I do not own the characters, content or creativity of the Fast and the Furious or Martial Law movies. This is a fan-fiction written solely for entertainment and enjoyment
Chapter 8
A month and a half later, Orson found himself at a bar, sipping on a beer. The scars on his face and his ribs were nearly healed but the pain still lingered. He was reading the newspaper; the article was about how former DSS agent Lucas Hobbs was extradited and being tried in Rio de Janeiro Brazil. The rest of Dominic Toretto's gang, the ones that had been caught, were awaiting trial.
Agent Branford was still in a coma and the doctors weren't sure when he'd wake up, if he'd wake up at all. Orson had visited him a couple of times while he was in the hospital and a few more times when he himself was released. He had met Branford's wife when she came to visit her husband and couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt when he saw her.
Dunning meanwhile was recovering nicely. Because he was an older man, he didn't heal as quickly as Orson. Even still, Dunning had gone back to work. There had been an award ceremony for Orson. Though most of the office clapped for him, Orson noticed that some of them refrained; the fact that their office had busted one of their own was a taste that didn't sit well in their mouths.
He shook the thoughts out of his head as an attractive brunette caught his eye. She sat alone at the bar and ordered a red wine. She was tall for a woman and very athletic; her physique was apparent even through her business outfit. She had warm brown eyes and an engaging smile which was directed at the bartender as a thanks for her drink.
Mustering up his courage, Orson approached the woman, his stomach in all kinds of knots. Every cliché about approaching a stranger for the first time played through his head like a movie on fast-forward with each footstep.
"Hi, how's it going?" Orson said as casually as he possibly could.
She looked up and started to say something but then her smile turned sour. "I've seen you before. You're that cop that puts away other cops."
"Umm...yeah, that's right."
"Bye."
Slapping a ten dollar bill on the bar, she got up and walked out. Orson noticed that the gun and badge on her hip when her blazer lifted up. He stared at the bar for a few minutes, trying to process what just happened. He then looked up at the bartender who could only shrug. Orson shrugged in reply and walked back to his seat. Taking another pull at the beer, he smirked and shook his head. This was nothing new to him, he'd just bury himself in his work like he usually did. He finished his beer and went home.
The End