AN: Knight Rider and all related characters belong to Glen Larson and Universal. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
AN2: This is set in one of my favorite scenes from the KR08 movie.
Handoff
By The Lady Razorsharp
KITT had been monitoring the rogues' progress ever since they arrived on the property. Luckily, the silent alarm Dr. Graiman had installed under one of the tiles in the entryway had been armed since dusk, and the scoundrels had tromped all over it in their haste to catch their prey.
He hated being so helpless. Hood off, right rear wheel across the garage, turbine laid out on a table--not only was his state of undress a little embarrassing, it was quite inconvenient. Of course, having the hood off meant that Graiman wouldn't knock his head against the underside every time he tried to hook up the data cables, and KITT gladly bore a little indignity for such a cause. The downside to being in several pieces was that he was unable to move.
KITT had picked up a few human oaths over the years, and as the armed rogues continued to advance, he had the sudden urge to use a few of the stronger ones, for all the good it would do. Graiman was away into the woods, his secrets safe within the AI that hovered hot and close beside KITT's. Inside the house, Graiman's doppel sank to the floor, the victim of a heart attack resulting from his rough treatment at the hands of the intruders.
KITT vowed silently that the man's death would not be in vain.
Behind KITT, the Shelby Mustang waited, its bulk faintly menacing in the gloom under the ghostly shroud of the old FLAG parachute. The AI hidden deep within the car had come to wakefulness with the sounding of the alarm, and now KITT could feel it stirring like a huge, night-black cat crouched with its tail lashing in agitation.
You have the codes? sent KITT, his thoughts as fast as summer lightning between their linked minds.
Affirmative, said the other. Instructions received and understood.
KITT smiled to himself; had he ever been that stiff as a youngling? Nuance and inflection would come with time...if they were indeed allowed enough time for that to happen.
Find Sarah first, KITT sent, along with a mental burst of information about Graiman's daughter. It would make it easier for the young one to care about Sarah if it knew what she was like at five years old with pink tennis shoes on the seat, ten years old with braces and pigtails, twelve years old and crying to him about her parents' divorce.
Understood. Locate Traceur, Michael after securing safety of Graiman, Sarah.
Traceur. Michael Traceur.
Michael's son. The son of Michael and Jennifer Knight. Wilton's grandson. Garthe's nephew.
Take care of them for me, said KITT.
A flash of a smile transmitted across the link, white fangs against the darkness. Understood. Voices outside were coming closer, as were sneaker-shod footsteps. A flashlight beam played through the window of the garage, and a door creaked softly. "Holy cow," murmured a young male. "What is this, Vin Diesel's garage?"
"Graiman's bound to be in here," snarled another. "Find him."
KITT sat mute as the fingers of light prodded his naked engine. Overhead, the vanity plate flashed a defiant blue and gold from where it hung in its place of honor. Light brushed the 'Knight Two Thousand' badge on the gullwing steering wheel, and lit the blank displays on the dash in an imitation of life.
That's right, he thought, as the rogues turned their lights on his shiny surfaces. Just a broken down old car, nothing to see here...
"What's under there?" One of them prodded the draped figure with a booted toe.
"Let's find out."
There was a swish of silk as the parachute fell away from the Shelby, and one of the rogues gave a low whistle. "Now that's my kind of ride."
Go! KITT screamed silently.
Instantly, the scanner bar on the Shelby flared to life in twin streaks of red on the massive, squared-off prow. At almost the same moment, the engine kicked over, filling the small garage with a loud, highly-tuned roar.
"What the--"
All was chaos as the Shelby slammed into reverse and broke through the door, scattering the young men in all directions. With a flourish particular to the cars of its series, the Shelby threw itself into a spectacular 180-degree turn and sped away.
Pride welling in his circuits, KITT monitored the progress of the Knight Industries Three Thousand as it led the rogues on a merry chase through the wooded countryside. He watched for a few more moments, and then got to work. The Three Thousand would need every bit of information relayed to it as fast as KITT could spit it out, if Mike and Sarah were to be recovered safely.
-END-