The first thing Benjamin — Ben, wanted was a damn burger. Being out of the cryogenic tube, coming back to America and accidentally killing people and all he wanted was a damn burger.

Because he wanted to compare, his words.

And who had been charged of this mission? You. Of course. The door of the motel slammed as you came back, a paper bag in your hand that you quite frankly; threw on the table with a sigh.

Ben looked up at you and furrowed eyebrows as he searched for the burger and fries, without forgetting about the damn soda drink. He hummed and bit down in the food, before grimacing.

“That taste like shit. What happened to the good old American burgers?” he asked you.