I do not own the characters, content nor creativity of the Fast and the Furious or Martial Law movies. This is a fan-fiction written solely for enjoyment and entertainment
Chapter 5:
Two weeks later, Orson, Branford and twenty members of the the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team (HRT) as well as ten agents found themselves in a briefing room. SAC Dunning stood at the podium with Orson and Branford flanking him.
"Gentleman, today is the culmination of an incredible amount of hard work by agent's Branford and Willard." Dunning said. As if on cue, at the end of his sentence, the lights went out and a projector came on. "We're going after Dominic Toretto and his crew." the SAC said as the projector clicked on images of their quarry.
In the darkness of the room the people mumbled and whistled lowly. "Sir, I thought Toretto and company got a pardon, has that been revoked somehow?" a random agent in the back of the room asked.
"They got a pardon from their crimes in the U.S., true. Brazil wants to extradite them for crimes committed in their country. Thanks to the work of Branford and Willard, we've compiled enough evidence to comply with that request."
This seemed to satisfy the agents for they fell silent for the remainder of the briefing. "This bust is going to have to take crackerjack timing. This means, we're going to have to apprehend them all at once and at the same time."
"Why is that sir?" Somebody asked.
"We can't afford to take the risk that even one of them gets away to warn their cohorts. We all know of their...exploits." Though Dunning couldn't see them, he could tell that every agent in the room nodded. Toretto and crew were masters of the dramatic escape and usually that incurred lots of vehicular mayhem. "I want eyes on each suspect and coordination right down to the very second. The signal to go will be given from here, is that understood?"
"Yes sir!" Came the reply in unison from the assembled agents.
Soon the meeting broke up, leaving only Dunning, Orson and Branford in the room. "I noticed that you didn't tell them of our plan to apprehend Hobbs?" Branford said.
"Orson probably understands this better than anybody else," Dunning said, nodding to Orson. "No cop likes to see one of their own busted, especially a hero figure like Luke Hobbs. Everybody has their hands full as it is and we don't need their psychology messed up at a time like this."
Orson couldn't fault Dunning's logic because it was true. "Well no doubt we're not going to go march into the Department of State and arrest Hobbs right there in front of everybody, right?"
With a nod Dunning replied, "Yes that's correct. Even though we have a warrant, this is still going to be a jurisdictional nightmare. Having FBI agents marching Hobbs out of their building in cuffs will cause more problems than it will solve."
"Then how do we arrest him then?" Branford queried.
A devious smile crossed the SAC's lips, an expression Orson thought he'd never see on his face. "That's actually simple Agent Branford, we invite him down for a little chat."
An hour later, as the agents deployed to their targets, Luke Hobbs came into the FBI offices with a puzzled look on his face. Orson came out with that same cleverly disguised disingenuous smile plastered on his face. "Agent Hobbs, glad you could come down!" He said, pumping the big man's hand.
"It's good to see you again Agent Willard," Hobbs began. "Though I have to confess, I'm kind of puzzled as to why we couldn't talk about all this on the phone?"
Grinning Orson replied, "You know the old saying, 'the devil's in the details?' Well, the formation of an inter-agency shooting team is a lot more complicated than it sounds and it involves a lot of details. My boss just wants to speak with you about it since he thinks its a great idea to build inter-agency morale. I promise we won't take too much of your time."
Hobbs nodded and shrugged. "Okay, lead the way."
The two entered Dunning's office where the SAC himself was seated at his desk. In one of the chairs sat Agent Dunning. "Agent Hobbs, it's an honor to finally meet you!" Dunning said, rising from his desk and shaking Hobbs' hand.
"Likewise sir. It's always nice to be in the FBI's spaces, you guys get a better budget."
The four agents all laughed and Hobbs took a seat. Branford remained seated while Orson stood by the door.
"Well before we get into that, I was wondering if you could take a look at something for us?" Dunning asked as he pulled out a huge case file and handed it to the DSS agent.
"What's this?" Hobbs asked as he reached for the file.
"Oh, just some stuff we'd like your professional opinion on." Orson said from the back of the room.
Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Hobbs opened the file. The expression on his face shifted from one of curiosity to one of surprise. "This is the Rio job. This was closed out awhile ago, why are you guys interested in this?"
"We noticed some...inconsistencies in the case that we hoped that you could clear up for us." Branford said with a casual smile.
"Keep reading, especially page forty-two." Dunning said.
The pages rattled in the silent room until Hobbs got to the aforementioned page. His eyes again went wide and then narrowed. He closed the file and turned around to meet Orson's eyes. "You son of a bitch." He muttered angrily as he realized why he was there.
"You shot Reyes in cold blood. I think your motive was revenge for the death of your crew." Orson said, not averting his gaze. "Our ballistics team matched the bullet from your gun to the Brazilian ballistics report. I understand your anger at the death of your comrades but that doesn't give you the right to murder."
"This is a warrant for your arrest and extradition to Brazil to face criminal charges there." Dunning said, pushing the piece of paper across his desk. We'll escort you to the private plane waiting at LAX and onto Brazil where you'll be remanded into their custody.
At first Hobbs said nothing and then he chuckled grimly. "Yeah, now I remember where I heard your name, Willard. Orson Willard, the cop that busted his own dad. Did you get a promotion for that? You like busting cops huh? Gives you a hard-on?"
Though the words weren't anything that Orson had not heard before, they no less stung. He took a deep breath and maintained his composure. "No, I don't particularly like busting cops unless they're absolutely filthy. You're a disgrace to the badge Hobbs; you took the law into your own hands and used your power to cover it up. Its only a shame that the Brazilians are going to get you instead of us."
"Reyes was a dirty drug lord who murdered people at will, including my team!" Hobbs shouted, the bass in his voice sounded like a wrathful god; it shook the room slightly.
"Doesn't mean you have the right to break the law, even the laws of a foreign country."Branford replied. In his left hand were a pair of hand cuffs and his right rested on the butt of his Glock 9mm.
Dunning nodded to Orson and the junior agent nodded back. "Lucas Hobbs, you're under arrest for the murder of Hernan Reyes. You have the right to remain silent..." It was agreed upon by Branford and Dunning that Orson should get credit for the bust, throw him a bone since he was still just a rookie to the FBI. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
Branford moved closer to place the cuffs on Hobbs, he grabbed one muscular arm. Orson meanwhile stood ready with his hand over his holster.
"I can't believe you guys are going to turn me over to a corrupt government to try me...for this!" Hobbs muttered under his breath.
As soon as the metal of the cuff touched Hobbs' flesh, he instantly reacted. He overpowered Branford's grip and lashed out with a meaty fist, smashing it into the older agent's face. Blood sprayed out everywhere sending tiny droplets all over Dunning's immaculate desk. Never stopping his motion, he bashed Branford's poor face against the desk, breaking some of his teeth.
Orson began to pull his pistol but Hobbs' speed was incredible. Before he could get his gun clear of the holster, the highly trained DSS agent flung Branford's unconscious body at Orson, slamming the two agents into the wall.
Despite having been behind a desk and not in the field for a long time, Dunning did himself proud with his reaction time, but it wasn't enough. As he stood up and pulled his gun, Hobbs knocked it away with a backhand, sending it sprawling across the room and then lashed out with a huge right-cross that connected with the senior agent's jaw. Dunning flew back into his chair and slumped.
Finally untangling himself from Branford's body, Orson jumped on Hobbs. This was stupid since the DSS agent was six inches taller than Orson's 5' 10 and at least a hundred pounds heavier. Hobbs flung the smaller man off him easily but Orson rolled with the fall and landed on his feet like a cat. Despite his agility, Hobbs was already on him. He blocked the first two of Hobbs' punches but caught a knee to his mid-section, knocking the wind out of him. Unable to defend himself against the next blow, A massive fist slammed against Orson's cheek, knocking him out cold.
Pain was the first thing to greet Orson as he came to. His vision was blurry and his surroundings looked like incomprehensible blotches. His entire head throbbed and he felt the coppery taste of blood fill his mouth as he sat up. Even the act of sitting up he found difficult but he somehow forced his uncooperative body to do it. As he did, he felt a hand press on his chest trying to keep down on the ground.
Out of instinct, he grabbed for the hand, ready to scrap with Hobbs some more but he felt two more hands press on him. "Lie still!" A voice that sounded far off said. His vision finally cleared enough for him to make out his surroundings and the people in them. He was still in Dunning's office, looking up at the ceiling. Over him were two EMTs; their heads blocked the florescent ceiling light which casted long shadows on the floor. "Agent Willard, please lie still, you might have a concussion."
"I'm fine" Orson croaked as he gently moved the EMT's hands away and sat up. "How long was I out?" His mouth felt like it was stuffed with dry cotton.
"About twenty minutes, you really took quite a bump sir."
Suddenly he remembered Dunning and Branford and his head whipped around looking for them. He saw EMT's attending to the senior agent, being helped out of his chair toward a wheelchair. "Where's Agent Branford?"
Pointing, they indicated Branford's location. He was strapped to a gurney and bandages covered his entire face. "He got it worse than you two sir," the EMT said. "We think he might have a split skull from where his head hit the desk. He's lucky to be alive."
"How's Agent Dunning?"
"Broken nose, probably a fractured jaw. He's missing a few teeth as well but he'll heal, sir."
Orson felt horrible at the condition of his fellow agents. Even though logic told him otherwise, he couldn't help but feel that this was somehow all of his fault. If only I was quicker, if only I saw what Hobbs was going to do... He mused as he slowly stood up. He looked outside the office and it reminded him of a war zone He didn't even need to ask if Hobbs was in custody because he knew what the answer was already going to be. He also knew what his response to the situation was even before the thought fully formed.
"Agent Willard, where are you going?" One of the agents who was escorting the gurney that Branford was strapped down on, asked. A nasty, purplish bruise began to form on the agent's forehead.
"To settle this once and for all" was the simple but ominous reply that came from Orson.