Day 1 of Captivity:

" — Well, why don't we turn it on? Shall we?"

Click.

His first impression was to run.

Leap wheels over axles out of the dark and head homebound.

His transmission tensed as he tried to get moving far quicker than he could regain vision. Everything just mashed up blurs, caught fuzzy by his eyes.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd run wildly with his first and foremost thought caught and pushed down like a bug splatting across his windshield…No. he'd always chosen to be calculative, deciding on precision where some could be found, even in dire situations!… It was Michael's job after all to run headlong into the hazy danger up ahead with the whims of even a working plan, cheering up Kitt all the while — but somehow now it seemed this job was equally his as it had been for his driver because the man was: gone.

His V8 screamed furiously as he buried the pedal to the floor but the voices did not fade. They spoke worriedly just beside him, running their hands over his smooth skin.

"Knight 2000, stop? Knight 2000! I said stop!"

He paid no attention to the voice.

— His engine's screams simply muffled it but they were no further than what they had been before — He'd also not struck a wall yet. Something of equal concern.

" — This is to be expected…Here, hand me the watch." The voice commanded.

Kitt blinked back the haze to see a tall, black-haired man, grave and large gazing at him with glowing eyes.

Kitt didn't need to scan over him to know who he was —

His frame vibrated while his tires all spun at once. He fought to catch their footing and claw his way down from the lift. An impossible feat if nothing else — but he was set to do anything if just to alleviate his agony.

His engine wailed the second the man rested a hand over his front fender, Kitt flinching and turning his front tires as though to steer away from the man — The man stepped back, somewhat surprised.

Kitt resumed his "fleeing" as he wracked all his systems awake for one objective: call home.

'Out of range. Out of range.'

Kitt pounded his digital walls, completely dumbfounded and somewhat wise to the meaning behind the foundation's deaf ears.

'This won't work. Why try?' Kitt meekly spoke in the dark after possibly the longest five minutes of his life. Registering the heat of his engine bay welling up and seeping into the cabin through the gaps in the firewall.

Even so, he continued to floor his pedal. His engine wheezing from pain — Yet he didn't cease his pace…Finding a mixed amount of comfort and dread in the sound.

"This is ridiculous!" A second voice shouted over the uproar.

Kitt winced, the heat rising far too quickly for his cooling system to counteract completely.

Kitt flinched, catching onto the uneven flutter of his scanner alerting him that he was very much panicking, his CPU blushed hot as his pings toward the foundation came flat again; dead… Now he was very much hyperventilating — Acknowledging his inevitable fears. His cooling system hit high gear, whirring loudly while he attempted to escape his captors.

— but his tires continued to turn, and he resumed being stuck…

He could hardly think as he continued to floor the pedal and howl the engine with no response from the ground, he lacked traction and his springs felt loose having nothing to react to —

'This stupid lift!' He thought logically for a moment but was no less scared. Pushed back to panic —

"Knight 2000, do you read me?" Cameron's deep voice penetrated his domain, what he'd always considered sacred and safe had now twisted into undesirable company.

It made for a worse reaction, Kitt slipping from drive to reverse in an instant — the engine going dead as a safety net was triggered. The Foundation was still unresponsive as he tried to blindly avoid the voice that'd replaced Michael's right from out of the comms. How did they retrieve the comlink?

"Michael!" He shouted, now remembering the last adios he and Michael had shared on the back of the truck. Recalling his eventual ascent up the ramp and into the back of the foreign truck. Aware of that trust he'd given to Michael so confidently — At ease that everything would work out; be alright.

' – I'm buying us some time…' — His electronic heart plummeted lead-like to the depths of his housing. This had NOT turned out the way they'd planned.

Bang!

Kitt shouted again, startled by his backfire. The engine's sudden revival became screams, transforming to a shrill cry continuing to climb RPMs. Still attempting to run uselessly.

'Alert: Cease acceleration. Cease acceleration.' His system wailed. He was overly stressing the engine – And to what end? If he managed to impale himself — escape would be futile…He needed to calm down but somehow, he just couldn't. He'd been unable to move or speak for several hours now — trapped inside himself; awaiting in a locked-up state the arrival of his driver's sweet voice calling to him to awaken — At first it had just simply been uncomfortable, but as time prolonged itself — He'd begun to panic — Wouldn't Michael have called for his assistance by now?

He felt miserable.

They had failed; Michael had failed. If the man hadn't been the one to awaken him then something horrible had happened when they'd been separated — What had Cameron done to him? Had Gina turned on him again? Had he not survived the confrontation?

Kitt gunned the engine, remorse, and regrets amounting to shrill terror at the thought of Michael being killed — There was no way to know for sure what had happened during his 24 hours of inactivity, just that somehow the answer was clearly to be grim.

"Michael, help me!" He screamed unintentionally, unable to think — unable to fully allow himself to understand the implications of the lack of response from home — they had lost?

"Turn it off." A voice called, clearly disappointed — "Turn it off!"

The engine stalled, shaking his frame, all his systems slipping from his figurative hands into the revived darkness — The eerie silence returned, shackling and locking him away.