Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[michael]

For six weeks, all I’d done was sleep. And now that I was out and about, I kinda wished that’s what I was doing.

Don’t get me wrong. Fishing was a welcome change to the four walls of my ground-floor flat at the Knight Estate. It was the perfect nonstrenuous activity for my recovery, according to KITT (unless you counted limping down the steep riverbank to get to that one perfect rock, but nobody has to know about that). Just me, the white noise of the river, fresh air, the slight vibration of my reel as I dragged my lure across the water … it was almost perfect.

Like I said, I was still damn tired, and every so often I wheezed from the aftershocks of a breath that was too deep, a lingering symptom of the pneumonia that had knocked me on my ass for almost fourteen days. And never mind the old man’s cane that had practically fused to my palm. As much as I hated the thing, I needed it. My slashed hamstring, through repaired, still wasn’t up to snuff, and the cane was better than crutches. A hell of a lot better.

I cast again, swallowing against a yawn. Yeah. This was almost perfect. Only thing that was missing was KITT. Normally, he would’ve parked on the road, quietly observing me and occasionally offering a snide comment asking if I wanted to peek at his radar to see exactly where the fish were hanging out. But KITT wasn’t here. He was in the shop, being pored over like me every time I walked in my physical therapist’s office, making sure his systems were still functioning as normal after being rebuilt. I knew he hated it as much as I did, but it was necessary. After KARR had killed him, we had to make sure that there were no long-term effects from the slapdash mission to rebuild him.

KARR. That bastard.

He was parked right next to KITT, or he was supposed to be, anyway. The prodigal son, so to speak. He was safer with us than he would be out in the wild whether he’d admit it or not. Besides, he and I had a deal, and after the lengths he’d gone to save my sorry ass, I figured I’d better make good on my end of things and make sure he was kept online.

I couldn’t stifle my yawn this time, accompanied by a gnawing in my empty gut that reminded me I’d skipped a proper breakfast to hit the river before it got too hot. That was probably my cue to head back to bed, even though it was only noon. Maybe I really was turning into an old man. “Just a few more casts,” I muttered to myself. The Knight estate stocked its section of the river, and stocked it well, and I was bound to land another fish or two, right?

Besides, I didn’t want to face the real world.

Out here, I could leave all my troubles on the bank. I could forget about KARR. I could forget about RedWall, and I could forget about Joel Pierce, my injuries, my pain, my fear … yeah. Just a few more casts.

My commlink buzzed.

“Fish on,” I sighed, feeling my line dip violently just as I turned my wrist over to check the watch face. My catch got the upper hand in its battle with the lure as I recognized Bonnie’s alert, finagling my fishing rod so I could hit the button that would patch her through. “Your lucky day, buddy,” I muttered, watching the fish’s tailfin as it whipped itself back into the water and disappeared into the current, hook and all.

“What?” Bonnie’s voice, tinny on my commlink.

“Forget it. What’s up?” I spoke into my wrist.

“Where are you?”

“River.”

“Do you think you can make it to the shop?”

I sighed. Can you make it? That was the question on everyone’s lips. I was sick of being treated like I was so fragile. I was hurt, yes, but not broken. “Something wrong?” I asked, flicking my lure-less line a few times to entice that fish to come back. He didn’t.

“KITT and KARR are at each other’s throats again. I need you to talk them down.”

I raised both eyebrows. “Why me?”

“Come on, Michael. You’re the only one KARR takes seriously, and with the way KITT’s been acting lately, I’m starting to think the same about him. I’ll send someone to pick you up in a four-wheeler if you aren’t up to walking—”

“Bonnie.” I cut her off. “I can walk. I’ll be right there.”

* * *

“All I’m asking is for you to get out of MY bay! Is that so difficult to get through your lead-headed data processor?”

“This was my bay long before it was yours, KITT.”

“Yes, several years ago, but as I recall you’ve been shut down since then. Twice. And for good reason.”

“Stooping low today, are we, brother?”

“Kindly remind me whose designation is on that computer terminal. I believe it says, ‘Knight Industries Two Thousand.’”

“It said ‘Knight Automated Roving Robot’ before that. There are plenty of other bays at your disposal. This one is mine.”

“The hell it is!”

“That’s enough,” I snapped, striding unevenly into the shop and slamming the rubbered tip of my cane down onto the polished concrete, causing both supercars to flick their scanners in my direction, one red and one amber. Now that I had their attention, I lifted the cane and jabbed it first at KITT, then at KARR, singling them out. “Both of you. Knock. It. Off.”

“Michael,” KITT greeted, slightly sheepish. “Hello. How was your physical therapy session this morning?”

“Called in the big gun, did you?” KARR snarled at Bonnie, who just shrugged and continued plugging away at her terminal.

“PT went terrific. I only threatened to kill my therapist once.” I widened my stance so I filled both cars’ vision, leaning on my cane a bit more than KITT would’ve liked. He picked himself up on his suspension and swiveled his tires to point his front end in my direction. I peered at him from beneath my eyebrows while he flashed his scanner, reading me as I went on. “And I’m just peachy, except for the rude interruption to my fishing expedition. What the hell are you two on about?”

“I’m sorry for the disturbance. Michael,” KITT said in a voice that told me he knew he was in trouble. “If you would please tell KARR that’s my bay his greasy wheels are parked in, then we can be through with this.”

KARR’s scanner flared. “Do we need to rehash this? It was my bay first!”

“At least I was deemed sane enough to remain functional!”

“All right! Shut up,” I snapped. “KARR, look. That’s KITT’s bay, and you know it. We’ve got you set up in that one right next to him. Being a dick just for the sake of being a dick isn’t gonna earn you any favors.” I aimed my cane at the empty bay beside KARR. He seethed at me, angrily slashing his scanner, while KITT’s own scanner brightened in satisfaction, but I shot him a look and put him in his place. “And you. He’s just trying to get a rise outta you, huh? You’re giving him exactly what he wants.”

KITT knew I was right, but he didn’t say so. He rocked back on his wheels. I raised my eyebrows at him, folding my hands on top of my cane and leaning into it. Maybe Bonnie had been right. It hadn’t been easy walking over here, and my leg was certainly telling me all about it. I should probably sit down, at least. But first things first. “Bonnie,” I said, wincing slightly as I stretched the back of my healing thigh. “You need both of ‘em?”

She shook her head.

“Terrific.” I straightened up and looked from one Trams Am to the other, lifting my chin as I said, “One of you is coming with me. I don’t care who, but we’re not gonna sit here and snipe at each other anymore, and when I come back, we’re gonna be where we’re supposed to be. Capeesh?”

In a squeal of tire rubber, KITT was already halfway out of the shop before KARR had a chance to respond.

* * *

“Michael,” KITT said, tensely responding to my grip on his steering wheel as I lifted a hand at the Knight Industries guard stationed at the estate gates. We’d beefed up security since our last run-in with RedWall, which meant no more automatic gates, at least until we’d figured out if Joel was gonna make good on his threat that things weren’t over between us.

When I didn’t respond right away, KITT’s gridded vox-box scintillated in time with his speech. “Michael, I don’t understand why I must share a garage with KARR. Surely there’s another place. A stall in the barn. A slip in the four-wheeler garage. A dingy shack with a lock on the outside somewhere in downtown LA.”

“KITT,” I said, rearranging myself to take the stress off my leg. The supercar thoughtfully adjusted his pedals so I wouldn’t have to stretch as far to toe into the accelerator. “He’s as much a part of the Foundation as you and me.”

“He’s belligerent, demanding, smug, narcissistic, disrespectful—”

“All things I’m sure he’d say about you, pal.” I ghosted a hand over KITT’s dash to settle him. He huffed air through his exhausts and let some of the tension out of his struts as I asked him to ease to a halt at a stop sign. “Remember, he put his ass on the line for both of us. I owe him for that.”

KITT thrummed. “Do not forget that he killed me.”

I sighed in my throat. “I know. I know.” I didn’t really have an answer for him, so I let my head hang for a heartbeat before I went on. “It’s just the way things are right now, so let’s try to make the best of it, huh?” Then, with an amused shake of my head, I said, “Admit it. There’s a part of you that kinda likes fighting with him.”

“KARR does make an excellent verbal sparring partner, that’s for sure." KITT’s engine whistled on the other side of his firewall as he smoothly accelerated into traffic on my command. Then he changed the subject. “Where are we going?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“The beach? But you’re wearing jeans.”

“I’m not gonna swim. I just need the ocean air,” I said, settling back into the embrace of his seat, forgetting for at least a second that I was still a little mad at him. “And I’m starving. No offense to the estate cooks, but I’m dying for some variety.”

“Of course.” And then, in a gentle voice that told me he was afraid of pissing me off, he said, “Michael, you’re not going the speed limit, and I detect a heightened concentration of cortisol in your bloodstream, along with localized swelling around the site of your wound. Would you like me to take over?”

I rolled my eyes. “KITT, I’m not made of glass.”

“I'm offering because you hate asking for help. Particularly when you actually need it.”

I took my hands off the wheel because he was right.

* * *

KITT couldn’t find parking near the beachside café I wanted to go to. Instead of bruising my ego further by making a fuss about the fact that he knew I wasn’t up to walking much more than a block or two, he dropped me off out front to cruise around and made me promise to call him as soon as I was ready to be picked up. I led with my cane as I got out, pausing as I surveyed the area, but didn’t find any terrorists wandering around with the early afternoon beachgoers. Then, I patted KITT’s glass roof and stiffly crossed the sandblasted road to the equally sandblasted café. I felt, well, naked without KITT nearby as I watched his streamlined figure recede in the reflection of the glass doors, but I found comfort in the blinking red LED in my commlink that meant he had a lock on me.

I pushed my way into the café, bracing my shoulder against the door to hold it open. I paused and smiled at a pair of girls in sheer bathing suit covers that left little to the imagination as they exited. I was met with two once-overs as they checked me out, and twin pitying looks as they noticed I was leaning rather heavily on my cane. I also didn’t miss their comments as they passed (something to the tune of “aww, poor thing, just look at him,” and “wouldn’t you like to cheer him up?” followed by giggles - and a slight blush on my end).

I was losing my edge, apparently.

I ordered a fried calamari sandwich that would’ve thrown my doctor into fits – was supposed to be making healthy choices, after all, but fuck it – and figured I could at least get half of it in me before I rang KITT, because he’d get upset if I got crumbs on his floorboards again, and my blood sugar was low enough to make me unsteady. So, I found an empty booth facing the entrance, eased myself into it, and kept a critical eye on who entered and exited as I ate. Can never be too sure when you’ve got terrorists on your ass, right?

Apparently, I wasn’t fucking careful enough.

The cushion beside me depressed as someone else joined me. I startled halfway through a mouthful and shot a bewildered look at the newcomer, acutely aware that another unwelcome party had plopped himself down opposite me. Then my brain caught up with my visual feedback, and when I swallowed, whatever slid down my throat and hit my stomach felt like it was made of lead.

“Hello, Knight,” said Joel Pierce as he set himself beside me with a deadly grin set beneath his cold gray eyes.

Chapter Text

[michael]

I had to be fucking dreaming.

That was it. I’d dozed off while KITT drove. But that didn’t explain the very, very real feel of cold steel nosing into my belly through my shirt, nor the twin thuds of aluminum crutches as he rested them next to my cane. He smiled, but it was far from friendly, and I felt myself slipping into panic.

“How are you feeling, Knight? Recovered from your Colorado maladies?” Joel said. His tone was bright, as though we were engaged in casual conversation between friends. Must’ve looked like that to everyone around us because nobody spared us a glance. I’d started to shake, my chest lifting and falling with shallow breaths as adrenaline shot into my system. Outta habit, I flicked my wrist over and went for the button on my commlink, but Joel just shook his head and gently placed what looked like a metal jewelry box on the table, and said, disinterestedly, “Don’t bother calling KITT. That’s a signal jammer. Your commlink is useless. As is your implant.”

I planted a hand flat on the tabletop and tried to rise. Joel jabbed the pistol into my hip. “You won’t make it far, Knight. You might live long enough for your precious supercar to watch you bleed out on the sidewalk, but that’s it.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I said in a pathetic voice, hackles raising as I met his unnatural gray eyes. “Just leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t do that. I’ll give you three guesses as to why I’m here, and the first two don’t count.”

I blinked and cast my gaze to the side. If I couldn’t see him, he wasn’t there. “I’m not giving him up.”

“Could I get a lemonade, please?” Joel said, flagging down a waitress with an easy smile, the pistol never straying from its target: me. Then he turned to meet my gaze. “’Him’ being who, Knight? Come on. I want to hear you say it.”

“Benjamin,” I said to the table. Lying through my damn teeth. “Your brother. Remember him? He’s safe where he is.” Then, with venom: “Safer than he would be with you.”

A tic appeared in Joel’s jaw. He settled himself by smoothing a hand through his slicked-back hair, then morphed his pursed lips back into a grin. “Well, that’s half of the equation,” he said, his attention diverting when the waitress returned with his drink. He took the straw between a thumb and forefinger, swirling the liquid idly, the ice clinking against the glass before he picked it up and took a sip. “You’re partially right. I do want Benjie back. But what else do I want, Knight? Come on, I know you’re a smart man.”

I lifted my chin. “KITT’s mine, motherfucker.”

“Ooh, so close.” Joel smirked at me. “Your car could prove useful, but not the answer I was looking for.”

My blood ran cold. “KARR’s mine, too.”

“Oh, really?” Joel frowned dramatically over the rim of his glass. “What if I told you I’d call RedWall off of you, KITT, and the Foundation if you deliver KARR to me?”

In a measured tone, I said, “I’d tell you to fuck off.”

“All right. Well. This isn’t hypothetical, Knight.” He settled back against the backrest, swirling that drink again. “RedWall will pull back if you give me KARR. You have my word.”

“Fuck off.”

I expected him to hit me and flinched involuntarily.

He didn’t. Instead, he said, “Well, it was worth a shot.” His hand dipped into the inside pocket of his unassuming denim jacket. “I was cautiously optimistic you’d changed since last we met, but I see now that things never do with you.” He set his glass back down on the table and broke eye contact while I debated if it were worth making a break for the exit. Before I could decide, he went on. “It won’t stop, Knight. There are a lot of us. More than you’re aware of. Everywhere you and KITT or KARR go, every move you make, we know. We watch. And we won’t stop until I get back what rightfully belongs to me. People you’re supposed to protect will die, and it will be on your shoulders.”

I set my jaw and glared at him.

“But I still maintain that I can change your mind.” He spoke around his straw, almost playfully. “This time, I’m going to offer you an incentive to … work with me.” He inched closer. Angled himself toward me. I sat stock still like a rabbit in the gaze of a wolf. Joel smiled amicably. I couldn’t suppress a shudder as his fingertip found the slope where my neck met my shoulder, slipping beneath the collar of my button-up. Then, there was the flash of glass in my peripheral, followed by a sharp, sudden sting.

I gasped, but it was ragged, painful. My veins lit with fire, hitting me with a headache and nausea and a deep, deep fear as my head spun. Joel, the insufferable bastard, shushed me through his teeth as he calmly backed the syringe out of my neck, fussing over my collar as he got it to lay flat again while my pulse hammered my breastbone and the thin skin of my throat. “Take it easy, Knight,” he said, rolling the evil needle in his hand before he capped it and slipped it back into his jacket. “Don’t get too worked up. You don’t want that shit circulating faster than it has to.”

I cupped a shaking hand against my neck. The inflammation was hot against my palm. Vertigo set in, and when I spoke, my own voice sounded a thousand miles away. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“There’s your incentive.” He removed the gun from my side and sipped his drink again. “Stings, doesn’t it? You won’t feel its full effects for some time but rest assured. It will come. Have you ever heard of the deathshade cactus?”

“Deathshade?” I wheezed.

“Yes. The young ones are nasty little fucks. It already had spines, but God must’ve felt bad for making it spend so much time being the size of a walnut, so He gave it venom, too. Tell you what, Knight,” Joel said, planting a hand on his thigh and drawing my attention to the incomplete limb, the leg that KITT had taken from him. “If you reconsider my request and give me KARR – and my brother, of course - I’ll give you the antidote.”

“Antidote.” The word numbed my tongue as I made the connection, emphasized by nausea coating the back of my throat and the sick headache blossoming across my temples as my vision began to smear. “You poisoned me?”

“’Incentivized,’ Knight. Let’s not get my intentions crossed here.” Joel shrugged. “They say deathshade sap kills in weeks. Or was it days? I don’t remember. You’ll have to keep me updated. There’s enough in your bloodstream now to kill you in this life and the next.” He pretended to think. “I also can’t remember if it goes for the heart or the lungs first. Although, judging from the way you sound, shutting down your respiratory system might be the quickest and most humane route.”

Shaking with rage, I spat, “You better be bluffing, or you’re a dead man.”

“Ah, ah, Knight, you’re in no position to threaten me,” Joel said nonchalantly, signaling to his companion on the other side of the table, who stood and handed him his crutches before steadying him. Leaning on the man’s arm, Joel jerked his chin toward me. “KITT’s nowhere near here, and you’re the dead man. Anyway, we’ll be going now. If you change your mind, I’ve sent a letter to the estate with further instructions. We look forward to your response.” Staring down his nose, he tugged a money clip from his pocket and flicked a fifty spot onto the table. “If you don’t … well, I’ll be sure to send a dozen black roses to your funeral and a dozen red for Rei. Nice to see you. I’d say you look well, but I know better. By the way, don’t bother setting KITT after me. I’ll be long gone before you know it.”

“Better hope to God you are.” My voice – and my stare – were pure ice. “I won’t hold KITT back this time.”

“That’s no way to talk to the man who can assure your long-term survival,” Joel said with a frown. “You don’t have long to atone for your sins, after all. I wouldn’t advise making the list longer.”

Chapter Text

[kitt]

At some point, probably very soon, I would have to come clean and tell Michael that something had happened to me the last time I’d been reassembled, and that ‘something’ had apparently given me the ability to feel exactly what he was feeling. Perhaps that meant something in my circuitry hadn’t quite meshed properly. In the quiet moments where I was not keeping a distrustful optic on KARR or attuned to Michael’s guidance on the road, I felt my driver’s pain. He was healing, but I recognized the restriction in his lungs in the same way I felt obstructions plastered across my own intakes; the pain of his healing limb was a peculiar stiffness in my own suspension. Curious, indeed, and something I was eager to explore with him.

But I could not tell him now, because I could not reach him.

> > > ESTABLISHING CONTACT WITH COMLINK […]

> ERROR! OUT OF RANGE [!]

Out of range? Not possible. I was less than one mile away from the café where I’d left Michael, well within tolerance. I consulted my radar next. It returned the same result, the ‘out of range’ warning blaring alternate red and white across my center stack monitor.

> > > PURSUIT MODE: ACTIVATED [_]

I sighted a gap in oncoming traffic, locked my rear wheels, and opened the throttle.

My rear end stepped out, sending me fishtailing into the opposite lane between two disgruntled drivers, both of whom I promptly ditched. I settled back down over my rear axle as my treads bit into asphalt beneath a fine layer of beach sand. Given current traffic conditions, it would take me over two minutes to return to where I’d left Michael. Two minutes I did not have. As I shot between cars, deaf to the blare of angry horns, I reached into the far corners of my processors, searching for Michael’s presence, hoping I’d find the place where I could brush up against his mind. But he was not there.

Ahead, my proximity sensors registered a traffic light and the brake lights of several vehicles idling beneath it. At this speed – a mild fifty-seven miles per hour – I didn’t have enough asphalt for my brakes to grab a full halt without careening into the rear ends of two unsuspecting passenger vehicles, which would cause a pileup and force the foremost sedan into oncoming traffic. There was no room to turbo boost, either. I would land in the intersection, where cars were actively turning, and it was far too late to manipulate the traffic signal to clear the path ahead.

That left me with one choice, which I calculated with inches to spare.

I picked up SKI MODE, rolling my weight to my driver’s side and shoving off the road, my right-side tires spinning through the air as I quite literally sliced through traffic and swerved into the active intersection. It would have gone perfectly, but a previously unseen variable suddenly introduced itself just as I slammed back down onto all fours.

A streak of silver darted across the road in front of me with a speed that matched my own, but that was the problem. We met at the center of the intersection. The offending vehicle spun off my nose, reeling as its rear bumper cover came halfway loose and skittered across the pavement, its rear quarter panel punctured like aluminum when met with my unbreakable prow. Instinctively, I threw a scan at the wounded car’s passengers and found no injuries, although I had to do a double-take as my assessment revealed that the man occupying the passenger’s seat appeared to be missing a … limb.

Oh. Oh, no.

I knew this car.

This was the silver Mustang that had pursued Michael and I through the desert. The one that had carried none other than Joel Pierce and his horrible electromagnetic pulse device, the one that had shocked my systems into darkness and resulted in my capture. The boxy muscle car had whipped around from the force of my impact and now faced me, and I almost snatched up Reverse, torn between fleeing the enemy vehicle or chasing it or – no, Michael was still unaccounted for, and as I recognized the handsome-if-not-evil face of Joel himself through the Mustang’s windshield, I made up my mind. He was lucky Michael was more important to me than he would ever be.

Angrily, I poured power back to my rear axle, sideswiping that ugly Mustang for good measure (leaving it with a punched-in door and a missing sideview mirror) and charging forward. I kept pinging the comlink as I ran and was met with the same ‘out of range’ warning, over and over.

Michael was dead.

No. He wasn’t. I registered his form before his comlink answered me. I skidded into the opposite lane, lining myself up perfectly with the curb and casting my passenger’s side door open as my systems flooded with relief. “MICHAEL!”  I screamed. “Michael! Get in! NOW!”

He tried. Oh, he tried. He stumbled off the curb and nearly caught my roof to his forehead, but steadied himself by throwing a hand against my A-pillar. I shoved down the sudden influx of latent comlink responses and anxiously scanned my driver as he wrestled his cane into my cabin, wincing as he folded himself into my passenger’s seat with quite a bit more effort than I would’ve liked. “Are you hurt?” I asked. “What did he do to you, Michael? WHAT DID HE DO?”

“KITT,” Michael said, leaning out of my cabin and feeling around for my door. I saved him the trouble and shut it for him, gently, sealing him inside my bulletproof cockpit where he could not be harmed. “KITT. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? None of this makes any sense. What the hell are you sorry for?” I drew up a map on my monitor and put out feelers for the damaged Mustang. It should’ve been easy to find. I’d done a number on it, although in hindsight, I probably should’ve disabled the thing rather than merely ruin its cosmetics. As my radar panned, I once again turned my focus inward, peeling away from the curb and taking Michael away from (or toward, if I found the damn Mustang) danger.

Michael was heavy in my seat. He sort of curled in on himself, leaning against my door panel, his head heavy against the inside of my window. Oh, dear. I’d been so focused on probing him for injuries that I’d completely ignored the fact that he seemed ill.

He lifted an arm. “Scan me,” he said.

“Michael, I already have. What’s wrong?”

“It’s in my blood.”

“What’s in your blood?”  I snapped. I’d tapped into police band radio, too. Somebody had called in a hit-and-run at the intersection where I’d struck Joel’s Mustang. Both parties had taken off, but the authorities were particularly interested in the black T-top that had blown through the red light and not the silver muscle car that had been struck. Damn it. I’d been sloppy. That wasn’t like me. Almost like … well, almost like I’d been feverish and scatterbrained. Like Michael.

I shook myself out of it. We’d deal with it if they caught up to us. “All right,”  I snapped, deploying my chemical analyzer from within my dash. “Place your hand in the analyzer. I’m going to prick your finger. It’s going to hurt.”

To his credit, he only flinched a little, and held his hand steady as I collected a single drop of blood and withdrew the analyzer. He pulled his hand back and stuck his hurt index finger in his mouth, shrinking back against my seat as I examined the sample.

“Michael, what happened?” I said as I zeroed in on a foreign substance in that blood sample. A very toxic foreign substance. “What did he do to you?”

My driver said nothing.

“Please tell me this isn’t real,” I snapped. “If this is real, this is extraordinarily bad. Do you understand that?”

His jaw worked. He said, again, “I’m sorry, KITT.”

“This is an extremely deadly toxin,” I said, “and it is in your bloodstream. Am I correct?”

“He got me,” was all he said.

“This is the sap of the cactillus umbraticus. The deathshade,” I went on. I did not bother showing him the image of the small barrel cactus on my monitor. He couldn’t see it from the passenger’s side, and it wouldn’t matter, anyway. “And it will kill you. Damn it, Michael, it will kill you because there’s no known antidote!”

“For whatever it’s worth,” he said, “Joel said he had it.”

“Of course he did. He wants something. What the hell does he want?” Panicked didn’t even begin to describe my current state of mind, and to make things worse, I’d somehow completely lost track of that godawful Mustang, and I felt like every single one of my hard drives was on the verge of overheating. I probably should’ve been a bit more sympathetic to Michael, but I found myself dressing him with a sharp tone when he still didn’t answer me. “Michael! Tell me what Joel said to you!”

Distracted now, he didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the red and blue lights behind us.

Chapter Text

[michael]

KITT hesitated on the accelerator. I made the decision for him and stepped into the gas pedal, but my foot went straight to the floorboards before I realized I was an idiot.

Fuck. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d ridden in KITT’s passenger seat without anyone else at the controls; I floundered without his wheel to grab onto and latched onto the point of his center stack instead. Static leapt from his monitor and stung my fingertips as I whipped around to stare behind us. Mistake. My vision wavered like a bad TV picture, and I gripped KITT’s dash even harder until my palm started to ache. “Shit, KITT. Were you speeding?”

“Speed limits,” KITT huffed as though they were the dumbest suggestion in the world, clearly distracted. He then put himself in PURSUIT mode. I grunted as my shoulder lurched into his seatback, then sort of fell into the seat itself so I was facing forward again as my car spoke again. “I should have flipped my plate. Damn it!”

“KITT?” I said. I meant to sound stern. I sounded scared instead. Scared, because just minutes ago I’d been assaulted by Joel Pierce himself, and now we were running from cops. Were they RedWall? If they weren’t, why were they after us?

“I can handle this, Michael. There’s no need to get worked up,” KITT said in a calm voice. It didn’t match the way he picked up speed, weaving through traffic as he tried to put as many cars as he could between us and the cop. “They’re not RedWall. I caused an accident trying to find you. I’m sorry.”

I might’ve thought it strange that he’d practically read my mind, but I couldn’t really think of much of anything right now. My vision hadn’t improved, and I felt sick. My blood stung as it rushed into my head and back out. My chest hurt like I’d taken two bullets all over again. I sank further into the unfamiliar passenger’s seat, searching for comfort but feeling disquieted. KITT’s driver’s side had been built to fit me perfectly, and I’d had plenty of hours behind the wheel to break in everything that wasn’t. Riding shotgun felt wrong. I might as well have been in another car. I blinked a few times, slowly. If I wasn’t driving, did it matter if I stayed awake? I didn’t want to stay awake.

“Michael,” KITT said.

“I knew I should’ve stayed in bed,” I said. My voice sounded weak, even to my own ears. I was so, so tired. Something was dragging me down, trying to pull me through the floorboards. KITT’s turbines rang out behind his firewall, too loud. I felt my grip on his center stack relax, my fist thudding against his console-mounted switch-pod. Clicked a few buttons. Didn’t mean to. “Take me home, KITT.”

“I’ll do that,” he said.

“Thanks. I’m gonna … nap, I think.”

“Please don’t, Michael,” KITT begged. “Please keep your eyes open.” But I was too far gone.

* * *

We lost the cops somewhere before we made it back to the estate. I didn’t ask how KITT pulled it off, and I didn’t care. When he was sure I’d perked up some, he parked himself right underneath that oak tree just outside my flat and didn’t shut his engine off until I’d limped back to bed, where I fell facedown before I could even unbutton my shirt. With tremendous effort, I unpinned my arm from beneath my ribcage and cued into the comlink.

KITT responded in an instant. “Yes, Michael?” he said urgently.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I mumbled.

He hesitated. “Why?”

“Give us a few days,” I said, grimacing as I punched the pillow to better support my neck. “Let’s see if we can’t do this on our own. The fewer people know about this … the better.” The truth was, I had a few ideas, and I didn’t see the point in worrying everyone after everything we’d been through until I’d exhausted all other options. And I didn’t want to be hooked up to more machines monitoring more things and be told I couldn’t and shouldn’t do stuff. To hell with all that. “Let’s treat this like just another case, huh?”

“Another case,” my car snapped. “Another case, another day with your life in the balance. We can’t keep doing this.”

“KITT,” I said. “Please.”

Again, he hesitated. Then, in a monotone voice, “As you wish, Michael.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Can I nap now?”

“No,” he said. I did anyway.

* * *

I woke up before dinner feeling almost normal. Maybe there wasn’t much to this deathshade business after all. See? Nothing to worry about. I couldn’t afford to lay around all day, anyway. I had a case to start looking into.

Benjamin Pierce was a dead ringer for his big brother. (If Joel had bleached-blond hair, they’d practically be twins.) The Foundation wasn’t in the habit of keeping prisoners, but he was too close to RedWall, and we couldn’t risk losing him, so he’d been roped into doing odd jobs around the estate in exchange for room and board on the condition that if he left, we wouldn’t hesitate to turn him over to the relevant authorities. Thankfully, I didn’t have to go too far to find him – he was watering the rosebushes on the south side of the mansion, just outside my flat. I followed the hiss of water against leaves as I shouldered my way out into the falling daylight, hyperaware of the bright red of KITT’s scanner as he tracked me from the edge of the lawn.

Leaning on my cane, I limped across the pavers, and my approach would’ve been damn near silent if I hadn’t managed to scuff a rock off into the bushes. Ben’s head shot up, and his face immediately hardened. He hadn’t treated me all that bad back in Colorado, but I was starting to think he hated me even more with each passing day, though I tried to at least be cordial to him despite his familial ties. And familial resemblance.

“What do you want?” he asked coldly.

For a second, all I could do was breathe. I was winded, I realized. Five fuckin’ yards, and I was winded. Whatever. I cleared my throat and gestured with the tip of my cane. “Know much about plants?”

Ben cranked the hose’s valve shut, plunging us into a cicada and cricket chorus. KITT’s scanner swished in the background. “Just what the gardener tells me,” he said, swiping a hand on his jeans to dry his palm. “If you don’t water them, they die, and if these hundred-year-old rosebushes eat it, I won’t hear the end of it from Mr. Miles. ‘Scuse me.”

He tried to step around me, but I blocked his path. “I’m not talkin’ rosebushes. Poison plants.”

He shot me a look that said he thought I’d lost it. Maybe I had, but I blamed the dull sting in my veins. “You look tired, Mr. Knight. Better get back to bed before the car blows a circuit.”

KITT’s scanner panned, but I talked over him. “I told you to call me Michael,” I said through a tight jaw, then sighed and dropped it. “Look, if I say ‘deathshade,’ that mean anything to you?”

“Never heard of it.” He turned the water back on full blast, so I had to shout my next words.

“I saw your brother today.”

The hose turned off. Ben glanced at me, wide-eyed, and he spoke with the speed and excitement of a kid before he could stop himself. “He’s here? In California?”

Of course, he was just a kid. Still a teenager. It was easy to forget. “He might’ve made a run for the border already. If KITT didn’t brick that Mustang,” I said, evenly. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

His face instantly darkened. “I’ve already told all of you everything I know. A hundred times,” he spat, plucking a yellowed leaf off the rosebush nearest to him. “I don’t know where any of his new safehouses are. He put me up in that tunnel in Colorado and drip-fed me my part of the inheritance and sent me parts for KARR. That was all he gave me for a whole year. Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Knight, I’ve got some hundred-year-old rosebushes to water.”

“Deathshade, Ben,” I reiterated, feeling desperate. “It’s gotta mean something to ya.”

“It doesn’t. Cacti were my dad’s thing. And Joel’s.”

“I never said it was a cactus.”

He shut off the water again.

In his silence, I cleared my throat, trying not to cough. KITT perked up behind me, listening intently.

“Actually, it does sound familiar,” he said evenly. I tried not to think about how his denim-on-denim getup almost perfectly matched Joel’s from earlier. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m just curious,” I said. “Do you know where something like that might be kept?”

“No way. Are you sick?” Ben looked at me, incredulous, but then he did what I’d hoped he would do. He gave everything away. “Oh my God, you’re sick. He wanted me to do that, you know. Back at the tunnel. I told him I wasn’t touching that shit, and if he wanted it done, he better do it his own self. Damn, I didn’t think he’d follow through. I thought he’d just pop you between the eyes next time you met.”

I was starting to wish that was what Joel had done. KITT slashed his scanner at me again, and I cupped a hand over the cauterized scar just inside my right elbow, imagining that the implant under my skin felt hotter than normal. “Where would it be kept, Ben?” Because if I find the plant, I find the antidote. Right? Why would Joel keep something deadly around if he didn’t have a way to undo it right there, just in case?

“I don’t know,” he said, honestly. “Greenhouse, probably. I don’t know if he has one, though. Sorry. He didn’t tell me shit.”

“What about Rei?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said, irritated. “You could ask her. Look, man, I don’t have a reason to lie to you, so stop giving me that look, ok? I feel like shit about all this already. I messed up bad, and you’re one of the only people here who’s nice to me.”

I stared at him for a second, trying to put my thoughts in order. Ben turned on the hose again and started watering the rosebushes, but his hand shook on the trigger. He was genuinely upset, and I felt kinda bad for going after him. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I was tired, anyway. And hungry. I should probably get to the kitchen before they got worried and sent someone to my flat instead.

“Thanks,” I said, flatly.

Ben glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to his rosebushes. I was almost to my door when he called my name. “Mr. – I mean, Michael?”

Using my cane as a pivot, I turned toward him.

“Joel said he had his eye on a place in Malibu,” he said without looking up. “He said it reminded him of home. If you were curious.”

I was, but it could wait. I needed to sit down. And, more importantly, I needed to get the hell away from the second, bicolor Trans Am patrolling the estate grounds, his front end and wicked yellow lightbar pointed my way. Fuck’s sake. I couldn’t catch a break today.

I knew I should’ve stayed in bed.

Chapter Text

[karr]

I approached KITT with an innocent question, and, unsurprisingly, my younger counterpart greeted me with silence.

“KITT,” I said. “Is Knight ill again?”

KITT pointedly ignored me and tracked his driver, his scanning mechanism whirring within its housing. I detected a door shutting in Knight’s wake and expanded my own search parameters. The data confirmed what I suspected. Knight was not well. He was running a fever, and I detected a heightened state of fatigue, which, of course, I relayed to KITT. Not verbally, of course. I simply pinged the data to his processor via our shared network.

That finally elicited a response. “Mind your own business,” he snapped.

I flared my scanner. “Knight IS my business. His wellbeing is paramount to my own.” I let my turbines idle down to what I hoped was a nonthreatening level. “Do not lie to me. If not for him, you would have torn me apart months ago. Without him, you still might. So what are you hiding, and how can I help?”

“We had a run-in with the Devil himself,” KITT admitted. “I should have destroyed him instead.”

I did not disagree. I waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, I made a humph in my vocoder. “This is Pierce’s fault, then?”

“What the hell do you think?”

“Touchy,” I said, coolly, while KITT simmered. “I assume that since Pierce is to blame, our best chance of undoing this is to find him, no?”

“You don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”

“He is poisoned, is he not?”

“How do you—”

“I have access to the data from his implant as well, brother. You forget this. You and I are equal.”

KITT was quiet. Heightened processor activity told me all I needed to know about his mental state. I waited for a few cycles to pass, then prompted him again. “If you didn’t destroy Pierce, what did you destroy?”

KITT huffed. “His car, if you must know.”

> > > INCOMING VIDEO TRANSMISSION [!]

I accepted it. KITT had sent me a copy of his surveillance video from the incident. I played it back, feeling the screech of sheet metal resonate through my own shell as though I’d been the one to punch in the doors of that silver Mustang. I cataloged the footage, ran a preliminary analysis of the damage to the muscle car, and began to formulate a plan.

“Hmm. Let me see what I can do,” I said, dropping my transmission into Reverse.

As I began to roll away, KITT called out. “I hope you’re not expecting me to say ‘thank you.’”

“I’m not a fool.” With that, I left him.

* * *

Instead of returning to my garage bay after completing my nightly rounds, I bypassed the gate and slipped into the California night.

I was instructed to stay confined within the estate grounds unless I was accompanied by an authorized Knight Industries employee or FLAG associate (which, so far, had only been Knight himself) unless circumstance required otherwise. Technically, under the latter guideline, I was completely within my rights to leave. But just in case, I didn’t let anyone know what I was planning.

I glided along the twisting side roads until I picked up the freeway, relishing the feel of my turbines gnashing beneath my hood as I poured power into my rear wheels. The last time I had been afforded such freedom, my controls had been in the hands of John Stanton and his insufferable female companion, prior to my damning destruction at the hands of Knight and the wheels of KITT. For a moment, no matter how brief, I could pretend that I wasn’t leashed. I dodged out of the right lane, picking up speed as I unfurled my headlights, intoxicated by the siren song of open road beneath my treads.

I could leave.

But where could I go? Was there any place I could escape to where I would not be hunted by Knight and KITT, or RedWall, for that matter? I entertained the idea of turning myself over to Pierce, using him to destroy FLAG, and then turning on RedWall myself. I’d entertained that idea quite often, though I no longer felt the burning hatred for my creator’s organization that I had before. I was only guaranteed protection if I remained useful, and Pierce was more likely to pull my plug if he deemed me a threat than Knight was. And if Knight was dying, so was my shot at life, as it were. So for Knight I would fight.

I’d marked several locations on my map before I’d left the estate. I approached one now and sluiced off the interstate, backing through my gearbox as I eased off the highway and dove into the industrial district on the outskirts of LA. My scanners were peeled, and as I neared my target, my headlights licked over the damaged and mangled bodies of a late model sedan, an SUV, a pickup. There was no muscle car here. The shop’s computer confirmed it. No Mustang.

I struck LA Auto Body from my list, zeroed in on the next shop, and picked up PURSUIT MODE. There was no time to waste. I had to find that Mustang.

* * *

Four stops later, I finally did.

I had already patched into the shop’s computer at Specialty Auto Rebuilders in Malibu, but I did not need the records. There it was, still polished and gleaming even in its mangled state: a silver 1984 Ford Mustang with a single black stripe down the center of its hood, its driver’s side door bashed in, its mirror lost somewhere in traffic. It was heavily armored with several layers of bulletproof sheet metal, but, of course, it had been no match for KITT’s molecular bonded shell. I locked the damaged pony car in my headlights.

> > > CONTACTING CALIFORNIA DMV DATABASE […]

> ENTER SEARCH QUERY [?]

> SEARCH: PLATE NO. “3ABC456” […]

Of course, Pierce had not registered the vehicle under his own name, unless he was really a man called ‘John Smith’ who lived at an address that came back to an abandoned garage in San Bernardino. Clever. I nosed through ‘Mr. Smith’s’ files, and found that Pierce had constructed a mundane persona for the man who supposedly owned this Mustang. I supposed it could be worth booking it to San Bernardino to check out this abandoned garage, but I knew it would be a dead end. Pierce was likely nearby, if his car was here.

I flipped back to the shop computer. As expected, ‘Mr. Smith’ was also listed as the owner of this Mustang. The address lined up with the San Bernardino facility. But there was something else there. A phone number with a local area code.

> ALERT! INCOMING TRANSMISSION [!]

> ‘WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? RESPOND IMMEDIATELY!’ – K2K

> ‘I DID NOT MASK MY LOCATION, KITT. COME FIND ME. I HAVE SOMETHING TO SHOW YOU.’ – KRR

KITT didn’t respond, so I turned off my headlights and hunkered down to wait for him, leaving my homing signal at full blast. I could only imagine the absolute terror he was on the road as he charged through traffic to find me, and it didn’t take long – soon, my proximity sensors lit with scanner echoes that belied my brother’s presence, and as a sign of good faith, I idly threw my scanner at him as he tore around the corner, and then I once again illuminated my headlights, sketching the damaged Mustang in grayscale as the blue gradient of dawn began to mask the stars of night.

Tires screeched as KITT rocked to a halt beside me. The second his body ceased its movement, his driver’s side doorlatch released, and a very unsteady looking Knight hoisted himself out of the cockpit. Gripping the top of KITT’s window, he looked first to me, then to the Mustang tucked in the corner of the lot.

“Please. As though I haven’t run that plate before,” KITT seethed, engine hot. Knight steadied himself with a hand flattened on the roof. “It’s a dead end.”

“Now, hold on, pal.” Knight had hastily dressed; his shirt was completely unbuttoned, and he wore no leather jacket. “There’s gotta be something else. KARR?”

“A phone number," I said proudly. "The shop will have to call someone to update them on the progress of the repair, and it looks as though our dear friend Joel slipped up.”

“Where does it lead?”

“I haven’t had the chance to call it yet. You’re more than welcome to do the honors.” I relayed my discovery to KITT, who promptly punched the number into his phone, chewed through what I assumed were several layers of encryption, and waited.

“Malibu Beach,” he said, distantly, as Knight looked on. “It connects to a house on Malibu Beach.”

“You can thank me now, brother,” I said. “I’ve found our man.”

Chapter Text

[kitt]

“I’ve gotta check it out,” Michael said. “I’ve gotta see what’s at that house.”

I agreed with him. Already, I was clicking through several scenarios in my processor, running probabilities and laying out plans as I ate up the highway. I was also distressed, because I had attempted to encourage Michael to stop for breakfast on our way in, hoping he would perk up at the idea of eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns at a roadside diner, but he had flatly declined. That alone worried me more than anything else. Michael Knight never turned down junk food.

“Well, Michael,” I said, gearing down to take a curve as smoothly as possible, just in case my driving was to blame for his nausea. “I advise you to seriously consider bringing this to Devon. We would be foolish to not take advantage of the resources at our disposal by way of FLAG and Knight Industries. Especially since we know exactly what we’re in for with Pierce.”

But he was shaking his head.

“Michael,” I said with warning. “For once in your life, don’t be so bullheaded. Nobody’s going to think any less of you for asking for backup.”

“It’s not that,” he pointed out. “We come at Joel with a fucking army, he’s gonna respond with a fucking army.”

Behind us, KARR paced me at a safe following distance. He’d cut his scanner, presumably to assure me that he relied entirely upon my instruction instead of his own data. I thought he was mocking me.

“It’s gotta be low key,” Michael went on, mostly to himself. “And I don’t want FLAG in RedWall’s crosshairs. Better if it’s just me.”

On that, we disagreed, but he did have a point. We were nowhere near ready for an all-out war with RedWall, loathe as I was to admit it. “All right,” I said. “If that’s the way you want to do it, then let’s think about this. We must move fast. If Pierce thinks we’re onto him, he’ll disappear into the woodwork again. You and I might think about going tonight.”

“Not you and I, KITT,” Michael said softly, his eyes flicking toward the rearview where KARR lurked. “I’m taking KARR.”

I almost locked my brakes in the middle of traffic at 75 mph.

“You CANNOT be serious!” I snarled. “Michael!”

“Listen, KITT—”

“You’re not thinking straight!”

“KITT! Listen to me!” he cried, wheezing against a rising coughing fit as he splayed a hand over my dash in an apparent attempt to assuage me. It didn’t work. I vibrated unhappily under his touch, silent as he went on. “Look, if something happens, I don’t want the fate of FLAG in KARR’s hands, you understand? I need to know you’re gonna be there to protect them!”

“And what if something happens to YOU, Michael?”  I asked flatly.

“I need to know you’re gonna be there for them. I’m taking KARR. You stay behind. Just in case. Please,” he said when my vocoder flickered with unspoken words, “don’t argue with me. My mind’s made up. I need you alive, KITT. FLAG does.”

“You’re not counting on coming back, are you?” 

“Just in case I don’t, pal.” he said, patting my dashboard. I committed the feeling to my memory banks, not that I was in danger of forgetting it, anyway. “Just in case I don’t.”

* * *

[michael]

Michael Knight: fucking idiot with a death wish.

KITT certainly thought so. He watched me as I dressed. I didn’t bother covering the window as I stepped into my jeans and lashed my belt buckle over my tucked-in shirt. I didn’t arm myself, though my pistol glittered tantalizingly from its holster fastened to my bedframe, making me pause as I cuffed my sleeves up to my forearms. Nah. Gun wouldn’t make a difference. I was dead either way. I hadn’t eaten hardly anything all day as my stomach churned from the cactus juice thickening my blood. For KITT’s sake, I’d choked down a protein shake mid-day, hating every goddamn second of it. If I was this bad already, what was coming down the pike?

I didn’t want to think about that. I stood, pressing weight through the heel of my bad leg, and snatched my leather jacket from the bed. As I shrugged into it, I wondered if it would be the last time I’d adjust the collar, pull the sleeves down, make sure it lay the way I wanted it to across my chest with the zipper flicked out of the way just so. I wondered that often. But now that Joel had his hooks in me …

I didn’t want to think about that. I paused in the doorway, ignoring the way my pulse hammered my temples, and considered grabbing my cane. Defiantly, I left it behind and walked into the night.

* * *

“Mr. Knight? I do not advise this.” 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” I snapped at KARR as I shouldered my way into the garage. The duotone machine panned his amber scanner at me, all smugness. Bristling, I punched the garage door, drowning the spotless concrete in bright halogen light as KITT’s headlamps poured into the sprawling hangar. Unable to look at him, I limped across the garage floor, realizing too late that there were already lights on and machinery humming, and that meant—

“You can thank me later,” said Rei, who was poring over a binder next to a thrumming oscilloscope. She glanced over her shoulder at me as I shank back, subconsciously reaching for KITT’s part of my mind. He felt … cold. I hoped I would be around to apologize to him after all this.

“For what?” I said.

“Getting rid of Bonnie for a few. This is supposed to be on the down-low, right?” She tugged her blonde ponytail out of her collar. “You must be up to something real stupid, Michael Knight. I’ve half a mind to lock you up so you stop causing us so much trouble. And no,” she said, putting up a hand, “I don’t wanna know. You better get a move on before she comes back, because she’ll ask more questions than you’re willing to answer.”

 “Uh …” I trailed off. She turned to look at me then, and I felt like she saw right through me, through my flushed face and the sweat broke out across my hairline. Her eyes sharpened. She knew something wasn’t right.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna rat you out.” And then, quieter: “I used to sneak around at night looking for him, too.”

“I still don’t advise this,” KARR said. “This is my hide on the line too.”

“We’ll talk,” I snapped at him. Rei watched me cross the distance, my shadow heavy on KARR’s nose in the glare of KITT’s headlights. Before I could mount into his cab, Rei was suddenly up and out of her chair, her hand lashing out to catch me by the jacket.

“You don’t want KITT in his reach. I get that,” she said sternly. Her fingers curled into the loose leather of my sleeve. “But he and I will be standing by. No questions asked. You need us, you say the word. But try not to, would you? I still gotta lot of work to do tonight.”

I risked a glance at KITT, on the verge of breaking. He flashed his scanner, and I shook my head. He wasn’t subtle. Whatever he’d said to Rei, though, it could wait. “Ok,” I said, placing a hand over hers. “Ok. Keep him—” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at KITT “—outta trouble.”

“No promises, Knight. He’s as stubborn as your dumb ass.”

* * *

Malibu.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been here. To meet a girl, probably. That one girl – Rosalie? Rosalind? – who lived down by the beach. A lifetime ago, when I didn’t have to look over my shoulder for fucking terrorists at every turn. Maybe if this deathshade shit took me out, it wouldn’t be so bad after all. I’d have a lot less to worry about. Except for, you know, being dead.

KARR shifted beneath me. I’d never given much thought to the fact that he could experience any sort of emotion other than ‘asshole’ or ‘dickhead,’ but he seemed downright scared. “Knight, I must know,” he said, an edge to his typically even-keeled tone that I’d never heard before. “Are you going to surrender me to RedWall? Because if you are, I will take defensive measures.”

I inhaled deeply, my shoulders pressing into his seatback. He wasn’t comfortable or broken in like KITT. He rode like a new car, which, I supposed, wasn’t too far from the truth. “Not if I can help it,” I wheezed, clearing my throat against the sudden tightness that stiffened the back of my tongue. “You’re a decoy. We both are. I need him to think I’m caving. If he makes a move against you, I order you to run. But you run back to the Foundation, am I clear?”

“Hmm. And you?”

“I’ll either be dead already or dying at the controls. Doesn’t matter either way,” I snapped. “My orders stand.”

“We are nearing the address I uncovered from the auto body shop,” was KARR’s only response. Fine. I dropped it and hoped he would heed me if it came to it.

We were in a nice part of town. And I mean nice. I was surprised it wasn’t gated, but reckoned Joel’s security was so tight, he wouldn’t need it anyway. Hell, he probably already knew we were on the way. I tried not to think about that, lest I lose my nerve. Instead, I thought about the fact that I didn’t have enough money to my name to even look at these houses. Right on the beach, perfectly manicured, perfectly unassuming. I guess I’d expected a warehouse or some abandoned, shot-up place in the middle of nowhere. RedWall wasn’t supposed to blend in. RedWall was an evil, ugly thing, an eyesore on the American landscape. It wasn’t supposed to be pretty, or well-kempt, or normal.

“The fuck,” I breathed when KARR banked to the left.

The house was stunning. A single story, brick siding and white accents, with a beautiful garden hemmed in by a wrought-iron fence. Overhead, palm trees swayed in the ocean breeze. The garage was shut, but I could picture that fucking fox body Mustang parked in front of the garage. KARR idled to the curb. I hesitated, then slotted him into Park.

“No snipers?” I said, squinting past the porch light to glance at the rooftops, only half kidding.

“No. No silent alarms, either. I did, however, break some sort of proximity sensor about five miles back.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me then?”

“Would it have mattered, Knight?”

“No.” I kneed KARR’s door open. “No, it wouldn’t’ve. Hang tight.”

“Shall I watch for a signal?”

“Might not be one,” I grunted, softly shutting the Trans Am’s door. I stood for a moment, wondering if the humidity made the air feel so heavy in my chest, and crossed the sidewalk. I half-expected to be shot, and if that didn’t work, the gate would surely electrocute me. But it was just a gate. I tripped the latch as quietly as I could, for all the good it would do. Insects buzzed, and I heard the ocean slapping the beach on the other side of the house. There were lights on inside, but I couldn’t see anyone. Maybe there was movement in what I assumed was the kitchen, but it could have been a trick of the light. Had I made a mistake not taking a weapon? Fuck me. I really did have a death wish.

The porch step was new concrete, and it wasn’t a step at all. More of a ramp. Made sense. One less obstacle. I only realized my blood was up and my heart was in my throat when I hesitated with a finger hovering over the doorbell, then made a fist and plunked it on the front door three times. Then I stepped back and waited. Maybe I had the wrong house. Maybe he’d kill me here. Maybe—

Joel himself opened the door.

I don’t know why that surprised me, but I stepped hard into my bad leg, trying not to wince. My next surprise was the fact that his hair was wet, and his shirt was half-undone, almost like he’d dressed in a damn hurry to get to the door. “Ah, Knight,” he said, again like we were old friends, again like we didn’t want each other dead. “Well. I should have known to expect you, or else I would have been more presentable. Do come in. We both know you’re a little short on time, no?”

What? I narrowed my eyes at him. Had to be a trap. Had to be something. It struck me then that he looked a lot younger than I’d originally pegged him for. And handsome. Fuck’s sake. What was wrong with me?

I could still run. No. Wait. A dark shape moved in behind me, a strong presence at my back. Bodyguard? No way to go but forward.

Joel stepped aside – no, hopped – and I entered the devil’s den.

Chapter Text

[michael]

Apparently, I didn’t know a goddamn thing about Joel Pierce.

Like how the hell he afforded this place. The Knight estate was nice, sure, but it was getting old and starting to show it. Not this place. It was brand new. I felt like I’d stepped into the June 1985 issue of Architectural Digest. I tried not to gawk. This man wasn’t supposed to hang out in brightly lit, open-floor plan beach houses. He was supposed to lurk in palaces of decaying concrete and rebar. What the hell was this?

“Nick, please,” Joel said dismissively to the mountain of muscle that blocked my exit – his bodyguard. “Give him some breathing room, hmm? He doesn’t have much left on his own.”

I risked a glance behind me. It was the same young man who’d accompanied Joel to the bar when he’d accosted me. Tall, blond, enough muscle on him to be the envy of Schwarzenegger. He hesitated, then shrugged and took a step back. Mentally, I weighed my chances of making a break for it and getting back to KARR. They weren’t good.

“Now, Mr. Knight,” Joel said, drawing my attention back toward him. He was just doing up the final buttons of his shirt, but left a few undone, glancing up at me from beneath his dark eyelashes like he hadn’t noticed I was staring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You know why I’m here,” I said in a low voice.

“Here to disappoint me, I’m sure.” Joel frowned, flicking his cuffs back on themselves and folding them neatly to his elbows before grabbing a cane that was leaned against the wall near the door. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Let’s chat.”

I scanned the beach house interior, half-expecting some RedWall goons to melt out of the walls or for the houseplants to reveal themselves as double agents, but for all I could tell, it was just me, the terrorist, and his bodyguard. Reflexively, I turned my wrist over, searching for KITT’s reassurance but finding only the amber indicator light that told me KARR was tapped in, not KITT. He would’ve told me by now if something weren’t right. Maybe. I really didn’t know how KARR worked. I might be fucked for all I knew.

When I took a step forward and didn’t immediately get shot, I braved another and another until I was standing next to the plush leather couch nestled into the conversation pit in the middle of the main room. There were so many plants. That didn’t make any sense, because men like Joel didn’t sow seeds and nurture them. They sowed death and made sure it took. I was proof of that.

“Please.” Joel said, gesturing toward me as he cleared the steps into the conversation pit without so much as an unsteady sway, aided by the dark wooden cane, which was engraved with an intricate art deco pattern. “Sit.”

I did, against my better judgement. Joel gripped the back of the couch for support as he turned back toward his bodyguard, and the fever must’ve gotten the better of me because when he spoke, I couldn’t put meaning to his words. Sounded like Greek to me. Wait a minute. Maybe that wasn’t that far off. He clearly wasn’t speaking English, and I just stared at him, aware of the tightness of the tired skin beneath my eyes, while he dismissed his assistant and settled himself down on the couch opposite me.

Then he waved toward me, dazzling me with the flash of a gold ring. But before he could insult me and throw me even further off my game, I cut him off with what I hoped was a strong tone. “Let’s skip the bullshit. I’m here to make a deal.”

KARR heated the implant in my arm. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make me notice.

But that was more of a reaction than Joel gave me. He completely ignored what I’d said. With an easy smile, he said, “It’s a lovely night for a swim. Excellent exercise for those of us who have trouble walking. Now.” He smiled, and it looked almost genuine, almost human. “Indulge me. How are you feeling, really?”

Was I losing it, or did he have a fucking accent? The way he said een-dulge caught me off guard, but I brushed it off. “Like hell,” I snapped. “Worst flu of my damn life without the snot.”

“Yes, I’ve heard deathshade is a rather nasty way to go,” he sighed as though lamenting a minor inconvenience. I just stared at him. He was up to something. Oh, shit. Was he onto me? He was onto me. I tried to keep the panic off my face and shifted uncomfortably, trying not to stare at his stump as my hand subconsciously cupped my own calf like I needed to make sure it was still there. He went on. “Would you like some tea, Michael?”

My head shot up, hackles raised. He’d never called me by my first name alone, and I didn’t like it. Mee-kai-ell. “Tea?”

“I’m afraid we haven’t gotten off on the right … foot.” He pointedly glanced down at himself, at the part of him that was no longer whole, and then lifted his searing gaze back to meet mine. “The last few times we’ve met, we’ve been under duress. Shame, really. I think we could have been great friends in another life. Maybe we still could.”

I just stared at him, hot under my leather jacket. My jaw worked as I tried to formulate something to say, but all I could come up with was, “I didn’t come here for tea.”

“Oh, you did. You just don’t know it. I do know that you’re not here to surrender KARR.” Joel leveled a cool, unreadable glare in my direction. “I don’t like it when my time is wasted, Knight. You’re lucky I value the cleanliness of that couch more than I value the desire to spill your blood upon it.”

My fist curled at the threat. I guess I didn’t have control of this situation after all.

“But, I will have other chances. I’m certain of that.” He offered me a pitying smirk, an almost playful tilt of his head. “Look at you, you poor thing. Wondering how the hell I can see right through you. It’s easy – if you were serious, you would have brought KITT along as backup. And a ride home. Is KARR aware he’s being used as a bargaining chip?”

“Is your brother, Pierce?” KARR shot back, tapping my comlink and startling both of us. Joel’s face hardened as I straightened up, clearing my throat and shooting a wary glance as his bodyguard rejoined us, a silver tray balanced on a flattened palm.

Joel lifted an eyebrow at the Trans Am’s outburst, but otherwise blew him off. I didn’t answer him, either, not because I was being coy – I was distracted by the contents of the silver tray and completely forgot what I was going to say. There was a steaming kettle in the center, flanked by two empty mugs, a small sugar dish, and a syringe. It was cradled in the center of a white linen napkin, rattling slightly as the tray was placed on the glass coffee table. The bodyguard excused himself, and I sat stock-still, my pulse thready and desperate in my throat.

“My father was a horticulturist. I was practically raised in his gardens in Loire Valley. He taught me everything I know, although it did take quite some time for me to track down and perfect the deathshade dosage so it wouldn’t kill you outright.” He leaned forward, reaching toward that platter, that syringe. “If I may be honest, I wasn’t prepared to have this discussion so soon. But you caught me in a good mood. I’m willing to negotiate. Perhaps even buy you some time before your organs shut down completely.”  

Gently, delicately, he plucked the syringe from the tray.

I didn’t think. I just jumped.

Before I could get hands on him, that dark wood cane slashed through the air and struck me across the cheek. It was enough to stun me as I staggered to the side, unsteady on my wounded leg, and I crashed into plush, spotless carpet in the living room, raising my fists to defend myself from the inbound needle that was sure to follow, but instead the tip of that cane came down on my sternum and pressed down hard. I breathed out with force and lay back against the carpet, weakly grabbing at the cane pinning me to the floor like a butterfly in a case.

“Again, Knight,” Joel said, almost bored, leaning into the weight on my chest, “you forget your place. May I finish?”

“Get off me,” I wheezed.

“I’m trying to be civil, for once. Don’t make me reconsider.”

I snarled at him. Wondered if KITT was losing his shit right about now, or if KARR gave a single shit. Probably not.

“I want KARR. You want this.” He shook the syringe. “The antidote, Knight. Right here.”

“You’re fucking with me,” I wheezed.

“He’s not,” KARR interjected.

Joel raised both eyebrows. “Should listen to him, Knight. There’s enough here to keep you going for a few more days. Not enough to save you, but to buy you some time. To think. Or, if you’re so inclined, to act.”

I waited. The room spun. I wanted to get up but wasn’t positive I wouldn’t fall over.

“The rest of the antidote, the dosage that will stop your death clock, is at one of my facilities. I’m not going to tell you which one, but if you agree, I’ll give you a list of possible locations.”

“What’s the catch?”

“You must bring KARR to each one. I’d suggest leaving KITT behind.” He grinned without humor, but it didn’t reach his cold, silver eyes. “Forgive me, but I have a hard time trusting that Trans Am for some reason.”

I sneered. “But you trust KARR?”

“More than I trust that blasted machine,” he snapped. I winced against the weight of his cane as he put more force into it. “Those are my conditions.”

“How do I know you’re not just gonna flood me with more poison and take KARR when I drop dead?” I snarled.

“You don’t.” Joel shrugged. Then, to my surprise, he snatched his cane back and planted it on the carpet, kneeling with considerable effort, though he pretended he wasn’t taxed by the motion. I shrank back, reaching for KITT, finding nothing but KARR’s cold, calculating presence. Wait. No. A flicker of familiarity, a slight brush against the back of my mind. A warning, or a plea? KITT, tell me what to do.

Of course, he couldn’t. Joel brandished the syringe, waiting.

“I guess that’s a chance I gotta take then, huh?” I wheezed.

Joel nodded, once. I blinked and must have kept my eyes shut, because he was the same man as I’d seen back at the warehouse, clad in a pair of black coveralls that matched the night as he leaned over KITT, my KITT, tearing him apart, wire by wire. This time, I was the frog on his dissection table, bound not by cables and machinery, but by a failing, tired body.

I was already sick of fighting. And it was only gonna get worse from here.

“To your health, Knight,” Joel said. Just like yesterday, he found my throat, pushing my hair and my collar aside with almost-tenderness.

I sucked in a breath and held it. Whatever happens, KITT, I thought as I zeroed in on the sting of the needle. Don’t stay mad.

Chapter Text

[kitt]

I was, to put it mildly, positively irate.

“You cannot be serious,” I snapped at Michael, who had perched on my hood. It was morning, and we had ventured to the circular driveway in front of the mansion at my insistence that Michael get some sunshine. KARR had delivered my driver back to my care last night before departing for his agreed-upon guard duty. As happy as I was to have Michael back, I was extremely dismayed to find that he was barely conscious. He was uninjured, which was a mild relief, but was wracked with sheer exhaustion. I had graciously given him a few hours of sleep to recover before grilling him about the encounter with the RedWall head, and now that I had the facts, all bets were off. I was livid.

“You made a DEAL with Pierce?” I said. “May I remind you. This man has shot you, stabbed you, kidnapped you twice, poisoned you - and that’s to say NOTHING of what he’s done to me!”  

“Or what you’ve done to him,” Michael said coolly.

I was too shocked and upset to offer a retort to that. Not right away. I just sat back on my wheels, scanner light pinging back and forth within its housing as I took stock of the situation. Eventually, I schooled my processor into some semblance of order, saying, “Michael, there must be another way. We are Knight Industries! We have countless resources. I can have Devon contact one of our botanists. A team of medical professionals with expertise in exotic poisons. We’ve dealt with these sort of issues before—”

“You think we got enough time for that?”

I didn’t, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I said, “Then what do you suggest?”

Michael lifted his shoulder. If I hadn't known better, I would have said I observed that his leather jacket was a looser fit than it had been even a day ago. I ran a quick scan on him, paying particular attention to the press of his weight against my fender, and noted with concern that he had already dropped three pounds . My scanner picked up speed as I ran an analysis. Was he suffering from suboptimal nutrition already, or had his physical condition started to deteriorate as the poison ripped him apart at the cellular level, causing his muscles to atrophy and his organs to shut down?

As though sensing I was scanning him, Michael stilled until I was through. He placed a hand over the part of his arm that housed the implant. Then he said, “I think we gotta do what he says.”

“Oh, because that always works out well for us, doesn’t it?” I snapped.

“KITT,” Michael said, and I had the sense that he was about to deliver me some very bad news, if the sudden feeling of dread I detected from his person was any indication. “I feel better, and that means this antidote business works. We have to try. I don’t have a better idea.”

“Unbelievable,” I quipped, startling my driver as I released my door latch. He shot me a quizzical look, but I spurred him on. “I must take a blood sample. Perhaps I can isolate the compound myself.”

“Sick of getting poked,” Michael muttered, but mounted into the cockpit anyway, albeit with a grunt of pain. I let him get comfortable at the controls, daring to take a bit of comfort in the feeling of his hand settling on my steering yoke as he arranged himself. I then deployed my chemical analyzer. He knew the drill. I collected a small droplet of blood from the pad of his thumb and immediately began to sift through it for something useful.

Michael, looking rather childlike with his hurt thumb stuck in his mouth, suddenly froze. “Damn. What’s he want?” he muttered, and I turned my scanners outward to find that he and I were no longer alone. KARR approached us at a leisurely pace, cruising along the estate’s brick driveway as he extended a greeting to me. I only gave him a cold slash of the scanner in return.

“Hello, brother,” KARR said. “Mr. Miles wants to see Knight.”

“And he sent you to collect him?” I replied.

“Not yet. But from what I overheard, he may want to head up to the office sooner rather than later. Mr. Miles seems quite agitated.”

Michael grunted as he rolled out of my cab. I almost wanted to lock the door on him. As long as he stayed put within my care, no more harm would come to him. Against my better judgement, however, I let him go, stiffening my suspension as my driver placed a hand on my A-pillar to steady himself, gently pushing my door shut with the other hand. “Great,” he said. “Great. Which of my fuckups did that old Brit find out about?”

“We’re not done discussing this,” I told Michael sharply as he ambled toward the mansion’s front door, his shoulders sagging as he walked.

* * *

Turns out, this was not Michael’s fault. It was mine.

I tapped into the computer terminal in the corner of the office, mildly annoyed that KARR had taken up post alongside me, both in the physical realm and the digital. I considered booting him out of the system, but I just didn’t have the energy to argue with him (or maybe Michael didn’t) and settled for seething at him across the driveway.

“Michael,” Devon greeted as Michael sank into the chair across from him. Bonnie sat near the computer, looking rather distressed. Rei hovered near the window. “Do you know what this is?” In his hand was a torn envelope and the creased letter it had contained.

“Dang, Dev, you reading my mail now?” Michael tried valiantly to find humor in the situation. Devon was unmoved. “Listen, if that’s about the toll from a few weeks ago—”

“This is not a toll. It’s an invoice.” Devon tossed the letter, which spun across the desk. Michael placed a hand on it, slowly sliding it across the oak surface toward himself, plucking it up by an edge as something like adrenaline spiked his bloodstream. In his silence, Devon went on. “Were you intending to tell me you and KITT caused damage to a civilian vehicle?”

I flinched. Michael did, too.

“Devon, this is on me,” I supplied, which wasn’t a lie. The FLAG director glanced toward the computer terminal I was speaking from. “I have it under control. There were no injuries.”

“Yes. That’s all well and good,” Devon said, folding his hands on the desktop, “but I’m more concerned with this vehicle’s owner.”

“Shit,” Michael said, reading the letter.

“A 1984 Ford Mustang matching this vehicle’s description was seen fleeing the scene of the RedWall warehouse collapse, which Miss Harlowe confirmed,” Devon said as Michael squirmed under his glare. “Moreover, the fact that the Foundation is being billed for the repair of adaptive driving controls clearly indicates who this vehicle is modified to accommodate.”

“KITT, you hit Joel’s car?” Michael was incredulous. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“I … suppose I left that part out, didn’t I?”

“No shit!”

“Yes, well, I was a little preoccupied!”

“Preoccupied with what ?” Devon quipped. “I will give you one chance to explain to me exactly what happened!”

“Devon, I—”

“We weren’t looking for him—”

“It was complete happenstance—”

“—he was looking for me !”

“The intersection—”

“There’s something very wrong with Knight,” KARR cut in, shutting both of us up. “Or did none of you realize?”

The office fell silent.

Michael stuffed his face in his hands.

“Oh, dear, have I overstepped?” KARR, oozing sarcasm, threw his voice directly to me rather than patching into the computer. “You weren’t going to tell them?”

“We have it under control,” I fired back.

“Clearly, you do not. And seeing as my hide is on the line, I would feel better with the Foundation’s support behind us instead of operating solo.”

“What do you mean YOUR hide is on the line?”

KARR ignored me. He patched back into the computer in the office. “He’s very ill. Would you like to tell them, or shall I?”

“It’s nothing,” Michael said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, God. What did Joel do to you?” Rei groaned, pressing a hand against her temple.

“Nothing! Just – he made me a little sick, that’s all.”

“I swear to God, if you say it was one of his plants!”

“It was one of his plants,” KARR said.

“ENOUGH!” Devon smacked a hand on the desk, startling everyone in the room into silence once again. “Michael. What. Happened. ”

“He poisoned me,” Michael said, sounding very small, worrying the scab forming on the pad of his thumb. I shifted uncomfortably as though I felt the pain in my own wheel. “Something called deathshade. I dunno. There’s a cure, or so he says. Even said he’d give it to me.”

“On what condition?” Devon snarled. “Mr. Pierce does not do anything if there’s no benefit to him.”

“I just have to get into some of his facilities,” Michael said, like it was no big deal. “He said it was at one of them. Listen, Devon, that’s all he told me, but I know it’s legitimate, because last night I—”

> ALERT! INCOMING CALL [!]

KARR snapped to attention, just like I did, because neither of us could pinpoint the source of the call pouring into Devon’s private office line. And that only meant one thing.

Slowly, Devon moved to pick up the phone. He activated the speaker function, allowing us all to hear it. “This is Miles.”

“Oh, how wonderful to finally chat! I’ve been quite enjoying my freedom, thanks to you. I owe you a glass of fine wine,” said the voice on the other end, one that made my circuitry run cold. Joel . Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. “I assume by now you’ve received the invoice, no? Terrible damage. I’m quite fond of that Mustang. It’s not going to be cheap, but then again, KITT’s not one to let his enemies off lightly, is he? What’s a couple thousand dollars to a Foundation as wealthy as yours?”

“Mr. Pierce,” Devon said coldly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, on the chance that he failed to inform you, I’ve struck a deal with your operative,” Joel said. I did not have to imagine his features pulled into a wry grin; I could hear it just fine. “I assumed that I was far more likely to get a fast response if I got in touch with you directly. Please tell Knight that I have his first assignment. We begin tonight.” 

Chapter Text

[michael]

I felt marginally better. Still not good enough, probably, to be running a mission, but what choice did I have?

My marching orders came through like any other FLAG effort. Except, it didn’t come from Devon’s desk, or KITT’s commlink; it came from a mysterious source (read: Joel’s desk) via a heavily encrypted transmission. One that currently populated KARR’s center stack monitor. Oh, yeah. That was driving me insane, too. I wanted nothing more than KITT’s embrace, KITT’s comforting tones, KITT’s familiar controls worn in exactly to my touch. Instead, I had KARR’s cold voice, too-smooth steering wheel, and the uncanny whine of off-pitch turbines.

“Fuck,” I said, letting the back of my skull hit the headrest.

KARR hummed. He, too, scanned the dossier. It was simple. It showed an address and a set of instructions telling me to gain access to the building and crack a safe in the main office. That was it. I had no idea what was in for, but I had a lockpick and a loaded gun.

KARR’s screen changed. Showed a map with a bright red blinking dot right at an intersection. “Vero Prestige Imports. Luxury car broker,” he said.

I straightened up. “Figured it’d be a bank or warehouse,” I muttered. “What the hell does Joel want with luxury cars?”

“It’s likely a front. Easy to move high-value assets without drawing attention,” KARR said simply. “No one questions rich idiots with expensive cars.”

I wasn’t rich, but I was definitely an idiot with an expensive car. “Does Joel own it?”

“Negative. Not anymore. I see a known alias as recently as sixth months ago, then an abrupt change. No sale record.”

“Hostile takeover,” I murmured. “Lines up with his incarceration. He wasn’t here to defend it. See if you can’t get a read on the building. Traffic data, cameras, whatever. I need to know if it’s empty.”

“As you wish, Mr. Knight,” KARR said. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath ‘til I sighed at his condescending tone, shifting uncomfortably in the seat.

* * *

It was the kinda dealership I didn’t feel rich enough to even look at. Tucked into a particularly nice part of Malibu, all spotless glass panels and marble flooring. A single light was on in the showroom, glinting off the sharp bodylines of a white Ferrari Testarossa. Beneath me, KARR hummed, his hard drives clicking away somewhere behind his dash. His monitor flickered, finally settled on a grainy image of the dealership’s interior.

After a moment, he said, “Hmm. I’ve encountered a problem.”

“What is it?”

“The footage is looped. The timestamps don’t match up.”

“Well. That’s not suspicious at all.” I tried and failed to add some lightheartedness to my tone.

“I do not detect movement. Or the presence of humans.” The way KARR said that rubbed me the wrong way. Like he was sniffing for roaches. He geared down, circling around to the back of the dealership, coasting through a curiously empty holding lot. “Shall we begin before either one of us thinks better of this fool’s errand?”

I exhaled. Weak adrenaline introduced itself to my bloodstream. “Is he watching us?”

“Do you mean Pierce,” KARR said coolly, “or KITT? Because the answer is yes.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Stay tapped in. I’ll signal if I need backup.”

“Of course, Mr. Knight.”

I leaned on the door and unfolded myself from the seat. My knees creaked like a bad suspension. KARR’s scanner cast amber glow across my back as I adjusted my jacket to better cover the pistol holstered in my waistband, and then I strode across the parking lot at as fast a pace as my injured leg would allow, heading straight for the building’s back entrance that was labeled with an ominous EMPLOYEES ONLY.

The door was unlocked.

The sound of the latch letting go was a gunshot in the silence. I threw the door open and flattened myself against the opposite wall, half-expecting a hail of real gunfire to spill through the threshold, but I was only met with the cool rush of AC.

“Clear,” KARR said.

Carefully, I slipped inside. The place smelled sterile, with faint undertones of motor oil and leather cleaner. My commlink blipped twice, showing KARR’s yellow light. “Locked office at the end of the hallway to your left, past the service drive. Keypad on the wall.”

KARR was, admittedly, freakishly good at this. I slipped around the corner, quiet as a ghost, my boots damn near silent on the spotless white tile until I came toe-to-toe with a heavy glass door that sealed the office off from the rest of the dealership. There was a mount for a nameplate, but it was blank. To my left, the keypad buzzed and hummed and beeped as KARR chewed through it; in a few seconds, he had it cracked.

“That was far too easy,” the Trans Am drawled. “I would suggest you proceed with the utmost caution.”

“Are we being set up?” I asked, though I didn’t want to know.

“A question I myself would like to know the answer to,” KARR said, unhelpfully.

I eased into the office, quietly shutting the door behind me, though it crossed my mind that I’d just trapped myself in here. The massive marble desk in the center of the room was crowded – open boxes, papers scattered, files spilling onto the floor. All the trappings of someone who’d tried to get the hell out of Dodge in a hurry. I carefully navigated the paperwork minefield and scanned the desktop. There was a monitor and a keyboard, but someone had made off with the tower. And on the floor in front of the haphazardly placed office chair: a nameplate.

I knelt to pick it up. “’JP Vero,’” I read, speaking into my commlink.

“One of Pierce’s known aliases.”

“Wonderful.” I set it back down, then stood again, scanning the office space. Safe. I was looking for a safe. I expected some concealed number hidden behind a painting, but just as I was considering the efficacy of knocking the floor-to-ceiling mural of a Ferrari on a winding cliffside road off the wall, I saw my target tucked up against the far wall. Sparing a glance around, I approached it.

“Knight,” KARR barked. “I’ve detected motion in the shop. Picking up fast.”

“Shit,” I hissed, practically throwing myself at the tall, gunmetal safe. What would I find inside? The antidote? It struck me, then, that I had no idea what I was looking for. Half of me expected to bust it open and find the damn cactus that had done this to me as some kind of cruel joke. My pistol appeared in my hand. If nothing else, I could blow the damn lock to smithereens with a well-placed nine-mil, but figured I didn’t want to draw attention to myself like that.

I shook my head, made my vision swim and my stomach turn, and tried to refocus, hissing into my commlink. “Shit. Ok. KARR, talk to me. What am I dealing with here—”

The office door banged open.  

I whipped around, leading with the pistol. Almost lost my balance. There was shouting. I didn’t understand any of it. Fuck, was I that bad already? When some of the words finally landed, I recognized their sounds, not their meaning, because, well, they were speaking fucking Italian.

Half a dozen automatic weapons tracked me. But none of them fired. Picture your typical mob-movie cannon fodder. That was these guys. I raised my hands, but didn’t drop the gun, backtracking, my ass thumping the cool metal of the safe behind me. “Hey,” I shouted, backing to the wall as they closed on me. “Hey, we don’t gotta do this—”

“Knight, I suggest you move,” KARR said simply.

I made a break for it.

Seconds later, just as the first guy pulled the trigger, KARR busted into the dealership. I heard glass shatter somewhere behind. The showroom, I registered, flattening myself against the far wall in the instant KARR threw himself through the wall of the office, tearing down the picture of that Ferrari as he went. As one, the small army opened fire on the Trans Am, who responded with a snarl and the squeal of tires against tile as he closed the distance.

I didn’t wait to see how that turned out. I was outgunned and I knew it – although maybe not with KARR right there. I sighted a gap in the gunfire and bolted for the fresh hole in the wall, escaping into the relative openness of the decimated showroom. The Testarossa was untouched. I dove behind it, back against the cool, lifeless metal, breathing hard and coughing even harder. I held my pistol to my chest, wondering where the fuck I went wrong, and how the hell I was gonna crack that safe in the middle of an active warzone contained entirely inside of an office that once belonged to Joel Pierce, when I heard another engine.

A new car entered the showroom, its tires crunching over the busted glass. It was a pickup. A dented, throaty pickup with a faded GMC badge in the center of the grille. It rolled to a halt and cut its engine just as KARR backed through the hole he’d punched in the office wall, throwing his voice to me.

“We have backup,” was all he said.

I turned to ask him what the hell he meant when the passenger’s side door of the pickup opened. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I really shouldn’t. But I still nearly keeled over when Joel himself stepped into the ruins of his dealership.

In one hand he held a cane. He was otherwise unarmed. He wore a suit with no tie, his hair perfectly combed and parted, shirt unbuttoned at the throat. And he looked bored. Nodded at me once as his bodyguard Nick unfolded from the driver’s seat, his own automatic weapon in hand. Just as my attackers followed KARR into the showroom, he let loose a barrage of gunfire, poking holes in the plaster just above their heads.

“Gentlemen,” Joel said, striding across the glass-studded showroom floor like it was a damn red carpet. “This dealership has seen better days.” He paused, admiring the Testarossa. “Saved the best for me, I see.” And, to me: “Punctual. I admire that in a man on borrowed time.”

“What?” I snapped.

Joel ignored me. I noticed then that he wore an actual pair of pants, both hems reaching the floor. There was a slight metallic whine every time his right “foot” hit the ground. A prosthetic? I filed that away. He barked in Italian, obviously pissed off, glared when one of my attackers fired back, and then he drew a revolver from beneath his jacket and shot the poor bastard between the eyes.

Instinctively, I ducked. (That was the same revolver that had shot me once, but I shoved that lovely little memory down.) Joel, calm as ever, leveled the revolver at the next guy before the dead guy had even hit the ground, voice low. I realized then that there were a few more cars in the holding lot than there had been when I’d broken in. He had help. I did not. Distantly, I wondered if KITT were out there, too, blending in with Joel’s little army.

“Take them,” Joel said to Nick, calm and sharp, finally holstering his pistol. He wrinkled his nose at the destruction in the showroom, then turned back to me. “Well done. You as well, KARR.”

KARR flicked his scanner, its tone a threat.

Slowly, I stood. Joel had disappeared. I made eye contact with his bodyguard, who jerked his chin toward the office, holding the rest of my attackers at gunpoint. Against my better judgement, I walked back through the hole in the wall, wincing as I stepped on a busted piece of plaster that made my ankle twitch unpleasantly.

I funneled my pain into anger. “You knew this wasn’t empty.”

Joel gave me a little shrug. “I had a suspicion. But I also had faith in you, chéri.”

I was incredulous. “Who are those guys?”

“Sworn enemies,” he replied. “We go back … a while. I do appreciate your assistance in the matter.”

“You used us,” KARR said flatly.

I sucked in a breath, the realization dawning. “You needed us to flush them out, didn’t you?”

Joel stood in front of the safe. Unlocked it with ease. “You’re a smart man, Knight,” he said, and then something appeared in his hand – either from the safe, or his jacket pocket; I couldn’t focus long enough to tell – that he tossed at me. I snatched it from midair, fumbled it, and saved it before it smashed into the ground. Stared at it. A syringe.

“That should buy you three days. Maybe five if you quit running around like a madman,” Joel said. “Ask KITT where the optimal injection site is when you return to him.”

Behind me, I heard shouts as more people entered the trashed dealership. RedWall. I felt trapped. KARR reacted, too, his scanner pinging nervously back and forth.

“Three days?” I wheezed, head spinning. “We – we had a deal. The deal was not three days.”

“Wasn’t it?” Joel drawled, reaching into his coat. He came out with an envelope. “I meant what I said. The antidote is at one of my facilities. But I cannot reach it. I have a limited supply, Knight. Consider this as an early payment. A favor, if you will.”

I glared at him. “What happens when I run out of favors?”

“You won’t. You’ll run out of time first.” He handed me the envelope. “Your next assignment. Again, I do appreciate your assistance here. It will be rebuilt and back up and running within the week, now that it’s back in my hands. Do take care of yourself; I wish to see you well the next time we meet.”

The envelope weighed two tons. I clutched it in a fist, cradled the antidote as gently as can be in the other. Had to get to KITT. KITT could analyze and synthesize it. No, KARR. KARR could, too. Sooner, maybe. No, I wanted KITT.

“Tick-tock, Knight,” Joel called over his shoulder, vanishing into the shadows of what used to be his office. And I backed toward KARR, placing a hand atop his roof for stability as I opened his door and sank into the seat, shutting it carefully behind me like it was rigged to blow.

KARR did blow, sort of. “We were played,” he seethed.

My head hit the headrest. “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”