Disclaimer – none of them are mine, no money being made at all
0o0o0o0
Michael was just beginning to consider the possibility of talking Kitt into finding a beach – strictly for the purpose of comparing California beaches (and bikini's) to Florida ones of course, very scientific – when his partner spoke up.
"Michael… I have a friend in trouble."
That was not a phrase Kitt had ever uttered before. Michael felt a moment of shock, and then leaned forward, intrigued. With the advent of the internet and dot com billionaires, he was well aware that his partner had developed several connections with other people, purely online. Devon would have called them pen-pals. There were times when Kitt had asked for advice on some of his interactions, and one time they had tipped the FBI off to a pervert who had thought he was grooming the child he had met online. Kitt, for all his experience, was still rather naïve when it came to certain interactions.
They were between missions, had in fact only wrapped their last one up the day before and were due to head back in the direction of California today. Not that Michael thought they would get there without being diverted multiple times by Devon. Nearly ten years of partnership, and they were still working back-to-back cases as if Michael was still in his twenties.
"Where?" Michael had got them into enough 'situations' by helping a friend out, he certainly wasn't going to quibble when his partner did it.
"Give her to me," Kitt requested and Michael lifted his hands and feet away from the controls, letting Kitt take over the chassis and send them into a sliding turn. Malibu was a pretty place, but the area that Kitt was taking them into was one of estates and rich people. Michael began to wonder if Kitt had befriended one of the dot com billionaires when the gates to the estate swung open and the drive led to a futuristic house of glass and concrete perched on the edge of a cliff.
Kitt swung around to the side and followed the driveway into an underground garage, rolling past several very beautiful cars towards a wall at the end, which was raising itself up into the ceiling.
"You're friends with Iron Man?" Michael blurted as the scene in front of him came into focus, the red and gold armour surrounded by three one armed robots, "You've been talking with Tony Stark?"
Iron Man was a recent thing for the genius Tony Stark. A one-man operation aimed solely at terrorism in the Middle East, while Stark reinvented Stark Enterprises from weapons manufacture to high tech everything. The high-tech stuff wasn't of interest to Michael, though he certainly sympathised with the one-man operation side of things.
"No," Kitt rolled to a stop, "With Jarvis."
Michael got out of the chassis, frowning at the scene in front of him. One of the robots had clamped its… hand? Claw? to Iron Man's leg and the other two were apparently trying to stuff rags around said hand. As Michael shut Kitt's door, the man in the armour noticed him and swung a hand in his direction, the palm glowing and the whine of a weapon charging slicing through the air.
"Sir, no!" the voice was British and Michael wasn't sure where it had come from, "I called Kitt for help!"
"Jarvis," Stark's voice had a metallic edge through the armour, "What the hell? I told you not to call people."
"You did," Jarvis acknowledged, "So I called Kitt."
"Hey!" Michael objected, though now was probably not the time, "Kitt is a person!"
The palm facing him wavered for a moment and then the helmet face place flipped up and Stark was scowling at him, the famous goatee marred by blood from a cut on Stark's cheek.
"You're not Kitt?" he grated and Michael grinned, then pointed at the chassis.
"Kitt is housed in there," he advised the billionaire, "He said he'd been talking to Jarvis?"
"I am Jarvis," the British voice announced from the ceiling, "Thank you for coming, Kitt."
"You're welcome," Kitt swished the scanner. Stark lowered the weapon, powering it down, then winced when one of the robots did something to jostle his leg.
"Watch it!" he swiped at them, then looked back up at Michael and Kitt, "Look, as intriguing as it is to meet a talking car, now is really not a good time."
"Right," Michael agreed and walked over, "And he's not a car. The car is just the chassis. Unless of course, Jarvis is the house."
The idea of an AI, because of course Kitt would have befriended another AI, being connected to systems in a house was the least weird thing about this situation. Michael brushed gently against one of the robots holding a rag and it moved back for him, beeping anxiously. The armour on Stark's thigh had buckled inwards and was bleeding quite badly. The robot clamped to Stark's thigh had apparently managed to wedge a clean looking towel in place, but they were going to need to get the armour off if Michael was to help.
"It's ok, I'm here to help," he patted the hovering machine, "Those rags are filthy, he's gonna get an infection if you pack the wound with them. Is there a first aid kit around?"
Both robots dropped their rags and raced deeper into the workshop.
"Kitt, can you tell me how bad it is?" Michael asked, squatting down for a better look. Stark was looking a bit pale and blood loss was a serious concern.
"I'm having difficulty scanning the wound properly," Kitt admitted, "Jarvis? Can you tell Michael what he needs to know?"
"The wound is approximately four centimetres deep, and has avoided the artery. It is bleeding quite profusely, though, and the bots are not sufficiently trained in first aid to treat the wound," Jarvis sounded calm, but there was an element of stress in his voice that Michael noted absently.
"Ok, well first things first," Michael nodded, "Stark, you need to sit down on something, we need to get the metal plating off…"
"Gold titanium alloy," Stark corrected, and Michael rolled his eyes at the inventor, continuing to speak.
'… and then we can get the wound treated. I've patched up enough injuries like this to be able to manage it with a bit of help from the … bots."
"Very well," Jarvis agreed, "Dummy, allow Michael to take your place."
Michael slid his hand onto the towel as Dummy pulled away, maintaining pressure carefully. Stark grunted in pain but made no other fuss. Dummy rolled away and latched onto a low metal workbench, topped with stainless steel. When it began dragging the bench noisily in their direction one of the other bots came to join it. Obviously, the bots were paying more attention than Michael had first thought.
"Dummy? What kind of ass calls someone Dummy?" Michael muttered, insulted on the bot's behalf.
"It's short for Durable Utility Mechanical Engineer," Stark replied wearily, "Dummy for short. You is the other one, they have the same name, but prefer different aspects of them, and Butterfingers is the one with the first aid kit. It's a long story."
Butterfingers did indeed have a very large first aid kit in its claw, dragging the heavy thing across the floor quickly.
"Ok, can the armour come off without disturbing the part around your thigh?" Michael asked and Stark nodded. The workbench came to a stop directly behind the man in the armour and Jarvis directed the bots to lift their master? Owner? Builder? onto it.
The bots worked together to remove the rest of the armour carefully, Stark complaining at them the whole time. Michael didn't interfere, letting Jarvis mediate when the inventor's vitriol got too thick. The banter reminded him of how he and Kitt bickered for the fun of it, and he shot his watching partner a grin once or twice. The glowing circle of light in Stark's chest was a surprise to Michael, but as neither the bots or Jarvis were concerned, he didn't ask any questions.
Once the armour was off everywhere but where Michael was leaning, the bots lifted the first aid kit onto the bench next to Stark's hip and then hovered anxiously, beeping at Michael.
"Michael, Mr Stark's vitals are steady, however he is hovering on the edge of shock," Kitt announced.
"Ok," this was not going to work if he was jostling elbows with anxious bots, "You, and Butterfingers, please find a blanket for Mr Stark, and then I need you to hold his hands for me," Michael directed, "Dummy, come and apply pressure for a moment, so I can wash up before trying to fix this up – is there a sink I can use?"
"Behind you and to your left," Jarvis instructed, "You will also need a tool from the bench three feet to your right. There is an emergency release for the armour, however the bots are unable to manipulate the tool sufficiently to trigger it."
"Right," Michael followed the directions Jarvis gave to find the tool, and once his hands were washed, he let the AI tell him how to get the last of the armour off. Stark had been carefully draped with a blanket, a pillow had also appeared from somewhere and one of the bots was clutching his hand on the side opposite to his wounded leg, while the other patted his shoulder in comfort.
The wound was deep and messy, and Michael ended up having to seal a tear in a blood vessel with superglue, but he was able to manage the first aid relatively easily. Dummy was his assistant, and a pretty good one provided Michael kept his instructions slow and clear. Throughout the treatment, Stark watched him closely, paying especial attention to the way Michael treated the bots.
By the time the wound was closed up and bandaged, Michael had You and Butterfingers find something to elevate Stark's legs with and Dummy find him some orange juice to drink. Michael went to wash his hands clean again while the bots fussed over their human, grinning as Jarvis chided You for fighting with Dummy over who held the bottle for Stark.
"You ok, partner?" Michael walked past the scrum to take a perch on Kitt's hood, "I know how much you hate the sight of blood."
"Particularly yours," Kitt said dryly, and Michael chuckled, "Thank you, Michael. Jarvis was so worried; I didn't know what else to do."
"It's hard to help when you don't have hands," Michael agreed. This had been an issue he and Kitt had discussed many times, particularly when the AI was distressed over being unable to assist Michael with staunching a wound.
"Indeed, Michael," Jarvis said suddenly, apparently tired of Stark's complaints, "Sir has offered me a physical avatar on several occasions; however, I have never felt the need for one."
"You could always use the chassis," Michael suggested, waving a hand at the bits of armour strewn around the floor, "If you have access, I mean."
"Does Kitt?" Stark asked from where he lay, apparently ready to pay attention to the outside world again. Dummy was clutching his hand and the other two were moving the first aid chest back to wherever it belonged.
"Yes," Kitt confirmed, "She's a dream to drive, despite her age."
"I do have access to the armour," Jarvis mused, "I had never considered using it quite that way. It is something to consider."
Michael nodded. Stark grinned and wagged a finger at the ceiling.
"I better not come home and find out you've gone joy riding, Jarvis," he mock scolded.
"You won't," was the prim and slightly ambiguous reply. Stark laughed it off and started to sit up. Immediately, all three bots protested shrilly, accompanied by Jarvis exclaiming in concern.
"You should rest," Michael stood up too, speaking over Stark's increasingly heated demands that they stop hovering and let him up, "However that table can't be comfortable. Is there a bed or couch nearby?"
"There is a couch," Jarvis admitted reluctantly and Michael simply picked the other man up, princess style, blanket and all.
"Oh, good grief," Kitt scolded from behind him, almost drowned out by Stark's startled squawk. Dummy seemed to approve though and snatched up the abandoned pillow before turning to lead the way, beeping encouragement, to one side of the workshop. Michael settled the inventor carefully onto the battered couch and took a seat on the stool that You dragged over, thanking the bot as he did.
"So, it seems our kids have been talking behind our backs," Stark said when he had squirmed into a more comfortable position. Michael grinned.
"Kitt is my partner, my family, but not my kid," he riposted, "And he can be very sociable, when he wants to be."
"And when he doesn't?" Jarvis asked and Michael shot his partner a look across the workshop.
"The silent treatment is legendary," Michael confided. The commlink beeped at him and he grinned.
"Only when you deserve it, partner," Kitt's tone was cutting and Stark chuckled, "We have been partners for almost ten years Mr Stark. I was very startled to meet Jarvis online. He is only the second AI I have met."
"Who was the first?" Stark leaned forward with interest, "And come to that, who are you?"
"The first was Kitt's prototype – and it tried to kill us a few times," Michael sighed, "But it was mis programmed and mistreated badly, so…."
"As for who we are, I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand, K.I.T.T. for short, though I prefer Kitt. This is my Driver, Michael Knight," Kitt made the introductions through the commlink, preferring not to get into the topic of K.A.R.R. It was something of a sore point for the both of them.
"Wait, you're Michael Knight?" Stark stared at him in shock, "I've actually heard of you! You work for that FLAG organisation. A friend of mine went to your organisation for help years ago."
"We're famous, Kitt," Michael teased, not at all comfortable with the direction of the conversation. He and Kitt both preferred to work in the shadows whenever possible.
"You are," Jarvis agreed, "There are several online notice boards regarding the both of you, which have encouraged several interventions in situations where a person alone was unable to effect a positive outcome to their circumstances."
Translated to non-AI speak – people talked about them, and helped each other out in Michael or Kitt's name. Michael wasn't too sure how he felt about that.
"Well, whoever you are, thank you. I'm not saying the bots and I couldn't have managed without you, but it would have been harder and more painful to do so," Stark sighed, slumping back into the couch. The inventor was pale and looked tired – he would need rest to begin recovering from the injury to his thigh and that wouldn't happen if Michael and Kitt kept him up chatting.
"You're welcome," Michael grinned, and stood up, "And if you don't mind, we do have to get going. We've got a long drive ahead of us. And you need to rest, Stark."
"We can't offer you our hospitality for the evening?" Jarvis asked. Michael smiled and shook his head.
"Thanks Jarvis, but no," he shook the hand that Stark held out and then moved back towards Kitt, shaking the hand/claw of each of the three bots, who beeped sadly at him as he walked past. Kitt had the driver's door open for him and he slid into his seat. He waved at Dummy, who had followed him to the chassis and let Kitt back her out into the garage and then out into the driveway as the back wall slowly slid down to hide Iron Man's workshop again.
"So that's Iron Man," Michael mused as Kitt turned her around and headed down the drive.
"He was smaller than I thought he'd be," Kitt said slyly and Michael nearly choked with laughter.
0o0o0o0
When Tony woke again it was almost dawn according to the chronometer on the wall. The bots had tidied away the armour, ensured Tony had eaten a microwaved meal, then gone to their charging stations while he slept. The pain in his thigh had settled finally and Jarvis had talked him into – or nagged really – taking some of the antibiotics they kept around to ward off infection.
Tony stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the man he'd met last night. Knight had been unflappable – not just about the blood and wound, but with the bots. And most importantly, he'd been kind. He'd spoken to Jarvis and the bots gently, given them reassurance and encouragement and had found things for them to do that would not insult their dignity. He'd been as gentle as he could with Tony too, but most people found the bots and AI in the workshop off putting. They tended to speak to Tony's babies like they were pets or some other limited intelligence. Knight had been calm and kind, speaking to the babies like the worried but competent family members they were. That made him only the second person to understand, right behind Tony himself. Tony shifted to sit up, leaving his injured leg on the couch. He would have to think of something nice for Knight and his partner. Surely there was some tech around here they could use.
"Sir?" Jarvis asked quietly, and Tony grinned in the dim light. His AI had been desperately worried when he'd been injured. Neither Jarvis or the bots were used to Iron Man yet. Tony would need to program better emergency protocols for them. After all, Knight and the Knight Industries Two Thousand would not always be at hand to help out.
"Hey Jarvis, everything ok?" Tony asked, not attempting to get up yet. He didn't want Jarvis to start fretting already.
"We are secure, sir," Jarvis replied, "I was wondering… are you angry that I didn't tell you I had encountered another AI?"
"No," Tony frowned, "I know you speak to all sorts of people online, baby. You don't need my permission for that, you know this."
"I was surprised to realise that there were other AI's present. You had always referred to me as singular," Jarvis prodded.
"You still are," Tony reassured him, "Kitt is… different to you. You both have different purposes. And while I'd love to get a look at his code… I very much doubt that Knight would let me anywhere near him."
"Just as you wouldn't let Michael have access to me," Jarvis retorted.
"Michael, huh? Not Mr Knight?" Tony pressed, curious as to why Jarvis had changed his usual naming conventions.
"It is his name," Jarvis said simply. Tony sensed there was more to it than that, but as he'd said to Knight he had heard of the man. And what he'd heard indicated a man with a dangerous job, working in a dangerous field with only Kitt for back up. You didn't ask questions or raise the profile of people like that, not without getting them killed, and despite what Rhodey, the board and Pepper thought, Tony was capable of self-control.
Getting the man who'd patched his wounds killed was a poor way to say thank you, after all.
0o0o0o0
END