He could feel the gentle tickle of the breeze behind his neck. He was listening to the solitude that'd taken the street by surprise after the wail of the ambulance coming by to pick up Tino had appeared. It had, quite sadly, dispersed the small game of ball ongoing on the block.

All the homes looked dark and lonely, except for the street — at least for now. He was strolling with the buzz of the miniature Trans-Am's engine quietly following at his heels as the two approached Tino's home.

It too was dark — just the sound of gusts of airbrushing the window shades against the glass.

"Think we'll find anything?" He asked the copy solely attempting to keep his grudge under control. Skipping a few stones with his feet along the cracked pavement.

The small car didn't respond, instead beating his scanner in a light purr in response. Aware that things were still a little heated between them.

Michael rolled his eyes, sinking his hands into his pockets. Hoping it would subside. After all, he did need the copy's help and they would be much more efficient if they got along. The gentle cool breeze sent a shudder down his back, his mind dropping some thoughts as he mused over the obnoxious weather.

The two finally approached the house, Michael gently rattling the door with his expertise lock-picking skills before the two stepped inside. The place was unusually empty for daily living. Michael was still curious as to why Tino's home simply looked so bare bones. She didn't look like the type who'd live this overly simple, but then again —

"Should we split up?"

Michael jerked in place, glancing down over the small Pontiac gently nudged against his ankles.

"Uh, sure. I'll check the bedroom and you can check the garage. While you're at it check over some of Tino's most recent transactions." Michael agreed. Feeling some guilt cradle itself in his gut as he watched the scanner beat slowly.

"Very well Mr. Knight." The copy obediently replied, taking off with a whirr of its tires toward the garage, the door slightly pushed open near the kitchen leading into the dark space. The car leaped down a step with its popups illuminating the space.

Michael shrugged, finding it helpful that the copy had given said suggestion. He wondered if it was because he could tell he was in some form of distress and needed some space to process everything alone. He just couldn't help and feel miserable…Kitt was gone — forever. All he had to anchor him to his friend were memories. — Then maybe there was the copy. It reminded him so much of Kitt but It just wasn't him — or was it?

Shaking his head and running his hand over his exhausted face he took a step into Tino's bedroom.

It wasn't much different than the rest of the house. Bearing very little except perhaps the bed frame and the mattress. Everything else, clothes and shoes were folded or laid across the carpet near the wall.

Sadly, the room also held no semblance of who Tino was. Nothing in the room gave him any ideas of what the woman might like, hobbies, dreams, or failures…there wasn't anything personal in the room at all that could have set her room apart from any other empty room. It was worrying that these things were missing and Michael began to wonder if Tino's mental health was in order. The woman was, after all, denying taking her medications, maybe the car accident had left her traumatized, or perhaps she was a suspect? He felt his gut turn, listening in to the voice of the copy playing at the back of his mind.

He raised a thoughtful brow as he approached the bed and leaned over to get a better look beneath it. Hoping the items there could shed some light as to who Tino was as a person, or clue him on anything suspicious.

He'd just gotten onto one knee when he was struck from behind on his neck. He slammed into the fuzz of the carpeted floor face first gasping for air, brushing the ground with his hands ready to get up and fight. Before he could get a good look at his attacker he dove for their legs and tossed them over.

The form yelped, slipping back on its back from the unexpected counterattack but quickly recovered. Giving Michael a few heavy kicks right over his ribs. He grimaced but he continued to clutch his attacker, determined not to let go.

The attacker sucked air through his ski mask, Michael hearing the whistle between his teeth as the person rather satisfied unsheathed a gun and wiggled in front of Michael's face.

The change was immediate. Michael raised his hands and gave a nervous gaze to the crook.

"Who are you?" He asked but there was no answer. He hadn't really expected one but it had been worth a try.

The masked crook stood up, brushing their clothes and wincing when they ran their hands over their pant legs. Michael watched rather surprised, trying to find an opening to subdue his attacker when the opportunity arose.

The masked crook suddenly jumped in place pointing the gun toward the bedroom entrance while he took a defensive step toward it. The sound of the copy's servos echoing in the hall loudly —

That's when Michael leaped over the masked crook wrapping his hands around their arms and tried to fling the gun from their grip. The crook shouted inaudible words as the two continued to scuffle.

In their confusion, the gun went off sending a vibration through the two making them lag over their attacks as they slowly processed if they'd been hit or not. While the confusion momentarily subdued the two, the attacker managed to recover and launched Michael forcefully against the wall. Michael grimaced, feeling his side throbbing as he bounced off the wall. He felt his blood go cold as he stared back over the beady brown eyes of his attacker glaring daggers from the ski mask. The click of the gun resonated in the room as the masked individual pined Michael under the gun's barrel.

"One knight is gone and the other to join him…" the masked individual's malicious grin obvious in their hoarse voice.

"Stop!" the copy's voice punctured the tension as it came rushing into the bedroom in a panicked attempt to aid Michael somehow. "Michael!" The copy shouted, the voice taking the crook by surprise. Some thought going off behind the mask…

"How —?"

but not enough to prevent —

BANG!

A small yelp echoed in the room, the sound of shrapnel brushing quickly on the carpet and hitting the opposite wall followed by something smoldering.

Michael took a quick glance over where the copy had been, still caught in his own terror — Something blazing over within him.

"Three knights?" The crook asked genuinely confused into the air watching the smoke rise from the wrecked Trans-Am's frame about to turn to Michael and reload the firearm.

Overrun with anger Michael struck the crook on the back while the black silhouette continued to muse over the copy's supposed death. Michael completely disregarded the gun altogether as the two began to pull and jab over the firearm. The crook tried to kick Michael over his feeble ribs but he managed to swing out of the way before slipping the crook onto the ground and snatching the gun.

Having lost the upper hand the crook raised their hands.

"Who are you?!" Michael hollered into the silence. Feeling the heat blush over his face.

There was no answer but rather the crook darted out of the bedroom with a grumble in a scurry. Michael was just about to follow pursuit when he stopped mid-stride.

He fell to his knees feeling his cheeks flushed with anger as he gathered the miniature Trans-Am in his arms.

"Kitt!? Kitt!? Talk to me, buddy!" He couldn't help and shake the frame of the car trying to wake the little creature from a threatening nap.

The small RC car gently nudged a front tire side to side. As if waking from a pleasurable nap.

"M-michael…yo-uh o-y?" The speaker crackled with static.

Michael quickly took his leather jacket off quickly blanketing the miniature, gathering the shards, and dashing to the car. The crook had gotten away but the Copies' injuries were too severe to prolong repairs.

He felt his head ache as memories from the night he'd lost Kitt came to poke at him. He squeezed his eyes, blaring them open and trying to keep steady footing as he approached the car —

He tossed the gun into the back seat, disarming it before doing so.

He jabbed the Mercedes engine to life while clutching the miniature Trans-Am in his lap nested in his leather jacket.

He ran his hand over the car's shot scanner as he sped the Mercedes down the street.

"It's going to be okay, pal." He clenched his jaw. Would it?

There was no response but Michael felt a shudder go through the Trans-Am.

"Pal?" Michael glanced down at his lap in concern before approaching a traffic light and applying the brakes.

"It's — it's dark —" the AI expressed in a weak voice, something akin to fear slowly mixing into its voice.

Michael hugged the small creature under his hand.

"It's alright pal, Bonnie's going to fix you up." He gulped. She would — She'd always ha — He frowned.

"It's — getting — darker…cold?"

Michael flinched, leaving his thoughts to rest, feeling the vibration of the popups retracting as the poor creature attempted to shine light into the supposed dark surrounding him.

Michael's heart nearly shattered with what the poor creature had to say next.

"I'm — blind…?" The car squeaked. "Michael are you still —"

"Pal, I'm here with you. Nothing to worry about." He tried to put it convincingly as he took a ramp leading toward the freeway. Could he lose the copy? Something in the back of his mind was biting at the thought; the answer was quite clear.

"Michael I'm sor –"

"Don't even say it, pal. You're going to be alright." He clutched Kitt closer. Running his hand in a circular motion along the car's imitation t-top. He could feel some of the tension subside in the car's suspension as Kitt leaned down.

"Michael?" The car finally spoke after a few agonizing moments of silence.

"Yeah, pal?" Michael floored the Mercedes, feeling the temperature begin to rise beneath the leather jacket. Perhaps it'd been a bad idea to cover him from the beginning.

"Did you recognize them?" Kitt asked, his voice trembling, hopeful.

Michael sighed.

"No pal."

"Michael, when will we be home? Everything – hurts…" The computer "gasped". "It's so cold…"

Michael grimaced. The temperature was still rising over the miniature. It surely was anything but cold. "Cold" wasn't something natural to computers and Michael knew that very well. He gently pulled Kitt from the jacket, tossed it on the passenger seat, and gently cradled the car with one hand.

He was able to get a better glimpse of the damage.

The bullet had entered right through the scanner and exited through the side. It was blown out, it was a miracle that Kitt wasn't dead right now — he figured the CPU casing with a minor dosage of MBS had reflected the projectile and had prevented any immediate life-threatening damage but Michael knew for sure that other systems had been impacted negatively, most likely Kitt's cooling system hence his temperature continuing to rise.

"It isn't night is it?" Kitt interrupted Michael as he quickly got into the left lane and began flooring the Mercedes quickly along. The man was rather surprised that the copy hadn't yet accepted the fact that he indeed had gone blind.

Michael bit his lip before replying.

"Don't worry about it Kitt, we're almost home." He braced the car under his grip, best the poor thing didn't know.

" — I don't think I have — enough time left…"

"Kitt! Don't you say that!" Michael yelled, putting the Mercedes's engine under much pressure as he began to ignore the speed limit altogether. Dismissing the fact he'd been calling the copy Kitt the whole time. He too was under pressure and could care less that he was calling the copy by his best friends name. He felt fear bite once more, making him clumsily jab words into the air. "You're so stupid! I could have taken the shot! You didn't have to —!"

" — Michael but you could have been killed."

"Yeah well, you could have gotten killed!" The man shouted realizing what it would really mean to lose the copy. He did care then —

"I didn't think –"

"What!? They'd not attempt to shoot you! Kitt we're —"

"I know but your life is above my own, if I die a second time it would be most worth it —"

Michael gritted his teeth clutching the car closer, feeling the irregular vibration of the struggling cooling system. 'Die a second time' He thought painfully.

"I'm sorry —" The copy, Kitt, finally remarked.

"I'll get you home – I promise you that I'll get you home in one piece this time."