There was something off about the family next door…
He couldn't quite put it down on paper, much less talk it over a meatloaf dinner with his family but he knew that there was something awfully suspicious about them.
For one — Mr. Knight was awfully oblivious when it came to mowing the lawn. Always missing the mailbox and accidentally running over the flower beds. His wife was also rather unusual as she did all the maintenance on their unorthodox "family" car. It was fairly common for her to be hanging around under the car in the garage while Mr. Knight toyed with the lawnmower and more often than not managed to hurt himself. He couldn't begin to count the countless times the poor man had been rushed to the hospital via ambulance from a mishap.
His suspicion had only grown more when he'd been in line to get snow tires for his station wagon at the local tire shop in town and he'd found Mr. Knight arguing inside his car with no one else inside! Perhaps the man belonged in the loony bin but Hans Wagonson was an honorable man. He'd given Mr. Knight a warm and fond greeting nonetheless and the two had seemed to have gotten along alright (for now). He'd make clever use of his overused conversation starters whenever the two found each other at the supermarket or simply on their daily commute to work and afterward each to their own carrying on with the day. He could have obliged to keep it that way forever if he'd liked but today something was up in the air and he had a greater suspicion it had to do with that weird car of theirs!
He was watching out the living room window while his son Jonathan put together his school project on the warm-colored throw rug he'd gotten his wife as an anniversary gift many years ago. Course it had seen better days but the colors still stood out in nice warm patterns.
He blinked back his straying mind, taking it back to the scene unfolding before him. Mrs. Sander, worn in age, was walking her dog passing by the strange t-top the Knights had parked on the curve. The dog dug its heels suddenly into the sidewalk, whined, and protested. Pulling back from its owner as it tried to retreat. Simply rejecting the possibility to walk past the black car at all.
He furrowed his brow. He was no stranger to the idea that Mrs. Sander often didn't clean up after her dog and because of this many of the neighbors didn't really "like" her dog and went out of their way to mess with the pouch. He was aware that the Smith boys who lived across the block blew a dog whistle ever so often to pester the dog and by extension the old woman. And while He wasn't too keen about her dog either the Knights had been very welcoming to the old woman and often forgave her dog's "accidents' ' on their lawn though these were extraordinarily rare but — something about that car.
The dog tugged and grumbled enough until it broke away from its leash and took to the opposite direction. The poor elderly woman took off after her dog in a flurry of nerves nearly losing her footing as she hustled behind her pet. He'd never seen the dog behave so unorderly…except when that strange car was parked in front of the Knight's home — most dogs were very particular about walking by.
"Something wrong?"
His thoughts were sharply interrupted as his wife followed his stray gaze across the street.
"Hmmm? No, not at all. I was just wondering where the Knights get their car insurance. Being a family of four I don't understand why they don't invest in a minivan or station wagon instead. They'd definitely save lots of money." He cleared his throat thoughtfully.
His wife ran her hand gingerly over her thick curls, chuckling to herself before walking up to his side and following his gaze.
"I think it's kind of romantic." She gaped across the street. "Bonnie tells me she met Michael in that car." She grinned. "It's a bit of their history and I just love how they keep it alive and share it with their kids." She finally concluded, rubbing his shoulder fondly. "You've always talked about buying a Corvette when we retire…Jonathan wants to know if you'll let him drive when he gets older." The woman smiled teasingly.
"We'll see…" He sighed sagging a little just uneasily, keeping his gaze strained over the black Trans-Am.
The woman chuckled, shaking her head.
" I guess it'll have to be a Trans-Am then." She joked before turning on her heels and returning to whatever she had on the stovetop, oven maybe? And got back to her usual home activities.
He wasn't impressed.
Whoever in the right mind would share their bachelor sports car with their kids? Kids always wreaked havoc in cars, especially babies and toddlers. He couldn't remember not having to visit the local car detailing shop to drain several liters' worth of juice from the carpet. It was nonsense.
His spite only grew when he saw Michael leap over his front home's veranda fencing and ran across his wet lawn.
'Use the sidewalk for crying out loud!' Hans thought to himself, his wife would have shunned him had she caught him ever doing that.
He grumbled under his breath as the man leaped and slid across the Trans-Am's bonnet in a quick and elegant fashion, the man baring no reminiscence of a sleep-deprived father at all in his shining black leather jacket with cowboy boots to match before settling in the cabin. The man was eager to make the Firebird's engine "sing" and floor it to the end of the street making it whine in an uproar.
'Show-off.' Hans muttered under his breath, resolved to visit the local hardware store soon and get a pair of thicker blinds for the living room — the Knights were getting on his nerves.
"Michael, you are aware that Mr. Wagonson has been spying on me whenever I'm parked outside the garage for the past three weeks? Don't you think that is a reason for concern?" Kitt elaborated as he felt rather uncomfortable with the uncanny gaze of the older man just pinning him excessively under his brutal stare. "Frankly, I doubt the man likes us and If I'm at all honest — I am guilty of micro jamming their toaster from time to time…" Kitt explained innocently " — But only out of fun."
Michael hummed to himself, bobbing his head from side to side while he turned Kitt into a transited street.
"Michael?" Kitt asked after a brief pause.
"Uh-huh! Wait, what?" He finally asked, taking his shades off and giving Kitt a frown.
"You aren't listening." Kitt scoffed.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. The house was pretty quiet today with Bonnie and the kiddos in Boston with her parents. I forgot how great sleeping was!" Michael exclaimed, spreading his hands over the dash for emphasis. Well, that was true. That was no doubt. Sleep wasn't something the Knights understood, Kitt had finally concluded once Chris had been born. Bonnie was always burning the midnight oil, and so was Michael until sleep had become pointless. It was nearly impossible to find either one of them without a coffee in hand sometimes.
Kitt internally rolled his nonexistent eyes.
" — but you miss them, don't you?" Kitt replied anxiously. He hoped Michael wasn't experiencing a mechanical failure in his head himself now that he'd finally gotten proper sleep since…Well, ages.
"Course I do! Whenever did I say I didn't?!" Michael remarked in alarm. "Kitt what are you getting at?"
"Nothing, It's just I've been feeling rather sick lately and with Bonnie out of town I just haven't been able to fix the bugs myself," Kitt remarked rather vexedly. Feeling safe in the comfort of his driver who was looking empathetically down at the voice modulator. "It's just as I get older it's harder to keep up with all these electronic advancements. I've heard talk about downsizing cellphones and making them more efficient lately and I'm not sure how I feel about that." Kitt sighed.
Michael patted the dash.
"Starting to feel old I see."
"It's more than that — I feel that I've Lost many features from the decommission that would have ultimately prevented this from being a problem, to begin with," Kitt remarked trying to figure out where he was going with all this. Perhaps he missed that nice edge of being a "supercar" and of course now having to live his life like all other ordinary automobiles he'd start to miss his old life. Though ultimately he'd never dream of going back to FLAG, not if that meant not having Bonnie and Michael alongside him. He preferred a million times over to deal with the nonsense that came with being an ordinary car. Speaking of which —
"Michael, I was thinking —"
Michael raised a brow while he rushed Kitt up a crowded avenue.
"Which is…?"
"You know, I've done some analysis and I was wondering if it would be possible to apply a vinyl wrap to my exterior."
Michael nearly slammed the brakes.
"A what!?" He asked in alarm. He'd never be ready for one of Kitt's "crazy new" ideas on his own preservation. Well, the chassis's preservation that is — It had become somewhat of an obsession for the ex-supercar as of late and Michael understood that Kitt was no longer invulnerable to damage as he'd been before. However, the constant begging to be kept maintained and in tip-top shape had begun to strain the computer and Michael wasn't too sure how to go about this, let alone make Kitt understand that the slight discoloration forming under his tail-pipe was just how it was going to be now — or that the insignificant micro scratches he'd receive from gravel brushing by on the highway were also part of life. Though he'd always try to keep Kitt clear of possible exterior factors that could potentially damage his more sensitive components housed somewhere in the engine bay Michael knew that it was going to be an uphill battle to keep the chassis from losing some of its beauty along the way.
"Michael, the application of vinyl wrap is a very safe procedure and could prolong the life of my chassis not to mention my paint job beneath." The computer chattered doing his best to break down the data on his screen so Michael could understand the gist of it.
The man sighed pulling Kitt along the curb gently knowing his friend needed his full attention right now.
"Kitt I know it terrifies you but I don't think you should excessively worry about your uh — Chassis. Most cars last a good while and we aren't exactly located in the rust belt so, in theory, you might not ever even get to see rust at all!" Michael beamed trying to comfort his worried friend.
"I know Michael but —" Kitt choked on his words, the voice modulator flashing a little irregularly. "Without the protective layer of MBS — there isn't much I can do to protect you or Bonnie if there were to be an emergency. I'm just —" Kitt emitted a low hum from his scanner. "A normal car." Kitt's voice broke into a static sigh.
Michael patted the yoke, listening to the hurt of his friend's voice.
"Kitt, pal. Believe me when I say this — It's going to be okay." The man smiled warmly. "We are retired remember? There aren't any crooks at every corner needing to be stopped anymore."
Kitt took in the comment with a grain of salt.
"No, but we still have enemies and you know that." Kitt gravely replied, trying to stop the heavy concern from flooding his even voice.
Michael clutched the yoke, staring down at what had suddenly become interesting; Kitt's floor mat.
"Pal I don't —" He took in a deep breath.
In all aspects it was true. Kitt and Michael had enough enemies that even a lifetime of retirement wouldn't keep them at bay. The computer could see the worry in the man's eyes as he gazed down at the floor mat. Kitt could only hope that he was wrong — for he wished he, for once was.
"Mind patching me through to Bonnie?" Michael broke the silence.
Kitt internally shuddered.
It wasn't only Michael's and Bonnie's life now, but Chris's and Anna's too.
"Right away Michael."