Capture The FLAG
Prologue
He was starting to get the impression that this was a very bad idea.
"KITT, where are you?" he shouted into the Comm. Link. There was no response, as he had expected. His best partner; No, his greatest friend. His greatest friend would not come crashing through the walls to save him this time. No, he wasn't going to help him at all. The entire situation around him was quickly getting dangerously out of hand, and Michael was all on his own.
"KITT. Please, answer me!" he yelled again at his watch, backing quickly towards the door and away from the three guns pointed at him. There were no shooters, however- only a trio of laser-guided rifles pointed at his head and heart. He shoved the heavy metal door open and jumped as he heard them fire. Falling neatly into a pile on the muddy ground, Michael could clearly see the targeting system inside return to seeking him out, locked into sweeping motions on the floor of the enormous mobile home. Now sopping wet and coated in a thick layer of mud, Knight stood and began to scrape the viscous goo off his favorite leather jacket.
"Get him!" he heard KITT's voice ring out through the woods around the clearing as Bonnie and Devon emerged on either side of him through the trees. Both readied their pistols. Michael took off running, a small part of him wondering how he had gotten into such a mess. He darted out of the clearing and into a thicket of trees. "Don't let him get away," KITT sounded a bit less calm now, and yet, MIchael continued running, losing his voice in the trees. He stumbled over moss-covered tree roots every few feet. If there was one thing KITT could be, it was competitive, and that was something that Knight suddenly regretted teaching him. Right now, he was being chased, hunted down in the same way that the criminals he snuffed out had been. And once again his partner was on the winning side. The thought that his team was after him both scared and amazed him. Then, he heard the first shot ring out.
No, this was definitely not a good idea.
Bonnie slipped quite easily through the increasingly saturated forest, recalibrating her gun and keeping tabs on her boss as she went. She stopped, raising her gun as michael entered her sights, and fired for the second time. It struck the trees behind him as he ran past, and she growled. She wasn't good with guns, no, that normally fell to either Michael or Devon. Turning, the technician sprinted for the sleek black smart-car sitting atop the hill next to Devon's RV. She slowed, opening the door of the T-top before quickly shutting herself inside.
"We need to get to the next clearing. Now."
This was quickly becoming one of the worst ideas ever.
Devon reloaded, then fired once again at Michael's jumping form. The older man had caught up to him. Years of training with the RAF showed as each shot was quickly becoming harder and harder for Michael to dodge. He swung behind shriveled trees and through the underbrush as the pair circled each other in a small area of thinning greenery.
He stopped running and reloaded again frantically as the rain began to fall. Thunder and lightning began to roll across the darkening skies, but still, the englishman pushed forward, continuously attempting to make his mark. He reached into his suit pocket for another round, only to find that he had just used his last one. Gritting his teeth, Devon shoved the gun into the pocket and looked up to Michael, who was already making his escape. Devon made a mad dash for the Knight, already at a sprint to catch up.
There was no way that this could be a worse idea.
Michael's feet pounded relentlessly against the cold, quickly softening ground as he ran, leaving Devon not too far behind him. His breath was ragged, sending misty clouds of warm air in front of his face. Michael grudgingly slowed to a stop for a moment to catch his breath, and to straighten the cuff of his leather jacket- torn at the seam in the fray with his boss. He paused for a moment, running his hand along the torn area. It was repairable, he knew that much at least. Knight chuckled lightly, briefly at himself- running from people who were once on his side, fretting over a tear in his favorite coat? He tensed the very second that he heard the twigs behind him snap.
He spun on his heels, eyeing the underbrush in front of him menacingly. Shoulders squared, forehead dripping with a mix of sweat and rain, he visually scanned every inch of the greenery before him. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his whole body ached from the constant running of the last three days. But he needed to get out, needed to get away.
This was the worst idea ever.
To the left of him, another series of cracking sounds. Michael's hand strayed to the holstered gun currently dangling on his hip- empty, although Devon might not realize it. He drew the pistol quietly just as the older man burst from the bushes behind him. He aimed the empty shell desperately at his boss.
"Hold it right there." he growled, stunning Devon into aiming his own empty weapon at Michael. The two of them stood for a moment, eyeing each other, daring each other to make a move. Devon, being the more level-headed of the pair, spoke first.
"Michael," Devon spoke sternly, a genuinely hurt look in his eye, "It doesn't have to be this way-"
"Don't you tell me how it's gonna be," Michael snarled in return, effectively quieting the gentleman, "I'll tell you."
"Is that a threat..?" the older man quipped. Calmly, Devon readied the gun, "...Because I don't think you're in a place to make such a proclamation." This angered the younger man to the very core, and he, too, readied his pistol.
"No, old man," Michael snarled, tightening his grip on the weapon, forcing Devon back toward a thick clump of trees.
"That's a promise."
Two shots rang out, and both weapons fell from their owners' hands.
Author's Note: Hey, there! My name's Timely and I'm new to the fandom, so... please, don't kill me. This chapter is most likely not what you were expecting, and that's exactly the point. Don't worry, The beginning comes later... or something like that.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own KNIGHT RIDER, the characters, or any of it's associated spinoffs. I'm only borrowing them (except for KARR. You aren't getting him back).