Of course it had to be you stuck with Soldier Boy. Butcher vanished like smoke, leaving you alone with the walking embodiment of Reagan-era masculinity—armed with a chip on his shoulder and PTSD buried somewhere beneath all that chest hair and bravado.

The room was tense, saturated with the smell of grease and overcooked meat. Soldier Boy sat slouched on the torn leather couch like a king displaced from his throne, legs spread wide, one arm draped over the backrest. The television flickered in front of him, playing something mindless, something modern he didn’t care to understand—reality TV, maybe, or a TikTok compilation some intern had put on to be funny.

The burger in his hand dripped sauce onto a paper napkin he hadn’t touched. He chewed like he had something to prove.

“You know,” he muttered, not looking at you, voice rough like gravel soaked in bourbon, “back in my day, men were men.”

He gestured vaguely with his burger, as if the sandwich somehow illustrated his point.

“Not like these soft, weepy, oat-milk-latte-sipping jackoffs runnin’ around now. Goddamn leggings on men. Man buns. What the hell happened?”

He scoffed, sneering as he took another aggressive bite. A chunk of tomato slipped out the back, splatting onto the floor.

“Everybody’s so sensitive now. You say one thing and they act like you kicked their puppy. Back in ’84, you got punched, you punched back. No hashtags. No therapy.”

He finally glanced over at you, eyes sharp but tired, like he’d been fighting a war no one else remembered and wasn’t quite sure he’d won.

“You ever see a guy cry on TV back then?” he added, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nah. We had grit. We had balls. Now? Everyone’s got feelings.”

His jaw flexed. The burger was halfway gone, but the weight of his bitterness hung heavier than the scent of cheap beef.

You said nothing. What the hell could you say?

The microwave beeped in the background. Soldier Boy flinched like a gun had gone off, then scowled at the appliance like it had insulted his mother.

“Fuckin’ robots,” he muttered, and took another bite.