Between Family and Friends
-(_)-
Silently, two figures sat at a small, rickety table in a poor part of town, doing their best so that they wouldn't be noticed or bothered by passer-by's with ill intent. The light in the room wasn't the best, and they strained their eyes as they looked around for anyone who might have followed them.
"I got in, Bullet, and there are already rumblings that things are going to start heating up, and soon," the woman said, her smoky voice pitched low so as not to be overheard by anyone or anything unwanted.
"I know, Letty, but we have got to hang in there," the man replied, encouraging his companion with words that he had said many times before, but his tone never was convincing enough, his large hand clasping her smaller one tightly. "We're doing this for Dom and the others. If worse comes to worse, I'll have Face contact some friends of his and we'll see about going above the FBI's pay grade, okay?"
At the mention of the Army Ranger conman, Letty smiled. She had only met the man once, and she had been impressed by him and his teammate, one Captain H.M. Murdock, the resident lunatic for the team and extraordinarily gifted chopper pilot.
"I hope that he can get more help, if it comes down to it," she said, leaving a twenty to pay for the horrible piss that the bar passed as beer. Together, they left and got into a rental, ready to head back to the apartment. "Is the safe house ready?"
"I finished it yesterday afternoon, and yes, per your request, I haven't gone near Mia," Brian turned the wheel to take the upcoming turn. "Are you fixing up the Charger again tomorrow?" The Dodge Charger he was referring to belonged to Letty's boyfriend, Dominic Toretto, and he had been a go-between for some good parts that the car would need. There were still a lot of things left to get, but it would take time to finish the vehicle. Time that they had until Dom could come home and finish her himself. He knew that the woman deserved a break from the operation, and smiled when she nodded.
The apartment was bare, except for the essentials, and the only things that were of importance. They hung on the wall, framed in cherry wood, depicting a better time when the FBI wasn't on their asses, trying to get results on this undercover case. That night was quiet, and Letty called Mia, Dom's sister, letting the other woman know that she wasn't going to be home for the night. The two split up after sharing another beer, heading to their own rooms and the air mattresses that awaited them.
Within the following week, the world came to a screeching halt for four people around the globe. Dom himself was shocked into silence when his sister called him up to share the bad news, the earlier traces of his annoyance and anger gone with the first couple of words that Mia had said, as Brian reverently placed the framed pictures in a box in the safe house with the rest of Letty's things as he waited to be put through to a good friend.
"Hey, Brian. I haven't heard from you since we last visited you all for B.A.'s van. I still have to thank Tej for it properly, though," Templeton Peck's cheery voice rang through, his tone echoed by the sound of familiar arguing in the background-something about a crazy fool and surviving the craziest of stunts. Despite that fact that it was late in the evening in Iraq, he sounded fresh for being in a war zone.
"Face, I have some bad news," Brian whispered, stopping the man from continuing on a monologue, and then he spilled the story to the conman, starting from when the Feds blackmailed him into their service and changed his history so that it showed that he had been working for them for five years, undercover, and ending with the news that Letty was dead, her burnt corpse having been found under her crashed car in the early morning hours on some paved back road. The accident had been confirmed as a murder, and the FBI wasn't doing anything about it.
"When is she being buried?" Face asked his voice low and subdued. He had liked the Latina for who she was, and her ability to race the streets well didn't tamper a budding friendship.
"They're putting her in the ground Sunday, and the Feds have me on guard duty in case Dom comes by. I can't pay my respects until everyone's gone," Brian replied, fingers tracing over Letty's smiling face, cleaning the smudges that his fingers left behind away from the glass. "She didn't deserve this, Face. All she wanted was to bring Dom home. She wanted her family to be happy."
"Look, Brian, I'll be down soon, okay? And then I'll help you get the son of a bitch who killed her," Face quietly reassured the other man. Suddenly, warning sirens sounded further out in the background. "O'Conner, I have to go, but I promise you that we'll say goodbye together."
Recognizing the flint in the Ranger's voice, Brian bid him a good night and good luck, hanging up shortly after the final exchange. Sitting quietly in the safe house, he angrily brushed away his tears, silently vowing to do whatever it took to get Letty's killer to face justice, even if that meant turning his back on the FBI and hunting him down to put a bullet in his head himself. Letty wasn't only a friend, but she was the sister he had never had, and family protects family, or avenges them. The box was placed in the small back bedroom, leaving behind the memories of two friends, including some things that he knew that he shouldn't leave there, but right now, Brian just didn't care. All he wanted was a beer and a quiet corner to remember the deceased woman before he returned to the office.
-(_)-
Dark eyes watched the funeral from a distance, reluctant to get any closer in case he got caught by the Feds. He had caught sight of his grieving sister sitting in the front row, closest to the grave. He knew that Letty was considered family to the young woman and that her loss was a hard blow to her already shattered world. As he made to duck away and leave, a slight hint of movement had him looking down again. Dominic Toretto frowned as he recognized the familiar face of a man he wasn't too sure of. He was obviously a Fed-dressed in the same kind of dark suit as the others-but there was something different in his movements and he couldn't put his finger on it. He decided that he would come back later to see his girl once more before heading off to wait until dark to see where Letty's life had been taken, and hopefully he would get all of the answers that he wanted.
Brian knew that Dom was standing by the oil rigs that were sitting in the distance-he had known all along but had only just turned his head so that the other man knew that he was there-but he refused to point that out to the Feds that roamed the graveyard, hoping for a glimpse of the man they considered to be a very dangerous criminal. Instead, he cursed under his breath in Pashto, snarling something vulgar about their relationships with their parents and goats as his back started to hurt in a vague memory of what he had suffered through years ago. He ignored the startled looks that the other agents shot him as he left the area despite warnings from Agent Stasiak-God, did he ever hate that man-and climbed into his own personal car, tossing the tie onto the passenger seat and popping a painkiller between his teeth as he opened a water bottle. He had a man to go pick up from the airport in a couple of hours, and he planned to spend them wallowing in his misery until he could come up with a plan to get Letty's killer, though he knew that Dom was heading off on the same mission as he was going to undertake.
Face waited for Brian at the terminal doors, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. People greeted him and thanked him for his service overseas when they recognized the camouflaged bag at his feet, and he smiled back in return for their sincerity. The difference in the atmosphere on the two land masses was enough to put him on edge for a while, but he managed to push the feelings away when a dark sedan pulled up and disgorged a familiar figure. It always amazed the conman how the former cop changed every time he saw him, from the first time in that tent in Afghanistan that he never wanted to think about ever again in his lifetime to meeting him in the garage that he owned down in Miami to now; he looked so beat and worn down that Face found himself wondering when he would be scraping the man off of the pavement. They said their hellos in subdued tones before Face dropped his bag in the back seat and they drove off.
It was late evening when they pulled up to the cemetery gates, headlights flashing over rows and rows of tombstones as Brian manoeuvred the car on the winding path until he pulled over to the side. He let his head hang for a moment before leading Face to the grave stone with Letty's name carved on it.
"I remember when I first met her in Miami. She was walking down the street looking at some of the vendors. I had approached her to ask her out, but she turned me down, explaining that she already had someone in her life, and that he wasn't going anywhere," Face said, breaking the silence that surrounded them, smiling at the memory. "That's when you came out of that coffee shop and started talking to her."
"She was happy when she learned that there were races that night you know. She had a great time and made a nice earning for herself. Eleven grand in one night is nothing to laugh at, and she gave me back the buy in when she didn't have to," Brian sat down on the damp grass, the dew soaking through his jeans. There were so many things that he was beyond caring about at this point, and minor inconveniences like damp jeans were among them. "She was so pissed to hear that the Feds fucked around with my record. The very first thing that she did when word of it reached her ears was to demand me to take her to the federal building where she could yell at my bosses all she wanted. I think that some of them had to leave right after she did to change their pants-come to think of it, they had been sitting in it for a damn good hour before she had slammed the door open. Quite a few of the rookies handed in their resignations that very day since they could hear all of the yelling from the floors right above and below us. They figured that having someone yell at them like that wasn't worth being an agent."
Face sniggered out loud at the mental image that popped up in his mind. "I can really see her doing that. The girl had a lot of attitude in her," he dug through his pocket, fishing out a little trinket that he had bought for the woman while he was stationed overseas. He placed the trinket on the grave, positioning the little bird so that it looked as if it was flying across the granite.
Brian nodded. The bird suited her as she seemed like she was a free spirit. Getting to his feet, the two men saluted the stone marker with perfect precision before snapping silently into a parade rest stance.
"We will get them, Letty. Fuck the Feds and screw the ones who took you away from Dom, and us," Brian whispered to the cold marker, leaving this part of his past with the other bad things that had happened to him. He had a bunch of files to go through in order to find a lead. And if the Feds pulled him away from the case, he was determined to drop his badge and department issue gun off at the front desk and complete everything as a concerned citizen, albeit a heavily armed concerned citizen.
Dom stepped out from behind a tree, trying to make sense of what he had heard from the man who had let him go and his friend. Squatting, he picked up the little bird carving that had been left behind as he tried to figure out when Brian had been a member of the armed forces; that salute was one that was learned and not a mockery. What he did know was that the FBI had somehow blackmailed Brian into working with them and had changed his records in order to hide something; probably their own ways of coercion and to cover their sorry asses. Standing abruptly, he started the long walk to his sister's place, needing her to answer some of his questions. The bird never did leave his hand, even throughout his inspection of the crash site, his sharp racer's mind picking out some details that he was sure that the Feds had missed. There would be hell to pay when he got his hands on the bastard who drove on nitro meth, the one, he reasoned, who killed Letty where she lay in the aftermath of the accident.
Face followed Brian to the apartment, wincing at how sparse it was. There was literally nothing in the place, other than the bare necessities, and that was stretching it. "Christ, Brian, this is worse than the barracks at Headhunter," he remarked. Of course, he knew why there was next to nothing here; if Brian or Letty ever had to run, all they had to do was pack everything up in ten minutes and then they would have been out of the door and driving away. Either this was their secondary place or the FBI really didn't like the two.
"It's not much, Face, but we made it work," Brian said, grabbing a chilled can of beer from the fridge and passing it to the con artist. He then turned to the cabinet furthest from the fridge and grabbed a stack of files. "I managed to get the name David Park from some dumb shit I was chasing the other day, but the only problem is that it is a common enough name that I'm going to have problem trying to track down which one I want."
"So, let's get down to business," Face took a long drink from the can and grabbed a file, reading its contents. He doubted that an eighty year old man who lived in Idaho as a former potato farmer had connections to the racing scene, so he tossed the manila folder to the side. This was going to take a while.
-(_)-
It didn't take much convincing to get the address from the mechanic who had told him off, and Dom gladly left the little shit snivelling in fear after threatening to drop an engine block on his head. As he headed down the street, his destination clear in mind, he frowned at the bright sun. It was as if it was mocking him; making everyone else cheerful despite the fact that he was grieving. The world kept on turning, and people kept living their lives. Of course, as he as walking, he found himself wondering about Brian and his mystery friend, and what had happened in the last five years. While south of the border, he had heard of some rumours of some kickass drivers in Miami; Bullet, Conman and some other guy named Rome were among the most mentioned. He tried to figure out if O'Conner was one of the trio, but he couldn't be sure. He wasn't about to admit it out loud, but Brian was a good driver, and he had been impressed with his talent, especially when he got past the idea that the man was a cop. His frowned deepened when he remembered the random news report he had stumbled across months after running from Los Angeles.
Despite the reporter speaking in Spanish, he made out the fact that the cops had arrested another of their own who had aided and abetted a dangerous criminal. Unfortunately, shoddy signals had cut the feed off after the woman had said "Brian." The report had completely slipped his mind until now, and he swore that he would look up previous news feeds from the L.A. area in order to find out if he was right in thinking that Brian had been taken in by the cops after letting him drive away in the Supra.
But, right now, there were more important things to take care of. He had to find out who had killed Letty, and the reason behind her murder. Then, he would search for that news cast and find out the truth with what had really happened with Brian.
He was surprised when Brian burst into the room where he was hanging one David Park out of the window, his unknown friend with him, though he knew that the former cop would show up at some point in time. He shared a wry grin with the two men, letting go of Park's ankles, watching out of the corner of his eye as Brian caught the scumbag from becoming a bloody mess on the pavement below. Dom nodded at the stranger when he left, his grin turning into a full blown guffaw as he listened to Brian's curses as they wafted back to him.
"Goddamn it, Connie, help me!" Brian nearly shouted. "He isn't a lightweight, you know." Those words were followed by another language as it was muttered under Brian's breath.
"Don't you dare call me Connie, you little bastard. You know what happened last time someone gave me a nickname based on my street name?" the unknown man shouted back, a smile in his words as he ran to help O'Conner pull their suspect back into the building.
"Yeah, you won everything that the guy owned and then some; you got his girl, got him bankrupt after taking all of his money and then you insulted his mother. Christ, man, how many times are you going to insult someone's lineage before you learn that it generally ends up with a closed fist landing on your face?" the sounds of a struggled echoed briefly in the stairwell. "You know, sometimes, for a conman who could steal a donkey's back legs and sell them back to the same animal and still convince it that it got the world's greatest deal, you can be a little dumb. Are you sure that you haven't received too many knocks to the head under Colonel Smith's service?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" "Connie" replied.
"Hey, guys, can you not talk and get me back into my room?" Park demanded, his voice cracking as the blood continued to rush to his head.
"Shut up!" both men spoke in unison as their suspect was finally pulled back into the room. Voices mingled as Brian recited Park's Miranda rights and "Connie" giggled about "how fun this trip was so far" while Park groaned and cursed.
Random people on the street stopped and stared at the trio as they exited the brick building, but they ignored the sight when they saw the badge or the handcuffs around the wrists of one of the three men.
Face not so gently shoved Park in the back seat of Brian's Government Issue sedan, slamming the door closed and muffling the protests that the man made about his treatment. He joined the man with a racers' heart at the front of the car where he was scowling at a crack in the pavement. Finally, after a couple of minutes, he huffed out a sigh and took the keys from his pocket. "Hey, Face, do you want to drive? I don't think that I should be behind the wheel," Brian asked, handing them over when Face nodded. He could see that the former cop was in no shape to drive, or even be out of bed, but he knew better than arguing with him so he plucked the offered keys from the outstretched hand.
"Where are we going?" the conman asked, sliding behind the wheel and adjusting the seat for his slightly taller frame.
Brian supplied the directions, giving weak grins as Face pushed the speed limit on straight streets. He found himself hiding a real smile when Face was busy getting his visitor's pass, as he kept glaring at the man and woman standing behind the desk when they tried to ask him anything. He knew that it was because of the knowledge that the Feds had coerced him and Letty into joining them, and he was going to stay and watch the show he knew was coming. There was no power in the world that would drag him away from that meeting, and besides, he really wanted to see the man in action as he faced the bureaucrats.
Once Face had been given his visitor's pass, he joined Brian and Park by the elevators and gladly shoved the suspect in through the first available space offered. They were joined by other agents, who listened warily as the one they knew as O'Conner happily snarled away in Arabic as the other man, who was obviously a soldier, worked on keeping calm. The man that stood between them then decided to try and make a break for it despite the enclosed space at that exact moment. While the agents were scrambling to secure the man, the soldier simply grabbed the punk by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the side of the elevators with enough force that the walls shook from the impact.
"I'd rather shove you out the nearest window, cabrón, but then these nice agents would have to arrest me and I would be no closer to helping to solve the murder of a good friend. So, you are going to stand still and behave, or I will show you what Agent O'Conner is being forced to hide. And I will show you how it happened, if you want," Face growled, his blue eyes burning with an icy fury.
Park settled down, but not because of the threat that he had just been given, but because that he was scared shitless. First it was the bald son of a bitch who had hung him out of the window of his own apartment, and then this guy with his burning blue orbs. He had no interest in making anyone else mad today, and giving them the excuse to kill him. So, he fumed in silence as he was led to a glass walled office, complete with a desk and two chairs.
Brian grunted in surprise when he was suddenly pushed into a cement wall, hissing as the move he used to twist himself out of the grip pulled on his sore muscles. Ignoring the pain pulsing from his old wounds-it only made its appearance known whenever he was over tired or under the weather-he slammed his fist into Stasiak's face and gut, winding the man enough so that he could slip away and place his back against a wall, pushing away memories of fetid breath washing over him and hands ghosting roughly over his flesh. Resisting the urge to vomit what little he had consumed that day, he turned his attention back to reality, catching the tail end of Face's rant.
"…if you think that you can start pushing your weight around like that, I swear to God that I will go to the press tomorrow and tell them the best story for the five o'clock news-how you blackmail people into your agency, like your bosses did to Brian and Letty!" Templeton Peck growled, his hands twisted into a semblance of claws as if he was a big cat bringing down his prey, but he was protecting one of the men he considered family.
"Agent Stasiak!," a voice loudly cut through the sudden silence, quickly startling the spectators into creating a path for the man who spoke. "What is the meaning of this?"
"He knows where Toretto is, sir!" Stasiak replied, brushing the blood away from his face, twitching as a finger caught his nose, igniting in pain as cartilage shifted under his probing touch.
"Do you have any proof to back you up, or is this all accusation on your part?" a man Brian later identified as Agent Penning asked. When Stasiak didn't answer, Penning just told the man to go and get cleaned up with nothing further to say.
Face watched the confrontation cautiously, his own hackles still raised in anticipation of a fight. Instead, he watched, confused, as Penning sent the other man away before turning his attention over to them.
"You know what makes a bad agent, O'Conner?" Penning asked once they had a semblance of privacy. "One bad decision."
"Fuck you, brah," Face spat, falling into his Conman personality with ease, and ignoring the eavesdropping ears in the room. "It isn't Brian's fault for any of this, you hear me? I know that you know that the bastards who sit in the chairs above you forced him and Letty to infiltrate the cartel that this dude Braga runs. I also know that if he doesn't do as they say that they'll toss him back in prison with just a word, and no amount of finagling from the armed forces will get him out to act as a translator.
"So, this is how things are going to turn out from now on. Brian will get technical support from you, but if something screws up, he won't be answering alone for the mistakes made. You will keep that maniac who attacked him just now on a tight leash, or like I said, I will be going to the largest news station in the area and I will tell them everything. I will be his backup, along with whoever I choose." Eyes wide in awe, all of the agents in the room kept staring as the man who accompanied Brian got into Penning's face. "Do I make myself clear, or do I have to explain it again?"
Penning nodded and left, leaving the rest of the room to get back into their previous tasks while Park was brought into the processing room.
-(_)-
Leaning against the glass wall of the conference room, Face listened as a plan was thoroughly thought out. He smiled as a pretty agent who had Asian blood running through her veins handed Brian a new driver's license-he couldn't remember the first name she had given him, but he knew that her family name was Trinh-and nearly laughed out loud when Stasiak almost pissed himself when he laid eyes on the two racers in the room before rushing out.
"Ready, Brian?" Face asked, pulling away from the wall. "I need to check on my baby, before we leave."
"You have your Spyder here?" Brain returned, pushing the door open and letting his fried go through first.
"Nope, I have another car for the west coast. Tej is keeping an eye on the Spyder. No, I got a Impala being held at a garage as a favour that some guy owes me," Face replied. "I'll meet you in the mob, okay?"
"Sure. I've got to go see what they have seized downstairs and make my own modifications," the soft ding of the elevator bell sounded that there was a lift on their floor and they took it down to the main floor where Face once again stared at the two agents who had taken care of his visitors pass. The two men split up, Face leaving Brian to head off to the garage where the FBI kept all of the cars that they had seized during other busts.
Face made his way over to a little known garage in the downtown area. Well, it was only known inside of the community that made up the street racers, and it wasn't good enough for the higher class of people who made up the population of the city who preferred their garages to be spotless and the secretaries dressed in something that one would wear to business meetings or a model shoot. He made a brief stop at the apartment that he had stayed at last night, changing into the attire he usually wore when he was racing, having packed multiple pairs of jeans and dress shirts in his bag.
"Benito!" Face hollered as he opened the door to the garage, ignoring all the stares he received from the racers who were lounging around, drinking beer and chatting. "I need my car, Benito, and I want to make sure that she still works!"
"Hola, Conman. I still have your car, and she still runs, amigo," a man in his mid-forties to late fifties came out of the back room, wiping grease from his hands. "Come, I will show you."
Following the small Mexican into the backroom where the man kept all of the cars others charged him with keeping, Face smiled when he laid his eyes on the Impala, admiring the clean lines and the paintjob of black, gold and bright lime green. Just like the Spyder, the design was simple and not too fancy like some drivers who dressed their cars up to the nines.
"You said that she still runs?" Face asked, grabbing the offered keys.
"Si, she does, amigo. I run her every week to make sure that her engine doesn't seize up, and I regularly change the oil," Benito replied. "If I may ask, why do you need her now?"
Face sighed. "Have you heard of the Braga cartel and the drivers he employs?"
"I have. What about it?"
"Braga hires the racers to transport his product across the border, la frontera, and then when they have done the task, he kills them and keeps his money. Last time, a good friend of mine tried to escape, and she nearly got away, but one of them managed to catch up to her and caused and accident, leaving her burnt body under her car. I'm going to help a friend of mine who was blackmailed into the FBI get her killer, no matter what," Face explained, watching the blood drain from Benito's face.
"That explains why no one has ever heard from them again," he murmured as the realization spread across his features, having known some of the drivers that had been picked. Now, he knew why he had never heard from them again, and he finally had closure for his family; his son had been one of chosen drivers.
Minutes later, Face was driving the Impala away, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in his gut. Grabbing his cellphone, he dialled the base, asking to speak to the rest of his team.
"Facey, what happened?" Murdock was the first one to get on the line. Like usual, he was acutely aware that something had happened for the conman to head back to the states with hardly a word on short notice.
"A cartel killed Letty, H.M., and she was trying to get enough evidence to get the bastards arrested so that she and Brian could get on with their lives," Face refused to go any deeper than that, knowing that the pilot was sensitive, and could take the news of Letty's death hard.
"I'm sorry, kid. Is there anything you need?" Hannibal Smith asked his lieutenant, his voice rough from the cigars he smoked and slightly hoarse from recently issued orders that he had yelled earlier that day.
"Yeah, can you call anybody and everybody you know to find out why the FBI pushed Brian into a suit using blackmail? I checked out his records when I had a spare half hour, and it shows that he was undercover for five years, when I know damn well that he wasn't," Face rubbed a hand over his eyes, voicing a sigh. "They blackmailed Letty, too, and now she's dead and there hasn't been any investigation into her death other than contributing her as a dead associate of the Braga cartel."
"I'll do what I can, kid, but I can't promise anything," Hannibal replied.
"I know, but whatever you get will help, even if it puts the entire L.A. office under investigation," looking at the time, he sighed again, idly realizing that he had been doing it a lot since he got the news about his Latina friend. "Look, I have to go. I have to go run some personal favours and see what my contacts know. Let me know what you can do. Oh, and Murdock? Be ready; I just might need you later."
Hanging up, Face drove to a hangout for the racers, hoping to get as much intelligence as he could to help Brian. Pulling up, he shook all thoughts of the better times he had gone through in the past and adopted a more serious persona. Eyes darker than anyone he currently knew had ever seen, he curled a hand into a fist and knocked on the door.
Not an hour later he was leaving, using a rag to wipe the blood from his hands and face, all the while shoving back the whispers that spoke to him, trying to encourage the violence to continue. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but he finally had a confirmation about a name that was connected to the cartel.
Campos.
When race night rolled around, Face tried to hide his smile as some of the racers gaged their competition. He was going to race, but if he got Campos' attention, he was going to turn the man down, and steer him over to Brian. He had already created a cover story that the man known as Bullet agreed on; they were foster brothers who had bonded during their stay in an abusive household, and had sworn to stand by each other for the rest of their lives.
Visually sweeping the area, he did a double take when he recognized the face of the man who had hung David Park out of the window in his own apartment. Dominic Toretto was wandering the crowd, obviously looking to get Campos' attention so that he could get close enough to the bastard who killed his girlfriend. Of course, he kept his mouth shut. If the FBI was listening in somehow, he wasn't about to tell them information that they wanted concerning the fugitive-he was still angry with the entire Bureau for what they had put Brian and Letty through-and he figured that if he omitted the fact that he saw Toretto, well, they couldn't really charge him with what he knew. So, instead, he shrugged off the fact that he had seen Toretto and climbed into his car, driving the vehicle to the starting line and handing over his buy in of four grand.
The profit he made when Face won the race would go straight into his bag, providing that not a lot was needed in order to help get the Braga cartel off of the street. Still, with all that he had in Miami and L.A., he could easily live in a penthouse if he wanted to. Standing by his car, Face was chatting with a very pretty woman when a bald man approached him, a couple of thugs following like lost puppies behind the unknown man.
"You are a good driver," the man said, speaking with a Mexican infliction, though not as heavy as Face would have thought.
"Thanks, brah," Face took the compliment in stride, waiting for the punch line to drop like the proverbial other shoe.
"My name is Ramon Campos. I would like to give you a job, if you would like," the man started to give his offer but Face cut him off, ignoring the looks on all three strangers.
"Look, man, I don't need a job, okay? I make enough with what I'm doing at the moment. However, if you really want to give me a job, then I'm going to have to pass you onto my brother," pointing at Brian, the Conman waited for the words he knew where coming.
"You do no look alike enough to be siblings," Campos remarked.
"I know that. He's my foster brother. We grew up in a piss poor environment and we helped each other when we were growing up. We promised to stick by each other and help the other out if it was requested. He needs the money, and I don't, so I told him that if anyone offered a job to me that I would dump them on him," Face explained, giving a couple of details from the cover story he had concocted. "He's a damn good driver, and an even better brother. I would hunt down anyone who hurt him to the ends of the earth, and into the bowels of hell if I needed to."
"Brah, I told you before that I can take care of myself," Brian said, coming to stand beside his "brother". He allowed the hand to ruffle his hair before swatting the appendage away. "I have gun training and I can hold my own on the streets."
Campos paled for a minute second before he regained his composure. He had not expected this scenario before now. "I will keep your brother's name in case I need him. What are your names and contact information, should I need them?"
The two blue-eyed blondes shared a secret grin. "I'm known as the Conman on the streets, and my brother is called Bullet," Face answered, not even bothering to hide the big shit-eating grins that covered their faces as Campos and his guards paled dramatically while the crowd surged forward at the sound of the famous drivers: Conman because he was a legend at taking everything and Bullet because even they had heard of the great fiasco down in Miami that had the cops driving in badly busted patrol units and being the targets of much ridicule.
Campos had heard about the two as well, and he felt as if he had eaten an entire lemon without the peeling. He would have to be careful in eliminating these two for the cartel; he did not need any loose ends that would come back and haunt him. Instead, he shook hands with the two men and told them that if he had need for Bullet's particular skills, he would leave word for him at the next race.
The surging crowd caught Dom's attention. Looking up from his Charger, he watched as race fans crowded around five individuals. It soon became apparent who they wanted to see when he heard the chanting and demands for autographs. Bullet and Conman were here, and they were causing a big commotion. Shrugging, he ducked his head into the car once again, only to jerk it out when something familiar caught his eye when more fans rushed forward.
It made no sense. He knew that Brian was a good racer, but was he really the man known as Bullet? His friend was obviously Conman, remembering the "Connie" comment he had overheard in the stairwell at Park's place. Staring, he tried to figure out how the former cop was the East Coast's famous street racer, and then he shrugged his shoulder, deciding that he really didn't need to know all that had happened since he had last spoken to the man years ago at the moment.
-(_)-
Brian did receive word that he would be a driver for the cartel over the next couple of days, and he picked up the GPS unit that he was told to go and get. Currently, he was rubbing his shoulder, trying to get the RFID implant that Face had just injected him with into a better position so that it didn't feel as if there were ants crawling all over his skin.
"So, what else do you think we'll need?" Face asked, chopping vegetables up for a quick stew; he wasn't as good a cook as Murdock, but he could make a good dish when it suited him.
"Free reign," Brian muttered. Over the last couple of days, there had been pressure from the other Feds who had given the operation the go-ahead, and they really wanted their results. "I think that we should bring Murdock in soon. We may just need his piloting skills sooner rather than later."
"True. I'll get started on securing him a ride as soon as possible. I'll get some armaments for us, too. Nothing heavy in terms of firepower, just some handguns, maybe a couple smoke grenades and a flash bang or two," Face noted, tossing a chunk of carrot in his mouth to chew on as he added spices to the browning hunks of steak.
Not ten minutes after finishing their meal did they hear the GPS ping as a new location was uploaded into its memory bank. Brian took a look at the screen, showing the address that had appeared to his friend. "Looks like things are getting ahead of schedule. Get the ball rolling for Murdock, Face, and let him know that we might need him before the end. I have got to get going," the former cop said, throwing on a clean shirt and pair of jeans. "Hey, what can I say that damn chip does if they do have a scanner and find it?"
"It's one of those experimental types of chips where it can keep your entire history on record, from your bank accounts to your medical file, even your home address. If they pick it up and scan it somehow, tell them that; it should read what I just told you. Besides, we know that the Feds would try and place some kind of locator with you. This way, at least you have a legitimate excuse as to why you have a piece of technology sitting in you," came the reply as the conman grabbed his cell phone from the bedroom he was using. He had calls to make, and there was little time to get things done.
Brian nodded and grabbed the keys to his car, almost forgetting to close the door in his haste to leave. He was anxious and worried, knowing that Campos and his crew could have him killed if they didn't accept the lie about his GPS locator, but it was a risk that he was going to take, consequences be damned.
The GPS that Campos gave him led him to what looked like an abandoned loading dock. Pulling in, he took note of all of the other drivers, keeping the surprise from his face when he recognized Dom and his Charger. How many times had the car been fixed? He remembered when he had seen the same car flip over the Supra during their last quarter mile race.
"Step out of the car," a burly man demanded, a wand held in his hand. He swept the device around and inside the car, nodding that it was clean, but frowned when he ran it over Brian. "What do you have on your shoulder?"
"It's one of those implants that can hold all of your information like credit statements and health records. You get it scanned and the scanner can select whatever they need. Easier than carrying an entire wallet full of credit cards; you never know who's going to try and pick pocket you," Brian shrugged. He had to act as if he had carried the chip for a while now in order to try and sell the fact that it was harmless and hide the fact that there was a GPS emitter in it. "If you're that concerned about it, I'll just leave. You can find yourself another driver, if you want."
"Leave it," another Mexican spoke up. "I have heard of these devices. It truly is better than carrying all of you information on it than in your pocket."
Grudgingly, the other nodded and put the scanner away. Minutes later, Brian was shifting in the driver's seat as the last car was loaded into the trailer of a big rig. He was getting a bit nervous, especially since he had left his cellphone on a table with other devices. Taking a deep breath to calm his shaking nerves, he closed his eyes and tried to put most of the bad memories that haunted him back in their locked box at the back of his mind. It took the better part of the ride, and to the others, it looked like he was sleeping.
When they were finally allowed to drive out of the trailer, Brian was surprised to see another car waiting for them, the dark paint-maybe it was green or black or blue, he didn't care-waiting for them, and a black man leaning against the engine housing.
"Let's go," he ordered, jumping into his ride, and turning the engine over. As the man led them through the desert, a woman's voice came over the speakers of the GPS in every car, her sultry tone exciting nearly every man.
"Follow Fenix. He knows where he is going," the woman said, ordering that the drivers leave their headlights off for the duration of the drive.
Dom had taken a couple of minutes after they exited the trailer to examine the ground near Fenix's car, finding the proof that the man drove on nitro meth. This was the man who had killed Letty. As he tried to figure out how to take out the bastard, they were told to start their cars and follow their guide. He realized that they were heading for the Mexico U.S. border and drove his car out of formation, ignoring the woman's voice as she demanded that he get back in line. Swallowing his frustration, he did as he was told, vowing to get Fenix as soon as they came to a stop.
Then, to everyone's surprise, they drove through a hidden passage that had been built under the cliff range, driving as fast as they could with their headlights now illuminating the crude tunnel, glad to have avoided detection from the border patrol. It wasn't a long drive, and maybe twenty minutes after they exited the tunnel and drove onto a paved road, they pulled off into a clearing that had enough natural brush in the area to hide them from prying eyes.
"Get out of your cars," Fenix ordered, slamming the door of his ride shut once he was out.
Most obeyed the orders, but Brian could see Dom fiddling with something in his car before he got out as well. Fenix then thanked everyone for getting the job done right, but before he could go any further, Dom called out to the man.
"Only pussies drive on nitro meth," he said, causing Fenix to pause and turn to him.
"What did you say?" Fenix growled.
"I said that nitro meth is for pussies," Dom returned with his own growl. He stood in Fenix's face as he continued. "You killed someone I knew. Her name was Letty and she was killed in a crash not that long ago."
Fenix nodded as if hearing the truth proved that he had accomplished another thing that he had always wanted to do. "I remember her. She was the only one to escape when we started to clear the area. I caught up with her on the back roads, and I ended her life after she crashed. It's too bad that we had to pick her; she was a sweet looking piece of ass."
Before Dom could even snarl his displeasure at some man reporting his obvious lust for his dead girlfriend, there was a very subtle click, followed by a large explosion. Dom had opened the valves on his nitrous system and had engaged the lighter in his car, hoping that the resulting confusion would allow him the chance to kill the man who had killed his woman.
Startled by the loud bang, Brian immediately fell back on his training and had knocked out two of the Mexicans and took their weapons, firing short bursts and dropping men left and right as he kept an eye on Dom, who was taking care of his own batch of men. Letting the spent weapon fall to the ground, Brian jumped into the only other vehicle that was unscathed; a civilian model hummer and started the engine, pulling to a short stop beside the other racer and ordering him to get in the car, his sharp eyes taking in the fact that he was bleeding from a shoulder wound.
-(_)-
Closing the phone on Penning's voice as the man hollered at him to bring the shipment of drugs and Dom back to the federal building, Brian followed the drops of blood to the back of the vehicle he had commandeered, only to find Dom staring at one of the open cases.
"So this is what sixty million looks like," he commented.
"Yeah. Listen, we have to get you patched up and get this to a safe place," Brian said, pulling out another phone and calling Face so that he would have a full medical kit ready at the safe house and have everything packed from the apartment.
Once the shipment of drugs was stored at the impound lot, and after getting a car from there, they were on their way to the safe house, which, ironically, wasn't that far from where Dom had been standing when he was observing Letty's funeral. Dom called his sister, telling her to bring food to the address he supplied her.
Mia hesitantly knocked on the door, hoping that she had gotten the right place. When the door opened and a man with blue eyes and a shaggy military haircut greeted her, she was half afraid that she had stopped at the wrong place. Her fears were eased when the man told her that Dom was waiting for her at the table and that he needed her help. She passed the food to him, noting that Brian was sitting alone in a corner as he cleaned some kind of long range weapon. When he looked up at her, he gave a small smile, a poor imitation of what she remembered him giving her when they had first met.
"Okay, so, I'll handle the introductions. Dom, Mia, this is Face or the Conman as he goes by on the street. The more official version of his name is Lieutenant Templeton Peck, Army Ranger. Face, let me introduce you to the Toretto siblings, Dom and Mia," Brian said as he watch Mia clean the wound on her brother's arm, grabbing a needle and thread to sew it closed.
"What is a Ranger doing racing?" Dom rumbled, wincing as the thread tugged at his skin and a stitch was completed.
"I'm a product of my youth. I was raised in the orphanages and when I got old enough, I was sitting on the sidelines of the races. Some man took me under his wing and showed me how to race. Of course, I probably bullshitted my way into making him believe that I was older than I really was when I met him; it's probably why I got into so much trouble as a kid," shrugging, Face put more things away so that they weren't stepping in the clutter that he had packed from the apartment.
Hours passed and Dom had been given an explanation about why he had found a picture with Letty and with bunch of other people leaning on the hood of their cars. He had been introduced to each person, and he committed their faces to his memory with their names.
Face frowned when he looked at his phone to check on the time. "Murdock should be landing in the morning. I'll help him get his things sorted out, and make friends with anyone who has a helicopter. I'll drop you off at the office, if that's okay with you, Brian," he said, stretching until his spine cracked.
"Yeah, sounds good. I have a plan and I need the Feds to take a back seat. We need to get Campos and Fenix to tell us where Braga is, maybe offer up an exchange-the drugs for the information-and if that doesn't work, then we'll just have to find another way," Brian told them as he got up from his chair and dumping his empty beer bottle back in the box.
"Plan B, coming up," Face grinned.
"Oh, shit. You've been hanging around Smith for too long. Don't let me know what kind of crazy plan you come up with unless we actually have to use it, got it?" Brian grumped.
"Yeah, brah, I got you," leaving Face still smiling like a lunatic, Brian made his way to one of the blow up mattresses in one of the bedrooms. He really needed to get some sleep before he went to see Panning in the morning.
-(_)-
As senior agent in charge of the group, Penning was annoyed when O'Conner hung up on him last night, and he was even more annoyed when he showed up at the office wearing jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt. He bad mood went further downhill when Stasiak decided to jump on the "let's hate O'Conner" bandwagon and he snarled at the man to just shut the hell up. "What happened?"
As Brian explained everything, Penning had the sneaking suspicion that he was about to ask for something in return for his help in getting Braga. When he made the suggestion that they just take the shipment in this time, he saw Brian take a deep breath and calm down what could have been an impressive display of temper before he spoke out loud.
"We both know that even if we take this one shipment off of the streets, there will always be another one coming the next week. We have to make an offer in order to get Braga here in the city for an exchange. What's better-getting one shipment or getting the man behind the organisation and hanging him for everyone to see?" Brian returned, quelling the memory of the time during his capture when one of the terrorists had continuously injected one of the soldiers with pure heroin until his heart gave out. "If we get Braga off of the streets, I want one thing in return…no make that two things. One I want Dom's charges to be dropped. Not so that he only serves a minimum sentence, but that he doesn't serve them at all. Second, I want the Feds off my ass. I am sick and tired of them using me as some fucked up kind of scape goat and that they had better put my record back to its original state before they talked to Letty."
"Give me an hour. I have to make a call and see what my superiors want me to do," Penning sighed in resignation, watching as O'Conner and Stasiak left his office.
Visiting Trinh had been hard because she could tell just by looking at him that this would be the last time they would see each other in person. Though she was quite proficient with computers, her lack of human contact only made her that much more observant and with one glance she knew that he was leaving after this affair with the cartel.
"You better be safe out there, okay?" she whispered to him as she gave his hand a quick squeeze.
Forty minutes later, Brian was making a call, telling Dom that they had the go-ahead to call up a contact number that had been left for Brian when he picked up his GPS unit and arrange for Braga to deliver a small amount of money in exchange for the return of his drugs. There would be an FBI taskforce waiting in the shadows, literally, to swoop in and arrest the members of the cartel. He even provided a good place for an exchange where it would be open enough so as not to spook the others.
Dom made the call as soon as he hung up with Brian, first speaking to the lady whose voice had come over the GPS speakers during their drive through the desert and then to Campos as he informed the Mexican that he was the one who had the drugs and that Braga could have them back for a cool six million, a fraction of what the shipment was actually worth. He taunted the man by telling him that he was the one who would have to tell Braga that they had lost the shipment, which wasn't an appealing prospect. Campos snapped back an answer, saying that they would be there in two days at the meeting point, and that if no one was there, then the shipment wasn't worth the effort to get back, despite the monetary loss.
-(_)-
How in the hell did the F.B.I manage to fuck everything up? They had stormed the area without confirming that the old man really was Braga. It was only after Dom had escaped with the woman, Gisele, did they get word that their man was in the wind. Campos was Braga.
"What the fuck?" Face demanded when he entered the office, leaving Murdock to watch the safe house for any non-friendlies. "It really is sad when one agency can fuck things up so much and then try and blame one person for screwing their operation that was as crooked as bin Laden's alibi."
Excuse me, who are you?" another agent demanded.
"Oh, you mean that you don't know about me? I'm sorry. Let me introduce myself. I'm the one who can probably make you dig your own grave," Face turned stormy eyes in the agent in charge's direction. "I'm the one who would go to each and every news station and provide them with proof about the FBI's recruitment system. I know that you blackmailed Brian and Letty to help you catch Braga, and that you didn't care enough to launch an official investigation into her death. Image what kind of public outcry would result from the Ortiz family knowing how their daughter died, and then just imagine all of the disaster that would follow. All of those investigations into how you run this agency and into your personal life-nice mistress by the way-and then your decline from the federal chain of command." Pretending like there was no one else in the room, he continued. "Now, you are going to let Brian go and let him resign. You know what? Brian, just leave your G.I.s here and let's go."
Hiding a smile at the conman's handling of the situation, Brian followed once he had left his badge and weapon on the table. There were no words exchanged as the duo exited the building and climbed into Face's car, tires squealing as the engine was gunned.
Murdock was happy to see Brian, practically making the now former agent fall as soon as he was out of the car. He trotted beside the racers, chatting away in Persian with a British infliction, which made listening hard to do, but Brian managed it with flying colors, replying in kind, but leaving the accent alone.
Dom looked up from where he was tinkering away on his Charger, having bought another vehicle as soon as he could. Perplexed, he listened as the conversation flowed around him and shrugging away the fact that he couldn't understand a single word that was being said. Instead, he watched the interaction between the two, one a pilot and the other who was a racer at heart, and saw something that no one had ever seen before; the trust that came from watching each other's backs through hard times, like the battle fields overseas. That's when it hit him. Brian had been in the army, and it had to have happened after the last time he had seen him, leaving the man with the wrecked Charger.
Watching from the kitchen window, Mia saw the carefree man she remembered, laughing as he mock wrestled with the two Rangers. Shaking her head, she pulled out a head of cabbage and started on making coleslaw with a homemade dressing. Call it a woman's intuition, but she knew that they would need help from all three of those men before long, and she planned on making sure that they got fed for it.
Later, Murdock buzzed around the garage while Face helped Dom with the engine to the Charger. They had last seen Brian when he had left the group an hour ago. There had been knowing glances passed around, but no one spoke out loud. It could very well be the last night that anyone of them spent as a free man, and if one man wanted to sleep with the woman he loved, who was to stop him? They all knew that they would be leaving in the early hours of the morning and they all wanted to spend the time doing whatever they pleased. Weapons had been secured for the excursion and a helicopter had been "loaned" for Murdock to use; the plan was for the pilot to land the chopper just outside of the sensors that monitored the border and to take off in either direction if help was needed or if the mission went completely FUBAR.
"I want you to come back safe, okay?" Mia ordered the men as they prepared to leave the house, giving her brother a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
The unspoken meaning sat clear in the air; don't come back dead or in a coma. She wanted her family, and extended family by means of Face and Murdock, to be in one piece when she next saw them.
The last thing anyone of them saw was Mia's solitary figure watching them from the side of the road, reminding them that they had something to go back to, no matter what.
-(_)-
Having left Face and Murdock by the airfield a long drive back, Brian and Dom waited for their contact to drive up the small road that led to the top of the winding hill, each man not speaking because they knew what the other wanted; one to bring the man to justice and one to bring vengeance for the one that they had lost.
Alerted by the rising dust cloud, neither man was surprised when Gisele stepped out of her car to speak to the two men. "He is heading to the church to make his donation. He will not be there for long, but it will take him another thirty minutes to get there. He will be surrounded by five armed men who are his guards, but there is another entrance that you can use," she informed them. Looking at Dom, who was fingering Letty's cross necklace, she sighed at the slight lost look in his eyes that she could see. "She must have been a hell of a woman." She told him, climbing back into her car and leaving in another cloud of dust.
Exchanging looks, the two drove to the mentioned church, utilising the side door to gain access to the building. Inside, they saw Braga kneeling in front of a large stained glass window that depicted the crucified figure of Jesus. Stepping purposely up to the man, Dom racked the shotgun that he held and holding the barrel steady to Braga's forehead when he turned to investigate the noise.
"You kill me, and my men will come in a shoot you dead. You know that," he said. "You and me, we aren't so different…"
Dom cut him off. "We are different. I don't go around and kill anyone who works for me like you do."
"It is business," Braga said by way of explanation, closing his eyes when the shotgun was pushed closer to his face.
"I'm not going to kill you. You're taking a nice trip across the border. You are going to face the charges that the Feds want to pin on you," ignoring the look on Brian's face, he grabbed the handcuffs that he had stashed on his belt and used them to restrain Braga's hands behind him. Together, the men put him Brian's car and silently driving away until they hit the edge of town. They had a lot of miles to cover, and so little time before the guards realized that their boss was missing and the call to arms went up.
"Face, get ready! We have Braga with us and we're making a run for the border," Brian ordered through the military radio that Face had installed in his car.
"We'll be ready for you," the military hardened voice the belonged to Templeton Peck answered back through the open channel.
Braga stared at the driver for a long moment before he finally placed the face to a name. "You are Bullet, are you not?" he asked.
"Yeah, so what?" Brian snarled back.
"Let me go. I will give you as much money as you want," the cartel head said.
"And be your bitch until I get killed? I don't think so. Besides, you and your men killed one of my friends," Brian then turned his attention back to his driving, putting an end to the conversation. He cursed out loud when he was nearly blindsided by a car. Looking around, he realized that they were surrounded by at least twenty modified cars and trucks. Small arms fire peppered the back of his car, breaking the rear window, the glass slashing down on the bound Braga, causing him to cry out at the stupidity of some of his men.
"Go, Brian!" Dom shouted across the radio as he put his shotgun to good use. He blasted the front grill of one car, damaging the engine and the front axle of another. He was slowly being boxed in as the gangbangers drove with the purpose to get their boss back.
Blasting through the hidden mouth of the same underground tunnel that he had used while following Fenix's lead, Brian kept his speed in check, though he was doing a good forty over the American speed limit. The bumps to his back bumper annoyed him, especially when he saw Fenix in the car that pulled up beside him.
"Come on!" Braga called out, groaning in pain when Brian thudded him solidly in the ribs with his elbow.
Fenix smiled with grim satisfaction when his prey took the wrong tunnel, but he kept pace with the car, even through the hole that was made in the shoddy construction of the wall that usually kept it as a dead end. Pulling ahead, he deliberately slowed down, muttering under his breath as the other driver pulled off an incredible stunt of twisting agilely around one of the shoring posts by slamming into it. As small rocks began to tumble around him in response to an explosion farther down the tunnel, he slammed into the other car's passenger side, pushing them out of the tunnel as more dust and debris rained down. Fenix watched as the car flipped in front of him until it came to rest about thirty feet from where it had initially landed.
"Get me out of here," Braga moaned as he fought off waves of dizziness and pain. He had smacked into the dashboard and side window as they rolled, and he couldn't brace himself properly with his hands bound behind his back. Hands pulled him from the wreckage and Fenix braced him against the hood of his own car when there came another moan from the crashed car, followed by a thud as the driver's side door was kicked open.
Pain assaulted his senses, telling Brian that he had been severely injured in the crash. As he crawled out of the car, doing his best to ignore the burn in his arm and the tickle on his skin as his own blood dribbled from a cut on his temple, he slowly became aware of another presence. Adrenaline flooded his system, but it wasn't enough as Fenix violently closed the door and kicked him in the chest. Coughing, he couldn't avoid the second kick that sent him sprawling to the ground, holding back a cry as a rock dug into his back. Blinking his eyes, he saw the gun aimed in his direction before another sound penetrated his pain filled world.
Emerging from the dust cloud that was the result of the collapsed tunnel behind him, Dom pushed the gas pedal harder when he realized that Fenix had the drop on Brian. With the engine roaring in his ears, his sight reduced to what many referred to as tunnel vision, he missed the flash of the gun mere seconds before his borrowed car slammed into Fenix, pinning the man to the wreckage that he stood in front of.
"Pussy," he muttered, climbing out of the car and walking around the back of the car. Dom nearly paused in his steps when he realized that Brian had been shot and was trying to sit up. A quick scan of the wound told him that it was bad, and he had nothing to treat it with. "Keep the pressure on that." He ordered in a gentler tone, hearing the sound of a helicopter getting closer, and much further out, the sounds of sirens.
"We got to get you out of here, brah," Brian quietly said. His world seemed to be getting darker, but he wasn't going to see Dom in handcuffs if he could help it. As another wave of pain rode through his body, he gripped Dom's hand in a painful crush that ground bones.
"I ain't running anymore," Dom replied, waving Face and his pilot friend over once they landed. He wasn't going anywhere, judging from the iron grip that Brian had on his wrist. The cops would have to break Brian's fingers if they wanted to arrest him there.
Face fell into his training, assessing and cataloguing injuries, determining that the gun wound that Brian had sustained was putting the man's life in danger. He packed it with gauze and bound it while Dom held the man upright. Murdock, he noted, was getting the portable stretcher that they had packed from the helicopter. Good, they were going to need it.
Penning looked out from the windshield of the government sedan he was in, eyes wide as he took in the fact that there was already a helicopter on sight and that there was a man taking a backboard out of it. Someone was seriously injured and they more than likely needed immediate medical help. As he got closer, he could make out the form of Dominic Toretto holding O'Conner up in a sitting position, the other man who was defending the former federal agent applying gauze to a wound on his shoulder. Another look told him everything he needed to know. O'Conner had been gut shot and he was using these three men to stay in the material world and not pass away.
"Shit, Brian, it's your boss," Face hissed, setting the backboard in such a position so that it wouldn't cause the injured man much more pain than he was in when they moved him. Not that they would have to worry about it; he was clinging to Dom so tightly that it wouldn't take much to move him as painlessly as they could.
"He's not my boss. I resigned, remember?" Brian said tiredly as Penning reached their sides. "The damned FBI fucked with me too much this time."
Stasiak ran up to Penning's side. His eyes went wide when he realized who was in the group. "Toretto, you are under arrest," he crowed, hauling the man up by the arm. Unfortunately, since Brian was attached like a limpet, he cried out in pain from the sudden movement. Then he was the one to holler out as Face contributed in rearranging the agent's face.
"Keep your man in control, Penning, or I swear to God, I will sedate his ass and leave him out here," Face snarled as he checked over the recent damage. He didn't like what he found. "Murdock, get that bird warmed up. That asshole's actions caused a tear in Brian's side. We need to get him to a doctor, and fast, or we risk losing him. And if he dies, Penning, I'm suing your entire department. I might just do it even if he lives." Carefully, Brian was placed on the backboard and was carried to the helicopter, a police officer accompanying them.
Twenty minutes later, Murdock was landing on the helipad, letting his passengers disgorge so that they could hand Brian off to the doctors. By the time that they had arrived over the city, the man was ghostly white and just barely hanging on. The only thing that was making him stay alive were the constant threats he was receiving from Dom and Face, but even those weren't helping by the time the skids hit concrete.
The patrol officer who had come with them had been impressed at how much the injured man had been able to tolerate before passing out. He was close enough to overhear a particular phrase that would stick with him for a while to come.
"Stay alive, Bullet. I don't want to be the only one who remembers what happened in that tent in the 'Stan. Do you hear me? Live, or I scrap your Skyline," one of the soldiers had said seconds before doctors and nurses had swarmed the area.
-(_)-
Three weeks later, Brian was released from the hospital. His first clear memory since being admitted to the hospital was a shock to his system; he remembered the cops arresting Dom and dragging him out of the room, despite the fact that the doctors had discovered he was one of the few people who could keep him calm during the night. He had wanted to get out of bed and ask what was going on, but his eyes had slid closed on him instead. Things got easier after that, and his waking moments lasted longer and longer. Respectfully, the sentencing had been allowed to be postponed, even though there was no doubt as to what the outcome would be.
Sitting behind the reinforced glass barrier, Brian watched as Dom was led out. He felt Mia stiffen at his side when she saw the horrid orange jumpsuit on her brother's body and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. Forcing himself to concentrate on the passing of the sentence, Brian promised that he would get his brother out before long.
"…At the Lompoc correctional facility, without the possibility of early parole," the judge banged his gavel, concluding the sentencing.
Brian didn't hear much more than that. He knew that Dom would be transferred the following day, and he had to make sure that everything was in place for the contingency that he had planned.
The next day, he was in the newly repaired Charger, leading the pack with Mia in a black Civic and Omar and Tego, friends or contacts of Dom's, driving another black car. Face was driving his car, protecting the rear. He would make sure that there would be no one following anyone after the prison break. He knew that Brian had to do this. He had tried to be on the right side of the law, but he had a racer's heart and soul, and there was no holding him back from freeing a member of his family. Watching from a high hill rise, he saw Brian and Mia take the lead; Mia driving headlong at the bus while Brian positioned himself further down the road.
Yeah, things would turn out just right.
I am really sorry for the delay. Once again, I had to go and find my muse, and they were both reluctant to come back and help me work on this instalment. One has been living in another story reality, and has already planned one story and its sequel in record time, and the other has wandered off to find inspiration, I guess.
So, here's the second chapter to Between Family and Friends. I hope that you enjoyed these two chapters so far, and if you noticed that this wasn't completely canon to the movie, good for you! I wanted to drift away a bit from the movie in order for Face and Murdock to be presented in this part. Please let me know what you think of them. I wasn't sure what Campos's first name was, so I chose Ramon. No disrespect was intended if I didn't get it right. I have many ideas for Fast and Furious crossovers, and some that aren't crossovers. I've decided to jump on the "Brian has a younger sibling" bandwagon, and I am still hashing out my ideas because as of now, the only idea I have takes place right after the truck heist where Brian saves Vince's life. I am also planning a Fast and Furious/Hawaii Five-0 crossover where Danny and Brian are cousins and Danny has learned to race on the streets of Barstow over summer vacation and he will use his skill a couple of times on the islands, and HPD has given him his own race car, for police business of course.
Thanks to Rika100 for being the first to review the first chapter. There will not be any m/m pairing, only regular canon, which means Mia and Brian as a couple, and I hope that you enjoy chapter two. I should have the third instalment out faster than the second. And I am glad that you found the concept interesting. I try to do interesting things for most of my works in progress, and hope that you can find more interesting things on my story list in the future.