Hulked Out Knight, a Knight Rider + Incredible Hulk Crossover fanfic

Knight of the Incredible Hulk

Mirror and Image

David Banner looked over the printouts, making a series of notes on a pad of lined paper that he kept with him at all times, going over the numbers and making some calculations in margins before underlining a few more numbers, scribbling in shorthand a thought or hypothesis by one column of numbers and repeating the process. When he was finished, he put the pad of paper inside his lab coat and went back to his original, paying job: making copies of the pages and pages of numbers and filing them appropriately based one the codes in each paper's header. For all the advancement of computers, deciphering the answers they spat out was still up to men and women, and that was what David was doing.

No, technically, that wasn't right. Technically, he was paid to organize the printouts and file them for the analysts to figure out the answer the computers had documented, but it was because he had access to the printouts that he was able to perform his own analysis, and so work on his own pet project: Namely, finding a cure for himself.

He had been working at the Stark subsidy for over two months, officially as a technical assistant, and inside a week he had already figured out which of the top secret experiments dealt with gamma radiation, uranium, and other isotopes; as well as genetic engineering of plants and exploration of the human genome - all things that David was particularly interested in, and with the out-and-out glut of data, he was certain he would soon be able to reverse engineer the experiments they were contriving above his clearance level, and once he did that, he could piggy back on the data they were making to work on his own cure. It was all planned out, nothing could go wrong.

Of course, David had thought that more than once, and it was because of that he refused to get his hopes up, and scrutinized his data and his analysis three or even four times.

Frowning, he looked over the latest printout and noted the changes in numbers. There it was again. For the last three weeks he had noticed a trend in the data, certain numbers not adding up, and he wasn't sure why. It happened again, this time with the gamma radiation tests - whatever they were - and he pulled out his pad of paper again to make a note of it. All of the experiments at the institute were military contracts, top secret, but all supposedly research based only. David didn't know what they were doing, but whatever it was certainly wouldn't generate numbers and variables like these, and so he copied it down before filing it.

Finished with the most recent printout, he filed the paperwork and left the lab - more of a closet - and made his way down to the staff room for a cup of coffee. His eyes were burning with all the numbers jumbling in front of his vision. He needed a break.

He walked in and saw an unfamiliar face in the room. The man was enviously tall; easily 6'4 or 6'5, with a thick mass of curls hugging his head almost like a helmet. David blinked, however, when he saw a leather jacket instead of a lab coat. Who...?

The man turned, scratching his chin, and saw David frozen in the door frame, staring at him. The tall man offered a toothy, charismatic grin.

"Hi," he said warmly, offering a hand. "I'm Michael Knight, maybe you can help me."

Knight...? As in... No, that wasn't possible. David stumbled, several "Uh"s dropping out of his mouth before his brain kick started and manners behooved his own hand extending.

"David," he said slowly, watching the man curiously. "David Barstow."

Knight blinked at the name, before offering a warm laugh. "Barstow? Really? Any relation to Bonnie Barstow?"

"No," David drew out, mentally cursing that one of his aliases was now flagged in this man's mind. He tried so hard to pick names that were innocuous! "No, not that I know of."

"It would have been funny," Knight said, the firm handshake over and placing his hands on his hips. He was a full head taller than David. "Bonnie's a scientist too; I wonder what the odds are that there are two Barstows out there that are scientists."

David backtracked. Quickly. "I'm not a scientist," he said softly, "I'm a technical assistant at best, a paperwork secretary at worst. You said you needed help, Mr. Knight?"

"Michael, please," Knight corrected. "Yeah, I was looking for the man in charge, but he's in a meeting so I thought I'd take a tour of the place. See the sights, and all that; you think you could show me around?"

David, still in the doorframe, started mentally scrambling. A stranger wanted to take a tour of the Ferrigno Institute with him as an escort? That didn't bode well, not at all; suspicion was already rising in David - a lowly technical assistant - he could only imagine what division or branch this guy came from, and that only spelled trouble. And trouble David avoided with all possible haste, the last thing he wanted was to somehow be implicated in whatever it was this Knight character was investigating or worse, get caught in the line of fire. His... condition... wouldn't allow for that. David shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Knight," David said slowly, breaking eye contact, "I'm afraid I can't help you."

Knight's eyes narrowed, and the friendly aura he exuded reduced drastically, replaced with a stronger feeling of intensity. A bulldog. Great, that was all David needed.

"Hey, it's okay," Knight said, raising a hand quickly when David moved to sidestep. "I'm not looking to cause trouble. I'm a friend, I work for the Foundation of Law and Government-" David paled "-and I'm just looking into some reports we received, okay? Help me debunk the rumors and everything will be fine."

Foundation for Law and Government? FLAG? Knight?

David was in trouble.

Deep, deep trouble.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "I really can't help you. If you'll just-"

But Knight moved in front of David, blocking his way as the intensity of his gaze increased. "Hey, if you're in trouble I want to help you. If you know what's going on you have to tell me."

There was an earnestness in the tall man's voice; and David knew FLAG, he knew them. He knew Wilton Knight, knew the ideals, knew the rigor as well as the rhetoric. He'd even met people who had been saved by FLAG, knew that this man meant every word he said, would do everything in his power to help; but the problem was that that was the very reason why David had to run. If the people in charge of the Foundation learned about David Banner, they wouldn't stop in trying to help him, and in doing so they would place their very lives at risk, and David just couldn't let that happen. He had seen first hand what happened to people who helped him, Elana, Caroline, and many others. With the arrival of Knight and the Foundation, his last two months worth of work was ruined, because he simply couldn't afford to be there when the fallout of whatever investigation they were conducting happened.

His notes? Would they help in the investigation? He cursed his civic-mindedness, not wanting to get involved at all but wanting to help such a respectable organization - but he couldn't do it, he reminded himself, he couldn't risk them. FLAG specialized in mechanics - computers and engineering and hardware and software.

Their research into genetics and biology had died with David. Years ago.

He couldn't get involved.

He couldn't.

Knight, sensing David's internal struggle, had waited, patiently, eyes intent on the technical assistant, and he knew the answer before David even opened his mouth.

"Mr. Knight-"

"What's going on here?" a third voice demanded. David and Knight turned around to see Dr. Colvin, head of the Ferrigno Institute glaring at them. "Barstow?" he demanded, looking at David and silently demanding an explanation.

Knight stepped in. "Hi, Dr. Colvin, I'm Michael Knight from FLAG; I was told you were in a meeting and was waiting for it to get out. We've been asked to investigate a few things and I was hoping you could give me a quick tour of the place."

"That is impossible," Colvin said. "You don't have the clearance."

"Yes, actually, I do," Knight sight, another toothy grin on his face, once more exuding charm as he reached into his leather jacket and pulled out an ID. David watched Colvin take it and inspect it scrupulously, before barring his teeth slightly and tossing it back to Knight. He threw a downright dirty look to David, who kept his head down and eyes averted.

"Very well, Mr. Knight. Come with me."

David dreaded the tongue-lashing he would get at the end of the day.

Michael left the Ferrigno Institute all smiles and handshakes, walking to his car and getting in before he let the façade fall. Reaching to the ignition and starting the engine, he put the black T-top into gear and pulled the Trans Am out of the parking lot, driving out of the compound and through a series of back supply roads up rocky terrain, into a residential district that overlooked the compound.

He stared down over the complex, eying the buildings and smoke stacks and chain link fences, frowning. "KITT?" he asked.

"Yes, Michael."

"Get anything on your scanners?"

"No, Michael," his beloved car replied. "It appears as though their labs and lower levels are shielded with lead, or perhaps some other compound material, my scanners can't find any trace of the biochemical waste Devon was suspicious of."

Michael shifted in his seat, leaning forward onto the dash and studying the buildings. "What about the institute itself?" he asked.

"The compound was built five years ago - much to the consternation of the locals for losing their public park, I might add; and I can see why, the view here is less than admirable by human standards - after several months fighting with the city over zoning and permits and other forms of - to coin a phrase - 'bureaucratic red tape.' It went up in record time once all the red tape was passed. Ferrigno Institute is a subsidy of Stark Industries, and all of its field of study are based on military contracts-"

" 'Supposed' military contracts," Michael corrected. "We wouldn't have been asked to investigate if their operation was above board."

"Yes, Michael I was just getting to that," the computer said, sounding more than slightly annoyed. Michael smirked in response. "I'm still combing through their records, but there's no immediate indication that they're dumping their experimental waste illegally, or that they're producing experimental waste at all."

"I know, pal, I know," Michael said, leaning back in the perfectly molded seat of the car, steeping his fingers together. "I didn't see anything suspicious either while I was in there, but something is definitely up." He paused, turning the information over in his mind. Devon had said an investigative reporter had died looking into the Institute's experimental waste, Jack McGee or something or other, and his editor had insisted that the investigation be started. Devon had been dubious at best, McGee was a bit of a hack as a writer apparently, but now that they were at the Institute, and Michael had seen that guy's, Bartow's, reaction, he knew something was up.

"KITT," he said slowly, looking at the voicebox. "Give me everything you can on a guy named David Barstow. Not relation to Bonnie, he says, but I think he knows a lot more than a 'technical assistant' oughtta know."

"Right away, Michael," KITT replied, the car's view screen suddenly a flurry with data as the AI accessed records and information files. Michael studied the green characters as they began listing basic details: name, address... and that was it? Michael frowned, looking back to the voicebox. "This is interesting," KITT said, a frown audible in his voice synthesizer. "David Barstow didn't exist until two months ago, when he started working at the Ferrigno Institute. My best guess is that this is an alias."

Michael leaned back again, shifting his weight in the bucket seat. "An alias, huh...?"

"Doesn't that imply that he is a character of ill repute?" KITT asked.

"It's not a good sign," Michael said, staring back down at the complex below the cliff. "I'll give you that, buddy, but not all people who use alias' are criminals."

"But who else would use an alias?" the T-top asked, confused.

"Me," Michael said, shrugging his shoulders. "Michael Long may be dead, but I'm still him, in a way. And I met lots of women when I was a cop who changed their names to hide from ex boyfriends or abusive family members. I don't know for sure, KITT, but that guy Barstow doesn't seem like a bad guy."

"If you say so, Michael," KITT replied, "though I must say I've yet to understand how you can - 'size up' is the phrase, I believe - a person with just a look. Even with my processor completely dedicated to the analysis of facial expressions I can't get a 'size up' of a person the way you do."

Michael smiled slightly, reaching out and stroking the dash affectionately. "It's an instinct," he explained, "from years spent as a cop. You learn pretty quick to get a sense of someone - either that or get into a world of trouble. I couldn't explain it to you any more than you could explain to me the difference between an alpha and a beta circuit on your motherboard."

"But Michael, it's perfectly simple! You can tell by-"

"I won't get it, pal, so save your breath," Michael said quickly, raising his hands in supplication.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, watching the Institute well into the afternoon.

"KITT," Michael said, "When Barstow leaves I'm going to go and talk to him. I want you to stay up here and keep your scanners peeled on the compound. Let's see if any trucks come in or out for delivery."

"As you wish, Michael."

It was late evening when KITT finally detected Barstow as he left. Michael got out of the distinctive Trans Am and looked out over the cliff he was parked on. Beyond the cul-de-sac of residential homes he was surrounded by there was an old stair rail that would have once lead to the park the Institute grounds were built on; and the tall FLAG member began making his way down the concrete steps. The vista was breathtaking, save the compound, of mountains and the beginning of a beautiful sunset. Michael took his time, wanting to catch Barstow at the edge of the grounds. The shorter man was jumpy, that much had been obvious when he first met the man, and he wanted Barstow to feel as comfortable as possible for this interview, and he hoped being away from the bosses encouraged bravery.

Once he was back on level ground he pushed himself into a light jog, his long legs eating up the distance between him and Barstow, and once he was in shouting distance he called out the other man's name.

Barstow stopped briefly, clearly reacting to the name, before Michael saw a minute shake of the head and kept walking. Frowning, Michael pulled his watch up to his lips. "KITT, where's Barstow parked?"

"That's just it, Michael," his car replied from the cliffs, "He doesn't have a driver's license."

"You mean he walks to and from work?" Michael demanded, incredulous. Public transportation was terrible here, and if the address KITT had produced was valid, the commute must take hours. He pushed his pace slightly and refocused on Barstow, calling out his name another half dozen times before the man finally stopped, his shoulders sagging slightly, and turning around.

"Mr. Knight," he said with deep resignation.

"Michael, please," he insisted. "Look, I don't want any trouble, I just want to help."

"I can't help," Barstow said. "My supervisors have informed me that if I'm seen speaking to you again there will be dire consequences, and besides; I'm just an assistant, I can't help you."

Michael always hated dealing with a stubborn suspect. He'd tried being placating in the staff room and had lost, now he decided to be a bit more... assertive. Michael grabbed Barstow's arm and spun him around, keeping a firm grip. "Listen man," he growled, taking in the round face and expressive eyes, "There's something wrong with your company, and I think you know what it is. Now it's just a matter of time before I figure out what you're hiding, and by then you'll be looking at a whole lot of jail time. I can only imagine what a guy with an assumed name is going to do in jail."

Barstow's eyes widened, shocked that his alias had been discovered so quickly, and Michael pressed his advantage.

"I know you're not a bad guy," he said, shaking the shorter man once, "But if you hold out on me that makes you just as bad as them." He thrust an accusatory thumb back to the compound. "Don't think they're not gonna make you the fall guy for this. It's better to fess up now than to go jail, right? Right, 'Barstow'?"

Barstow, for his part, had become very agitated, struggling against Michael, but nobody who came up to his shoulder could be much of a match, and Michael could sense if not outright see that the struggle was perfunctory at best. This man wanted to help, and Michael was willing to cajole him to do it.

Imagine his surprise, then, when Barstow's energy seemed to leave him completely, and he straightened to take a deep breath. He looked up at Michael in the eye and - strangely - gave a disapproving frown.

"Wilton would be deeply disappointed to hear you make threats like that," he said softly.

Wilton...

This lab rat knew Wilton Knight?

What...?

"Michael!" KITT's voice erupted from his commlink. "Michael, I detect a man on the northwest corner of the western building, he's aiming a weapon of some kind!"

Everything was instinct after that.

Michael had already had a grip on Barstow's arm, and so he grabbed the opposing shoulder and started shoving him further down the way, trying to get distance between them and whatever shooter KITT had spotted. He looked over his shoulder, keeping himself between the marksman and Barstow and trying to assess if he could see anything. The sun was casting a golden glow over everything, and its light reflected off of something... Michael tried to move faster, but the difference in strides between his tall frame and the significantly shorter Barstow was too much, and the two tripped over each other. Barstow grunted as they landed, and Michael heard a soft thud behind him, and a hideous smelling cloud immediately surrounded them.

"Michael, that cloud is toxic, get out of there!"

"KITT!" he coughed into the commlink. "I need you!" He erupted in a fit of coughs that he tried to swallow, knowing that doing so would only make him inhale more of whatever chemicals were in the toxic cloud. He tried to hoist Barstow to his feet, the smaller man coughing so hard it sounded like low growls, and when Michael rolled him over he saw white eyes. God, he was already affected by the cloud...! Tears leaking out of his eyes, unable to see, unable to breathe, Michael fell to his knees, struggling to get downwind of the smoke.

The last thing he remembered was seeing green skin and wondering if it was his.

KITT was beside himself.

His scanners watched as the figure in the Ferrigno building took aim; whatever weapon the figure held was not a standard weapon, and KITT's sensors had no idea what was going to happen. His processors calculated furiously the fastest route to Michael, and it was with great consternation that he realized he couldn't just turbo boot over the cliffside and peel rubber to his partner. His molecular bonded shell was impressive, to be sure, but there were limits on what even he could do, and falling two hundred feet with thrusters gunning might not hurt his shell, but it would wreck utter havoc on his primary, secondary, and tertiary functions, leaving him unable to help Michael. And so he was forced to gun his engine, backing up in the cul-de-sac he had been observing from, and take the now-infuriating back roads to renter the Institute's compound and peel rubber to his partner.

He did so; it was exactly 3 minutes 2.75 seconds and it was the longest 3 minutes 2.75 seconds KITT had ever experienced, because in those precious seconds Michael was not on his scanners. It was always disconcerting, when the limits of KITT's programming came to full relief. Michael had lost count of the number of times they were chasing a target, lost sight of him, and discovered that KITT had also lost him on the scanners. The car's peripheral sensors were limited, and most of his data came from the scanner in the front of his car. His range, though always incrementally improved by Bonnie, was still limited to approximately 1.5 miles, and further than that accuracy was greatly reduced. Beyond the conical scope of his scanners, accuracy was reduced to only a few hundred feet, and so racing through the streets was torture for the AI, because Michael and David Barstow were not in his scanners and he had no idea what damage was being done by that shock of grey dust that had erupted from the projectile.

Three minutes two point seven five seconds later, screeching to a halt at the edge of the compound and blowing the cloud away with a burst of CO2, KITT discovered what, exactly, had been done.

And he ran a self-diagnostic on his scanner to make sure he hadn't suffered a malfunction.

To be sure, KITT had an extensive vocabulary, provided by both Bonnie and Devon, and consistently appended by Michael with new colloquialisms and turns of phrase. But there was nothing, utterly nothing, to describe what his scanners told him was in front of him.

KITT immediately recorded everything for analysis later and, parenthetically, as proof that this really did happen.

A giant, green... creature was standing where the cloudburst had been; approximately six and a half feet tall - taller than Michael - with humanoid musculature that defied humanoid proportions. Vital signs indicated a metabolic process that was at least four times that of any human; blood pressure, heart rate, all normal indicators made no apparent sense to KITT's scanners. Weight was well over five hundred pounds, and, the height of all peculiarities, it was holding Michael in its arms.

Threat analysis, probability analysis, scenario permutations, strategy guidelines, all of it came up Return Zero to KITT's CPU, and he was at an utter loss at what to do, how to react, or what to even think.

The great green behemoth spun around in a circle, growling in low frequencies, eyes scanning the immediate area for trouble, or so it seemed, before taking several steps forward, away from both KITT and the compound.

At last, a scenario permutation popped up in KITTs analysis - kidnapping Michael. In this, at least, he knew what to do.

He took his voice synthesizer and projected it out to the giant.

"Release Michael this instant you ghastly green leviathan," he said, revving his engine in a threatening volume and growling his way up to the beast. Michael's vitals were all over the map; he had to get his partner out of that thing's massive paws and to a hospital.

The creature ignored KITT utterly, walking with great meaty strides. Following through with the implied threat, KITT spun his wheels in a flashy spit of dirt, revving his engines again in an angry growl and throwing up dust and dirt everywhere, making slow, screeching circles around the creature to disorient and confuse it as the dust cloud slowly engulfed him. KITT perceived the beast's head twitching back and forth, perhaps in confusion, perhaps in a threat analysis of its own. KITT repeated his demand.

"Release Michael at once!"

And, to KITT's overwhelmed circuits, the great green goliath raised one massive fist and thrust it down, into the Trans Am's hood and denting it. Denting it! His molecular bonded shell! His virtual invincibility! Dented! KITT backed up, assimilating the new data and trying to decide on a different course of action. The beast did not like that, however, and took several menacing steps forward, raising its fist again, and striking at KITT's windshield.

It cracked.

Just how strong was this thing?

The projected answer made KITT's CPU stagger, and he backed up further, uncertain what to do. He had to get to Michael, precious time was wasting, but he had no idea how to contrive the creature into releasing him. The T-top quickly ticked off the list of things he could do with the new data, unchecking any strategy that involved physical altercation. He couldn't risk Michael, and he'd be no good to his partner if he sustained severe damage.

Diplomacy was the next item on the list, and KITT projected his voice again.

"All right you great green goliath," he said slowly, easing off on his engine rpms. "The man you are currently holding is in desperate need of medical attention. Unless you plan on taking him to a hospital, I highly suggest you release him into my custody. He is my partner and I will not have you manhandling him like a sack of flour."

The green creature paused, head tilting to the side and looking at KITT. The expression was one the AI has seen several times, most often in children when they discovered that a car could talk:

Curiosity.

The cross-reference with the giant beast with that of a child was a huge contradiction to KITT's CPU, and he flailed for several seconds to break out of the infinite loop. In the interim, the creature stepped forward again, and instead of throwing a vicious punch, reached down and touched KITT's shell.

Still trying to resolve the comparison of the beast with the child, KITT overrode his confusion and focused on the data he had accumulated. "I'm not going to hurt you," he projected, keeping his voice modulator soft and friendly. "I just want my partner back. You won't do anything bad, would you?"

Staring at KITT, the creature slowly turned his gaze to the unconscious Michael, and slowly lowered his partner onto his hood, in the sizeable dent the creature had initially made.

Then it stiffened, as if sensing something, and it was after it took off running that KITT realized the creature's sonic sensitivity was high enough to hear the sound of the approaching ambulances he had called in his frantic drive to Michael's aide. Cradled on his hood, KITT kept his scanners tuned to the beast as it ran away, but shifted gears and slowly exited the Ferrigno compound, carefully driving to meet the ambulance while he hacked into their radio frequency and detailed all the data on Michael's vitals that he could accumulate.

The great green goliath could wait.

Michael took priority.

... When David finally realized he was back, he subsequently realized he felt terrible. He was looking at a brick wall, covered in graffiti, in an alley strewn with garbage. The smell was overwhelming, and David slumped to the side, releasing anything he had ever eaten in six weeks, before weakly rolling onto his back and away from the scent of his own vomit. Panting, his lungs felt hoarse, and he slowly began to remember what had happened.

Knight. The warnings from his superiors. Knight again trying to talk to him - threatening him and not understanding that no cage could hold David. A voice had erupted from somewhere, Knight's wrist? And then it was a race down the road and a cloud of dust, and... His memory skittered to a halt.

And then his eyes doubled in size as he realized what was likely in that cloud.

Coughing slightly, he rolled onto his stomach and struggled to pull himself up to his feet. He realized dimly that - in a rare feat - he still had the torn tatters of his shirt, and in them the pad of paper he had been taking notes on when all this started. Still weak, he spent the time gathering his strength to look over his notes. If the Institute's experiments were weaponized, then the names of some of the variables suddenly made much more sense, and he looked over the data with new understanding. If that was that, that meant this variable represented that, and... Yes, there were the radiation tests. He sighed in relief when he saw the numbers there weren't right for weapons testing. That mean... there, he recognized what column and series of numbers he was looking for. He didn't know what the agents were, but he would if he went to a hospital and analyzed his... No, he would forever be a corrupt sample and...

Knight!

What about Michael Knight?

He had been in the cloud with David, where was he now?

David finally was able to pull himself to his feet, and as he began stumbling down the alley he felt stronger as he went. The creature's enhanced metabolism must have burned off most of the affects, but what about Knight? He tugged at the tatters of his shirt before seeing a clothesline. He nicked a plaid button down, searching his pockets but finding no money to leave in offering, and so he pulled off a spare sheet from his pad and scribbled a quick apology and pinning it where the shirt had once been. Shrugging it on, he exited out onto the street and took in his surroundings.

Within minutes he was at a payphone. But with no money, or even change, he was done before he even picked up the receiver. He stared at the phone for a few minutes before sighing and walking up the street to a bus stop. He needed to get back to the apartment; he could use the phone there and find out where Knight was being treated.

Two hours later he walked past a dented black car and entered the hospital he had been looking for. The off-white walls and fluorescent lights and scent of antiseptic washed over him; he knew hospitals like the back of his hand, and it wasn't long before he found a workroom and an extra lab coat, which he shrugged on and stretched out on one of the cots. He looked like any other doctor pulling double shifts, resting when he could, and David allowed himself a power nap, waiting for dark.

Satisfied, he got up and found a pair of glasses in one of the pockets. The lenses were terribly thick, and thereby obscured him even more. He slid them into his hair for the time being, choosing to subject himself to the high prescription only when necessary, and he slowly made his way to the ICU. His guess proved to be correct, he found Michael Knight's name on the register, and entered the tall man's room.

David looked at the chart, seeing at a glance everything the doctors had already done for their patient; and it also gave him an assessment of what equipment was in the hospital that he could use. The former doctor pulled out his pad of numbers and compared them, wishing he had a computer to make the analysis faster, but dutifully doing computations and slowly reverse-engineering what was in the compound that had afflicted them. He didn't like how long it took, but he was finally able to determine the major elements of the bio-chemical weapon that had been fired on them, and to David's relief he realized he knew most of the chemicals and how to deal with them. With that, he made several notes on the chart, adjustment of medications, suggestion of tests, and methods of treatment to try.

Now he needed to wait to see if there was improvement.

For the record, Michael felt terrible.

When he finally came to, he was in a hospital - a more common occurrence than he cared to admit but nonetheless foreign enough that he had to think about how he had gotten there. He remembered talking to the paper pusher, Barstow, KITT had given a warning, and...

His first instinct was to groan, but before he could even start it his chest erupted in fire and he gave an involuntary cough that sounded more like a wheeze than a cough. Worse, the process of doing so wrecked utter havoc on the rest of his body, and he was utterly exhausted by the time the episode had passed. When he next woke up he remembered the experience and breathed more delicately, reaching up as he realized he was wearing an oxygen mask and drifted off again.

When he woke the third time, Devon and Bonnie were standing over him; and they both smiled when they saw his blue eyes.

"Oh, Michael, we were so worried!" Bonnie said.

"W-what?" he tried to ask, but Devon raised a hand to prevent him from finishing the question.

"You've spent the last two days in intensive care," he said by way of explanation. "KITT managed to call an ambulance and detail the nature of your condition, making them more prepared to assist you when they arrived. Whatever compound was in that projectile was toxic to the most extreme degree; it's a miracle you weren't killed within minutes. As it is, it looks as though you'll make a full recovery."

Michael blinked, slow to process the information before it finally sunk in. He looked around surreptitiously, but saw no other patients in the room he was in. "Barstow?" he asked in a raspy voice.

Bonnie blinked, at first thinking he was referring to her, before realizing the truth and answering. "He was nowhere to be found, he wasn't even in the cloudburst when KITT finally arrived."

That didn't sound right to Michael's addled brain, and it took him almost a minute to work through his hazy memories. His voice was stronger when he next spoke. "I remember seeing white eyes," he said, "And green skin."

Devon and Bonnie shared an intense look between them, and Michael realized there was more going on than they were telling him. His mind was beginning to pick up speed, and he worked himself into a sitting position; his lungs hated him for the effort but he managed to do it. "Okay," he said, "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

The two shared a look again, and Bonnie conveniently muttered something about going back to work on KITT, leaving Devon the dubious task of explaining whatever it was that they weren't telling him. Michael watched in morbid fascination as Devon - proper, erudite, articulate Devon, actually hemmed and hawed, rubbing his chin with a thin finger and darting his eyes left and right, before finally coming to a decision. "I suppose the best way to explain it would be simply to show you," he said finally, the tone in his voice that of disbelief.

Michael frowned. What had happened? "Devon," he said, his voice stronger, "You're starting to scare me. Did something happen? Is KITT alright?"

"... Bonnie assures me all the damage is superficial," Devon said quickly, loading a video into the hospital room's TV and drawing the curtains closed to extra privacy.

"Superficial?" Michael reiterated. "You mean KITT took damage? Just how corrosive was-"

"Michael," Devon interrupted, "I believe the most appropriate response is to say, 'A picture is worth a thousand words.' "

And he hit play.

Michael was in utter disbelief when he watched the video. He recognized the angle of the lens, these were KITT's cameras that had recorded the images, and obviously confirmed the validity of what he was seeing. Having said that, Michael could not believe what he was seeing. A giant, green... thing had him slung over a shoulder and spun around angrily, lifting a giant fist and smashing into KITT - God, the hood dented! The windshield! And then he watched as KITT seemed to talk the thing down to letting go of Michael before running off into the hills.

He blinked, trying to absorb the recording.

"... Superficial?" was the first thing that fell out of his mouth, the question sounding utterly dubious.

"Bonnie assures me of exactly that," Devon said, "And KITT says that it was safe to assume that the... creature was not utilizing its full strength."

His eyes snapped over to Devon. "You mean to tell me that was just a love-tap?" he asked, incredulous. "Devon, what was that? Did that come from the canister? Is that what the Ferrigno Institute trying to keep off the books? And where's Barstow? Why wasn't he there on the video anywhere? What happened to-"

"The truth, Michael," Devon interrupted, "Is that we simply don't know. Bonnie is still trying to go through all of KITT's data, but her time is split with repairing him as well. We've asked the authorities to keep an eye out for David Bastow of course, but nothing has come up and, truth be told, we were more worried about you."

A long, drawn out pause fell between them as Michael realized exactly what the last - how long had it been? - had passed for Devon and Bonnie, and he sank back into the pillows, frowning. "Do they know what the gas cloud was?"

"A peculiar combination of chemicals," Devon said, returning to fields of conversation he was much more comfortable with. "KITT was able to get a partial analysis, and suffice to say that nearly all of it was a byproduct traditionally created through biochemical experimentation. I feel it's safe to say that we have inadvertently discovered just what the Ferrigno Institute is doing with its experimental waste."

"They're weaponizing it," Michael concluded. "And probably selling it to the highest bidder."

Devon heaved a heavy sigh. "I remember the stories about World War One," he said, looking out the hospital window. "Chemical bombs dropped into the trenches, men on respirators for the rest of their lives because of the atrocities committed there. And we're still just beginning to learn the damage nuclear warfare can cause. It's staggering to think anyone would be interested in such... such... evil."

"I guess McGee was right to investigate the Institute," Michael said slowly, thinking of what had brought them here in the first place. "Do we have a copy of his autopsy?"

"No, but I've asked for one; and requested his body be exhumed if an autopsy wasn't performed."

"Barstow knows something," Michael said slowly. "We have to find out what happened to him. He-"

"Wilton would be deeply disappointed to hear you make threats like that."

His eyes snapped up. "Devon, he knew Wilton Knight."

The head of FLAG spun around faster than Michael had ever seen him. "What?" he demanded.

"David Barstow, he let slip that he knew Wilton Knight. KITT says Barstow didn't exist until he started working for Ferrigno, he has to be using an alias. Who is he really?"

"Do you have a photograph?"

"No, KITT's sensor couldn't penetrate everything in the compound, even with the commlink, and if he was gone by the time KITT came to save me..."

"I see. I'll get right on it."

"Devon?" Michael asked as his friend was leaving. He felt embarrassed, even nervous, but he had to ask anyway. "Would Wilton Knight be... would he be disappointed in me for how I handle the cases?"

Devon turned around, his eyes incredulous until he saw the look on Michael's face. His face softened, and he smiled slightly. "I think Wilton would be rather proud of you," he said gently, "seeing as you take after him in almost every way imaginable."

When he left, Michael was smiling.

KITT had been hard pressed to finally leave the hospital parking lot, but Bonnie had reassured him over and over that Michael was fine now that he was awake, and that their priorities needed to shift to the rest of the recovery - specifically KITT's, and so he had reluctantly drove himself into the mobile headquarters and allowed Bonnie to work on his hood and his windshield, along with checking every motherboard and circuit associated with his engine block to make sure nothing under the hood had been damaged.

"You're lucky, KITT," Bonnie said, grease smeared on her cheek. "While the rigging securing your circuitry was rattled, none of the actual systems were damaged."

"I'm glad to hear that, Bonnie," KITT replied. "I'm still trying to analyze that... that... that green giant I saw, but the creature seems to defy analysis."

"I think maybe we should focus more on the Ferrigno Institute," Bonnie said slowly, giving it some thought. "Did you ever finish your analysis of the company?"

"No, now that you mention it. What about the compound that was fired at Michael, should I analyze that as well?"

"You can't yet," Bonnie said. "You don't have the knowledge base to break down a compound like that, but it's a good idea. I'll start typing up a few programs and update your database. If Ferrigno is weaponizing their chemical waste like we think, we need to know which chemicals are being used. A lot of their experiments on the books - those we have access to, are harmless: like gamma radiation, or botanical cross-pollination." She got up and moved to the computer terminal, booting up and beginning to type. "We also need to find David Barstow."

KITT ran through his data banks for the name, hoping to find more than his initial pass for Michael, when he found a curious flag in his surveillance program. He called up the file and just about burst a circuit.

"I don't believe it. Bonnie!"

The brunet spun around, eyes wide. "KITT?" she asked.

"David Barstow, he's in Michael's hospital, and has been since approximately eight hours after his admission!"

David, his ridiculously thick glasses on, passed by several nurses monitoring their patients from their station and entered Knight's room. Taking the damned things off, he stuffed them in his labcoat pocket and flipped through Knight's chart. The improvements of the last two - pushing three - days had been remarkable, and he could only feel relief that his different hypotheses had been right. Now that the worst was over, he could quietly disappear and let FLAG do their work.

He looked at Knight, his tall frame barely fitting into the bed, asleep.

"Well," he said softly, "Good luck in your investigation."

It was, of course, at that exact moment when the door swung open, and an elderly man in a crisply tailored suit burst into the room, a panicked, "Michael!" on his lips. At the same time Knight jerked awake from the noise, his blue eyes darting around the room in immediate assessment of his surroundings before his gaze locked onto David.

"... Barstow?" he asked, shocked.

David, for his part, had backed up immediately to a corner, fear flooding his brain before he could forcibly remind himself that this was FLAG, and they wouldn't do to him what others had done. That didn't stop him from looking back and forth between the two men, Knight's surprised and bewildered expression, and the older man's accusatory gaze. The older man glared at him, and it took several moments for David to recognize the face as that of Devon Miles, the silent shadow of Wilton. He sighed when he recognized him, and resigned himself to the fact that he just wasn't going to disappear.

"What are you doing here?" Devon demanded, his British accent cultured and thick. "What do you want? Who are you?"

David let out a deep breath, rubbing his forehead slightly, and looked Devon in the eye. "We met a long time ago, Mr. Miles," he said. "At the Culver Institute."

Devon's face slacked in surprise, and he physically took a step back as the shock washed over him.

"My God," he whispered. "David Banner!"

Michael, for his part, was thoroughly confused, even an hour later when, signed out of the hospital and stiffly sitting on KITT's replaced hood in the mobile headquarters, Bonnie sitting at her terminal and Devon staring incredulously at Barstow - no, Banner.

"Okay," he said slowly, looking back and forth between the two men. "Anybody gonna explain what's going on?"

Devon dared to take his eyes off of Banner, glancing at Michael, before starting.

"Wilton Knight, indeed, the entire Knight Industries, had their hands in many pots, as it were. Wilton funded the engineers that designed KITT, of course, and research into computer engineering and artificial intelligence, but he also had an interest in genetics. He wanted to know if there was a way to bring out the latent potential in all of us, to create a world where people like us would no longer be necessary."

"Devon," KITT said, startling Banner slightly, "Do you mean to tell me Wilton Knight was trying to create a Utopia?"

"In so many words, no," Devon said. "He respected the freedom of choice; but he wanted to understand why we make the decisions that we do, and if there was a route to it in our very genetic structure."

"Wilton was funding me," Banner said. "Our understanding of genetic code is less than elementary; mapping the human genome will take decades to decipher, but Wilton was willing to invest in it. He didn't mind that my research wasn't completely in sync with his, he knew that any information I could find would be helpful."

"... and what were you researching?" Bonnie asked softly, just as bewildered as Michael.

The answer was several minutes in coming. "... In moments of crisis, times of great physical and emotional stress, the human being is capable of massive feats of strength; there are hundreds of stories of mothers lifting burning cars to save their children, or firefighters surviving overwhelming odds to survive a fire. ...I wanted to know where that strength came from."

Michael's gaze narrowed. "You say that like you already know the answer."

The soft grin was bitter and sad in reply, though David said nothing.

Devon took up the narration. "The Culver Institute, where the research was being done, blew up. David Banner and another researcher perished in the resultant blaze. It was believed on all accounts to be an accident."

"It was," David said softly, his gaze fixed on the past. "I never did learn what caused the fire. And Elaina..."

The emotion in his voice was raw. Michael shifted his weight, leaning forward.

"How did you survive?"

The answer, if possible, was even longer in coming than explaining his research. And for the wait all he said was a simple, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Michael asked, incredulous.

"I woke up miles away, in tatters, with no memory of how I got there. I've been on the run ever since."

"But why?" Devon asked.

"I can't answer that," Banner said firmly. "I won't, so please don't bother. The important thing now is that you understand what the Ferrigno Institute is doing with its chemical waste: weaponizing it. That canister that exploded was made of bio-chemical waste from their other projects. Nothing irradiated, thank goodness, but put together in such a way as to do serious damage if exposed for too long."

"Do you have any idea what the chemicals are?" Bonnie asked, spinning to her monitor and already beginning to write programs.

"I have the notes..."

"Then I can analyze it and-"

"Ms. Barstow," Banner said softly, "I already have." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick, well used, pad of paper with lines and lines and lines of notes and numbers and columns that made Michael dizzy just glancing at it.

"KITT," he said, "I think we just hit your territory."

"Excellent," the car responded. "Feed me the data."

David's head swiveled to the car, eyes double the normal size, and simply goggled.

Michael smiled, leaning back in his chair, remembering all too well his own reaction to listening to KITT talk. "You get used to it," he said with a cheeky grin. "After a day or two you'll be desperate for a divorce."

"I still want custody of me," KITT replied with a complete deadpan.

David blinked slowly, eyeing the car. "So, to be clear," he said, still holding his pad of paper, "You're not a voice radioed in from somewhere. You are actually the car."

"Yes," KITT said with a happy tone in his voicebox. "I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand. I run off a CPU designed and implemented by Bonnie and have several deep learning programs installed into my AI. I'm practically human."

Michael saw a strange look on Banner's face, watched him mouth the words, "practically human," with a sad, almost ironic twist of his mouth before shaking his head and making a placating gesture with his hands. "Well, then – uh, KITT, was it? - I am suitably impressed."

"Did you hear that Michael? I'm impressive."

Michael snorted. "You've always been impressive," he said, reaching out and rubbing his hand along the hood. "Come on, let's see what you can process."

David was flabbergasted to see his work that had taken days to reverse-engineer after the attack be processed in minutes by the car's unbelievable CPU. The car, KITT, confirmed all of the tedious math he had done with an articulate and slightly arrogant flare before going even further and extrapolating the most likely projects that would generate chemical waste at the right levels to be used to weaponize. "It would appear," the car said, "That the tip from that hack reporter about dumping experimental waste was wrong."

"It might have been wrong," Bonnie said, looking over the data on her terminal. "But this is even worse. Some of these chemicals are part of the Chemical Weapons Convention of 1984 – and one of these compounds flirts with the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty of 1970 with their use of gamma radiation."

David perked and walked over to the screen, seeing the readouts Bonnie and KITT were generating. He scanned the data, eyes moving almost as fast as his mind. "No," he said finally, relief filling him. "The gamma radiation is too low to significantly alter the chemical makeup – it's more likely to affect genetic code and organic organisms than mere chemicals."

"How do you...?"

"Gamma radiation was part of my studies," David explained, careful to keep his tone neutral. Bonnie was an intellectual treat, invigorating and fast to pick up new concepts – clearly a genius programmer if the talking car was any indication, and he could easily imagine how fast his research would go if he tapped her resources, but he put that thought aside as quickly as possible; he couldn't risk endangering her. Bonnie made a small list of notes to herself with the new information, long brown hair curling over her shoulder, and as he leaned back he saw the boy, Knight, watching her with a soft smile. Ah.

Knight caught his look, and tried to shake it off and look intelligent. "Is there any data on that green thing?" he asked, tone not quite serious.

"No," Bonnie mumbled, "But it's just a matter of time before we find it."

David carefully said nothing, simply went back to his seat and crunching his data. He saw Knight eying him, but dutifully ignored the look and stared at his work.

It was well into the evening before they had finished their analysis. Knight kept himself occupied with KITT, the car, and Devon had long since disappeared to touch his contacts and prep them for information when they had it. It was a fruitful evening, mostly. The only real snag was in the legal department.

"Here is where we stand," Devon was saying, cup of tea in his hand. "More than a few judges are happy to try the Ferrigno Institute for a suitable laundry list of charges. Their larger concern – and mine, is that very pad of paper that helped us so much. David," he said, "we could take this to court tomorrow if we wanted to, but then you would have to stand trial and deliver testimony of your working the numbers, and you've made it very clear that you wish to remain anonymous."

David nodded his head, shuddering at the last time he came close to going to trial. If it hadn't been for Matt... "So what do we do?" he asked. "What's the alternative?"

"We go in and get the data ourselves," Devon said. "Michael will go in and appropriate the data that you've been collecting, and we will use that copy to hand over to the authorities."

"Will it be safe?" Bonnie asked, looking up. "They shot weaponized chemical waste at him last time. And there was that green... thing."

"Aha!" David looked over to Knight, sitting in the talking car, and fist-pumping at something that was on the screen. "Well," he said triumphantly, getting out of the bucket seat, "I don't think the creature is a part of the Institute; that hack who died, McGee, he was a hack because he spent his entire career chasing that thing, it's called the Hulk, and it's a creature that just sort of wanders wherever. If that's the case, it's probably long gone by now. One less worry for KITT."

"I rather agree," the car stated with its New England twang. "It would appear there are no new dents for me in the future."

David kept very, very quiet, as he realized that McGee, the reporter that had tailed him relentlessly, was now dead. McGee... he had been so dogged, and come so close sometimes, increasingly desperate to prove himself right; gifted for sniffing out a story, intelligent and insightful. David never liked him, even back at the Culver Institute, before the creature (the Hulk, really?) had come into existence, but... he did respect the man. To hear that he was dead... and researching this story...

"I'd like to go with you," he said softly.

"No way," Knight said. "The best way to keep you safe is to keep you here in the mobile headquarters. No one knows where you went after the attack, and that's for the best."

David stood up. "Then I'll go by myself," he said. "You can pull over and let me off here."

And that was how, hours later, Banner was sitting in KITT's passenger seat while the trio waited for dark, the sun setting in a brilliant red and gold. They were parked on the cliffs above, where Michael had been before when he was initially casing the compound. His eyes cast over the parking lot, where he had confronted Banner, and KITT had warned them about the chemical weapon. That was when the creature had appeared. Michael frowned, his mind was hazy on what had happened after three days, and he closed his eyes to try and reach back.

"Do you remember seeing it?" he asked. "The Hulk?"

There was a long pause, but Banner finally answered, "No. I don't remember much after the gas hit."

That didn't sound right. Why didn't it sound right? "KITT, can you call up the video of the other day."

"I can Michael, but I hardly understand why you would want to see it."

Michael watched the video feed, saw Banner deliberately looking out the window next to him, eyes locked far away, looking for the world like he didn't want to be there. Why? He was a scientist, wouldn't he want to see the creature out of sheer curiosity? Maybe he was in denial, it was hardly like the talk of a giant green hulk was easy to believe – he struggled to accept KITT as an artificial intelligence after all, though he seemed to be quick to get over it once he saw the sheer processing power.

There, there was Michael confronting Banner in the parking lot in the video, there was the warning from KITT, there was the struggle to get out of the way of the weapon, there was the canister, the cloud of smoke. The video feed cut off then, KITT racing back to the compound to help his partner. Michael stroked the dashboard affectionately at the thought, and leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to clear his memories with what he just saw. He remembered the confrontation with Banner easily enough, and KITT's warning. He had grabbed Banner's arm, tried to get him out of the way... they had tripped, he remembered that in the video, and then grunting, and... white eyes.

White eyes on Banner.

He glanced at the smaller man again, saw the dark brown eyes. Was that a hallucination? No, that wasn't a listed side effect. Then how...

No way. No way.

"KITT," Michael asked, hoping his voice sounded calm, rational. "Let me see that reporter McGee's stories of the Hulk. Maybe he has some details on the thing."

"Certainly," the car obliged, dozens of text windows appearing on the screen, "But I hardly understand what you're getting at. Didn't we posit that the creature wanders and is in no way connected to the Ferrigno Institute?"

Michael didn't say anything, not with Banner in the car; he just scrolled through the windows, reading up on any description or detail McGee had written down. No, that wasn't the right way to do this, better to start at the beginning. When had the Hulk first been seen? He scrolled up to the beginning, read the date, read the article, read...

The Culver Institute.

He leaned back in his seat. Unbelievable.

It was true.

But there was no way...

Michael let out a long slow breath, before rubbing at his face.

Right.

And given the video from when KITT had faced that hulking creature... Banner..., how the thing had held and defended him and then given him so gently to KITT, Michael knew instinctively that Banner probably wouldn't hurt him. They were working together. Michael was just going to have to be very careful with the how of tonight.

Very careful.

He turned in his seat to look to Banner, who was still staring out the window. No wonder he'd been on the run. What was even the trigger to get that creature to appear? Was it a conscious choice? No, else he wouldn't be on the run. Michael shook his head. Unless he asked outright, he wouldn't get any answers, and probably not even then. And Michael dared not even ask, in case he was wrong.

So, what to do?

Michael silently chuckled to himself. Whatever he did, it wouldn't go off without a hitch. No plan survived encountering the enemy, he'd learned that in Vietnam. "KITT, how's roof access?"

Banner turned, looking incredulous. "Roof access?"

Michael offered one of his winning smiles. "One of the least expected ways in."

"How?"

"You are correct Michael, there are no cameras facing the actual roof, they all point outward. I can easily loop those and get you up there."

"A car is going to get us to a roof-"

"Good," Michael nodded, scrolling through more readouts. "Once inside you can use the internal camera system to keep them blind to us and to keep an eye on us. It's the deeper levels that will be a problem, right?"

"Correct, Michael. The lead and shielding compounds are too thick for my scanners, even through the commlink."

Michael turned to Banner. "But your access is all in the upper levels. So we shouldn't have any trouble getting the same data you have."

"Ideally," Banner muttered, still looking incredulous. "The roof!"

Within the hour, KITT had parked alongside the building, completely blind to the cameras, as he opened the sunroof. Michael gave some brief instructions to the incredulous Banner and then smiled brightly as KITT released the seat and rocketed Michael up along the side of the building that he easily stepped on to and rolled forward.

Then he leaned over and smiled down at the surprised Banner.

"Your turn," he smirked.

Banner was far less graceful, and Michael held back a chuckle as he helped Banner onto the roof before the scientist scrambled further away from the edge.

"And you do this regularly?" Banner hissed.

Michael only smiled in response.

From there it was an easy lock-pick into the stairwell as KITT took care of all the cameras. Once down in the upper parts of the building, Banner guided him through the halls he hadn't seen on his tour earlier that week to where data was sifted. In the silence of the night, Banner dug out the folders and files necessary, ones he'd been silently analyzing for almost a month and Michael easily scanned them through the commlink. It was a lot of data, and he worked by flashlight for almost two and a half hours, scanning page after page after page.

Michael leaned back briefly, stretching out his back after being hunched over for so long. "Is that everything?" he whispered.

Banner was looking through the filing cabinets with a determined frown. "I don't think so," he hissed back. "There's one more file..."

"Dr. Banner is correct, Michael," KITT said through the commlink. "While all the data we have is indicative, it is missing a few key equations to prove the weaponizing of waste."

"And they're not here," Banner said, pulling back from the cabinet, frustrated. "All printouts get stored here for review and analysis. It doesn't make sense that that file, of all files, is missing."

Michael let out a silent sigh. "Makes perfect sense once they knew I was poking around. Cover all bases." He went to the door and peaked out into the hall. "After analysis, where do the files go?"

"I was never told."

"Probably below ground then," Michael said. Because of course it would be down below.

"I don't like this, Michael," KITT replied. "I can't observe you once you're down below their shielding. And my turbo boost doesn't get me down. I won't be able to reach you."

"Is there any way we can hardwire you directly into the internal systems?" Banner asked softly. "Once you're in, you won't have to worry about broadcasting through a shield."

"Not without a hardline," KITT replied.

"What about your fancy watch?" Banner asked. "Connect it to a computer."

"An excellent idea, Dr. Banner," Michael's partner replied. "Micheal. This is what you have to do."

In the end Banner helped him disassemble pieces of his watch and attach it to certain ports in one of the computers. "I'm in Michael, I have complete access to their security systems. The missing files and many others are all completely wiped from the computers. It seems we've arrived just in time."

"If they're wiping all data," Micheal queried, "What are the odds of the hardcopy files being destroyed?"

"Low," Banner replied. "They still have to report to corporate, some kind of copy has to be kept if they want to stay employed."

"Or keep a copy to sell to the highest bidder," Micheal suggested.

"I have a full scan of the lower levels now," Kitt said. "There is a stairwell down the hall that leads to a chemical processing area - the most likely place to store the weapons."

"Okay," Michael said. "I'm off. Keep your scanners peeled."

"I always do, Michael."

Both Michael and Banner were tense as they crept down the stairs into the lower levels, following the precise directions that KITT had laid out, particularly since Michael didn't have a direct line to KITT with his watch cannibalized. Michael never realized how much he depended on that disembodied voice until times like this. No way to call for backup, no immediate analysis. No comfort in knowing KITT, the best partner he'd ever had, was a call away.

Once they were three flights below ground Michael started to carefully scout the halls. Security guards walked in ten minute intervals, so Michael and Banner waited silently with the door opened the tiniest of cracks. When the guard finally walked by Michael slipped out, held the door for Banner. Both rushed down the hall to the seventh door on the left. Picking the lock was easy for Michael, even though he usually had KITT open locks for him, he made a point to stay in practice.

The door gave inside of a minute and both started searching. Michael went right for the desk and Banner went to the filing cabinets. For a moment Michael was acutely aware that he wasn't a scientist that looking at all this row-data was meaningless for him. Instead he had to look at each page and look for a certain equation that Banner had written down for him. It was tedious and confusing, and kept reminding Michael that he was surrounded by geniuses. He sometimes was acutely aware that he was the dunce of FLAG - between KITT and Bonnie, Devon's cultured refinement - and now Banner - and he was just a beat cop who drove the car. He shook his curls and pressed on.

"I have it," Banner said. Michael looked up to see the scientist to see him open a folder and lay it out on the desk. The tall man took pictures on his small, slim camera. The folder was thick and there were many pages of data; as the minutes ticked by they both jumped when the phone rang. Michael and Banner stared at each other, struggling to get their hearts as under control. Muscles tense, Michael picked up the phone, saying nothing.

"Michael," KITT's voice said on the other end. "I hope you found the necessary documents, given that the head of the institute is coming your way.

Aw, man. Michael shoved his camera in Banner's face. "Get out of here," he hissed before moving to the door and opening it a crack, seeing Dr. Colvin walking down the hall with a scowl. "Get the pictures to KITT, then get out of here. I'll distract Colvin."

"But-" Banner was able to say before Michael swung the door open and walked brazenly up to the direct to of the Ferrigno Institute.

"Ah," Colvin gave a fake smile to cover his surprise. "Mr. Knight. You've already had the nickel tour. Do you wish to see more?"

"Of course," Michael said with his most disarming smile. "Some specific files, in particular."

"I'm certain," Colvin deadpanned. "Come this way."

David was left with a camera in his hand, a folder spread out on the desk, and a phone receiver with the car's voice filtering through. Knight… he had just… He grabbed the receiver. "KITT," he said, his voice hoarse in his struggle to keep at a whisper. "KITT, Knight just gave himself up to Dr. Colvin, the head of research. The last time they met Colvin had someone shoot chemical waste at him."

"I know," the car said. "I have him on the security feeds. He's being lead to, my guess, one of the main foundries of the compound. It would be easy to hide a body there."

"How can you say that so casually?" David hissed, anger rising in him before he forcibly reminded himself that he was talking to a car.

"I'm not," KITT replied, "I'm just as worried as you, if not more. My primary function is to keep my driver alive at all costs, I can hardly allow Dr. Colvin to simply do away with Michael, but tied to the security system as I am instead of his commlink, I can do nothing until I know where they are taking him."

Frustrated, David growled, gripping the phone tightly in his fist. He forced himself to take a deep breath, slowly, and exhale his anger. That was the last thing they needed. He stuffed the camera in his pocket, no time to put the folder back in its cabinet. It was either Knight or the files, and he couldn't just leave the FLAG member to a man who had so happily tried to kill them a few days ago. Huffing, he looked at the receiver. "Cover me. I'm going after him," he said simply, not bothering to listen to the car's protest as he hung up and exited the office, creeping down the hall.

The underground half of the compound was considerably bigger than the above ground managerial part of the institute. That didn't mean David didn't have a fundamental understanding of chemical research facilities; by necessity there was a nominal standardization of a complex like this, and he had been on site enough during his research to know the basic layout of the plant. If Knight was going to be killed, then KITT was right: it would be one of the main processing plants the two separate buildings of the compound. Colvin and Knight didn't have a large head start, they were likely heading to an elevator to head to the ground floor, then outside to one of the foundries that had been converted to chemical processing. David would have to take the stairs, so he would have to hurry. He darted down the hall to the stairwell and started running up the stairs, knowing time was of the essence.

He slipped back into the closet of an office that he and Knight had started their research in, and grabbed the commlink. If they were going to be in a different building, then David needed to be able to talk to KITT without a phone.

"Michael is already outside, Dr. Banner," KITT said over the link.

David let out a small curse and hurried back to the hall. Going to the roof would take too long, he'd have to go out the main door.

Focused as he was on finding Knight and Colvin, he was not looking out for himself. So when a meaty fist grabbed his bicep he looked up in surprise.

"Barstow?"

"Evan," David said, recognizing the chemist. "Thank goodness. You've got to help me, there's a man here, Michael Knight; he snuck into the compound, and now Dr. Colvin is going to-"

"Get rid of him, I know." Evan said, a cold frown on his face. "Man snuck onto private property, sticking his nose into other people's business, no concern to the money we're about to make off of this deal."

David blinked. "... Deal?"

Evan pursed his lips. "I've said too much. You're coming with me."

"No, no you don't understand," David pleaded, trying to wrench his arm free from the iron grip. "He's going to kill him!"

"No," Evan corrected, "He's going to be a volunteer test subject. So are you."

"Stop, stop!" David shouted, resisting as he began to be pulled down the hall and shoved into a stairwell. "You can't do this. Stark Industries won't sanction this! You're committing cold murder!"

"Shut up Barstow," Evan grunted. "I never liked you." And he unceremoniously shoved David down narrow metal stairs, the doctor losing his balance and tumbling down, hitting his head several times, furious that he couldn't save Knight, angry at Colvin and Evan and everyone who was part of making these weapons…!

Michael stiffened along with anyone else when they heard a guttural roar that echoed through the building. If Michael was right, it seemed Banner had become that great green creature again. He was pretty sure that the creature would be on his side, but Michael didn't know if he wanted to take that risk. He was going to have to take down Colvin and the three guards that had shown up to "escort him" to one of the other buildings on the compound.

"What the hell," one of them whispered, glancing around nervous.

This was going to be tricky. Michael's hands were tied behind his back and no matter how you looked at it, he was a big man. While he had training in fighting, he wasn't a martial artist or a gymnast with the flexibility to just jump up and loop his tied hands under his legs. If he was down on the ground, or had time alone, he could work his tied hands under his legs and then have better balance, but that wasn't an option for Michael when on the move. It would have to be surprise and run.

Another growling roar echoed out, this time much closer, making everyone, even Colvin, turn around. Taking a quick breath, Michal kicked out, nailing one of the guards in a highly indelicate place that he would be feeling in the morning, then jumped into an awkward roundhouse, able to nail another guard in the neck instead of the temple he was aiming for, leaving him gasping for breath.

Michael landed on his knees, not having the balance to stay upright easily with his hands tied behind him, but he used that as his jumping off point as he sprinted down the hall, his long legs stretching out the distance. He needed to get outside, and he needed to get outside now. KITT would be there, and the open space would provide room for when Banner showed up.

Colvin and the guards were shouting behind him, but the only guard left standing was the heaviest one, therefore the best chance of being slowest, and since Colvin didn't get his hands dirty, Michael hoped that his headstart was increasing. He took a left down another hall and saw exit doors up ahead. If KITT was still in the system, they'd be open, so Michael didn't even slow down and he slammed into the pushbar and got outside.

Several things happened simultaneously after that; Michael ran full tilt out into the dark, somewhere north of the compound and between buildings. The floodlights flooded the area with light, and just as Michael crossed the halfway point there was an enormous rumbling sound and an earthquake large enough to send the dashing FLAG member skittering to the ground. There was also the intimately familiar sound of a car engine, and Michael fumbled to his feet to see KITT speeding towards him while the Hulk stomped out of the massive hole in solid concrete it had made getting out of the building. The thing flexed its massive muscles and gave a mighty roar, looking around presumably for something to smash.

"Anytime KITT," Michael muttered, but the TransAm skid to a halt, driver-side door already open, and he dove in happily if awkwardly. His vision was focused entirely on getting his hands in front of him now, letting the AI drive wherever it wanted before he could finally finagle his long legs up and around and ah, free at last. "I owe you pal," he said, finally getting his fanny in the bucket seat and looked out the windshield to see what he had missed.

"You might not wish to say that just yet," KITT replied. "We still haven't survived that great green hulking creature."

Said Hulk was moving slowly out into the open, white eyes looking this way and that, the initial burst of rage subdued for the moment. Men were peering out the Hulk-sized hole it had made and were pointing things at the creature.

"Guns," Michael commented, and watched in morbid fascination as the bullets bounced off the skin of the creature. Angry again, it gave a guttural roar and swung arms the size of sequoia tree-trunks at the offending people. Three men went flying up into the air, upwards of a dozen feet, and Michael revved the engines. "KITT, if we don't catch them they'll break more than an arm at the rate they're going."

"Already on it, Michael," the TransAm said. Michael hit the turbo boost and shot west, KITT taking over the driving and hitting the brakes to make a perfect drifting skid, the sunroof opening and catching one of the men in the seat while the other two landed on the molecular bonded hood. Michael grabbed the gun before shoving the men off the car, his primary concern was the Hulk and damage control. He didn't dare think about the photos and what happened to them, that would have to wait until the Hulk changed back - how did that even happen? Don't think about it, not important yet.

"Michael," KITT said, "they're aiming another weapon. It appears to be Dr. Colvin himself, and preliminary analysis suggests it's the same weapon that was fired at you and Dr. Banner when this all started."

"Is the guy trying to make things worse?" the FLAG member muttered. "KITT, the last thing we need is to get that thing even madder than it is. Can you jam the firing mechanism?"

"Not at this distance, Michael. I would need either the commlink or be within one hundred meters, something that I would not suggest with that green leviathan."

"Try through the commlink," Michael suggested, shifting gears if it didn't work, "Assuming Banner managed to hold onto it."

"But Michael, my scanners don't detect Dr. Banner at all."

"Just do it!"

"I... I don't believe it," KITT said, voicebox colored with astonishment, "The commlink is in range! The weapon is disabled."

"Good job, pal, now for some slick driving." He gunned the engines, driving right towards the Hulk, now growling and pounding further away from the building. Michael saw the white eyes lock with his, and what could best be described as a curious frown crossing the creatures broad features. He hit the turbo boost at the last second, shooting immediately to the left, towards the building, and skid to a halt with just enough room to pin Colvin to the wall, trapping him. "KITT," Michael said as the Hulk turned towards him, "Are there any other threats in the area besides the obvious?"

"None that I can detect Michael, but what do we do about that leviathan?"

"We're going to trust me," Michael replied, sucking in a deep breath and stepping out of the protection of KITT.

"Michael, what are you doing?"

He ignored his friend, walking very, very slowly in front of the hood of the car, hands away from his sides and standing straight, looking up and up and up to the Hulk as it lumbered towards him. The creature had stopped growling, stopped flexing its impressive muscles, just moved on bare feet towards Michael. Geez, the pants only came to the Hulk's knees, that was a serious increase in height. The FLAG member tensed, unable to help it, as he locked gazes with the creature again, studying the thick, cro-magnon brow and the shaggy, green-grey hair.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said slowly, fighting to keep his voice level, soft, nonthreatening.

The creature simply stared; Michael stared right back, eyes drawn to the pants again - he understood now why Banner wore such oversized pairs, he knew the change was inevitable and simply planned for it. In fact, that pocket…

"Hey," Michael said, locking his grey eyes to the creature's white. "Can you reach into your pocket for me?"

The creature twitched, head tilting to the side. It didn't understand.

Very slowly, Michael mimed reaching into his pocket. The creature didn't understand, but Michael mimed again. Slowly, very slowly, the Hulk reached into the torn pants and pulled out the camera, shockingly still in one piece. He could hear KITT's disbelief but ignored the car for now; it was imperative he keep all his focus on the creature. Carefully, he reached out his hand.

"You think I can have that?" he asked.

The Hulk looked at his hand, to the camera, and back again, lowing its meaty fist and allowing Michael to get the film. He gave a large, winning grin.

"Thanks," he said. "You might want to start running now, before the police get here."

That the creature seemed to understand, its tire-sized head snapping to look over its shoulder, and took off at a run across the field of the compound, out into the darkness.

Michael exploded a sigh of relief and collapsed against the hood of KITT's car, drenched in sweat for the feat he had just performed. That was incredible! Scary as hell, but incredibile!

"Michael, I don't understand," KITT was saying.

He said nothing, looking at Colvin, pinned between KITT and the chemical lab. "We'll talk later pal," he said, patting the hood. "First we make sure this guy gets arrested."

"You're not serious."

"I am," Michael said, a little perturbed as he stared at KITT's voice box.

"You cannot expect me to believe that giant green hulk was Dr. Banner."

"Well, he was."

"This must be a joke. It must be."

Michael shook his head, shock of curls bobbing from side to side as he pulled into the mobile headquarters. "It's not a joke," he said, parking. "The Hulk had that camera with all the evidence in his pocket, right? When you last had your scanners on Banner, where was the camera?"

"Dr. Banner pocketed the camera in his trousers. You've said this before Michael, but you cannot convince me that a human being metamorphosed into that green giant."

"Hey, I'm not saying I can explain it," Michael said, stepping out of the car. "I'm not saying I understand it, either. But Banner is the Hulk. What I don't know is if we'll see him again."

"What's this I hear about Dr. Banner disappearing?" Bonnie asked, getting up from her terminal, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

"We lost him," Michael said, spreading his hands. "I told him to get out while I posed as a diversion. KITT lost sight of him."

"I most certainly-"

"It's okay, KITT," he said over his partner. "We can't all be perfect, I'm sure he'll turn up eventually, if only to make sure we're okay."

"I saw the scans of the creature," Bonnie said, lifting KITT's hood to connect to his CPU. "I want to download the data and analyze it further. How did you know it would even respond to you? That was a stupid thing to do."

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "I had a hunch," he said, deliberately vague. "Is Colvin in jail now?"

"Yes," Devon said, hanging up his phone. "They've just finished processing him and filing the evidence we've provided. The district attorney, I'm told, is salivating over it as we speak. The police are combing through the institute, and I've just gotten a message from Tony Stark himself, saying he'll be launching an investigation in the entire Ferrigno Institute and the research they've been assigned. It appears he was less than pleased to hear that someone was weaponizing chemical agents in his company's name."

Michael snorted. "I'm shocked a CEO even cares."

"Most don't," Devon said with what could only be called British Disdain. "But Mr. Stark has fired and sued more than one manager of his for not doing things the way he wants, and he openly stated multiple times that he is no longer in the weapons business."

"We'll see," Michael said, still dubious. They debriefed for about an hour, tying up some loose ends and clearing up a few last minute details before it was time to turn in. KITT's data would be analyzed overnight for Bonnie to review, and she turned in first, Devon not long after. Michael soon followed suit, patting his hand along KITT affectionately. In the hotel room he looked out the window, wondering if Banner would, in fact, turn up.

On a highway, David stuck his thumb out, wondering if a driver would slow down and give him a ride.

End

Author's Notes: The google doc this was written on was started on Jul 15, 2015. I'm convinced we had this on an actual word document before we pasted it to google docs, which means this fic has been sitting on our harddrive for over FIVE YEARS waiting to be finished. Every time we ran out of fic ideas, or were bored, we'd open up the fic and add a sentence here or there, but really we thought this would be a dead fic for all eternity. Then t was opened during a freaking pandemic when writing was one of the few things that relaxed us and the last two scenes were written in the span of an hour.

For the fic itself... There isn't much to say; we tried to make it equal parts a Knight Rider episode and an Incredible Hulk episode. The writing is a little inconsistent given this was done in bits and pieces over a five year period, but the story itself stands up shockingly straight. The only real "challenge" per se (other than finishing it) was making sure we had all the technology period accurate.

Hope you enjoyed the Very Random Ride. Pandemic School starts this week - wish us luck!