Kitt hated it
By Gumnut
11 Jan 2007

Kitt hated this.

He sat outside the building chewing on his own hubcaps as Michael disappeared beyond the doors that blocked his sensors. Why did they block his sensors? He didn't know. At the moment he didn't really care. All he cared about was the fact that Michael was beyond his reach.

He tried the comlink again and received the same spiky interference.

Sometimes he cursed his driver.

"Michael you don't have to go in there."

"Kitt, we've had this discussion before. We've tried everything else and while I iknow you don't like it, I see no choice."

"There is always choice. Choose to stay with me."

Michael had sighed at him, then, spewing out all the reasons why he had to go into the cursed place.

If Kitt were bitter, he could possibly think his driver longed to go in there.

But then he would only be spiteful.

He hated this.

The street looked like just any other industrial zone street, though a bit empty. The Trans Am was only one of two vehicles parked, and the other looked like it had been there a decade or two. Ten point three two years to be precise according to the decay rate of its rear bumper.

The building itself looked little more than a derelict warehouse with the exception of the blank, black, AI eating hole in his scanner range. The hole that had eaten Michael.

Thirty point six two one seconds and counting.

Michael was quite capable of making an AI swear. In fact profanity had been a foreign element to his processor until he had met the man. Frustration was his existence.

And time served to exacerbate it.

Perhaps if children were not involved, Michael would be less passionate. Guilt crawled through his circuits at that thought. Kitt was as passionate about this case as Michael, it was just another instance of the AI having to share the safety of his driver with the safety of others.

He hated it.

Ninety point three five five seconds and counting.

How long did it take to search a building?

How long did it take for Michael to get into trouble?

The black space in his scanner range suddenly rippled and the briefest of audio leaked out.

Michael?

Analysis.

Gunshot.

-o-o-o-