The morning following the welcoming of the undead newborn, Tank woke up reasonably early. He found himself restless, jittery that the tiny zombie would come into his room and eat him, bit by delicious bit. He squinted at his digital clock that read just half-past 8am.

Yawning and stretching jadedly, he literally rolled out of bed and toppled onto the beige carpet. He seriously had no idea why he did that every morning. Perhaps it just woke him up and gave his senses a jump-start.

Hauling himself up off of the floor, the Marine found a stray pair of black jeans that rested on a chair and yanked them onto his legs. He plucked a dark green tank top from off the carpet and left his room, pulling the shirt over his head.

As he stalked closer and closer towards the living room, the faint sound of the news gently became louder and louder. Dempsey stepped into the living room to find Richtofen settled on the floor in front of the big screen. Near him, rolling around on a blanket, was the decomposing infant he'd brought home yesterday, gnawing a petite stuffed brain.

"Why is that thing still here?"

"Ve talked about zhis yesterday, now hush! I'm trying to vatch zhe news." the Doctor replied, stroking the baby's head.

"Yeah, whatever." Tank sneered, making his way into the kitchen. He spilled himself a bowl of frosted flakes and leaned on the counter, shoving spoonful after spoonful into his mouth.

After he finished, he placed the vacant bowl into the sink. Eh, Takeo will wash it. The blonde male shuffled back into the living room and nearly left into the hallway until-

"Ah ah ah! Vait a minute, American! You still have to chip in." the Nazi called to him.

Dempsey sighed, taking a few steps back and rotating to face the crazed man who was perched on the ground.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Vatch him vhile I go shopping."

"That's all?"

"Ja. For now."

"...fine."

Richtofen rose up and waltzed his way over to the ebony, wooden door. He pulled on his black and white sneakers and hoodie that he'd washed last night. It had reeked of rotting human flesh and drool. The weather looked fair, so he left the car keys on the table near the door. Pulling his hood over his head, he departed without a word, leaving Dempsey to watch the bundle of undead fury that was making adorable, but frightening noises in front of the TV.

"I wish you'd stop doing that, you evil, meat sack." Tank took a seat on the red carpet in the same spot that the Nazi once sat in. "How'd you even survive?"

The infant kicked it's legs and drooled.

"Not talkin', eh? That's cool with me."

The child made a growling noise, looking up at the Marine with it's glowing, sunny eyes.

"Don't growl at me, you little flesh-addict!"

A saliva covered stuffed brain hit him in the face, a wicked giggle following the impact. Tank wiped the zombie drool from his face and bared his teeth down at the laughing zombie.

"You think that's funny, don't ya?! You're lucky I was threatened or else your little ass would be pieces of trash on the floor!"

The infant whimpered, petrified by Dempsey's black-hearted tone.

"Go ahead! Cry! See if I care!"

Vile, shrill cries erupted from the child and salty, tears fell down the side of it's face. It sounded almost like a zombie screaming, but had more of a miserable pitch to it.

"Just keep on crying, because nobody cares!"

The brown-haired baby continued to sob and the blond stared down at it angrily. Suddenly, he kinda felt bad. He thought of his daughter that he'd lost during the apocalypse and wondered to himself: would he make her cry like that? Would he yell at her and say such words to her like he just did?

Then it occurred to him that maybe this was a second chance. Maybe it was a chance to start over. The Marine reached down and hoisted up the bellowing babe, peacefully rocking it back and forth. Before long, it ceased it's cries, gazing up at his now second father.

"There. All better. You & I got off on the wrong foot, kid. Wanna start over?" Dempsey beamed, extending a finger towards the infant that was cradled in his left arm.

The child reached out a decaying hand and wrapped it's miniature digits around Dempsey's single finger. "Baa!"

"I'll take that as a yes."