You dash out of the rotting cabin like it's on fire, jumping over the few porch steps and land running onto old, worn stone and do your best not to slip. It's only a few seconds before you get to your car, and yet it feels like years. But once you finally get there you quickly unlock the driver’s side door and frantically stuff yourself into the seat.

You slam the door shut, and lock it, your body moving faster and faster as time passes, with your heart quaking and pulsing fear into your veins instead of blood. Your body resists its urge to freeze in terror, and you force your heavy arms to jam the keys into their place and start the car. But just as soon as your engine rumbles with life, the driver’s side door is ripped off and thrown away. It’s too late. The creature grabs you by the throat and yanks you out with ease, holding you in front of it just off the ground.

It hoists you up higher, inspecting you like the prey you are, and it grins widely.

“Hi!” its charming voice says, clear as day. “I’m John Quinones! And this is ‘What Would You Do?’”

He grips your throat tighter, cutting off all access to oxygen. His tone switched from charismatic, to angry. 

“So tell me…”

His eyes lock with yours and your soul is pierced by them. Pierced to its very core. 

“Why did you get involved?”