Gravedigger walked down the hall. There was a deep echo within it, not to mention it was dark. Like a cave or an endless void. It had never ceased to spook him.
He found her standing on a balcony, smoking from a long stick. She had a furry scarf draped around her shoulders, like a limp coyote being hauled in by hunters. She turned as she heard him draw close and Gravedigger found that she'd placed a black dot on her upper lip. Perhaps to mimic a mole, though Gravedigger didn't know why she would want to do such a thing.
He wrung his hands as he approached. The woman had made him quite nervous for as long as he could remember. "P-President Michelle?"
The tall woman turned to face him, looking down at him without a tilt of her chin, as if she were gazing down at an insect. It was a pitiful glare, reserved for those she clearly felt very little of. "Speaker Gravedigger. What a surprise. I suppose you're here to rub today's failures in my face. I wouldn't be surprised if that was you behind today's attack in Saint Peter's Square."
"No, it wasn't. In fact, I resigned from the campaign."
"And I don't suppose you've come to join ours."
"No, ma'am. I came to tell you so that you stop sendin' people to kill me. I'm to be married and away from here for good."
Michelle's nose wrinkled. "You know too much."
"So what if I do?"
"You'll be a liability to Fleetwood's campaign, whether you're in it or not. You'll always be a target."
"But not one of yours?"
"Alas, not one of mine. I have no use for you now, you're dead to me."
"Then that's all I can ask for. Good day, ma'am."
And with that, Gravedigger turned, and left.
The bright skies had grown dark. The cloudless sky had suddenly become overrun with clouds, gray and angry. A few lone droplets of rainwater splattered against the window pane. The warm, sunny day was no more.
Diablo stood at the window, looking out, his brow creased in worry. He didn't notice right away when Caleb walked up behind him, not until the ginger man spoke.
"I feel like those clouds came outta nowhere. Kinda reminds me of home," he remarked.
Those words tumbled inside Diablo's mind for a little bit until, finally, it dawned on him. And the revelation was almost too much to bear. He found himself shaking his head, as if in disbelief. "It's him."
Promptly, he walked over to where General was pacing anxiously, Caleb in his wake. "General?"
The man in orange stopped his pacing, removing a hand from his face. "What is it?"
"Look, I know… I know what happened to Grant is terrible but take a look outside," Diablo said, nodding to the window.
General looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and slowly walked to the window. Upon looking at the overcast skies, he turned back to look at Diablo. "Thunder."
Diablo nodded, throat getting tight. "He needs our help. And fast."
General sighed and shook his head. "I don't know how we're gonna do it without Grant and Tank."
Diablo shrugged. "We got Michael and KITT don't we?"
"KITT made it real clear that they could get us into the HRO but couldn't follow us inside. Maiden said there was no way in Hell we could get her in there. And Caleb got all freaked out in Saint Peter's and refuses to go in with us."
"So you're saying you're… giving up?"
General was silent and Diablo watched his adam's-apple move up and down. "I ain't givin' up… not yet."
"So then what's your plan?"
"I don't have one."
Diablo was about to argue further when a door in the hallway opened and a woman in a white coat stepped out. General rushed to meet her, grabbing her arm. The doctor turned, looking up from her clipboard.
"How is he?" General asked.
"What's your relation?" the doctor asked.
"I'm his brother."
The doctor let out a sigh and readjusted her reading glasses. "Your brother responded to the surgery well. The bullet went right through him so there was none to recover, however, the velocity and the trajectory of the bullet when it was fired caused it to severely damage his spinal cord." She became quiet, a bit hesitant. "There… there's a chance… he may not walk again."
General grew quiet, breaking his eye-contact with the doctor. His face blanched and his breath shuddered. He looked like he might fall.
"I know this may not be the appropriate time, but I wanted to thank you for entrusting us with your brother's care. I'll admit we don't know much about Defect anatomy. He needed a transfusion and we were very hesitant. Humans have different blood types that are only compatible with certain others. Not knowing if the same is with Defects, we were hesitant to give him the transfusion. Thankfully, someone volunteered."
"Can I speak to my brother?" General asked.
"He's asleep, but you can visit."
General nodded his thanks and walked past her, in through the door she'd come out of. Diablo followed. Inside the hospital room, it was quiet other than the beeping and whirring of machines. How funny it was, a machine being kept alive by other machines.
Tank was seated in a chair next to the bed, a slender tube sticking out of his arm, drawing out oil. He caught General's gaze as he entered. He gestured with his arm. "He needed a transfusion."
"So I was told," General said, pulling up a chair. "How's he doin'."
Tank's red, puffy gaze turned back to Grant. He caressed his cheek, perhaps in an effort to wake him. Tank sighed, moving his hand away to grasp Grant's. "Better. The doctors say he'll live, at least."
General nodded. "What'd they all tell you?"
"'Bout him not bein' able to walk? Yeah, I know." Tank shook his head. "He'll never be too heavy for me. Never." The room grew silent in Tank's reverence. "I saw his face, y'know," he said.
"What?" General asked.
"The man who shot Grant. I saw his face. And I don't aim to forget it anytime soon." Tank turned back to look at General. "My intuition kicked in. It's the same man who has Thunder."
"Tank," Diablo spoke up, "I know you're in mourning but—"
Tank scoffed. "Mournin'? I ain't in mournin', I'm past mournin'. I wanna catch the bastard that done this, to both Grant and Thunder."
"It's gonna be dangerous," General warned.
"Do I look like I care?"
"So you're in?" Diablo asked.
Tank nodded, thumb running over Grant's knuckles. "Of course I am."
"It's just the three of us and Autumn, y'know," General said.
"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time." Tank stood so he could look down at General. "I. Don't. Care." He ripped the IV out of his arm and pushed past General, walking through the door. "I… need some air."
As the door closed behind him, Diablo turned to General. "Is it just me or is he acting weird?"
General caught his gaze and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and walking toward the door.
He'd thrown up. He couldn't recall the last time he ate but apparently there was something still in his stomach. It'd been the result of Halton sticking the rod into his abdomen one too many times. Or maybe five too many times. Numbers, Thunder thought, they're funny.
As his throat burned from the expulsion of his stomach contents, he coughed and spat, trying to get the vile taste out of his mouth.
"You were struck by three-hundred million volts of electricity to get your powers. In any other circumstance you'd be dead, but you were touched by the hand of God. An odd thing for a scientist to say if you ask me. My point is, you were born from three-hundred million volts and yet you can't even stomach fifty-thousand!" Halton exclaimed.
Thunder felt the man kick him and he thought the kick would just about kill him. He was quite bruised as it was. He was flat on the floor, sprawled out, waiting for the pang of pain to go away.
From far off, there was a rumble and a whirring engine drew closer.
"It's not his tolerance, doctor, it's your technique," said the Trans Am that had introduced itself as KARR. "You've subjected him to only limited installments at a time. The initial lightning strike contained millions of volts, all at once within a fraction of a second. In order to get the results you want, you'll have to mimic that lightning strike."
"That could kill him. You speak in theories."
"I speak in facts and calculations. You seem to forget that I am an AI with state of the art technologies at my disposal. One factor, however, is troubling to me."
"Which is?"
"He was not human, both times he was struck. He was a truck with a metal body, a body conductive of the lightning's electricity. If we were to forgo the experiment with him still as a human could kill him."
Halton raised an eyebrow. "But as a truck he would be fine."
KARR moved in a formation nod.
Halton stroked his bearded chin, kneeling on the floor where Thunder lay. He curled his fingers into the Defect's dark hair, picking his head off the floor. "Looks like I'll have to have a talk with the Lady then."
"...don't wanna accidentally hurt you…" Luke's voice trailed off as he looked around, turning at the sensation of a hand on his shoulder. "Where am I?"
Clayton removed his hand with a grin. He inhaled theatrically and sighed. "Ah, Dallas. You ever been?"
"No, I ain't. And how the hell did- y'know what, I don't wanna know."
There were dark clouds hanging over the tops of the buildings and the distant rumble of thunder.
"It seems as though our friend Thunder has impacted this fair city quite well," Clayton said, readjusting his hat.
There was another low rumble of thunder and Luke winced at a sudden, sharp pain in his head.
"Headache?" Clayton asked.
Luke nodded, trying to shake off the pain.
Clayton sneered. "She's close. We'd better find our associates before more trouble befalls this fair city."
"This place's huge, where would we even start?" Luke asked.
"If I know anythin' about the people of Hazzard, the first place would be the hospital."
General walked outside, keeping an eye on the sky. He sighed, leaning against the pole of a streetlamp. The clouds were heavy and holding back, looking like they were about to burst. There was more thunder in the distance and General couldn't help but wonder if the storm had followed them there all the way from Hazzard. Looking for its master.
A soft wind blew rustling the leaves of the decorative bushes that lined the pathway to the entrance of the hospital. The wind carried sounds and smells, and on that wind he heard a familiar voice. Immediately, he was perked up, looking all around. It seemed as though the storm wasn't the only thing following them from home. And it was then that he saw them, blue and gray. One short, one tall. He felt the regular chill go up his spine, the one that he noticed normally happened whenever he saw Clayton Jennings.
"See? What'd I tell you?" the little man exclaimed, holding an arm out.
Luke took off towards the hospital. "General!"
General smiled, running up to him. "Luke!"
They hugged, laughing. It was brief but heartfelt and they still laughed even as they parted.
"Kinda weird to hug a car," Luke remarked.
"You're here! Why are you here?" General asked.
"Clayton said somethin' about Thunder bein' in trouble. Is it true?"
General sighed, his smile fading. "That ain't even half of it." He cast a sidelong glance at the hospital and gestured for them to follow. "C'mon, I'll fill you in."
Clayton and Luke followed him inside the building, General talking as they went. He explained everything from the moment they'd arrived in Dallas. He spoke of the Continental, Ms. Fleetwood, Gravedigger trying to get him to read, the speech he reluctantly gave, Thunder's disappearance, the revolution in St. Peter's Square, and that Grant had been shot: their reason for being at the hospital.
General led them to the corridor outside Grant's room, where the others were gathered. Maiden dozed on a bench, head resting on Caleb's shoulder. Tank was pacing outside Grant's room. Apparently that was his idea of getting some air. Diablo, who was coming back with a coffee, smiled at the arrival of Luke and Clayton. Autumn was standing by the window at the end of the hallway, looking out longingly.
"Autumn?" Luke ventured.
She turned quickly at the sound of her name. "Luke?" she exclaimed. She quickly moved to hug him. As they parted, she shook her head, as if in disbelief. "What're you doin' here?"
"We came to help get Thunder back," Luke explained.
"And put an end to the bitchy warmonger you all probably know as Michelle," Clayton added.
"Who?" Diablo asked.
Autumn sighed. "The president of the other party. You saw her at St. Peter's." She turned back to Clayton. "You mean she's…"
"A creature of my countenance, yes. A demon."
"I guess that… explains a few things. But what're you gonna do with her? What can you do with her?"
"You can leave that to us," Clayton answered, gesturing to him and Luke.
Autumn looked at him. "Luke?"
Luke caught her gaze. "I'll explain later." Then, his gaze moved to General. "D'you got a plan to get Thunder out?"
General nodded. "KITT and Michael have a plan to get us inside but from there, we're on our own. It's only me, Tank, Diablo, and Autumn goin' in, everyone else is either injured or opted outta goin' in."
"Then I'm comin' with you, you're gonna need the extra help. Clayton can handle the devil woman on his own, right?"
"Of course I can," the little man replied. "But I won't be there to pull you outta the deep end when your anger gets the better of you. If it takes over while you're in there, there's a good chance you might not come back."
"That won't happen. I told you I'm fine, nothin's gonna happen."
Clayton sneered, bowing slightly as if in courtesy. "I'm the Devil, dear boy, I don't interfere with free will. You may do as you please. All I must do is warn you of the consequences."
"And I'm tellin' you I'll take my chances."
"Very well."
Luke turned back to General. "So what's your plan?"
"You want me to be honest?" General asked.
Luke nodded.
"I don't have a plan. We're gonna go in there, crazy and reckless, try and leave the place lookin' like Acid."
"This ain't like you at all, General."
"It's gonna be dangerous but with that level of security and without knowin' the layout of the buildin', I don't see what other choices we have."
"It's a good thing I'm comin' with you then."
"It was Tank's idea, really. It's his way of gettin' revenge for what they did to Grant."
"Guess we shouldn't waste any time then."
General nodded, turning to address everyone there. "We leave when the sun goes down. I can't say they'll be expectin' us, but be careful nonetheless. This operation's gonna be messy and I don't wanna lose anyone else. Is that understood?"
There was a collection of nods.
"I'll pull us out if it gets too hairy, but other than that, we're on our own. It ain't too late to back out, not yet."
Tank shook his head. "There's no way in hell I'm backin' out."
"Me either, fool," Diablo said.
General's gaze drifted to Autumn.
"I can shoot a gun, it's self-explanatory," she said.
"You already know I ain't changin' my mind," Luke chimed in.
General nodded. "We're on the road in two hours and we get the hell outta Dodge by mornin'. Tank as soon as Grant's able to. Otherwise, we're goin' home tomorrow and that's final."