Disclaimer: I far as I can tell Glen Larson owns everything Knight Rider. I don't. But I do own Jessica. Just so you know.
As they tore headlong down the road Kitt began to feel nervous. There was something there: just outside his scanner range – he could just tell. Or maybe it was more than one thing... Whatever it or they were, they seemed intent on staying close to but not too close as to attract attention.
Ahead, Jessica weaved to avoid a series of deep potholes. Michael, however, didn't know of Kitt's slight predicament and, taking that the suspension would absorb the impacts, drove straight over them. Kitt gasped in pain and as the overly sensitive perceptors sent jolts of electricity straight through his CPU, accidentally shut the engine down.
"What the..." said Michael, firing the engine again and swerving this time to dodge another pothole,
"Buddy, are you OK?"
Kitt made no effort whatsoever to reply verbally; instead he flicked on a screen and wrote up:
I'm alright. Don't worry, just keep away from the potholes – please.
Michael shook his head, grimaced and then winced as the Trans-Am bounced through another hole. Now Jessica glanced back towards them and, after staring worriedly at them through her visor, made some very urgent hand gestures for them to speed up. And sure enough once Michael took at fleeting look at the rear-view mirror, there were three big Ford Mustangs snarling up behind them, all with one person hanging out of the passenger window with some sort of weapon.
One of the men had a large machine gun propped up on his shoulder and another had a strange rocket launcher thing. The third was holding two hand grenades and had the sort of look of a man who has plenty more.
The man with the machine gun took aim at the Pontiac's left rear tire and fired until the cartridge had run out. Fortunately not a single bullet hit its mark; unfortunately this gave Michael a false sense of confidence, which was soon blown away. Literally. The man with the rocket launcher now took his turn – and he was a better marksman. The rocket sheared away the rubber from both Kitt's back tyres and caused the AI to slam on the accelerator, darting forward at ten times the speed even his MBS rims could take.
"Whoa buddy, chill. Just slow down, OK, slow down," said Michael slamming on the brakes. The whole car shuddered and began to slide sideways; huge rooster tails of sparks shooting from the rims.
Up ahead, Michael could see Jessica fiddling with on her bike before gripping the handlebars again and slowing the bike down until she was behind them. She dodged the sparks easily and stayed there, darting away from any pieces of molten metal spraying towards her.
Michael looked back at her and the pursuing men before turning around and staring ahead. There was a very battered looking bridge; strong enough to take a semi probably but it didn't look like it could stand a hit from any of the weapons the men were carrying.
He began to worry slightly, there was no way Kitt could drive any faster and there was no other over the gorge in the immediate vicinity. Well Jessica was probably very well prepared for this, or so he really, really hoped.
As the Pontiac thudded up onto the different level of tarmac Michael glanced back again to see that two flaps had opened on the side of the bike and he could see something falling out of them.
He thought about it for a couple seconds until the leading pursuer drove over one of the coin shaped objects and a chain explosion rocked the entire bridge. They were mines.
He watched as the other cars tried to dodge the wreckage but failed and slowly but surely part of the bridge began to crumble into the drop below.
Jessica sped past him again and made a 'can you hurry up a bit?' signal. Michael pressed down a bit harder on the gas and bounced down off the remaining part of the bridge.
Five much less eventful minutes later, the bike darted down a driveway. It stood out like a sore thumb, lined with thick green forest only a few metres wide that widened out further in and was surrounded by a high wall to form a complex. They slowed as they approached a huge ornamental gate. It creaked into life and groaned open, apparently recognising Jessica's bike.
Now the road was paved with red brick and the trees started to thin. Ahead Michael could see a huge mansion and a big black truck....
"Kitt?" he spoke carefully, wondering how his partner was, "Is that our semi up there?"
Kitt's voice sounded pained, his rims were now scrabbling against the slippy bricks unable to get any grip,
"Yes Michael. Devon, Bonnie and RC are there too."
Michael winced at the sound of his partner's voice; it had once more reverted to the metallic rasp it was whenever Kitt was in any pain. Or had been hacked into.
Michael shook that thought away easily; he was here to meet this girl and that was that. No more. It was strange the way the men attacked them but then again, she looked like that sort of person who attracted trouble no matter how much she didn't want it.
He stopped the battered Trans-Am beside the semi and climbed out; shutting the door a little too hard for Kitt's stressed out perceptors.
The AI whimpered audibly and collapsed his front tyres for no apparent reason. He was just not having a good day, Kitt decided before going into recharge mode, shutting off the agony from his rear tyres.
Jessica was now standing beside Devon, Bonnie and RC who had just exited the semi. She cast a meaningful glance towards the little car and then spoke,
"Please come in. Anyone for drinks or something? I reckon I got about every possible drinkable liquid in this house, so please...."
She gestured towards the front door that was reached by several marble steps. The huge doors swung open automatically as they approached and were about to swing shut again when Jessica blocked it. She had spotted a big limo cruising down the drive.
"Excuse me one second", she muttered and ran down the stairs to where the Cadillac was stopping. With a rather ill used look on her face, she opened the door and offered her hand to the occupant.
Out stepped an elderly man, about Devon's age, but leaning heavily on a walking stick. From the driver's side leapt a young man, the same age as Jessica, who looked very much like the old gentleman. He grinned at the sullen girl across the car. Jessica answered with a grimace and once the gentleman had turned away, she flipped him off and then smiled but mirthlessly.
The elderly occupant reached the top of the steps and held out a hand to Devon, Michael, RC and Bonnie in turn before facing Jessica, who had appeared behind him frowning bad temperedly.
"Well, introduce us my girl. And smile for once!", he said.
"Right, OK" she sighed, "Guys this is Oswald. I work for him. He's English and the weirdo down there is his son Dawson. I don't like him. But I'm the only person on this planet who apparently doesn't, so feel free to make friends with him. Oswald, Dawson, this is Devon Miles, Michael Knight, Bonnie Barstow and...."
"Reginald Cornelius the Third," obliged RC, "Just call me RC".
"Yes, what he said. Now go in. There's no danger in there unless you're Dawson. And I'll only put something poisonous in your drinks if I don't like you, so you'll all safe," said Jessica ushering them in.
As the doors slammed shut she added so only Michael could hear,
"You're off to a good start, mate. If you keep it up, I may actually begin to mean that last word."
"What?" whispered Michael, "Why me?"
"Liked the way you were with your partner. Thought that was sweet."
"You know about Kitt?"
"Course I do. I'm Jessica Dalzell. It's my job."
As they tore headlong down the road Kitt began to feel nervous. There was something there: just outside his scanner range – he could just tell. Or maybe it was more than one thing... Whatever it or they were, they seemed intent on staying close to but not too close as to attract attention.
Ahead, Jessica weaved to avoid a series of deep potholes. Michael, however, didn't know of Kitt's slight predicament and, taking that the suspension would absorb the impacts, drove straight over them. Kitt gasped in pain and as the overly sensitive perceptors sent jolts of electricity straight through his CPU, accidentally shut the engine down.
"What the..." said Michael, firing the engine again and swerving this time to dodge another pothole,
"Buddy, are you OK?"
Kitt made no effort whatsoever to reply verbally; instead he flicked on a screen and wrote up:
I'm alright. Don't worry, just keep away from the potholes – please.
Michael shook his head, grimaced and then winced as the Trans-Am bounced through another hole. Now Jessica glanced back towards them and, after staring worriedly at them through her visor, made some very urgent hand gestures for them to speed up. And sure enough once Michael took at fleeting look at the rear-view mirror, there were three big Ford Mustangs snarling up behind them, all with one person hanging out of the passenger window with some sort of weapon.
One of the men had a large machine gun propped up on his shoulder and another had a strange rocket launcher thing. The third was holding two hand grenades and had the sort of look of a man who has plenty more.
The man with the machine gun took aim at the Pontiac's left rear tire and fired until the cartridge had run out. Fortunately not a single bullet hit its mark; unfortunately this gave Michael a false sense of confidence, which was soon blown away. Literally. The man with the rocket launcher now took his turn – and he was a better marksman. The rocket sheared away the rubber from both Kitt's back tyres and caused the AI to slam on the accelerator, darting forward at ten times the speed even his MBS rims could take.
"Whoa buddy, chill. Just slow down, OK, slow down," said Michael slamming on the brakes. The whole car shuddered and began to slide sideways; huge rooster tails of sparks shooting from the rims.
Up ahead, Michael could see Jessica fiddling with on her bike before gripping the handlebars again and slowing the bike down until she was behind them. She dodged the sparks easily and stayed there, darting away from any pieces of molten metal spraying towards her.
Michael looked back at her and the pursuing men before turning around and staring ahead. There was a very battered looking bridge; strong enough to take a semi probably but it didn't look like it could stand a hit from any of the weapons the men were carrying.
He began to worry slightly, there was no way Kitt could drive any faster and there was no other over the gorge in the immediate vicinity. Well Jessica was probably very well prepared for this, or so he really, really hoped.
As the Pontiac thudded up onto the different level of tarmac Michael glanced back again to see that two flaps had opened on the side of the bike and he could see something falling out of them.
He thought about it for a couple seconds until the leading pursuer drove over one of the coin shaped objects and a chain explosion rocked the entire bridge. They were mines.
He watched as the other cars tried to dodge the wreckage but failed and slowly but surely part of the bridge began to crumble into the drop below.
Jessica sped past him again and made a 'can you hurry up a bit?' signal. Michael pressed down a bit harder on the gas and bounced down off the remaining part of the bridge.
Five much less eventful minutes later, the bike darted down a driveway. It stood out like a sore thumb, lined with thick green forest only a few metres wide that widened out further in and was surrounded by a high wall to form a complex. They slowed as they approached a huge ornamental gate. It creaked into life and groaned open, apparently recognising Jessica's bike.
Now the road was paved with red brick and the trees started to thin. Ahead Michael could see a huge mansion and a big black truck....
"Kitt?" he spoke carefully, wondering how his partner was, "Is that our semi up there?"
Kitt's voice sounded pained, his rims were now scrabbling against the slippy bricks unable to get any grip,
"Yes Michael. Devon, Bonnie and RC are there too."
Michael winced at the sound of his partner's voice; it had once more reverted to the metallic rasp it was whenever Kitt was in any pain. Or had been hacked into.
Michael shook that thought away easily; he was here to meet this girl and that was that. No more. It was strange the way the men attacked them but then again, she looked like that sort of person who attracted trouble no matter how much she didn't want it.
He stopped the battered Trans-Am beside the semi and climbed out; shutting the door a little too hard for Kitt's stressed out perceptors.
The AI whimpered audibly and collapsed his front tyres for no apparent reason. He was just not having a good day, Kitt decided before going into recharge mode, shutting off the agony from his rear tyres.
Jessica was now standing beside Devon, Bonnie and RC who had just exited the semi. She cast a meaningful glance towards the little car and then spoke,
"Please come in. Anyone for drinks or something? I reckon I got about every possible drinkable liquid in this house, so please...."
She gestured towards the front door that was reached by several marble steps. The huge doors swung open automatically as they approached and were about to swing shut again when Jessica blocked it. She had spotted a big limo cruising down the drive.
"Excuse me one second", she muttered and ran down the stairs to where the Cadillac was stopping. With a rather ill used look on her face, she opened the door and offered her hand to the occupant.
Out stepped an elderly man, about Devon's age, but leaning heavily on a walking stick. From the driver's side leapt a young man, the same age as Jessica, who looked very much like the old gentleman. He grinned at the sullen girl across the car. Jessica answered with a grimace and once the gentleman had turned away, she flipped him off and then smiled but mirthlessly.
The elderly occupant reached the top of the steps and held out a hand to Devon, Michael, RC and Bonnie in turn before facing Jessica, who had appeared behind him frowning bad temperedly.
"Well, introduce us my girl. And smile for once!", he said.
"Right, OK" she sighed, "Guys this is Oswald. I work for him. He's English and the weirdo down there is his son Dawson. I don't like him. But I'm the only person on this planet who apparently doesn't, so feel free to make friends with him. Oswald, Dawson, this is Devon Miles, Michael Knight, Bonnie Barstow and...."
"Reginald Cornelius the Third," obliged RC, "Just call me RC".
"Yes, what he said. Now go in. There's no danger in there unless you're Dawson. And I'll only put something poisonous in your drinks if I don't like you, so you'll all safe," said Jessica ushering them in.
As the doors slammed shut she added so only Michael could hear,
"You're off to a good start, mate. If you keep it up, I may actually begin to mean that last word."
"What?" whispered Michael, "Why me?"
"Liked the way you were with your partner. Thought that was sweet."
"You know about Kitt?"
"Course I do. I'm Jessica Dalzell. It's my job."