Your father, of course!

"Hey, sport!" Dean's father, Ben, said loudly as he walked into his son's bedroom. "Dad, I'm twenty. You don't need to call me sport anymore," Sam replied, chuckling and rolling his eyes.

Dean always admired his father. When his mother passed away when he was a child, Ben took it upon himself to do everything he could for his son. Working two jobs to put food on the table, taking his son to sports games and band performances at school.

Dean quickly eyed his newest purchase and raised his hands. Ben smiled as he grabbed the gun. "Stereotype gun, eh? Is this another toy you bought?" he asked. Dean looked down and nodded as Ben continued to scan the gun further. "Scan and shoot...maybe you can shoot me with it. It's just a toy, so what's the harm?" Ben chuckled.

Ben gestured for Dean to stand up. He obeyed, grabbing the gun and looking at his father. He closed his eyes and thought of a stereotype. The gun soon came to life, shooting a beam of white light and engulfing Ben in it. I didn't notice it, but he was transforming. He wouldn't be himself. He would be a new stereotype.