A/N: Guess who's back, everyone! You'll probably notice, but my writing style has changed a lot. I'm trying to improve it, and make the chapters feel looser and flow better. It might take me a few parts for me to get back into the swing of things, but I have been writing since I took a break. I even started writing the sequel to this, even though I'm not done with this one! Anyways, hope you enjoy the new part!

Karl Heisenberg never pictured himself as an uncle. Then again, he never pictured himself as a father to a mechanical child. They do say visualization is a key to success, which is probably why he was such a crappy dad. At the moment, he was trying (and wholly failing) to get the Sturm to sleep. "C'mon, Sturmy, I already gave you your oil bottle! What do you want, another story?" Judging by the small pause in the Sturm's wailing, that was exactly what it wanted. Groaning, Karl picked up a small book. "Alright, alright. Once upon a time..." Although he acted like he hated all this father stuff, he actually loved acting like a dad. He wanted to give the Sturm everything that was taken away from him. Just like he wanted to give Seline everything that she never had. Hearing a mechanical clanking, he realized the Sturm was snoring, or the robot equivalent of snoring. He sighed in relief and got up. Walking through the hallways he knew so well, Karl headed to where he stored his food. While the shelves were pretty barren due to him definitely not eating as much as he should, he was able to scrounge up a bowl of cereal. After working his way through the definitely-not-Cheerios Cheerios, he sat idly at the counter. As per usual, his mind drifted to the cabinet that he stored his alcohol in. However, Karl was determined not to let his stupid desires control him, so he turned his back on it and instead headed for his workshop.

Karl picked the lock (damn it, where did I leave the key?!) and took a seat at the bench, where the blueprints for his newest and most dangerous project loomed. The Soldat. He surveyed the plans, making small changes here and there, trying to ignore the feeling of guilt that prodded his head. Come on, I've already made one of these before. There's no reason to hesitate. Yet for some reason, he still did. Making the Sturm was one thing. That was just an experiment to see if it would work. But making a whole army of Soldats, with the intention to kill? Even though it was similar in execution, it was entirely different in terms of morality. Karl hadn't even realized he was gripping the table until he felt his hands start to hurt. He forced himself to let go and took a few deep breaths. Get. A. Grip. This isn't just a random army. This is to kill Miranda. Remember your goal. That gave him enough strength to pick up a wrench and a few bolts, but he didn't actually start. Something held him back. Or, rather, some people did. In the beginning, Karl had thought his family would be overjoyed to hear that Miranda had been killed. They'd finally be free! Isn't that what they all wanted? But now, the more he thought about it, the more he started to realize that maybe it wasn't what they wanted. How would Moreau react? That guy's practically eating out of her hand. And what about my nieces? I know Seline found out about Alcina draining people and all that, but what would she think if I actually killed someone right in front of her? And Donna… His thinking stuttered out, which tended to happen whenever he was thinking about her. Karl shook his head, nearly causing his glasses to fall off. They'll understand. They have to.

They'll understand.

They'll know I'm doing this for them.

It's all for them.

While Karl Heisenberg was having this moral debate, another man was questioning his morals as well. He was the sort of guy that you could look at and instantly tell he was shifty. His dull eyes somehow emitted a cruel glow, and his face was ugly and unkempt. Basically, a man you'd rather not associate with. This man had been unrelated to this story thus far, except for one action: he was the father of Seline Floarea. That was her name, right? The various drinks he had downed were affecting his ability to make a coherent thought. He wasn't particularly good at thinking even when he was sober, so that was a part of it as well. Right now, he was wandering along the road, clutching the map that had the letter on the back.

To Ubel Florarea,

In case you've forgotten, I am here to remind you that you have a daughter. She is nearing eight years of age, well old enough for her to work again. I suggest that you come and retrieve her so that she may cover your drinking expenses and whatever else you need. The reason why I suggest this is because she has taken a family that is not hers, and has grown far too content with her life. I believe such behavior should not be allowed to continue. On the back of this letter, you will find a map leading directly to the village that she's staying in. If you need any assistance, come and find me at the local church, the location of which I have also marked on your map.

Do not make me regret helping you.

-Mother Miranda

Although Ubel had no clue who this "Mother Miranda" was, she had alerted him to a fact he had long forgotten. The kid. Now, you would think after nearly 3 years of not seeing his daughter, he would be overjoyed to learn of her location, or at least somewhat happy. But no. His only feelings towards her were resent. After getting a little too drunk and kicking her out, he came to regret this action, but only because it forced him to work. To him, she was just a way of making money. So she will return to me, and everything will be right again. As for this new family she's found…

I think I'll need to teach her a little lesson on betrayal.