BobbyD12 is BACK! (Waits for applause) (Doesn't receive any) Heh...

Well, for all my faithful readers, (waves to Pyrotic, KernlToadSandrz and Horsiegirl) this is a sequel to Do You Always Do What You're Told and you know who everyone is. For my new readers...if I have any...here's where the other one left off. John makes a friend named Kate Karina at the professor's school, and Bobby hits it off great with her friend Anna Wallace. They get captured...blah blah blah...meet a British boy named Dominic and get rescued...la dee da...time passes...blah blah...John joins the Brotherhood, Bobby and Rogue start going out...la la la....then John calls Kate up and asks her to come and help him in France with a mission for the Brotherhood. Being a good little friend, she does so, and that's where this story starts. In this one, Anna, Bobby, Rouge, John, and Kate are all 18 or 19.

Kate: A note! I have a note!

BobbyD12: Fine, go ahead.

Kate: I'm not in love with John, okay?

John: Yeah, and I don't like Kate.

Kate: That would be just creepy.

BobbyD12: Thank you...now, on with the story!

Jacque was bored. The Frenchman sat in an old abandon building in Paris, France, puffing on a cigarette and idly tapping his foot against the rickety table at which he sat. His boss had called him that morning and told him in raspy tones that another mutant prisoner would be at the drop off point at 4:00 in the afternoon, but it was already 4:15 and no one had showed up. Jacque didn't mind that much, because he was getting paid by the hour, but he wished the business was done and over with. He didn't know what his boss did with the mutants that the bounty hunters delivered to him and as long as he got paid, he didn't want to know.

Ten minutes later he heard footsteps outside his hideout. He rose from his seat and peered through a grimy window. A young man, almost a boy, was dragging a girl through the streets. The young man's dark eyes darted to and fro as he walked, obviously watching for pursuit. His dark hair was fairly long, and kept falling into his eyes as he dragged his prisoner forward. The girl was about the same age as her captor, and like him, had dark eyes. Her hair was also dark, and it was pulled back into a curly ponytail that had obviously seen better days.

The boy reached the building in which Jacque was hiding and kicked the door in way of a knock. Jacque opened it, satisfied that these were the people he was waiting for.

"It's about time you got here," he grumbled in French. "I've been waiting for hours." An exaggeration, but a fitting one, he thought.

"Here she is. How much?" the young man asked in very bad French.

"Are you American?" Jacque asked, curious.

"How much?" the boy repeated, pushing the girl to the floor. She sat there, curled up in a ball and obviously terrified.

Jacque rubbed his chin as he sized up the girl. "She doesn't look very strong, but she's pretty. Fifty American dollars."

The boy glared at him. "One hundred fifty dollars." He had to think before he could say the words properly.

"Eighty."

"One hundred, or I leave."

Jacque shrugged. "Fine, have it your way. My boss will not be pleased...but what can I do?" He drew some money from his back pocket and counted it out slowly, the young man watching his every move. When the young man had the money in his hand, he seemed to relax.

"Thank you." He looked around the room, then at the man's cigarette. "You have more of those?"

Jacque felt curious about this young man who obviously was not French. He took a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and handed it to the lad. "These are good for you," he said with a smile.

The boy gave a short laugh and lit the cigarette with his own lighter. They stood smoking for awhile, in a silence that was broken by the girl's timid voice saying, "What are you going to do with me?" Her French was perfect, and if it had not been for a slight accent, Jacque would have thought her a native Parisian.

Jacque kicked her roughly. "That's none of your business."

The boy ignored her. "Do you have many pick ups like this?"

Jacque nodded. "At least once a day."

"What do you do with them?"

Jacque gave his partner in crime a mocking grin. "I take them to my boss, that's all that's important. Now, I will take the girl and leave you, my friend." He bent down to grab the girl's hands, which were bound. But as he was about to grab them, the girl twisted away and he watched in amazement as the plastic cords that were holding her hand disintegrated into dust. She kicked up at his stomach with her feet and Jacque staggered backwards, completely winded. He gasped out to the boy, "Help me!"

"Oh, we'll help you alright," the girl snapped. "Help you straight to jail."

Jacque watched in bewilderment as the boy flicked open his lighter and the flame flew into his palm. As he watched, the fire grew and the boy shot it from his hands at him. Jacque screamed with fear, but the fire didn't touch him. Instead, it formed a solid wall around him. Through it, he heard the girl's accented French saying, "Throw your weapons towards us, and don't try anything funny."

Trying anything funny was the last thing on Jacque's mind. He saw now that he had been tricked, and that the two teenagers facing him were both mutants. He threw his small pocket pistol out of the ring of fire, followed by his knife. Outside, the girl and boy looked at each other in satisfaction.

"You'd better turn down the heat, John," the girl remarked to her companion in English. "We don't want to kill him."

The mutant called John Allerdyce shrugged and did so. The fire shrunk, and finally went out. Jacque leaned against the wall, pale and trembling. "What do you want?" he asked hoarsely.

"Information, my good man," the girl answered in French. "Who is your boss?"

"His name is Jean Bapsteist, that's all I know."

"Are you sure?" the girl asked dangerously.

Jacque nodded furiously. "He calls me when he needs my help. It's all I know, I swear!"

John glared at the Frenchman. He knew enough of the language to get the drift of what was going on. "Tell him that he'd better not be lying, or I'll come back and roast him like a Thanksgiving turkey," he growled to the girl. She obligingly translated John's remark, and Jacque again protested that he didn't know anything besides his boss's name.

"It's probably true, John," the girl remarked in English.

"Yeah, you're right," John consented grudgingly. "Let's get out of here." He drew some cords out of his pocket and proceeded to bind Jacque's hands with them while the girl gagged his mouth with an old rag. She patted the prisoner's cheek tenderly and spoke to him in French. "There there, you'll be able to free yourself in a few hours. We just need time to get away." A siren wailed in the distance, drawing steadily closer. John started walking towards the door, and motioned her to follow. She did so, calling back over her shoulder, "If you want some free advice, don't be selling mutants anymore. It isn't worth the risk."

Didja like it? Huh? Huh? Didja?