Disclaimer: I don't own codename: kids next door.

Operation: A.P.P.R.E.N.T.I.C.E.

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It began with a simple piece of paper. A tall thin man stood staring at the ground, clutching the paper. On the paper, it said "Child Support Request."

"After so many years…"

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Chapter One

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It began as a typical day for young Numbah thirteen. It was a Saturday he awoke to the sounds of sobbing and the aroma of pancakes. Further investigation uncovered that the sobbing noise was coming from his mother, and the pancakes were being cooked in the kitchen. Luckily the pan on his head shielded his head from any further trauma when the skillet decided that it would rather like to meet Numbah thirteen's glasses.

After receiving a maternal lecture about hot skillets and how to not grow up to be like his Daddy, the Kids Next Door operative managed a daring escape from not only the maternal unit, but also from Old Rusty, the dog who refused to let the boy ever leave without his shoes beings tied. Numbah thirteen has owed his life on several occasions to that old dog.

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Meanwhile, in a dark corner of a room that suspiciously resembles a bathroom…

A sharp contrast to the otherwise dingy surroundings, a golden toilet, encrusted with what appears to be fine gems, sat. It shone, shimmered and sparkled.

Seemingly out of nowhere a high pitch tone chimed. The Toilenator rose from darkness, his brow heavy he slouched his way towards the door. He turned the knob, pulled open the door, and shrieked.

"Uh, mail …priority," said a completely baffled and confounded postal worker.

"Needs signature… sir?"

The Toilenator scratched his head, puzzled. This young chap wasn't making any sense, it was insanity. Maybe it's contagious. I hope not.

"Foul carrier of disease!" rebuked The Toilenator. "Leave my premise at once!"

The hapless mail carrier was at a loss of words. She simply hands the form and a pen to the man in the yellow body suit. She gestures to the signature line on the form.

The Toilenator furrows his brow as he tries to decipher the insane antics of this uniform clad female. Ah, she must want my autograph, he realized with a flash of brilliancy. He smiled smugly and signed it; amazed it took him so long to figure out what this lowly serviceperson wanted.

She grabbed it away as soon as he was done, and pushed a large envelope into his hands and ran as quick as her legs would take her.

The Toilenator accepted that "gift of gratitude" from such a devoted fan. He hoped she wasn't running off to tell the others of this encounter, as he didn't wish to make this a daily, or worse, hourly ordeal.

The Toilenator thought it wisest to open the gift in privacy, as he didn't want to encourage his fans to shower him with such things too regularly. After closing the door soundly behind him, he went to his golden toilet to better inspect this gift.

In the top left corner it read "Department of Human Services/ Child Support

Enforcement Division / PO Box XXX" it went on to list the city, state and zip code.

He guessed that this fan must have a child for whom she is being a deadbeat mother. He ripped the cover off, and was shocked to find a letter, not a check, inside.

"Dear Mr. XXXXXX

It has come to our attention that you have been derelict in your financial duties towards an offspring created by yourself and Ms. XXXX. The records indicate that you have not paid any child support for the past eleven years of your child's life. We have determined, due to your income range, that the child support due every month will be twenty-five percent of your income.

XXXXX XXXXXX Child Support Enforcement Division"

The Toilenator looked at the letter blankly, scratching his head absentmindedly.

He was sure that postal worker was a woman, but then again, they can do amazing things with surgery these days. Wait a second, that name looked very familiar to him, it was a name he's seen before. Maybe this fan is a stalker?

No, he had never seen her before.

"Hold the phone…" the Toilenator exhaled to no one in particular, "that's MY name!"

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The Toilenator decided to visit this "Department of Human Services." With a quick flush, he arrived in an empty men's bathroom in government building. He then located the Child Support Enforcement office.

A large older woman with gray hair, purple-tinted glasses and a scowl on her face sat at the front desk. She raised an eyebrow at the tall, soaked man. "Can I help you with anything sir?"

"Yes," The Toilenator said, thrusting the now-drenched Child Support letter of notification towards the woman, "I demand to know THIS is all about!"

Wrinkling her nose, the office worker wheeled her chair back in reflex. "You need to pay child support. All non-custodial parents are required to at the request of the custodial parent, it's the law in this state."

The Toilenator slammed the wet paper down on the desk. "I am NOT a parent, much less a special "non-custodial" one! Whatever that means…"

The older lady frowns and began to go through her desk, and pulled out a form.

In a dull voice she recited, "Sir, if you wish to dispute paternity, you must submit to a paternity test. It requires this form be filled out in whole, also it will require a blood sample be taken. What is you name?"

"The Toilenator! Surely you've heard of the terror of the Kids Next Door" said aviary vexed villain.

The woman rolled her eyes as she searched for his records. "Toilenator? No results. Are you known by any other aliases? Maybe Mr. XXXXXX?"

The tall man nodded. That was his name, in his pervious life.

A folder is pulled. The gray-haired one leafed through it. "Yes, it turns out

Ms. XXXX claims you as the father for her child, Luke XXXX. Here's a photo of him."

With tension that could be cut with a butter-knife, with closed eyes the

Toilenator took the photo from the outstretched hand of the old lady. After a pause he opened his eyes for what he believed to be the first glimpse of his child.

"You've got to be kidding me."

End Chapter One.