Title: Letting rubber burn
Fandom: Knight Rider
Characters: Michael & Kitt
Prompt: burn (thekittchen)
Word Count: 585
Rating: PG, just for fun
Summary: It wasn't what he was designed for.

Letting rubber burn
A scribble for the word 'burn'
By Gumnut
14 Jul 06

"You call that a car?"

Michael turned casually to face the man who had followed him from the bar. "I do."

The man, tall, a little beefy, more in the muscles than the brain, wandered haughtily over to Kitt and began inspecting the Trans Am by street lamp. "Nice set of fancy lights you have on that dash there. Useful at Christmas, I bet." Michael kept his polite smile in place, but internally he cringed as the man's thick fingers left smudges on the windows.

"No twin tail pipes? What have you got powering this domestic piece of crap? Steam?"

Now that almost turned the smile into a grin. "Something like that."

The man looked up at him a moment, his grubby fingers this time leaving prints all over Kitt's spoiler.

"And you think you can beat me in this thing?"

"Pretty much."

He frowned at Michael and for a moment former cop thought his bluff was blown. But the two neurons that had sparked something resembling thought in the man didn't have the stamina to maintain it. His over confident smirk returned. "Okay. I'll see you out front." And he wandered off, assured of his supremacy.

Michael tried but he couldn't hide his own smirk as he turned away from him, heading for the driver's door.

Predictably, it wasn't even open before Kitt started.

"Michael!"

"I know."

"That man-"

"I know."

"Did you see what he-?"

"I know. I promise to clean them off when we're finished." He started the engine.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because, that's why."

"Michael, sense is mandatory in any form of communication."

He looked back as he reversed the car out of the parking space. "I doubt that."

"Michael-?"

"Kitt, the man needs to be taken down a peg or two." The Trans Am pulled out onto the road and Michael flicked the headlights on.

"And you think you and I are the ones to do it?"

"Well, yeah. We're supposed to make a difference aren't we?"

"I don't think this was quite what Wilton Knight imagined for my purpose."

"Yeah? Well, Wilton Knight needed to get out more."

"Michael!"

"Aww, c'mon, Kitt. The guy called you "domestic crap'"

"And you said I run on steam."

"Steam turned the course of civilisation as we know it. What's wrong with comparing you to that?"

"I do not run on steam."

Despite appearances to the contrary - he certainly had a royal head of the stuff at the moment. "Kitt, do you want to show this guy what you're made of or not?"

There was silence for a moment. "It was not what I was designed to do."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

Kitt didn't answer, distracted by the appearance of their challenger. Red and with as many automotive attachments as its owner could slap on to it, the suped-up Chevy was a sight to behold.

"He thinks that contraption can outrun me?"

Michael bit his lip to keep from smirking. "Uh huh."

As they pulled up alongside the racer, he smiled calmly through the window at the other man. The guy was grinning madly and revving his engine enough to wake several neighbourhoods.

"He did call me a 'piece of crap'."

"Uh huh." Michael revved the engine just slightly, the smooth hum of turbines, music to his ears….and hardly heard over the racket from the other vehicle.

"We're not going to tell Devon are we?"

"Nope."

A moment of expectant silence.

"Then let rubber burn."

-o-o-o-
FIN.