She wrung her hands a few times, getting the mobile analyzing unit prepared for what was to come. It hadn't occurred to her that Michael would have taken the computer's safety seriously enough to check it out from the institute and bring it to the mobile HQ. She would have figured Brenda's security was enough, but of course, to the prince of the needed — every precaution at hand had to be implemented.
She felt a little despairing while RC and Michael had conversed with the K18 over a few silly topics the computer was yet to comprehend or 'Kitt' as it had started to respond to. She'd kept a few things from Michael's ears the moment she'd arrived back at the mobile HQ with the repaired Analyzing unit, quite pleased he didn't demand the latest development's on Kitt's search now that he was convinced he'd found the AI. She swallowed a muffled croak recalling that more artifacts from Kitt's prior housing had been found — destroyed and violently mutilated.
Devon and she had spoken about the findings prior. Wasn't it slightly peculiar that these people had gone through lots of trouble over destroying Kitt rather than taking the easy way out and selling the computer out to the highest bidder? At the beginning (other than Michael), the team had, even though quite cruel, relied on Kitt's status of rarity on the black market and hoped this would provide enough reason for the kidnappers to allow the computer to continue living long enough for them or Kitt to contact them and provide them a clue but unfortunately, this wasn't the case — no matter how illogical it seemed. Perhaps they wanted FLAG out of the way — Michael had after all put everything on pause just to further Kitt's search. Who knew how many crooks were basking under the sun while their plans ran orderly with the lack of a Knight hunting them down at every turn and alley?
She took a deep breath eyeing the men all gathered around Kitt's housing as if mourning a lost friend — perhaps in a way, they all were. A tense air stuck to the men inside the trailer, not a word passed among them as the silence drifted them to another past, another life.
For Michael he was certainly taken back to when life had seemed just perfect — When Kitt and he'd operated under the dense sunlight of another morning. The man recalled the short-lived moments of happiness he and his partner-in-crime had enjoyed, so many he'd taken for granted and now were gone.
He clenched his jaw watching anxiously as Kitt's camera gently rotated to get a better look at the analyzing unit. The computer also captivated under his own thoughts while the strange machine's components warmed up for the task at hand.
'Will I encounter any negative effects during the procedure, Doctor Barstow?' Kitt's text box flashed into view. His aperture focused on the oversized unit far larger than himself in curiosity. He wasn't too sure where the "mobile" implication made sense for its sheer size. He's seen far smaller computer cases than whatever this machine was supposed to be.
Bonnie grasped the head of the cable, unwinding it from its hold and eyeing the computer's side port uncomfortably. Unsure if any real damage could come from this intrusion upon the complex cyber system at play here.
"Not at all – hmm, Kitt." Bonnie bit down on her lips turning to Devon who was wearing a grave and worn demeanor, one meant to catch Michael if the news turned out to be unpleasant. He didn't dare lift Michael's hopes higher than necessary — Things were looking bleak.
Michael wrinkled his nose before clearing his throat and approaching Kitt's unit. Feeling antsy he watched the computer screen dimly flickering absentmindedly in a gesture of nervousness. Kitt had caught on right away to the subtle change the moment he'd vanished with Mr. Miles only a few minutes ago. Something wasn't right and Kitt was fairly competent enough to know it greatly involved him.
"Look, pal, we just need proof to put Harold away. After this, you and I will be enjoying a silent cruise along the beach." The man comforted, trying to lighten the load of what this scan really meant.
RC and Bonnie exchanged worried glances. Devon looked dead ahead at an empty space on the wall, motionless — perhaps holding to a sorrow of his own.
Kitt turned his camera to stare at the unit before him once more. He wasn't sure how he felt about "putting" Harold "away." It didn't sound pleasant and from his limited knowledge revolving around legal actions, he figured it meant incarcerating the man in prison. The computer felt unease over this thought — logic, and emotions locked bios-deep into his system spilling into his more logical mind, wreaking havoc and making the room turn unsteadily while his sensors malfunctioned. He gathered himself together, determined not to let the few weeks of life take their toll on him. If he was Kitt then he had several years of experience to draw up from — despite these being non-existent now he was aware he simply had to know, well, better.
"Michael, let's not get ahead of ourselves." Devon interupted the shared silence with gloom, the stoned face finally softening and giving the younger man a glimmer of hope. Strengthening the man, even if a horrific collapse was underway…more sleepless nights wandering the streets in search of a friend that was probably no more.
Michael squeezed his eyes, the quick and bitter exchange registered by Kitt quickly. He felt his electronic heartbeat deviate from its normal rhythm, aware of the minuscule possibility he wasn't really the 'car' — He wasn't too sure If this was a good thing. Sure he was still hesitant about which life he was going to lead. If flying or driving, but since it seemed Michael had been looking forward to finally embracing the lost AI that he'd come to consider was himself; he was afraid of somehow letting the man down. Wouldn't he after all? If all unraveled then Kitt would have to leave and depart to the skies. Never to see or hear of Michael again, or any of his friends. In itself the thought was a torment, the computer met with a difficult scenario to process incomparable to ANY he'd encountered on the simulator or even with the 'brood mother'. This was too real, heavy and the consequences would run him down forever.
'Michael, perhaps the accident in the hall…' He stopped himself erasing the text box before anyone's eyes could land on the words. Michael rubbed the back of his neck staring at the floor as Doctor Barstow snugly pushed the cable into Kitt's side port with a click.
His vision blanked and for a moment in the darkness, he could hear the whine — of something robust running through the landscape —- His vision came back, meant with Doctor Barstow kindly holding his shaking camera head in a gentle grasp.
"You feeling alright, Kitt?" She asked, watching the aperture widen and shrink while the computer had trouble refocusing his vision on her worried face. His text box brightened up, the cursor taking some steady strides along the page as he impatiently answered Doctor Barstow's inquiry.
'I have a good feeling about this.' Kitt beamed up, suddenly his screen taking on a bright and warm glow. The gesture had an immediate effect on Michael who grinned with a slight shudder. Kitt purred his fans quietly — slightly grateful he'd been able to prolong the few fond moments between them if only by some milliseconds.
Doctor Barstow smiled gloomily, releasing the camera from her hands before looking over the controls of the mobile analyzing unit in dismay, unsure if to condemn Michael and the K18 to separation. Even if it wasn't Kitt, the attachment was real — something Devon greatly regretted allowing to happen, now that it was unclear if the unit really was the Knight 2000 or not.
Kitt felt his inner components whirr under the pressure of the invasive appliance pulling over his systems and many archives. Trusting Doctor Barstow had no malicious intentions, the AI allowed her free reign over him. Course all except for one, his conscious mind — He subdued the unit just enough to interrupt its feedback loop. Taking a look over the results before the technician was given a chance. Feeling his insides freeze over when they weren't entirely favorable. The cracked programming and scarred formatting of the comlink drivers were far too incapacitated for the unit to remotely consider him to be the Knight 2000. How was that possible? He still had the connection to the comlink, didn't he? It was there!
Thinking objectively, It just simply wasn't enough.
There needed to be much more to ground him to the Knight 2000. Much more to link his ties with the Knight 2000's systems. There wasn't any — Nothing currently available to mand a car. Only several drivers and secondary programs were present to control heavy and athletic aircrafts but nothing closely resembling a Trans-Am. He felt 'lightheaded'. There wasn't even a sliver of memories to anchor him back to this life — He was sure he'd — Was he sure? Had he really been lost to Michael? Or was it all a fantastic fantasy? Something he wanted to achieve selflessly and keep as his own? — He shunned the illogical questions of 'what's' and 'ifs', trying to calm the throbbing in his CPU and brisk turn of his fans. Trying to drown this hurt within him that was resulting in some form of failure in his logical banks.
What if it was all a 'goof'? As Doctor Barstow had once said within the domain of 'the brooder'. What if it was a coincidence that he'd gained access to the comlink? Just a secondary program with separate hardware to boot that just so happened to have the same encryption as the com.
With the results in hand. Kitt kept his camera and monitor steady. Best not need to alert anyone of the premature results. Nobody deserves to be hurt so badly.
Taking a final glance over Michael's face, flushed out of color from the painful wait — Kitt made a final decision, It was after all in his 'hand' to choose — though somehow he knew that Michael had already made this decision deep within his heart. He didn't need a machine to tell him that K18 was his loyal Trans-Am in shining armor.
He passed the final results through to the analyzing unit with a taxing hum. Finally settling his stare over the small crowd holding its breath in expectation.
He gently turned his optic toward Michael, basking in the man's friendship for a little longer before news broke over the team in a cool, refreshing wave. The man's eyes shimmered at the edges before giving the unit a huge big smile.
Harold was one of the first to hear the news. He curled his fists while the clamber of the team decimated to only a whisper. Brenda was on the phone, eyes wide and mouth open. Unable to comprehend what was being said directly to her from the other side.
"Well I'm —" She couldn't fathom the results. It just wasn't comprehensible. "I'm just a little overwhelmed." She finally expressed her astonishment over the shaky receiver. "It's disturbing to know that such a complex unit could have been introduced into our facility this easily. I have no words to express my deep regard for the 2000s recovery, however. Regarding security, Devon, I'd appreciate it if FLAG could perform a thorough investigation of the institute and punish the ones responsible for this act of theft and maybe even severe discredit of our profession and name before this case is wrapped and shelved."
She paused listening to the man's optimistic clamor on the other side, giving no end to the conclusive search that had about worn him out.
She turned to the others, placing a slim hand over the receiver and motioning for everyone to leave. They'd heard enough — she'd had enough.
They did as told but not without the distraught conversations pinned under scrutiny. There was a traitor among them, someone half-wit enough to come up with something deadly, foreseeably, and ludicrously clever.
Brenda finally hung up the phone, noting awkwardly that Harold had not followed the others. She simply shrugged. Figuring he wanted to have this chat now rather than later. More cause of suspicion toward him as a prime suspect, but she could have cared less. A brave soul she supposed, but weak and too submissive — desperate — Just enough to allow her some control and personally supervise some of her ambitious endeavors. Rolling her eyes and straightening her posture she finally directed her full attention toward him.
"I don't want to hear a word." She snapped, watching his lips tremble. "Your little fiasco wasn't worth the company name. I invested in your, well actually, our project — Now make yourself useful and listen to the instructions I'm about to give you." She beckoned for him to approach.
He swallowed, taking a wavering step toward her before breaking into a slow walk. She scolded him for his hesitance. It wasn't deserved — he hadn't known — much like all the other times he'd been her mindless pawn and carried task after task unaware of the fatal consciousness dare he meant failure. He'd never failed — now he had. The long string of shared knowledge from others running the position long ago came back to bite. He'd not listened, the high pay having blurred his mind — he'd been warned, why hadn't he listened!?
She shoved a flimsy key chain with a singular key into his sweaty palm, almost thrusting him in a heap to the floor with her enraged semblance.
"It only has one — I only need one." She smiled viciously, her eyes nailed to the keys. Talking more to herself than him. "Go to the address inscribed and ask for my things. He'll ask for a code, it's 'sunbird'. Bring them here and we'll talk about your questionable employment after." The woman sneered before breaking into a speed walk down the hall. Her purple heels clicked further into the distance. Every click landed and wounded his heart for he knew she'd done something awful — and he'd ultimately been used. He too felt guilty — because he'd been too arrogant to catch her drift and now it was too late.