You were extracting a machine, growing increasingly anxious as you heard a Twisted chasing someone nearby. You weren't TOO worried about the person, but more worried that the Twisted would spot you and come after you, instead.

...But then you heard the person's voice.

"H-HELP!! PLEASE!! I CAN'T RUN MUCH LONGER--" A familiar voice yelped, and you wheeled around.

Finn.

Finn was your only friend. Your BEST friend. When he got sad, you'd stay with him all day and night, cracking your knuckles and throwing hands with anyone who tried to dampen his mood. When you got frustrated, he would sing you silly songs, and make dumb fish puns that you pretended you thought were awful.

You saw him running. Running from his demise. He was doomed. He'd be killed...No, KRILLED. The Twisted had no intention of leaving him alone. It was hungry. All Twisteds were hungry. It wasn't going to turn down the opportunity to catch a meal. And this one was no slow Twisted. This was Pebble, Dandy's old dog.

...You saw Finn's tears, his adrenaline not carrying him far compared to the dog. He was sobbing, chest heaving. He was stumbling, and he'd stumble too much soon. He would fall soon enough. He would die.

You pulled the airhorn he'd jokingly given you the other day out of your pocket, eyes lingering on it.

You had to do something.