Nikolai awoke to a dim sun. He was smart the night before and closed his curtains to avoid the morning sun waking him up from his lovely dreams. The drunk pulled himself up into a sitting position on his bed and gazed around the room. It was actually clean. Perhaps Richtofen had came in earlier and straightened things up a bit. Nikolai was actually relieved that the Nazi hadn't woke him up and allowed him to sleep as much as he wished.

The copper-locked man's drooping ears picked up the voice of the sadist he'd just thought of. They were mixed with demonic giggles.

"Zhat's not right eizher! Listen to simple instructions mien child!" the Doctor scolded. Nikolai could imagine him shaking a finger in the baby's face.

"Gah ba..." The sad tone in the undead infant's voice gave the Russian the ability to automatically translate that Milz was apologizing.

After freshening up, even though he hated doing so, and slipping himself into a black t-shirt and white basketball shorts, the Soviet began his journey outside of his room. He closed the door behind him and strolled into the living room where he found Richtofen seated on the maroon carpet and in his hands was a standing Milz, wobbling to get his balance.

"Do you zhink zhat you can do it now?" Edward questioned the child.

Milz chuckled then leaned forward onto Richtofen, giving him a sloppy, wet kiss on his forehead. Drool slipped down his face and over his nose as he gave an impatient sigh. The decaying baby plopped down onto the floor and noticed his Russian father standing next to him.

"Da da!" Milz hugged his leg excitedly as the Doctor wiped the saliva from his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Guten morgen, Nikolai." he sighed, placing an elbow onto his lap, then leaning his head onto his hand. Edward tapped his fingers on the floor, quietly thinking to himself.

Nikolai limped to the kitchen, due to the fact that his zombified son was wrapped around his lower right leg. He found himself 3 bottles of vodka and stole 6 of the Russian cookies that Richtofen had baked the night before. He stumbled into the living room to a departing Nazi.

"You're leaving Nikolai?!" he wailed.

"Vell, I have zhings to do today. But I von't be gone long!" That was always a lie. "Auf wiedersehen! Also, do me a favor and teach him to valk. Gut? Gut." And Edward was gone.

The Soviet laid back on the black, leather couch, his head propped up on a white pillow. On his stomach sat Milz, who stared into the TV in front of him. This time it was actually on. He held his stuffed panda with him, content with the cooking channel that spoke about stuffed turkey and gourmet sandwiches. Even though human food wasn't appealing to him, he liked watching the bloody meat get chopped up by a big knife on an even bigger wooden cutting board.

Milz looked down at Nikolai and babbled a string of words that made absolutely no sense to him.

"Uh... yes?"

The zombie newborn continued, moving his hands around in a questionable manner then stared at the Russian for an answer.

"...yes?"

The newborn slipped down off of his stomach and then to the floor, his panda in his right hand. He relaxed on the floor then watched as Nikolai sat up.

"What is the matter with tiny baby?" the Russian wondered.

Milz said something in baby then held his panda up. He puppeteered the blue and white panda into a walking motion. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot-

Nikolai facepalmed himself, realizing what the baby was asking before. It was a no-brainer. The first sentence translated into: "Didn't German daddy say that I needed to learn to walk?" and the second sentence was, "So, shouldn't we start now?"

The Russian took hold of Milz's tiny hands in his fairly large one's and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled a little, somewhat afraid that he'd fall onto his little bottom, but he put his trust into Nikolai, no matter how drunk he was majority of the time. The baby boy was turned to a wall near the kitchen and then released.

He took one step. One slight wobbly step. Then another. This step was full of doubt and fear. Milz lost his balance and fell with a high squeak. He glanced up at Nikolai who extended his hands towards him. He took the man's hands and stood up once again in an unsteady formation, a little less wobbly than the one before.

Time passed and the duo had repeated the procedure over and over and over again. 115 times to be exact. The afternoon sun began to fall from the sky and the moon was preparing to take the world as it's empire. Richtofen had yet to return. Of course not. "Not gone long" to him meant "gone for no longer than 6 hours". Anyway, Milz hadn't taken no more than two steps ever since he began his walking training and Nikolai began to get doubtful of the child's success.

Bottles of vodka built up on the floor next to the couch and the lamp in the corner near the television was on, thanks to the darkness that had begun to engulf the living room. The TV played music videos endlessly and still, Milz hadn't proceeded to the wall he was targeted to. Eventually, following his 116th fall, Nikolai extended his hands a 116th time.

This time, Milz didn't take them.

His head hung down in defeat. The zombie seemed upset and unhappy with himself. Milz felt that he would never learn to walk. Nikolai, being as drunk as he was, observed this and decided to step in.

"Be happy, tiny baby. You will understand walking soon!" he reassured his son, grabbing his tiny hand again and pulling him to his feet.

The brown-haired duo went for lucky number 117 and Milz was faced towards the wall. The Russian attempted to release the rotting baby's hands, but the child held onto the man's hand, doubtful that he could make it.

"You can do it! Uh... pretend wall is brain. Not Takeo's brain, but other brain."

The gray-skinned baby's eyes shone as bright as the sun as his ears took the words and transformed the wall in front of him. The wall was no longer red. It was a brain. A bloody, pink, wrinkly brain. The blood dripped onto the red carpet as drool slipped down Milz's chin and onto his blue short-sleeved sweater.

The baby took one small step filled with temptation. The second step lingered with desire. Thrice was full of force. Step after step, Milz got closer and closer to the wall. At long last, he'd reached his destination. He gave a cheer, turning back around to Nikolai who sat on the couch.

"I said baby could do it, and you did!"

The TV watching continued as the channel surfing came to a stop. Milz sat on the floor, entranced by the colors on the big screen. Nikolai soon found himself fairly parched and felt more lazy than usual to get up grab another bottle of vodka. He tapped the baby's shoulder and he snapped from his hypnosis, glancing back at the soviet.

"Vodka for Nikolai?"

Milz rose to his feet and waddled into the kitchen like a penguin. He dragged the heavy bottle of vodka back towards the couch but paused halfway, looking up at a red-faced, black-haired, heavy breathing Nazi.

Richtofen.

"Da da!"

Nikolai's eyes shot from the TV to the Doctor who stood next to the couch. Oh no.

"Zhis is how you taught him to valk?!"