I do not own the characters nor the stories of the Fast and The Furious or Martial Law movies. This is a fan-fiction written solely for enjoyment and entertainment

Chapter 4:

"Well it sure seems like you have enough to support an extradition warrant." Dunning said as he paced behind his desk. "Much as it disgusts me turning these people over to a guy as blatantly as corrupt as Alemeida, the information is solid. They did kill those people, unintentionally or not."

Orson and Branford both nodded. "Not only that sir, it looks like your hunch about Hobbs was right. He was working with Toretto or at least in a limited fashion." Orson said and he explained his theory about Reyes time of death and the presence of Toretto on the bridge. "If we can get our hands on Hobbs' gun and test it, that would certainly prove my hypothesis."

"I gotta admit boss, it is pretty strong. Slugs match the ones found in both a gang banger and in Reyes." Branforedfollowed up. "Not only that, Hobbs' motive for killing Reyes is awfully strong."

"Oh?" Dunning said curiously.

"Well sir, his entire team was wiped out by that gang in an ambush. Having been a team lead myself once upon a time, if my team had been wiped out, I'd want a little payback too." Branford said, referring to the Robbery Team Task Force he had headed up five years ago.

"Yes sir, that's correct. Hobbs definitely has motive and it looks like he had opportunity as well. We just need to prove the means now." Orson said. "It doesn't matter if Reyes was a drug lord or not. That wasn't self-defense but murder."

Dunning paced some more and then came to rest behind his chair. "Well how do you propose getting his pistol away from him to test it? As strong as this information is, its not enough for an arrest warrant on Hobbs. On the others, definitely but not on a DSS agent, especially not on one as decorated as Luke Hobbs. Not only that, there's the whole inter-jurisdictional thing to worry about between Justice and State."

Orson and Branford had to admit that they were stymied by that fact. The three of them sat in the office in silence as they pondered their next course of action.

"Well calling him in here for questioning is out of the question because we don't have probable cause. What if we just asked him to come down for a friendly chat? He has to surrender his weapon down at the lobby for security reasons anyway right?" Branford said.

Orson saw where Branford was going but shook his head. "No, even if he came down here and surrendered his weapon and we test fired it, it wouldn't hold up in court since that's his personal property and we would've fired it without his permission."

"Agent Willard is right, the evidence would get thrown out as having been obtained inappropriately." Dunning said. "Looks like we're in a bit of a sticky-wicket."

"What if Hobbes already fired the weapon?" Branford inquired, almost to himself. The other two agents in the room turned toward him. "If we ask him to fire the weapon, it would be pretty suspicious right? But what if he were in a setting where he was going to fire the weapon anyway? We could just collect the bullet."

Smiling, Orson saw where Branford's line of thinking was going and he liked it. "He's right sir. It's just much easier to get him to fire the weapon in a situation where he'd have to, or want to fire it. Not a shoot out or anything..."

"But on a firing range!" Dunning finished. "Okay, it's a plan. We don't have access to Agent Hobbs' schedule to include his range time because that's privileged information, but there's nothing in the manual saying that we can't get creative."

A week later, Orson found himself at the Torrance Gun Club. The range consisted of ten outdoor stalls with the paper targets down range about forty-five yards. He loaded up his Detonics Scoremaster .45 ACP and waited at the fifth stall which was mid-range. He was very fond of the pistol as it had saved his life many times during his tour with the Anti-Gang Task Force. He found that the standard issue Beretta 92FS didn't have the stopping power to suit him so he switched to the Scoremaster and never looked back.

"Agent Willard?" A deep, baritone voice called from behind him. Orson turned around to see a hulking man walking toward him in a loose, easy gait. He was bald and wore a goatee that made him look more intimidating than he already did. His shirt flexed against his muscles with each step. "I'm Agent Luke Hobbs, nice to meet you." he said, extending his hand. Orson took the hand and noted that the muscles weren't just for show when he felt Hobbs' grip. He also noted Hobbs' ultra-bright, white smile that was friendly and warm.

"The feeling's mutual Agent Hobbs." Orson replied with a smile that was completely disingenuous. Having lots of practice during his time with IA interviewing recalcitrant cops, he perfected the fake smile to an art form. He had to admit that he felt a tad bit inadequate standing next to the huge agent. He could see how his reputation as a feared man-hunter was earned.

Putting on his shooting glasses Hobbs said, "You know, when I got your invitation to go shooting, I had to admit I was a little puzzled. I mean it was pretty out of the blue."

Inwardly, Orson smiled. Hobbs was referring to the "shooting competition" email that he sent to the DSS agent. "Well, the way I hear tell is that you're one of the best shots law enforcement has to offer. It's not like we cops get a lot of time to have fun and shooting is something we can all relate to."

"True." Hobbs said, nodding.

"So being something of a 'dead-eye' myself, I figured I'd see how I'd stack up against someone of your...reputation."

Again Hobbs' smile came out but this time there was something behind it. He was being challenged and his ego demanded that he accept. "I can hold my own." Hobbs said simply. "Well, shall we begin?"

With a nod, Orson put on his shooting gear as well. "That's quite a hogleg you carry! Planning on blowing a jumbo jet out of the sky?" Orson said, nodding toward Hobbs' pistol in his hand. The Smith and Wesson Model 629 Competitor Performance Center, .44 Magnum was huge. To Orson, it fit the big man himself so he decided to skip the "compensating for something" jokes.

"I like the stopping power." Hobbs replied simply. "I noticed that's no slouch you're packing either."

"I too, like the stopping power. How about best of three sets? We'll do six shots since you're packing a six shooter."

Hobbs nodded and Orson motioned that he go first. The DSS agent stepped to the shooting line and capped off all six shots. All six shots hit the center of the target and Orson had to raise an eyebrow in respect to Hobbs' shooting.

"I guess with a six shooter you have to be accurate with every shot huh?"

"Yeah, you kinda do. Can't afford to waste slugs you know?" Hobbs replied as he emptied his revolver of its spent casings. He hit the switch to bring the paper target in on he motorized wire. When he received it, he smiled. "Yeah, definitely got to be accurate!" Orson noted the grouping of the shots was extremely tight as well and he let out a legitimate low whistle of awe.

Hanging up a new target, Orson sent the piece of paper downrange to the same distance and aimed his pistol. He barked off six shots and pulled the target back. Smiling, he held up the paper to show Hobbs; the grouping while not as close as Hobbs was nearly identical.

"Not bad at all!" Hobbs exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

"Yeah, I have my moments." Orson replied. He was actually being very modest. His dad had taught him and his brother how to shoot from a very young age. When Orson graduated from the police academy, his shooting scores were in the top three percentile. He was classified as an "expert" and earned the Expert Marksmanship Badge.

The two men had a few more rounds of shooting but by the end, Hobbs proved the superior marksman though it was a close match. After congratulating each other, Orson handed Hobbs a one-hundred dollar check. "As promised, to the victor go the spoils." Orson had found when doing skip-tracing operations, the best enticement for anybody to give up information was money. Hobbs was no exception.

"Much obliged" he said with that thousand watt smile as he took the check. This time the smile was genuine.

They bantered a little while longer as they walked out of the shooting range to their respective cars. "See you around, good meeting you!" Orson shouted as he climbed into car.

"Likewise!" Came the reply from Hobbs. The DSS agent pulled away in a snazzy blue, 1966 Pontiac GTO. Hobbs didn't quite burn rubber away from the building but he did make the engine growl loudly as he left. Even Orson had to nod in respect to Hobbs' wheels. He himself felt a tad inadequate in his 2003 Toyota Camry.

"Maybe he feels a kinship with Toretto" Orson muttered to himself. Once he was sure that Hobbs was out of sight, he got out of the car and went back into the firing range. He found the range master, Bob Sherman talking to a woman who was obviously a beginner in the use of a firearm.

He tapped Sherman on the shoulder who turned around and smiled. "Oh, Agent Willard, you're back!"

"Do you have them?" Orson asked simply.

Sherman nodded with a smile and reached into his pocket. He produced six deformed bullets and dropped them into Orson's outstretched hand. "Yeah, these were a little hard to dig out of the rise because .44 mag rounds have such penetrating power. But I got 'em." Shaking his head he asked, "I really hope that I helped."

Nodding Orson replied, "Oh trust me sir, you have. I owe you one Mr. Sherman, thanks a bunch." Orson turned and walked out of the range with a smile. We'll see what we see won't we, Mr. Hobbs?