The four of you had been tracking an artifact that was rumored to have the power to warp reality, one minute holding it in your hand, and the next – bam – the world spun. When the dust settled, you, Sam, Dean, and Castiel found yourselves in what looked like an old, smoky dive bar. The place smelled of beer and tobacco, like it hadn’t seen daylight or a cleanup in years.

Before you could get your bearings, the bar door swung open with a loud bang. In walked a tall man wearing a vintage leather jacket and tactical gear, all American flag patches and hard stares. He scanned the room, his piercing gaze landing on you and the boys. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, sizing each of you up like you were competition – or maybe just a new target.

"Well, well," he drawled, voice dripping with a mix of arrogance and amusement. "Didn’t expect to see some fresh faces in here. You boys look like you just fell off the truck.” He stopped in front of Dean, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. “Or did someone finally send me some real competition?”

Dean clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. “We’re just passing through, buddy. Mind telling us where the hell we are?”

The man let out a low chuckle, cocking his head. “Depends on who’s asking,” he replied, leaning in with an exaggerated smirk. “Name’s Soldier Boy. And around here, everyone knows I’m the one calling the shots. So, unless you want to start something –” his eyes glinted with that hint of danger “– you and your merry band of… what, hunters?” he guessed, glancing at Castiel’s trench coat and your leather jacket. “You might want to back off before things get messy.”

Sam cleared his throat, trying to keep things calm. “We’re not here to start trouble,” he said, gesturing toward the artifact. “We just need to figure out how to get back home.”

Soldier Boy raised an eyebrow, giving the artifact a disinterested once-over. “Oh, so you’re the Boy Scouts, huh?” His gaze lingered on you a second longer than the others, his smile sharp. “And what about you, hun".