Capture The FLAG

Chapter One

Four days earlier...

Devon Miles, director of the Foundation for Law and Government, thought his employees got along quite well. Much of their success was looked upon as a perfect blend of people from the four corners of the country, with the level-headed englishman leading the crew. He enjoyed the thought, too. But, really, there was no careful balance keeping the team together. It all just seemed to fall right into place when it was needed. Bonnie, Reginald, Michael especially...Devon laughed, and came to the conclusion that the three operatives under his command had rather uncanny tastes in life choices. Either that, or his luck was too good. He had to chuckle at that, too. 'Lucky' was a word that had fit Wilton more than it had him.

He sat back in the soft, worn leather chair and straightened his tie. Taking a sip from a mug of tea, he set it back on the large oak desk and stood, crossing to the window. From his office, he could see nearly all of the Knight mansion, including his favorite place; The main courtyard. He found himself standing in the very same place more often in Autumn, watching as the leaves in the fruit tree groves changed. They were currently giving off a splendid display of color that ranged from light green to a deep, earthy brown.

It was between two of these groves that he spotted his team, as well as KITT lounging lazily around, sharing a laugh in the cooling air. The early Autumn months were always slow for the Foundation, but the time was generally put to good use. Devon often used it to catch up on the paperwork that was so often of overlooked in their line of work. Updates were designed and installed to KITT and the Mobile Unit. Michael took a solid week of vacation, so long as a crisis didn't interrupt his fun. However, Michael's vacation was over more than a fortnight ago. Both the Knight 2000 and the Semi had been optimized and detailed (much to KITT's enjoyment). The paperwork was done.

And still, not even a single call.

The director sighed and slunk back over to the big leather chair behind the big oak desk. Taking another drink of hot tea, glared dejectedly at the phone beside his computer. He wouldn't wish harm on anyone, not now, not ever...

But if someone needed their help, they should bloody well hurry up.

A quick glance up at the clock told him that it was almost time for lunch. Curiously, he glanced out the window again, still, his friends sat in the brisk air, laughing and joking amongst themselves. For a moment, he considered walking down there and telling them to get to work. But, work on what? There really wasn't anything to be done at the moment, other than keep each other company. Lunch time would soon start, and Devon had a feeling that the four would be out there through all of that, as well. While the englishman was not ungrateful for the precious peace that had fallen as of late, it was lonely in the office, and quite boring. Besides, they look so happy out there...

Freezing cold, but happy...

Oh, fine. Devon rose from his dark leather perch and lifted his suit coat from the rack. Smoothing the creases, he snatched his mug of hot tea from the big oak desk and slipped gently into the crisp jacket. He shifted the mug from one hand to the other, deciding wether he liked the weight of the thicker coat. Finally deciding to hold the hot leaf juice in his right hand, he said goodbye to intern and took to the stairs.

Knight manor was anything but small, and the Foundation took up all of one floor in the main building. Aside from a series of laboratories, the on-site clinic, and the library, the grounds, as a whole, were fairly empty, despite their appearance. Many of the rooms and smaller buildings were, in fact, outfitted for guests, dignitaries, employees, and the Foundation's clients, when necessary.

An elevator would have been nice, though.

Devon walked down the many steps leading to the grounds, taking a quick drink of still-steaming, earl grey tea to combat the chill. This Fall was cooler than usual- a biting cold seemed to freeze you to the very core. As he walked towards the grove, Miles realized he could see his breath. This amused him, for a moment.

Then he heard the angry shouts of his friends beyond the trees. He started, quickening his pace, but still balancing the cup of liquid warmth in his long, thin hands. With every step, he could hear the frantic voices of his comrades growing clearer, and he had to wonder just what had gone so horribly wrong in the time he'd left his big leather chair. At the sound of KITT's turbines firing, Devon quickened his pace through the perfectly manicured lawn. Sprinting to the green, he stopped at the edge...

...Just in time for a rather large sandwich to hit him square in the chest. Devon's mug fell from his hand as he jumped in surprise, spilling the carefully-preserved beverage into the cold soil. The yelling stopped as all four FLAG members looked soundlessly to their mayonnaise-coated leader. Michael, covered in chips and a good deal of grass, dropped the handful of walnuts he had been planning to toss at Bonnie. The technician, in turn, set her takeout cup full of soda gently on the ground, shaking Michael's previous volley from her hair and jacket. Reginald cowered further behind KITT; The two of them had been fled to the edge of the green to escape the airborne edibles.

Devon Miles was not happy.

"What," he stammered, flustered by both the greasy sauce seeping through his new coat, and the sorry look of his team. "What on Earth is going on here?!"

The accusations came flying at him the moment he stopped talking. Michael said this, Michael said that. Bonnie retaliated, and threw the first potato chip. Reginald was more upset about the technician's aim, and his twelve-dollar sandwich's unfortunate victim than the rest of the ordeal. KITT refused to admit to having any part in the situation, much to the frustration of his human friends.

"Alright, that's enough!" Devon growled. All four of the squabbling operatives fell silent, forming a semi-circle of sorry glances up at the director's stern face. "I do not care...what caused the incident," he managed through gritted teeth, "And I do not care who is to blame..." Miles ran a hand across the front of his once-clean suit coat. "However, this will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

A collection of agreements and apologies rang out from the group, and he spun on his heels. Devon scraped a layer of lettuce from the suit, wondering hopefully if there was still a spare set of clothes for him in his office. As he trudged away, he could hear the quiet grumblings of Michael and Bonnie, and also the quickening footsteps of one too-cheerful RC.

"Yo, boss, wait up!"

Author's Note: This chapter would NOT stop veering off into plotless, british-y Devon ramblings. I can't help it though, he's just too fun to write. :) On the plus side, you can expect updates on a regular basis, as I am currently waiting for Tumblr to give me my life back (follow me jumpinmykarr, guys).

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).