The response was curt. "This is my wife, Tabitha. You've met Julie and Ethan."
"Pleasure." Tabitha nodded politely, but coldly.
Julie gave a small wave from the back without taking her eyes off him. Not hostile—curious. Like he was a book she wasn't sure she should read.
A heavy silence settled. Daniel leaned his elbow against the window edge, watching the trees pass slowly. The road curved constantly, and Jim drove with excessive focus.
"So," Daniel said eventually, because he couldn't stand awkward quiet, "where are you guys coming from?"
"Family trip." Jim didn't elaborate.
"Nice. Vacation?"
"Something like that," Tabitha replied with a neutral tone, though her eyes still assessed him carefully. "And you?"
Daniel kept his story simple. "I work with extreme sports. I film and post online. Came to the region to shoot footage in the forest. Trails, climbing, stuff like that."
Not technically a lie. It was what he used to do before dying. Staying close to the truth always made it easier not to slip.
"Like a YouTuber?" Ethan asked excitedly. "Like the guys who climb mountains?"
"More or less." He laughed. "But I usually try not to break bones. It's hard to film from a hospital bed." He lied naturally; the kind of crazy stuff he did always ended up in some kind of accident.
"Sensible," Tabitha commented, though her tone suggested she doubted he was sensible in anything.
Jim said nothing, eyes fixed on the road. But Daniel noticed the tension in his shoulders and the way he checked the rearview mirror more often than necessary—not to look at the road behind them, but at the back seat.
Where Julie sat.
Ah. So that was it.
Daniel remained relaxed, looking mainly out the window or at Jim when he spoke. He deliberately avoided looking at Julie. The last thing he needed was to give the guy more ammunition to suspect him. Daniel had to behave himself to complete the mission; after that, he wouldn't care about keeping up the nice guy act anymore.
[Smart strategy. For the first time today, you're not being foolish.]