The radio was blasting to itself, shedding a different air in the empty bay than the heavily fortified electronic infirmary that Bonnie had set up in the main building on short notice.
Michael leaned back in his chair, trying to find within the solitude some peace — some consolation in the fact he'd made it on time to save the miniature's life — Yet, somehow…the crisp clarity of having lost the original dug its ugly head into his gut, threatening to stay there. In the case of Kitt…He'd not been able to prevent or do anything.
It wasn't his fault — He knew Kitt wouldn't have liked it if he'd blamed himself for something out of his control but he still felt hurt, somewhat angry, that his partner had passed away so suddenly. — And he'd been unable to do anything.
Kitt must have perceived this outcome in his last moments, shelving a capsulated shard of himself for — Well, he still wasn't sure what to think of that bit; what the overall outcome of having this copy at his side would be.
For sure, the copy was a constant companion. Even though Michael didn't always approve of its unannounced accompaniment, he still needed him. He knew this.
He took a sip from his coffee mug, noting how lukewarm it had gotten — Drawing back to his thoughts as the announcer's voice broke the static fall and rise of music to announce the next track — He thought of what lay beyond this new chapter. What would become of the copy? Of him?
'He's going to be fine.' He thought to himself. The image of watching Bonnie tear into the soft car shell, scattering shards of "flesh" in her wake over the workbench, sent a chill down his spine. She'd desperately retrieved the CPU casing, immediately implementing life support. The whole process haunted his mind.
What's more, the copy had lost consciousness just a fourth of the way through the trip.
The lack of its cool, rich voice comforting him had befallen silent all too soon — Finding an Insufficient amount of "pedal" to thrust against the floor mats to get home quicker, Michael had stirred in his seat finding no source of relief while his mind tried its best to keep everything together: trying to ignore the possible "dead" weight in his lap — stinging his eyes with the sickly smell of burnt plastic.
Once they had arrived at the mansion, things were yet to get better. — Watching Bonnie collect her "patient" and fearlessly tear into the car's small "body", had not helped his aching mind.
Currently, the copy was still comatose, and Bonnie was concealing its status.
Under normal circumstances, this would have frustrated him. If anyone needed to be continuously updated on his partner's status and health it was him — but this was different.
He yawned, setting his mug down, mildly re-collecting the few words the masked suspect had said.
"One Knight is gone and the other to join him…"
What had they meant by that? Were they referring to Wilton?
Michael sighed.
It was an awful thought but he couldn't discard the clearer possibility — They probably were referring to Kitt and him.
Which brought multiple things to light.
One. They were aware of their partnership. A fact he already knew but one he was sure to keep in mind.
Two. How had they known they'd gone back to Tino's home? He'd go as far as asking how did they know they were even at her house, to begin with? He could smell a rat – some imposter who'd been among them at the hospital, taking note of their every move. It all pointed toward Tino's boyfriend — That or Tino herself was in on the operation which didn't make much sense if she'd saved him. He presumed that then she'd felt bad for him if that possibility of being involved existed. A last-minute regret that was the root reason why she'd saved him: this sounded the most logical.
Whatever the case, he figured her boyfriend was watching them now and was watching them "then." Knew enough about them to have successfully killed off Kitt. This was the sole reason why the copy was sealed off from public access. Only a select few could enter the electronic infirmary. Among those few Bonnie herself, Devon, and a few staff who'd been employed several years in the care of the Knight Industries Two thousand— anyone else who hadn't been employed past two years were strictly forbidden from entering the zone.
It was fair, no one complained about it — but Michael was still skeptical. Someone else might be helping Tino's boyfriend, Ken Solivan. The possibility of them watching them from the inside of their "fort" so to speak was horrifying. Hence why he was planning on finding out who it was right away if at all that possibility existed.
He set his mug down, reaching to the limp comlink sitting on the nearby workbench. Picking it up he bit down on his lips.
'Here we go.' He thought, wincing between gritted teeth.
"How's it going, partner?" He asked, trying to hold back some of his concern — some of his worry —
He listened for any sound. His ears strained while he tried to pick up on the copy's distinct voice emerging from the static — But there was yet to be an answer.
Michael put the comlink down suspecting that the computer was still comatose while Bonnie continued to work on a stronger and safer solution for storing the copy. They'd lost Kitt twice, the first time to acid. Then, Bonnie managed to revive him. The second — Kitt's system had been breached by a lethal parasitic "bomb" that had dug into his circuits and infected the entire computer. In this case, he had seen to it that something was left to care for Michael – This made it all that more serious and essential not to lose the last strain of Kitt's consciousness left.
The man sighed. Cutting off this train of thought. Burying his face into his hands, closing his eyes, and finding little comfort in the chatter of the somewhat faint radio.
He'd pay Tino a visit — But not before baiting a trap and hunting down the low-life "rats", probably wandering the mansion grounds for a better opportunity to finish off "Kitt'. He'd see to it that he caught these "rats" first before giving Tino a visit and then beating out an answer from Ken, her fiance.
He stood, forgetting entirely his cold coffee.
He was eager to check up on the copy; of "Kitt", before he set up his trap and later paid a visit to his primary "suspects".
Bonnie was right; there was little else to call the copy by when it really did resemble his partner.
"Mr. Knight?"
The man froze, turned to the comlink on the counter, and scooped it up promptly.
"Hey, Pal." His relieved grin was evident in his voice.
"Hello, Mr. Knight." The copy slowly answered.
Michael chuckled.
"So Ken Solivan is our marksman."
The copy hesitated to respond.
" — I don't…" It paused.
"Tino's involved too." Michael smiled to himself in the empty garage bay.
"I'm not sure..." The copy tried to come off nonchalant but miserably failed, much to Michael's amusement.
" — but her boyfriend —"
"Mr. Knight, I'd feel much better if we discussed your suspects in a closer vicinity."
Michael nodded, aware of the safety implicated.
" — Course, don't think Bon Bon would mind."
"She might — but I figure that is a risk worth taking; never stopped you before."
Michael let out a breath of relief attempting to finally allow a confession to flood the coms channel; he was interrupted, however.
" — From what I gather, that's on record — It never stopped you before." The copy shuddered as though trying to justify its knowledge of this personal data point. Michael leaned against the counter, he was being too harsh — He had been too harsh.
"Ken meant to kill me, instead killed off…" He paused, clearing his throat. Skipping over the words he'd meant to say. "...but Tino, she —"
The copy cut him off again. Its voice struggled to articulate what it said next. Michael figured the copy was working against the flow of its "main program" of keeping the killer secret — But Michael had it cleverly figured out. It would make no use not to confirm his findings…especially when they were all in graver danger now. Whoever the individual was that had been alerted by Tino or perhaps her boyfriend of their whereabouts made it clear that the two or one of them did not see anything wrong with signing someone's death warrant off and allowing someone else to do the dirty work.
"She was with him, with "them" that night — I don't know for sure what happened. Its all became a haze — I remember hearing voices but perhaps she had a change of heart. Maybe she got dragged into this mess." The copy struggled to articulate. "Maybe she was going to receive something from it but couldn't bring herself to see you die?"
"That's likely."
"All I know is I'm grateful for it —"
Michael frowned, emitting a low whistle.
"Grateful to her? I wouldn't file that one off just like that, pal."
" — For me personally, it was an act of mercy. Just that now, I don't think we can say the same of her anymore, not with that nasty reception at her house." The copy explained meekly.
Michael chuckled.
"Well said —" Michael grinned, walking toward the garage bay door letting it creak.
"Mr. Knight, tell me you aren't leaving to —"
"I know who I'm up against, pal."
"Yes, but this is highly imprudent!" The copy protested.
"No worries, I'll have the local police meet me at the hospital so I can —"
"You can't leave without me." The copy scolded, catching Michael off guard.
"Is that an order?" The man furrowed his brows, gazing down at the comlink in his palm. Wondering if the copy still made use of the lens as Kitt had done, what seemed a long time ago.
"Doesn't it sound like one? Mr. Knight in no shape or form am I leaving you to dare tempt the face of death! Doctor Barstow is almost done with my repairs and I can —"
"Too dangerous pal, I'm going solo."
"Mr. Knight, pardon me but that is very reckless of you —" The copy insisted, attempting to dissuade the man from his irrational plan. "Let me remind the lone eagle that this is foolhardy!"
Michael smiled, already pacing the mansion grounds and heading toward the main building. He gazed around him — taking note of several staff taking the sun between buildings as they went along their usual routes. Tempting the "rat" out of hiding and into the open would not be easy. He'd have to set up a convincing trap.
He passed the Gardners. All gathered along the newly acquainted flower beds that Devon had ordered a few weeks ago — They all ignored him. Took little notice of his presence as he gently nudged a bag of soil with his toe. All too occupied by implementing a difficult flower pattern Devon and Kitt had devised together out of fun during the winter. The thought stung Michael's chest. His breathing was momentarily uneven as he continued to tread down the path.
"Mr. Knight?" The comlink buzzed. "Is everything —?"
"Hang on, pal," Michael murmured under his breath. His ears tracked distant footfalls somewhere past his vision, trailing closer.
He continued to stroll toward the building, slowing down subtly — He rounded a corner, heading to a small entrance facing the shadows strung down from a nearby tree. The door was secluded by a fairy garden whimsically fenced in by diamond lattice trellis panels to create a private picnic area for indoor employees who wanted some fresh air. Ironically, it was hardly used — perhaps because visitors were far more drawn to it than most employees — defeating the purpose of privacy. Resulting that this area was usually quiet and lonely. Almost abandoned, other than the occasional visits from the gardeners who tended to it weekly.
Grasping the doorknob, stalling as he inserted his master key, making reentry as painfully slow as possible —
"Ha!"
He turned at a moment's notice, driving his fist deep into a pale-suited man's gut. Watching as pain blossomed forth from the impact and rattled the rest of their body, soft soil shooting up from their muddy pant legs.
The man rolled onto their back, pulling their mask tighter onto their face as they dug into their pant leg pocket. Letting a makeshift garrote fall limply to the ground, its usage forgotten.
Michael didn't allow them to dig further into their pockets, he leaped down from the door landing, wrestling the firearm loose from their hold just as a startled crowd of guards made their way toward them.
Michael cocked the gun with a smile, watching the intruder shiver on the ground in anger.
"What was that about a Knight joining another?"
Michael grinned, a shudder traveling along the figure, the guards finally collecting him onto his feet and awaiting orders from Michael… To his surprise, it wasn't the man from before. So he'd been sent — to finish off the job. There were more of them…and they possibly had a leader — a clever one at that…
Michael buried his fear in a stoic expression.
— But this was too easy…
The man growled, the mask removed as dark indigo eyes shot Michael a dagger-edged glare. A crooked smile gently curled on their face.
The guards all gasped.
They knew this man — So did Michael.
Michael grimaced…So it had been one of the gardener's sons?…he should have felt relief knowing they'd caught one of the culprits but something still wasn't right.
— It had been too easy. They'd basically let themself get caught. Hadn't they? Could it be that Michael wasn't the hunter but more so the prey? The hunted?
"Michael!"
A distraction? — Could it be?
Michael kept his eyes pinned on the intruder — There was something else then…Something he had not read between the lines.
Boom!
Something thundered within the mansion, something strong enough that it rattled the walls.
The man broke into a laugh, a cold laugh of reckoning making the guards tighten their holds on him as though he'd disappear into thin air —
— But it didn't last long —
Michael punched the man in an instant releasing all his anguish over the man's grim face, startling the guards who suddenly had a limp weight to drag…before any inquiries could be made Michael had entered the building.
He was greeted by smoke, shouts, and screams…
He watched as everyone fled outside— Michael mentally counting off the survivors on his fingers as he passed people he recognized.
Fortunately, he counted Devon amongst the fleeing, though it seemed more like he was being dragged to safety than anything else. The man hollered into the crowd inquiring about everyone's safety…dictating all sorts of safety precautions and evacuation instructions.
The mansion seemed hollow and dark inside as the smoke began to thicken. Rising from the dark throat downstairs threatening to swallow them all, the pungent smell of fire tangling itself in the air.
Michael approached the stairs to the lower levels. He followed the stairwell railing, gripping it tightly as water poured by the gallon from above. Adjusting his eyes to the blacked-out area, he cautiously paced downward. Only the dim flicker of red lights spiraled along the walls.
"Bonnie!" He cuffed his mouth, aware that she would never —
"I'm fine." She answered, snatching his hand midair. The woman materialized from the dark as though she'd been part of it all along. It sent a shudder down his spine. Maybe she had been a robot under those overalls all this time.
Michael squeezed her hand tightly, tugging her up the stairway toward the fleeting light. The two were coughing, eyes watering as the smoke began to rise. The subtle heat trapped below pricked their skin.
The sound of far-off explosions and bursts of air down below shook the floorboards under their feet, threatening to give way to the storm brewing underfoot.
The moment they broke free from the mansion's smoked interior, Michael squeezed the woman Into a tight embrace.
Releasing her he wrapped his hands around a small casing she'd been sheltering under her jacket. The case shone pearly white under the blinding sun.
She simply answered with a smile —
There needn't be words for him to know that she had saved Kitt once again.