"I have a proposition," Devon asked gingerly taking a seat by the workbench. Relishing in the cool breeze of a nearby fan.
"We'd like to hear it." The copy piped politely from a nearby counter, making Bonnie grin as she worked above it.
"I'm having a hard time understanding how you knew it was the gardener's son." Devon continued, directing the question to Michael who was watching closely as Bonnie adjusted his "new" partners parameters and ensured no damage had occurred during the blast.
"I didn't, just figured he'd come to me. That door is a 'blind spot' Devon. Probably should open up that space somewhat because nobody uses it, outside of visitors who think it's cool — Not that it isn't — No offense Devon." Michael shrugged flinging his hands in the air.
"I see. Well, the boy doesn't want to talk and on top of that issue; areas directly above the explosion won't be able to be put to use until we've consulted professionals regarding the structure's integrity — which reminds me…" Devon sighed, finding himself mulling over the infinite reasons why Bonnie had been so bold as to run back toward the blast! And directly defy an order that had come with the best of intentions!
He locked gazes with Bonnie.
"I've spent a long time designing this case for durability — Kitt needed it. I wasn't going to just leave him there. I took my chances. Nobody is taking Kitt from us." She protested, aware of the near heart attack she'd provoked on him the moment she'd vanished from his side. He had expected it of course but the situation was dire and realistically speaking things could have gone much differently and ended up far worse.
" — Or Mr. Knight," The copy added, trying to help her case.
Devon smirked.
"I see — Well I suppose we have a lead —" He looked toward Michael nervously. Gently crossing his arms over his chest and finding comfort that Bonnie and Kitt were alright. He needn't think now of any further possibilities regarding the "What Ifs". When all had fortunately turned out "mostly" alright.
"We've had a lead far longer than this Devon —" Michael motioned toward the somewhat illuminated mansion, fire trucks running long hoses through the main entrance while the last puffs of smoke escaped through the open doors against the dark sky outside the bay window. "— Just that I didn't expect our inside man to get All this in motion. I guess I should have executed it sooner." He sighed, sounding guilty.
"It's the woman who pulled Mr. Knight from the wreckage, Mr. Miles." The copy cut in immediately, attempting his hardest to ease Michael's guilt and dissuade Devon from correcting the man too harshly.
"Oh," Devon answered, bewildered. "How —?"
"She's involved I can assure you, Mr. Miles." The copy insisted.
Michael grinned.
"Yep, Which reminds me I have somewhere to be…"
"No. You. Don't." Bonnie wagged a finger at him, stopping him in his tracks. "You were almost killed by one of our own — What makes you think you can just —"
"Bonnie, it isn't the first time someone has had a crack at my life."
"No, that isn't it." She put firmly. "Kitt's always been there to bail you out whenever that's happened. Who's going to have your back this time?"
"I am."
Silence.
Even the Copy's idling indicators froze on his exposed control panel.
"Devon?" The three said in unison, excluding the old man of course.
"Well — Kitt, won't be able to and at the moment our basement is under heavy investigation so those two things will keep you busy, Bonnie. As for me —"
"Devon — I don't want to be harsh when I say this but…I'm not going to take you." Michael cut in rather bewildered where all this was coming from. Had the blast knocked a few screws loose off of Devon?
"From what I see —" The man stood up finally, adjusting his tie.
"That's the thing; you're not seeing the whole picture. Tino is in on this but it seems not by choice. Her fiance looks like he's to his knee into it and whoever is at the head of it all managed to brainwash Grian."
"Don't remind me." Devon lamented. "We saw him grow here — His father has been our gardner even before Garthe's departure to Africa. How could it have been him?"
"Sometimes the sons and daughters of families don't carry the name too well. You, out of all people, should know that." Michael pointed out grimly.
"Yes, yes." Devon gazed at the floor, deciding whether or not to take a seat. " However, It's still something to lament about."
"Sorry, Devon." Bonnie comforted. "Hopefully he turns his life around."
"Maybe —" Michael interjected. " — it might start with having a chat with him."
"Mr. Knight I'd like to suggest we cease our investigation until; as they say, ' the dust settles.'." The copy suggested timidly.
"We could but we don't have time for that. Whoever they work for will know about his arrest and my —"
"Close call?" Bonnie added, wincing.
"Yeah — Thanks, Bon." He squeezed her hand, giving her an affectionate pat on the shoulder. " — Don't want a different nut behind the wheel anymore, huh?"
She rolled her eyes taking her hand from him and giving him a sly smile.
"Really, Michael." She chuckled, running her hands through her scalp and pushing her messy hair back into a bun. He was always content to make her smile, especially when the group's spirits were running low.
Devon sighed, taking in the ambient for what it was. Deciding to take a seat and leaning back into his plastic chair, poorly attempting to pop his back. Feeling the years suddenly all sinking in his lap. It had been a close call — Too close for comfort. He'd have to run background checks on all staff again — It seemed even those close to you couldn't be trusted — He gazed at Bonnie and Michael — He smiled, but there were exceptions…
"I beg your pardon — What?" The "Kitt" copy interjected. "What does that mean?"
Bonnie and Michael laughed, outright affectionately shoving each other.
"Do they like each other or — Did I miss something, Mr. Miles? The 2000 left a note regarding this if I do recall correctly. — But I haven't got a clue what to make of it." The copy "whispered", though unfortunately, it was too loud to be considered a "whisper".
This time it was Devon's turn to laugh in amusement much to Michael's and Bonnie's displeasure. Who had suddenly gone, sour?
"Pal, you need to work on your tact," Michael grumbled, attempting to hide a faint blush.
"Yes, Mr. Knight I understand," The Copy answered immediately, meekly, somewhat sheepish about his outburst. Unsure of how to proceed. "I apologize, Mr. Knight. I thought I could have a try at humor." He said — Trying to cover up his mistake. Humor seemed a safe way to alleviate some pressure, from his records the 2000 had deployed this tactical retreat many times…he just hoped it would help him now.
"No worries, pal." Michael reverted his gaze from Bonnie, who returned the favor. The two were more than ready to move on with the conversation elsewhere.
Devon grinned. Finding it comical that the two could be so abashed as though they were young children caught red-handed.
"So," He continued pulling at the more serious task at hand. "When do we leave?"
"Devon, I told you. I'm not taking you. If you'll allow it, I'm more than happy to take my pocket-sized partner-in-crime for a spin." He smiled in the copy's direction, finding himself second-guessing whether or not he would give into calling it: Kitt. He, after all, had seemed to have finally warmed up to the little guy. Sure, they hadn't really hit it off too well in the beginning but he was determined to leave that behind him now. He was set on protecting the last living, "breathing" fragment that had remained of his long-deceased friend.
"You could but, at the moment —" Bonnie motioned down at the robust case that was currently open, exposing all sorts of shiny metals and parts Michael figured were the equivalent of a brain.
"I know, I need more muscle — So…Can't you stick him into something else that isn't any taller than a watermelon?" He'd seen the gardener's lawnmower sitting rather forgotten on the grass after the grounds had been properly evacuated. It wouldn't be that bad of a ride; though he doubted the copy (sharing many of Kitt's "artistic" taste) would approve.
"We could try to prepare a properly sized chassis for him, but that would take days — So, unfortunately, It's Devon or —" Bonnie trailed off. She had been attempting to keep off the subject of preparing another Trans-Am. She wasn't ready to face "the music" just yet. Kitt's agonizing state within the car had left her rather thin on sleep as of late.
"I'll take him in whatever shape or size you have." Michael sighed, aware of the implications. Gazing around the garage and noting bits and pieces of the damaged R/C car chassis lying around but rather tactically circling around the copy's main housing.
"Great, I'll just need tonight — You do plan on going tomorrow are you?" Bonnie leaned against a counter anxiously. Hoping that he could come to his senses and; for once, settle down. The time was getting late after all and some sleep could do the boys some good. Perhaps even herself but the latter was too difficult to achieve personally.
"Course not Bonnie. Should know me by now. I leave the moment lil' fella is back on four wheels…" He smiled from ear to ear.
Bonnie let out a heavy sigh, turning away from him and picking up where she'd left off on the miniature chassis. Yes, she did know him well but that didn't mean she would discard that minuscule possibility of him lingering on the mansion grounds much longer.
"Thank you, Mr. Knight, I aim to please." The copy answered gleefully, causing some chuckling to emanate from Devon.
"Well, good. We're going straight from the pan to the fire, so get ready for the ride of your life." Michael swallowed hard. It would have been best if he'd worded that differently.
"I was afraid of that." Devon trailed off, ignoring the man's tension spreading across his face.
Standing up, he approached the coffee machine idling nearby. Hoping the treacherous traps they'd been bumping into from the moment Kitt had been destroyed would somehow be less, or entirely disappear. For he was worried, that whoever had arranged for them to be bombed had yet another plan trip-wired for the taking in some other place or for another time.
The truth was; yes, there was yet another disaster to come. There just had to be.
Devon grimaced as he collected a worn coffee mug from a cupboard, reluctant to give the idea a few more seconds' worth of thought than necessary.
"Godspeed Michael."
