John helped Timothy down from their super chair, but did not release Timothy's hand when they made it to the bottom. Timothy did not pull away. "Wow…this place is quite large, John."

"Indeed, Timothy," John nodded, pulling him gently towards the door. What happened next, neither would be able to fathom for years to come. The ground shook, someone -it sounded like a little girl - shrieked, and a roar came. The front door flew open, a young boy clad in a yellow body suit with a toilet-paper shaped head and what looked like a potty training cushion on his neck came running out, a fireball fast behind him. It caught on the edge of one of the rolls of toilet paper he wore like bracelets on his wrists, setting them aflame.

"Youchh! Ouch!" the boy cried "You big meanie!" He rolled around on the ground until the fire went out. "I'll start my own villains gang! Yeah! And then you guys'll be all like 'Toilenator, we should have realized that even though you're a kid, you can still beat up kids'! …..and for your information, Toilet-based powers are NOT lame!"

The only answer was another fireball emerging from the house. The Toilenator shrieked and ran for it.

"A most odd scene, John,"

"Indeed, Timothy," John agreed, pulling Timothy with him to the door. He knocked lightly on the frame, then proceeded without being asked to come in. Timothy followed, still a little unnerved at the thought of fireballs being pelted at him.

"And who exactly are you?" The voice came from a chair that was turned away from them. It was dark…mysterious. Foreboding.

"I am John Wink, and this is my….partner. Timothy Fibb."

"And why should I hii-" there was a cough, as Timothy stifled a laugh. Sure, the voice had started out sounding dangerous, but now…the voice had just cracked. They were dealing with someone who had just hit puberty. Sure enough, the owner of the voice got to his feet and came around the chair.

Timothy stared. "…Aren't you the other Una child?"

"Uno," The boy corrected, "And I don't go by that name anymore. I prefer to be called….Father."

John and Timothy both let out chuckles. The boy glared, adjusting his red framed glasses. He was a young thing, just barely thirteen. He still wore suspenders, and he had an odd habit of carrying a plastic pipe around in his mouth at all times. All the more humorous since it only blew bubbles. "Father? I think, John -"

"That this boy is far too young to know what he's talking about, Timothy," John finished for him.

The boy glared for a moment, before his hand began to glow. It started a faint shade of red, then flickered to orange as the fire enveloped it. He hurled it at Timothy with such speed that John had to pull his love out of the way, getting himself burned in the process.

"Perhaps," John said slowly, "Looks can be deceiving."

"Indeed, John," Timothy readily agreed, still trying to calm himself. "But what are you doing in this town…uh…Father?"

"When Monty overthrew Grandpappy and erased his memory, well…Monty didn't want the money Grandpappy had," His voice went high, somehow like a different person. "We were going to split the money evenly, but nooooooo, Mr. Let's be a Good Guy wanted to put part into funds for our future children, and give some to starving children over in Napal, or somewhere…so I took the money and left. Because all I want…is the total eradication of the Kids Next Door," His voice was back to dark and brooding. "So…Mr. Wink…Mr. Fibb…tell me. How do you feel about children?"

John sighed. He did not know Timothy's opinion on kids, but he'd found…he'd found that since his own thirteenth birthday, he'd grown to despise children. To hate them. To wish they would go away. He was about to voice his opinion, when Timothy spoke. "We want the exact same thing you want."

"Very good…" The boy snapped his fingers, and within a moment, the room filled with others. None were under thirteen, but the oldest - a young man who was starting to bald and had a cigar in his mouth - didn't appear to be older than twenty-five. "Gentlemen -"

"What about me..ow?" a rather homely young woman asked, her voice like that of a cat.

"Yes, yes…and you," Father nodded, "Crazy Cat Lady…Mr. Boss, Stickybeard, Iguana…Mr. NoGoodnik, can't forget you, can I? These are Mr. Wink and Mr. Fibb. Our newest villains."

The man with the cigar popped it out of his mouth, fiddling with it as he surveyed the two. "And what exactly do Walrus and Buffalo do?"

"This," John pulled a remote from his pocket, and pressed the top button. The others watched outside the window as the Super Chair sprung to life and walked over, crushing a car in the process.

The man - Mr. Boss - 's jaw dropped. "T-That…That's my car!"

"Now it's your heap of junk," Timothy said with a smirk.

"A vast improvement, I'd say, Timothy."

Father was laughing. "Oh, let it go, Mr. Boss…these kids have something," John and Timothy were about to comment on the oddity of a thirteen year old calling a pair of seventeen year olds kids, but Father kept going. "We'll plan our new attack tomorrow. In the meantime…." his smile was all the more evil. "Who'd like some cake? I made it myself."

John and Timothy exchanged looks, both thinking the same thing. It was nice to be fitting in so well….but did they really want to fit in with these lunatics?

Author's Note: All right, I was going to put Knightbrace in there, but then I realized he didn't seem to come around until Operation: TEETH. Count Spankulot didn't go in because….I didn't want him to.