Author's Note: I wrote this story when I was in seventh grade, so cut me a little slack. Before this story, I had never heard of "FanFiction". I only wrote it for an essay about a process (ex. "How to make a PB&J"). While all the other kids wrote like a two paragraph essay, I wrote an eight page spin-off adventure on Meg Cabot's 1-800-WHERE-R-U Series.

Please Note: This story doesn't fall anywhere in the timeline of the books and doesn't mention Jess' extra-ordinary power because I had limited space for my "essay" and I had to cut to the chase as quick as possible.

Enjoy!

Mission Impossible

Why did I have to answer my stupid phone? If I hadn't answered, the FBI wouldn't have gotten in touch with me and they could have taken care of this whole situation. Of course, then I wouldn't have been able to kick Jim Henderson's butt (I had to admit, that part was pretty gratifying) or save Douglas myself. Still, that's beside the point, why did I have to answer my phone?

THIS MORNING

My clock flashed 7:30 when my cell phone rang. Of course, it was 7:30 on a Saturday morning, so I was half asleep when I answered it without checking the caller I.D.

"Hello," I said groggily.

"Jessica," a masculine voice I knew all too well said forcefully, "Miss Mastriani, this is Special Agent Johnson."

I was wide awake now, so I sat up quickly, vertigo crashing down on me, my full attention on the man's voice on the other line.

I didn't know if he was going to continue, but I interrupted him anyway, "Wait! Is this something about you needing my help tracking down some guy the FBI doesn't like? Or do you want me to find some kid in Timbuktu who ran away and his mommy misses him? Well, I'm sorry, but I just can't and won't help you. I've gotten myself into enough trouble as it is working for you." My voice grew louder than I wanted it to.

"Jessica," S.A. Johnson said calmly, "I'm sitting outside right now, why don't you come downstairs so we can talk about this in person."

"Fine," I said harshly, not wanting to argue at this time in the morning as I hung up. I decided to look out my window, just to see if he was really there. Sure enough, there was the company's signature nondescript sedan parked in the street.

I changed quickly into a t-shirt and jeans, the hurried downstairs to meet Special Agents Johnson and Smith (or Allen and Jill as I like to call them) standing on my front porch.

"Okay, get on with it already." I said impatiently.

"Jessica," Allen said slowly, "we need your help to save your brother, Douglas, from an escaped convict. You might remember him. His name is Jim Henderson."

I couldn't think of anything except for Douglas and Jim Henderson in the same sentence. And how in the world was I supposed to save him.

Special Agent Smith must have seen the look of terror and confusion on my face, since she was quick to add, "Don't worry, we have it all planned out, we just need your help. Come back to the station with us and we'll tell you how."

I was in a daze the whole way to wherever-we-were-going because the next thing I knew, we were in a small gray office.

I sat silently in a gray chair that blended in with the office's dull color while Jill had gone to get coffee and while Allen talked to someone quietly on his cell phone. The only thing I really thought about was Douglas somewhere, alone, cold or worse, being tortured. Horrible images flashed through my mind as I thought of this.

"Jess," Jill said softly, ending the gruesome slide-show in my head. I looked up to see her standing next to the desk, Starbucks in her hand.

"Here," she said in an even softer voice as she passed me one of the drinks. Allen hung up his phone with a quick snap, and walked over to stand in front of me, arms folded across his chest.

"Okay, let's get right down to it." He said in a booming voice.

"Like I said," he continued, "we need your help to save your brother. We have a pretty good idea where he is hiding. Our latest intelligence tells us that he is staying with some of his followers that didn't get captured when you and Mr. Wilkins got him arrested last November. I'm afraid Mr. Henderson thinks that kidnapping your brother would be a way to…what do they call it Jill? 'Getting back at you'? I hate to put this situation on you, but we can't do it by ourselves. Of course, you don't have to help us, but if you don't, I don't think we would be able to save your brother."

I considered momentarily about all the things Allen had told me. About Jim Henderson trying to "get back at me", about Jim having leftover followers of his True Americans legion (the True Americans were pretty much Nazis' in America and Jim was their version of Hitler). More importantly, I thought about Douglas. He was the only reason I did what I did next.

"I'll help you, but under one condition: Rob gets to come with me."

"Deal," Jill affirmed, "Besides," she added sarcastically, "I'm sure Mr. Wilkins is just dying to go on another one of your crazy adventures."

"If True Americans or involved, then yes, he would." Jill smirked at that, causing us both to giggle.

"Okay ladies," S.A. Johnson said, giving us a stern look. "Since Jess agreed to work with us, then we should tell her our plan." He directed this toward S.A. Smith.

"Right, right." Jill said, serious now.

"Well," Jill continued, "we already got all of your supplies you'll be using. We have fake ID's and uniforms for you and Mr. Wilkins because we already figured you'd want Robert to come along with you. We will provide you with an ear and mouth piece that will be transmitted back to us. If anything happens to you, we'll know about it.

"First, of course, you'll have to drive out to Mr. Henderson's hideout. We suggest you do this by motorcycle. You should already be in your fake uniforms, so when you arrive, you'll look perfectly believable. We can't help you get passed the security, that'll be your task to accomplish.

"Once inside, you'll have to find Douglas. We will provide you with further instruction when you get to this stage. Don't worry, we have a layout of Mr. Henderson's fort, we'll tell you how to find Douglas. Once you find him, we need you to plant a bomb, we will provide you with, in Mr. Henderson's fort. We need you to destroy any evidence or weapons he possesses. He could very well do something like this again."

There were a few moments of silence, me, letting it sink all in.

"So," I broke the quiet, "let me get this straight, you want me to go in undercover, rescue Douglas, then blow up old Jimbo's fortress. Sounds easy enough. Now, can I have a phone, I need to call Rob."

"Oh. Okay." Allen said, looking kind of surprised and suspicious.

"What?" I said, sounding a little too annoyed.

"I thought it was going to be harder to convince you to help us. Needing the force of guilt trips." S.A. Johnson continued to stare me down with his skeptical accusation.

"Well, you convinced me. Now, could someone please get me a phone," I said impatiently.

Allen handed me his phone, I heard him grumble something like, "…here you go princess," under his breath. I quickly dialed Rob's home phone number quickly. It rang five times before he finally answered.

"Hello," Rob said in a sleepy voice.

"Hey Rob."

"Mastriani!" He said, suddenly sounding annoyed, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yeah, 8:27," I glanced down at my watch, "Hey, I kinda need your help for something…"

"Mastriani, is this another one of your lunatic missions that the FBI is having you do?" Darn, he knew me too well.

"Yeah, actually, it is. So are you in?"

"Whatever," Rob said in a bored tone.

"Great so meet me in an hour or so at my place. Oh, and don't forget your motorcycle."

"My motorcycle? Why do we need my motorcycle?" My request caught him off-guard.

"If we're gonna save the world for an escaped criminal mastermind, we might as well do it in style." I said, chuckling.

"May I ask who this 'escaped criminal mastermind' is?" Rob said sarcastically.

"Why, Jim Henderson, of course."

"I'll be right over." Rob said as he hung up.

RIGHT NOW

I looked at Douglas, crashed out on our couch. He looked so peaceful, considering everything that happened to us in the past twenty-four hours. I mean, we rescued Douglas, had a "Hollywood-type" fight with Jimbo and then, best of all, I got to witness the blowing up of his fort. It was like something out of a movie.

Suddenly, I heard my phone's familiar ringtone. I looked down at the caller ID. This time I knew better than to answer it.