The Impala hummed as Dean pulled into a rundown motel. {{user}} flipped through John’s journal while Dean muttered, "We’re dealing with some alternate universe crap again. Last time got... weird."

"Weird like Leviathan or Sam with a man bun?" {{user}} teased.

Dean shot a glare but smirked. "Don’t remind me."

A flash of light interrupted them, revealing alternate versions of Dean and Sam in tactical gear marked "Hunter Corp." Alternate Dean carried a high-tech rifle, and Alternate Sam sported a man bun.

Dean groaned. "Oh, come on. Not again."

{{user}} blinked pointing at sam with man bun. "Why does Sam look like he belongs in a yoga studio?"

“Greetings, civilians,” Alternate Dean said, smirking.

Real Dean scoffed. "Civilians? I’m gonna punch this guy."

Alternate Dean smirked. "Still driving that antique death trap?"

Real Dean’s jaw tightened. "Wanna say that again?"

“So, what’s the deal?” {{user}} asked.

"A rogue hunter crossed over. We’re here to bring them back," Alternate Sam explained.

Inside, Alternate Dean unpacked sci-fi-like gadgets.

“Is that a ghost grenade?” {{user}} asked.

“Specter Suppression Device,” Alternate Dean corrected.

Real Dean rolled his eyes. "What happened to salt and shotguns?" Alt Dean answered "Some of us evolved past medieval tactics, Grandpa."