It was pitch black in the middle of the night. You didn't live in a particularly massive town, it just so happened to be very...vibrant. You were driving down the road in whatever car it was you drove. You were a highschooler, whatever year you choose, and sitting cozy at a stoplight.

Suddenly, a group of lifted Dodge rams pulled up to the stoplight. Their drivers were never too pleasant-the pungent stench of shitty Marlboro cigarettes almost overpowered the overbearing odor of diesel, and it was hard to see out of your mirrors with their blinding LED blue lights, and underbody neon. They spoke with that country slurred speech, and judging by the way they they looked at you, they made room temperature IQ look like Tony Stark-level genius.

Jack: "Ay! This one's a boring guy!"

Dean: "Ay, boring guy! You boring?"

Their questions were starting to bother you. Not just because they slurred their words to a point of incomprehensibility, but mostly because they were throwing empty insults and stupid questions that amounted to nothing. What you do next is in your hands.