Author's Note & Apology: Hey everyone; I thank you ALL very much for the wonderful reviews you've provided me with. It really is a pleasure to know that my story intrigues the Knight Rider enthusists :) I do apologize deeply and humbly that its taken me so long to update this. Its been a long semester and I've been overwhelmed with a lot of work. However, I plan on picking the story back up and hopefully my updates won't be so long in between :) Although, I will say I'm glad that I didn't post chapter four when I had finished it--it along with the beginning of chapter five have been sitting collecting dust since my last update, but after rereading everything and going back to it, I decided to change and add more to this chapter. I feel its much better and Michael's character is justified way better :) I hope you all think so too. Please continue to review because they bring smiles to my face :) Until next time!
Chapter 4: Freedom
There was no reason, Michael felt, why he couldn't talk to Stants that afternoon. The man's secretary had stopped him moments before he was about to knock on the door and told him that Mr. Stants only saw people by appointment. Devon smiled, and though he was firm and forceful, threw on the British charm he carried so elegantly.
"Katherine, it's upon only a major issue that we must speak with Mr. Stants," he said with a pleasant smile. "Of course, he's already engaged in a meeting with someone else, we completely understand."
Katherine had no idea what to say and though she glared at Michael, who wore a large smile from Devon's suave nature, she nodded her head and pretended to go back to work without knowledge that she was allowing them admittance.
Michael, therefore, didn't bother to knock since the permission was granted. He swung it open, the hinges forcing a small squeak, and took a large step in, finding Edward Stants sitting comfortably behind his cherry-wood desk, browsing something on his desktop computer.
Stants looked up suddenly and his relaxed face tightened into an unhappy frown. "Mr. Knight, I don't believe you had—"
"Oh don't worry about an appointment," Michael said softly, but his face showed no signs of tranquility. "It would have taken longer to arrange one with your sweet secretary out there than it would be to just come in here and get out what I have to say."
"If you're talking about the car, then I have nothing further to comment," Stants said, pretending to go back to the work on his computer.
Michael stepped forward and put both hands on the edge of the desk, leaning over and giving Stants a cold stare. "Oh, I wasn't expecting you to since you robbed him of his—"
"Of his what, Mr. Knight?" Stants interrupted. "His humanity? Please; that car is as ancient as my grandmother."
"Gentlemen, I don't think there's a need for the abusive claims," Devon said with a smile, but Michael paid him no attention, and neither did Stants.
"I want custody," Michael said as if the matter was over a child, though in his perspective it could've been labeled as such. "You have no use for him, so why keep him locked up and taking up space?"
"That car is property of FPLI and I will not give it up to a common man who just so happened to sit behind its wheel when it was off the showroom floor," Stants said sitting up very straight.
"That car was property of FLAG before you even knew you'd be graduating college," Michael argued with bitterness set deeply in his tone.
Stants stood up and put his hands on his hips beneath his unbuttoned suit jacket. "You have no right to come in here and say such things to me," he stated, his face becoming red with anger. "I want you out of here."
"I'm not leaving until I get K.I.T.T.," Michael said boldly and Devon tried to lean in, but didn't have a chance to say a single word. "If there's a reason why you want him to sit on jacks with dirty sheets covering him, you tell me right here, right now and maybe I'll rethink my stand. And don't tell me about him being an asset—I already know the real reasons why you've held onto him for this long."
"My reasons are of no concern to you, asshole," Stants said. Devon's head spun to the side and his eyes grew wide with surprise and resentment at the rudeness of his employer's attitude.
"Don't make me angry," Michael said. "You'll regret it. Now I'm coming in here and asking peacefully to gain occupancy of that car; if you want this to turn into a major dispute, then go right ahead—I'm ready for it."
"That car is mine, and I'll not let you have it," Stants furthered.
"Then you tell me right now where on that car it states your name. If I'm not mistaking it was my last name that was stamped on the license plate."
Stants opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He gave a large grunt mixed with a heavy sigh as he turned around and ran his hand through his hair. After a moment of quiet, he turned around with the resentment clearly pasted all over his face. "You know what? Take the damn piece of junk," he snapped. "You can't do anything with him anyway. Sure, put new tires on and all that crap, but that car is long dead. My people pulled anything worthy out a long time ago and you don't have the money or the ingenuity to recreate it."
Michael stood up and smiled, his blue eyes shinning with victory. "Thank-you," he replied pleasantly and turned to leave. Devon followed, but caught the glare Stants gave him as he departed, though he was completely sided with Michael.
"Now we just have to figure out how to bring K.I.T.T. back," Devon said as they left the main building.
"Don't worry, I already have that figured out," Michael said with a smile.
"Oh? Has working on that classic car of yours boosted your ego enough where not only can you fix cars but you can create high-class programming?" Devon said with a small grin.
"For the most part," Michael replied as he pulled out his cell phone. He flipped it open and picked out a number that was stored in the phone's address book. Moments later, he talked to the recipient. "Will, hey its Michael. Listen, I have a huge favor to ask of you." He paused for a second. "Yeah, your buddy who owns the garage—do you think he'd be willing to send a flatbed down to Washington Drive, FPLI headquarters?" Again, another pause as he listened to Will. "Thank-you, I owe you big time buddy. I'll see you in a bit."
"What was all that about?" Devon asked once Michael returned the phone to his jacket pocket.
"A friend of mine," Michael replied. "Trust me."
"I do trust you Michael, but the question still remains in my mind," Devon said. "We've gotten K.I.T.T. back, but what are we going to do with him? I won't be able to access any funds to restore him."
"I know," Michael said. "Look, I'll tap into my savings to do what we have to. I'd do anything for him after the things he's done for me, including saving my life countless times. K.I.T.T. deserves a second chance…just like I had."
xXx
Within the hour a tow truck had arrived and drove back to pull K.I.T.T. out of his resting place. Michael watched with amusement as Stants stood off to the side with a few security guards keeping an eye on things. The thought of the man giving in like he did brought a smile to Michael's face, yet he had no reason not to let K.I.T.T. go. Stants had no use for K.I.T.T.; he made that clear when he took over the Foundation. To him, K.I.T.T. was a creation that hadn't been thought up by him, therefore the knowledge that someone thought of better company aspect than he did bruised his ego far too much.
K.I.T.T., though, was more than pleased to being hauled out of the warehouse by two chains hooked to his rusting undercarriage. Will had driven over with the tow truck driver to meet Michael and see what was so important about this car that Michael had to have taken away from FPLI, a corporation he knew nothing about until he arrived. However, the simple sight of K.I.T.T. wasn't enough to impress him; under Devon's orders of protection for all of them, he told K.I.T.T. not to scan anything or make a sound. Therefore, to Will, the Trans Am was merely a token of Michael's past.
"Alright, that should do it," he said once the flat bed was back in its secured place on the truck's rear. "You coming with us, Michael?"
"I'll be following," he said. "I'll head over with Devon."
Stants said nothing as the tow truck drove off and Devon walked away with Michael. Devon, however, wondered how miserable his life would be for the next few weeks with Stants knowing that his support wasn't with FPLI, but a man who apparently had nothing but a big mouth.
"So what now, Michael?" Devon asked when they were tucked inside the Bonneville and following the tow truck's route. "You can't possibly expect the average mechanic to work on K.I.T.T."
"No, of course not," Michael assured him. "I had someone else in mind."
"Dare I ask?"
"Bonnie," Michael said merrily.
Devon looked over to his passenger. "Bonnie? I thought she was living upstate now, after being recently married."
"Yeah, but when I had headed across the street for that donut and coffee a little while ago, I called her up and told her that we got together and pulled K.I.T.T. out of Hell itself, she said she wanted to make a stop by," Michael explained. "I'm sure once she sees him she'll want to take on the project—I mean, its not like we have to completely rebuild him…just fix him up."
Or so Michael had thought. When they reached the garage and K.I.T.T. was removed from the tow truck to an empty bay in the garage, they discovered that there was more work that needed to be done than anyone thought. Not only was the car in need of repairs from the strip job that had been done, but some of the main functions that made K.I.T.T. who he was no longer operated due to the lack of maintenance, if they still existed at all.
Burt, the owner of the garage and friend of Will, knew Michael to a point and finally handed him a spare set of keys to the place, after Will kindly pushed the subject a bit more to get the right answer. When he left to start finishing up the days work, Will pulled Michael outside to the parking lot.
Will turned and crossed his arms, glancing curiously at the old Trans Am in the garage. "That car means that much to you?"
"You have no idea," Michael said with a smirk. "That car and I go back a long way."
"Michael, it'll be cheaper to just buy a new one," he pointed out. "That thing there is rustier than that old Ford I had."
"I wouldn't go that far," Michael laughed. "Trust me, it's alright. I know what I'm getting into."
Will rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head with a concerned face. "I hope so," he said. "I mean, Burt can help you out, but it won't be cheap."
When the mechanics along with Will and Burt left, Michael and Devon took one more look over their new project. "I'm afraid without the proper equipment you'll have to make some changes," Devon said. "It won't be easy."
"Michael, you said that Bonnie was going to come, right?" K.I.T.T. asked, the excitement clear in his voice.
"Yeah, I did pal," he replied. "But I'm hoping we didn't take on more than we can chew."
"Well, there is one thing that's bothering me…" K.I.T.T. said more softly. "Do you think what Mr. Stants said was true?"
"About what?" Michael asked, his attention quickly being caught.
"What I mean is, well, I noticed—though my optical sensors are a bit rusty from not having much to work with for thirteen years—that I don't really stand out the way I used to," he said.
Michael chuckled. "K.I.T.T., you stand out just the same."
"As I see it I'm more of a relic than a showboat," he replied. "I noticed several cars on the road that were rounded, sharp-edged, flashy and sported rather large spoilers that could possibly lift it off the ground in a good wind storm. Not to mention their paint schemes left something to be desired."
Devon laughed lightly to himself and Michael shook his head. "Yeah, cars have changed a bit. They're a little more…colorful, I guess, than they used to be in your day."
"In my day!" K.I.T.T. exclaimed. "There it is right there, Michael! You even realize that I've hit the list of classics."
Michael smirked and tapped the nose of the car. "Have faith, partner. You'll be up and running soon enough."