I do good dialogue and lousy descriptions so bear with me please. And I desperately need beta readers who know the original classic Knight Rider show. Please review. And yes, chapters will be added fairly fast and regularly. Have lots of ideas but need to get them organized. Usually write marvel superhero x-men but current obsession is KR 1980's and Kitt. Light and fluffy for now. More serious fics later. I do NOT own Knight Rider, Glen A Larson created and managed the series. I do not own David Hasslehoff aka Michael Knight (though I wish I did) nor KITT nor Devon or anyone else from the show. Strictly for fun as a fandom fic.
A Knight's dragon.
A fic based on Kitt's FLAG official report on a mission when everything goes wrong for Michael Knight.
Kitt sat in the hospital parking lot, compiling his mission log for Devon. 'It had begun so beautiful', he thought.
*5: 35 am Surveillance Mode, FLAG guest cottage, California Gold Sands *
Kitt watched the sun start its ascent over the beach, naught on surveillance scanners except a few seagulls. No humans nearby, no one trying to kill his partner or him. No other cars were allowed on the private property, no movement except sand scattering in the gentle breeze. The sun rose higher, its light shining through the house windows without disturbing the occupant within. The pounding of the surf was calming as the AI continued his vigilance.
* 9:45 am FLAG call for mission briefing*
The microwave transmission line flashed to life, indicating a call inbound. Coding identified FLAG Headquarters, Devon's Miles, CEO Knight Industries, private office line number.
Beeping the comm unit twice, he announced, "Michael, Devon is calling." No response at the other end. He tried again with no response. Scans indicated a prone human figure on the floor of the living room, breathing but asleep. The watch unit was sitting on the bedroom nightstand. 'Time for the old fashioned way.' Air sucked in the side vent, funneled through a narrow tube then blasted out the external speakers. "MICHAEL WAKE UP!" The figure inside jerked then moved, as Kitt stalled.
"Good morning Devon. Michael is indisposed at the moment. How may I assist?" His tone was neutral.
"New mission briefing. How long will Michael be?"He waited then guessed after the lack of an answer. "Another long night?"
"A party up the road. And it's a good thing I can auto drive, that is all I will say on the matter." His front sensor tracked back and forth rapidly, displaying exasperation.
"I see." He smiled. "I'll instruct Bonnie to send mission details, maps, witness contacts, and related. No urgency on the matter. Call me when ready, Devon out. "
*10:04 am Consultation with Michael regarding status and daytime itinerary*
Michael Knight staggered out the kitchen door, his bare feet almost noiseless on the wood deck. He moved slowly, shielding his eyes from the light until he reached the edge rail, balancing against it.
"Kitt?"
"Right here on the sand. From your vitals, I would suggest you neither move quickly or unexpectedly. Elevated body temperature, headache, nausea, and sensitivity to light and noise are symptoms I surmise you are now experiencing. "
"In other words," he yawned then made a grimace at the taste in his mouth, "I'm hung-over. "
"Really Michael. Was last night necessary?"
"I think so. Tell you more when I remember it." He stumbled down the steps, nearly falling. Kitt immediately rolled forward while opening the passenger side door. His driver swayed, and then balanced on the edge of the open door, eyes closed. Sensors noted the shirt was buttoned wrong, at least three separate lipstick patterns were on or near the collar and two different names and phone numbers were written on the jean pants pockets. "Did I miss anything?"
"Besides a shower?" Kitt quipped.
"Smart-alecky car." Michael said, dropping onto the seat. Sighing, he leaned back. "Don't go anywhere for awhile ok?"
"Not planning too. But you need personal care."
"Open the sunroof in a car wash?"
Kitt gathered information to respond on dangerous chemicals in the cleaning fluids and his dislike of the brushes on the external armor shell when he realized it was an attempt at humor. Experience taught silence was the best response until further humor or a command was given.
Twenty minutes later, the silence was broken by a groan and "I need coffee." Sitting up by bracing on the sides on the steering yoke then reaching for the door, he pulled himself up and out. Kitt auto closed the door, took an air reading and rolled down both windows. He watched to make sure the human reached the house safely then resumed watching the ocean.
*11:32 FLAG second call for mission briefing. *
The driver seat was now properly occupied. Bleary eyed but awake, he focused on the monitor image trying to ignore the cheerful smirk of his boss. The man behind the desk wore his white Aramani suit naturally, carrying the authority of his position quietly, his eyes sparkling with intelligence and a wicked sharp sense of humor. Every file was neat and orderly as the facts and figures contained in his mind.
"Devon it's too early."
"Nonsense. It's nearly afternoon in fact. I've been up since 5 am. Had a bracing run around the complex and a leisure breakfast. Clean living and a true purpose does wonders." He straightened, tapping the folder on his desk. "Kitt has the mission briefing. Nothing too difficult. Possible drug running through a rural county, harassing dairy farmers, that sort of thing."
"Why not let the locals handle it?" He ran fingers through hair still damp from the shower. "What's the catch?" wondering how many more painkillers his stomach could handle on only coffee.
"No catch. The farmers' co-op supplies the foundation with milk and cheese for the orphanages and food banks all across the country. Already there are disruptions and that is unacceptable. Minor detail to officials, they have plenty of money to buy what they need."
"Understood Devon. We're on our way." He said, slumping the moment the monitor went black. "Kitt, are you ready?"
"Affirmative. I recommend you acquire shoes and other clothing as appropriate. And eat something. Bonnie had me detailed last week and I prefer a pristine interior." He ignored the hand gesture made towards his dash and tisked at the sand left behind on the floor mats. His partner walked back to the house, barefoot and in boxers.
*11:48 am. Discussion with partner regarding mission contingencies. Course plotted and approved.*
"Darn it!" A slap to the steering yoke emphasized the emotion.
"What?" Kitt inquired; barely paying attention as he linked into the overhead satellite to verify a clear route should super speed be needed or demanded. The rest of his processors computed safe distances between vehicles in front and behind and probable road hazards. Too many rockets, explosives and mad men driving armored vehicles had literally appeared out of nowhere to threaten for the possibility to be ignored.
"I forgot my jacket."
"Your shirt, jeans and cowboy boots should be adequate protection enough. We're in California, not Alaska. Your comm link is required. The rest is extraneous though four bags in my trunk are a bit much even for you." When no threats appeared, probability calculations ran and settled defensive scanning into a lower processing queue.
"You can always buy another one. That would make you collection an even half dozen."
"Never can have too many coats. They keep you warm, feel good and right now, I could use it to hide under. Dim the windows buddy?" Then sighed in relief as they turned opaque black. "Plot a course, normal speed, straight ahead whatever."
"Shall I try to avoid all bumps and potholes too?"
"Would you?" he replied, sliding the driver seat back then stretching out his full six foot plus body length. "You drive."
"I have been since we left the beach. Will there be anything else?" A snore was his only answer. 'Of all the ungrateful…next time he needs help, maybe he should call his coat. I mean really.' The AI grumbled to himself, checking and cross checking routes and potential ambush points as programming required. It was his friendship that kept the left side ejection button from firing.