Meanwhile, Luke had done some more digging. For dirt on Clayton that is. And the man's suitcase which occupied the space underneath the coffee table quickly caught his attention.
Within minutes, he was rummaging through Clayton's things, finding almost nothing of value. To say the least, the man was very simplistic. There were clothes and some money, a few passports and driver's licenses, all oddly enough with different names on them that were not Clayton Jennings. There was a box of cigars, a little black book that was tied shut with a piece of twine, and a jewelry box, tucked way down at the bottom. He was about to reach for it when he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder.
He felt the color drain from his face and he turned slowly to see Clayton standing over him, smoking a cigar, and wearing a very displeased expression.
"What d'you think you're doin'?" Clayton asked, taking a drag on his cigar.
At that moment, for reasons unbeknownst to him, Luke lost all sense of common sense and said, "Don't worry about it."
Clayton scoffed. "Well, seein' as how it's my stuff you're goin' through, I believe I'm subject to worry. Y'know, I understand I may not be entirely welcome in this household but I do believe that I'm entitled to some semblance of privacy."
Luke stood, a little uneasy, for one because he'd been caught red-handed, and for two, he couldn't at all tell what the man was feeling.
"Is there somethin' specific you were lookin' for? If so, I'd be more than happy to help you find it," Clayton said.
The man's tone was, if anything, passive aggressive, albeit friendly. Luke deduced that he was truly mad, annoyed, and even a little hurt.
Luke took a breath and decided that it was time to deliver the truth. "It's just that I was thinkin' about what you said. About who you were before you died."
"And you wanted to hold that over my head, did you? Well, go ahead," Clayton said.
"What?" Luke asked incredulously, taking a few steps away from him.
He thought he'd made his cover more innocent than that. Apparently Clayton had no trouble seeing through it.
"Oh yeah." Clayton bent and picked up the box at the bottom of the suitcase. He straightened and held it out to Luke. "Be my guest, please, I insist."
Luke held up his hands. "Look, I-"
"Go on. If you wanna know so bad, go ahead, really, humor me."
Luke hesitated, then took the box from Clayton and slowly lifted the lid as if something were to jump out at him. The box now open, Luke was free to peruse its contents. There were a few pictures and newspaper cutouts and as he divulged, Luke found that he had pried into something deeper than he had anticipated.
"What… what is all this?" Luke asked, sifting through the photographs only to find that they were all of the same man only at various ages.
"D'you wanna know how I died, Lucas? D'you want the whole story? I'll give it to you," Clayton said.
"You don't-"
"Once upon a time in a small town in Louisiana, there lived a bright, happy young man named Milo Philips. Well, one summer day, little Milo went fishin' down by the river where he met a man." Clayton pulled out one of the photographs and held it up. "But this man turned out to be a very evil and nasty man that did very evil and nasty things to poor Milo. Things that poor little Milo couldn't handle because he was weak. So you wanna know what he did? He went back to the river and he threw himself offa the bridge."
There was a moment of silence between them before Luke finally broke it again.
"Look, I didn't mean to…"
"Of course you meant to. You wanted somethin' to hold over my head. You wanted to know why I am the way I am. And I gave you the answer because you came lookin' for it," Clayton explained, his voice like a growl. Then, his voice softened and he moved his head as he asked, "So tell me, boy, was it everythin' you hoped for?"
Luke shook his head. "No… no, you… you were hurt so you hurt others, I get that. But that don't make you damnable, that means you need help."
At that, Clayton laughed loud and hard. "Luke Duke, you are the biggest hypocrite I've ever met! And that's sayin' a lot comin' from the King of Hell. I don't need help, I've never claimed to need help. I don't need anythin' from anybody, especially not from you!"
Luke refrained from saying anything more, knowing that anything he did say would be deemed hypocritical. So, he closed the jewelry box that Clayton had given him and set it down on the coffee table. Then, he turned to leave, quite sullen, leaving Clayton to smoke his cigar and stand in the middle of the mess of contents from his suitcase.
"Where're you goin'?" Clayton called after him.
"Away from you," Luke replied, quite done with this conversation, and Clayton for that matter.
Clayton took a drag on his cigar. "Good, I was worried breathin' the same air as you would hinder my cognitive function."
Luke sighed and turned around. "Y'know, you're a real dick, y'know that?"
Clayton shrugged. "I am what I eat, darlin'."
That next morning, General and his Defects, plus Autumn, were greeted by a tall man in a black leather jacket and a black Trans Am. The nine of them met in the parking lot of the Continental, the Knight operatives seeing the human Defects for the first time.
"Wow. Yeah, I heard that this kind of thing had happened but it's weird seeing it for myself," Michael remarked.
"General? Is that really you?" KITT asked.
"It's good to see you again, KITT," said the mustachioed man in orange.
"Business right away?" asked Michael.
General nodded.
"Devon tells me that your friend Thunder, also known as the Defect responsible for blowing up the Acid Corporation, was abducted by the Halton Research Organization."
"And that's exactly what happened. And seein' as how FLAG is also some big, fancy organization, I figured y'all might know somethin' about it. Or at least more than what Maiden told us."
"What would you like to know?" KITT asked.
"Specifically, how to get in there and rescue Thunder."
"Basic search and rescue mission? Should be a piece of cake," said Michael.
"Not quite," KITT butt in. "Come see."
The sleek Trans Am opened his driver's side door for the others to see. On the screens built into his dashboard were pictures, diagrams, and blueprints.
"The HRO," KITT explained, "is only open to authorized personnel, meaning they allow no visitors. It has the latest security systems: air-locked doors, keycard entry, armed guards. It'll be a greater challenge than Acid was. Not to mention that all of its programs are legal and under lawful protection. To break in would be a federal crime."
"That's great and all, but how do we save Thunder?" General asked.
"To break into the HRO building undetected would be very difficult, not to mention illegal."
"But…?"
"But, fortunately for us, there is a very small window of opportunity, today in fact."
"Explain."
"The HRO has close ties with the Liberator Defect party. The same party that is hosting a rally today at St. Peter's square. With any luck, the HRO will be there with them."
"And so will Thunder."
"Precisely."
General stepped away from KITT, thinking.
"He's makin' that face. That's his plannin' face," Autumn said.
"What are you thinking, Gen?" Grant asked.
"I'm thinkin' we're gonna steal Thunder back today," General said.
"You got a plan or are we just gonna rush in blindly? 'Cause like I said before, I ain't above that," Tank replied.
"I got a plan. Now, if this rally's anythin' like the one I was at, there's gonna be a sea of people there, easy to get lost in. That gives us an advantage. We'll be able to get close to the stage without bein' spotted. Once we get close enough, Caleb and Tank, I'll have you two watch our backs. If anyone gets too close, y'all got the muscle power to take care of 'em. Diablo, you're small enough to where you can get past the fence and under the stage. Once you're under there, I want you to wait for my signal, and I want you to burn it. Grant, I need you to create a distraction. Caleb and Tank'll cover you. I don't care what it is, just make sure it's effective. If all goes well, I'll be able to get up there and grab Thunder right out from under their noses."
"What about me?" the Black Maiden butt in.
"I'm gonna have you and Autumn with KITT and Michael as backup. If anythin' goes wrong, y'all will be there to pull us out. Got that?"
Michael nodded and KITT's scanner flushed.
"Aw, we don't get to do any cool hero stuff like we usually do," Michael said, folding his arms.
"Then I should have to be grateful that I don't need to keep you from getting yourself killed," KITT replied.
"Right, now we all know the plan. Let's go get our boy back," General announced.
Yet another day and there was a slight dim in Thunder's hopes. Not all that significant, but enough that he was beginning to think that General may not have been coming for him. But he refused to give up hope just yet. It'd only been… he couldn't remember how many days it'd been but he was sure it couldn't have been as long as he thought.
Either way, that day he was sore in mind and in body. Halton's tests seemed to be failing and though the old man showed no signs of aggravation, Thunder could sense it on him. That day, when he came to retrieve him, Thunder was met right away with an extra handler, rod already in hand. That day, he thought twice about trying anything.
Thunder suspected that he'd be taken back to the room where Halton did his experiments. However, on their way there, another car caught Thunder's eye. It was a black Trans Am, one that looked all too familiar.
"KITT?" Thunder ventured.
The car turned to reveal that it had a scanner built into the hood, just like KITT, however, this one's light was yellow instead of red. If it was KITT, he'd certainly gone through some changes.
"I am not KITT," the car replied. It was, in fact, not KITT. Its voice was deeper and more of a menacing growl than anything. "I am the Knight Automated Roving Robot, also known as KARR. And I am superior to all other Knight models, especially the Knight Two-Thousand."
"You some kinda cheap knockoff?" Thunder asked, immediately being threatened with the rod and also having the car rev towards him.
"I was the first! I am the original! KITT is nothing but a shadow in my image."
Thunder stepped away, showing that he wasn't looking for a fight. Just then, he heard a door close and the click of approaching heels. Cameron's woman was back. Though she was dressed just a touch more modestly than she had been before, a cigarette pinched between her two fingers.
"Ignore him, he's just a little sour, especially when you mention the other one. Trust me, he's all bark and no bite," the woman said as she approached, running her hand across KARR's smooth hood.
"Michelle, surprise seeing you here. I thought you'd be preparing your speech," Halton remarked.
It was clear that he hadn't anticipated her arrival at all as he grew a little flustered.
"I don't need to prepare, darling," Michelle said, taking a drag on her cigarette and blowing the smoke into Halton's face.
Halton coughed, wafting the smoke away. "If you'd excuse me, Miss President, I really do have more important-"
Michelle pressed a finger to his lips. "Hush now, dear." She put a hand to the side of his head and shoved him out of the way.
Miss President. Here Thunder was thinking that Cameron was the one in charge. So then what did that make him? Some type of advisor no doubt. The Vice President maybe?
Thunder watched as Michelle ground her cigarette out with the toe of her heel, approaching him. He tried to back away but he immediately felt the rod dig into his back. Though it didn't shock him, it served as a warning.
Michelle took his face in her hand, manipulating his head in any direction she pleased. "How go the tests?"
It was a moment before anyone answered as Halton didn't register that she was talking to him. Finally, he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "Most of them have been a failure."
"Most?"
Halton sighed. "The subject-"
"Thunder."
"Thunder has seemed to develop some variation of the abilities it used to have, although nowhere near the level of what it used to be."
Michelle caressed Thunder's cheek with her long, pointed nails. "What is it that he can do?"
"The most it has been able to produce are small sparks of static electricity. And even those seem to be coincidental. So to put it bluntly, no, I have not made any progress. I apologize for my unsuccessfulness but I need more time."
"And I'll give you more time, I just need him to make an appearance today. The flashy light shows can wait until later. I'll make an excuse for him."
"I really don't think that it's a good idea-"
Michelle cut him off again. "Are you contradicting me, doctor?"
Halton shook his head quickly, putting his hands up defensively. "No, no, of course not! All I'm saying is that this Defect, well… it has a rebellious bone or two."
Michelle grinned, pulling Thunder's face toward hers. "Oh, he'll behave for me. Won't you, sweet thing?"
Thunder was about to object and jerk his head away, however, the rod dug farther into his back and he refrained.
The woman manipulated his head into a nodding motion, turning to look at Halton with a smile. "See? He agrees."
Finally, she released her hold on his face and stepped away, much to Thunder's relief. She folded her hands in front of her as she walked away, giving orders to Halton.
"I want you to put some sense of discipline into him before this afternoon. I wouldn't want any accidents to happen, especially not in front of hundreds of people," she said.
Halton watched her go, directing the man behind Thunder back to the testing room. Thunder was thrown inside, scrambling to his feet as the doctor ushered in more muscle. Before long, the door was shut and he was cornered against the wall. Thunder grit his teeth, putting his hands up, ready for a fight.
"Do what the Lady said," announced Halton, "but save a little face. We need him presentable."
The guards all nodded and began to close in. Halton moved to leave and Thunder called out to him.
"Oh, you son of a bi-"
His voice was stolen as he was struck.
Gravedigger took a breath to compose himself as he approached the glass building, hugging the enveloped letter to his chest. He was cool and quiet walking in through the doors, and the staff let him go all the way up to her office. He'd been there enough times that he was well known, respected, and trusted. Upon approaching the woman's transparent desk, she didn't seem to take much notice of him as she was looking over a document, pen in hand, red head bent over her work.
Gravedigger walked up to her, dropping the letter onto her desk. Miss Fleetwood looked up at the sound of it, eyes darting from the envelope to Gravedigger's somber gaze.
"Gravedigger?" she ventured.
"I quit," Gravedigger said quickly.
"Excuse me?"
"I quit," Gravedigger repeated. He picked up the letter, dropping it on her desk again. "This's my resignation letter."
"I don't understand. Why in heaven would you quit?"
"I've been blind, Miss. This job's gotten between me and the woman I love for a long time now. Among other things. So, I quit."
"But you can't quit. There's still so much work to be done. You can't just abandon our cause."
"I can and I have. I'm sorry, but there're things more important to me in this life than this. I'm out. With no regrets."
"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?"
Gravedigger nodded. "Yes, yes it is. I've already given way too much to this campaign and I have nothin' left to give. It's come at the expense of my marriage and my friendships and God knows what it'll come to next. So, it's with best regards, that I forfeit my position."
Miss Fleetwood nodded, picking the envelope up from the desk. "I hope you know what you're doing, Gravedigger."
Gravedigger nodded, pulling the pin from the lapel of his coat and setting it down on the desk. "I do. Goodbye, Miss."
He was about to turn away when Miss Fleetwood stood and walked out from behind her desk. Promptly, she held out her hand to him with a grin.
"I thank you for your contributions. You would've made a good senator," Miss Fleetwood said.
Gravedigger returned the grin and shook the Lady's hand. "Much obliged, ma'am."
With that, Gravedigger let his hand drop, he turned, and walked away for the last time.