Chapter 4
Scott sat on the cell floor, head resting on his knees. The cell wasn't long enough or wide enough for him to stretch his legs out. It wasn't even tall enough for him to stand up straight in. His leg muscles ached with the need to stretch them.
What he wouldn't give to be shorter than six foot three right about now.
The bare light bulb – just feet above him – glared down constantly, bringing tears to his blue eyes.
At the moment, his green Army uniform and brown hair were dry, but he knew they would be along to spray water through the bars at him any time now.
He didn't know how long he'd been held captive here, but it felt like forever. He'd completely lost track of day and night, even the sense of passing time. He was exhausted, but sleep was being denied him.
The only escape he had was into his mind. Even that was precious little, now. He had lost his link to his best friend. Somehow, the MLC – Movement for the Liberation of Congo – had managed to purge his body of the nanite link to K.A.R.R. After the outcomes of the first two Congo wars, the U.S. had decided the third one needed to be brought to a quick, decisive close. The belligerents in the Third Congo War had other ideas, though.
Fighting off the sense of loss and despair that threatened to overwhelm him, Scott concentrated on his memories of K.A.R.R.
* * *
2015
"Grampa Jason told me to come bother you for a while," five year old Scott Knight told Luke, as he skipped into Luke's office.
Glancing up from his computer screen, Luke sighed good-naturedly, and asked, "So, what were you doing to poor Grampa Jason that he sent you to bug me? And shouldn't you be in school?"
"Grampa Jason was on the phone with some army guy," Scott said, scrunching up his face to convey that he thought it was probably a pretty boring conversation.
Since at this point, anyone in a uniform was "army" to the boy, there was no telling who Jason was actually talking to.
"Okay. What about school?" Luke asked.
"It's Saturday, Silly!"
"Oh, well pardon me! You know where the crayons and paper are, Mr. Saturday!" Luke replied.
Giggling, Scott grabbed a few pieces of paper and a box of crayons and scrambled up into the only other chair in the room.
The chair usually sat behind a small drafting table, but today it was behind a table with a computer on it.
Scott didn't really pay the computer any mind, since he had his own in his room in the F.L.A.G. mansion. He figured this one wouldn't have any fun games on it, anyway.
The computer had been there for as long as Scott could remember, but he had never seen Luke use it, thought it was constantly powered on.
About an hour later, Luke stood and stretched, "I'm going to head up to the mansion for some lunch. Coming?"
Scott looked up from his drawing, "Nah. I'm not hungry right now."
"Okay, just remember, my computer's off-limits," Luke meant the workstation Scott always saw him working on. He didn't really think the kid would touch the other one.
"Sure!" Scott stuck his tongue between his teeth as he went back to work on his picture.
The five year old's hand slipped, sending a scribble of color across his picture.
Squeezing the crayon ever tighter in his anger, Scott's face seemed to become that of a stranger as rage settled over it.
The crayon finally snapped in his tiny fist and he sent it flying across the room with a mindless shout.
Just as quickly as it had come, the rage passed, and Scott ran to gather up the crayon pieces before Luke returned.
As he was placing the pieces in the trash, a voice growled menacingly, "Who are you?"
Slightly startled, but not really alarmed, Scott looked around the room, "Who said that?" he countered.
"I am the Knight Automated Roving Robot. I am the car of the..." the last few words kind of faded out. Then the voice came back, "You can call me K.A.R.R. Who are you?"
"I'm Scott. You're this computer, aren't you?" Scott crawled back up into his chair.
To keep matters simple, K.A.R.R. growled out, "Yes."
"Are you a new project Luke is working on?"
"A project, I suppose, but not new. Are you being held here against your will, too?"
"What?" Scott said in confusion, then, "No. I live here. Well, I live in the mansion, but Grampa Jason lets me run all over the grounds, especially when Mom and Dad aren't here."
"You bear an eighty-nine percent family resemblance to Michael Knight, my adversary."
"Huh?" Scott asked in confusion.
"Are you Michael Knight's son?"
"Oh, no. He's my grandpa, my real grandpa. He died before mom was born. What's an adversary?" Scott tilted his head to the side as he looked at the web cam.
Ignoring Scott's question, K.A.R.R. asked another of his own, "Was K.I.T.T. deactivated at the same time as Michael Knight?"
"K.I.T.T. goes everywhere with Granma. They became partners after Grampa died. They're tired now. They go on a lot of vacations."
A howl of rage threatened to overwhelm the speakers. Scott covered his ears with his hands and started crying. Part of Scott wondered if this was what he was like when he got really mad, like a few minutes ago.
At that moment, Luke came running into the office, "K.A.R.R.!"
The speakers fell silent, leaving Scott's whimpers to fill the air. Luke scooped the boy up and comforted him.
When Scott's whimpers had faded, Luke set him down and knelt so they were at eye level. "From now on, you're not to be here by yourself, and you aren't to speak to K.A.R.R. ever again. He's not a nice A.I."
* * *
A torrent of water brought him back to the present.
Early on, he'd tried to escape the torrent by moving to the back of the cell, but he'd learned there was no escape. He'd also tried facing it head on by kneeling by the hole in the door, but that had nearly drowned him. He sat, letting the water wash over him and fuel his rage.
They had to take him out at some point. He was a trained killer, Army Special Forces, and he was pissed off! They would quickly learn their mistake at pissing off this particular Special Forces commando.
