Costume Party
Title: Costume party
Universe: KR: Child of the Phoenix
Author: Gumnut
Fandom: Knight Rider 2008
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Look before you climb in, Mike.
Word count: 2,307
Spoilers & warnings: Knight Rider 2008 up to 1.15
Author's note: Some of you may have seen the majority of this before, but now it is finished! Unbeta'd so all mistakes can be thrown at me.
Costume party
A ‘Child of the Phoenix’ fic
By Gumnut
14-17 Nov 2008/14 Feb 2009
Mike clenched his teeth and twisted a little harder.
No result.
His breath hissed out between his teeth. Damn bottle top. You’d think science would have demanded all tops be screw tops. The annoyance of needing a bottle opener was just that, an annoyance. Sure Kitt had the appropriate appendage to solve all his bottle opening quandaries, but also had a firm opinion on drinking and driving despite the fact that Mike had no plan whatsoever to touch the steering wheel between here and the beach. And hell, couldn’t he bend the law just a little? He had been dying for a beer all day and had no time to stop anywhere. One little bottle opened and quickly consumed couldn’t be too much of a breach, could it? But he knew the truth of the matter. He would still have to listen to a recital of exactly why Kitt disapproved on his little libation for the entire twenty miles.
But then at least he would get the drink. He shook his hand, attempting to return blood to the gouges in his palm left by the stubborn metal.
The sun was setting and the parking lot was in shadow by the time he gave up and headed back to the car. There was no doubt that Kitt knew what was in his hand, so he had no idea why he even tried to hide it. Human nature? Guilty as charged? Last ditch effort to avoid the inevitable.
The mustang sat silent where he had left it, its gleaming black paintwork reflected the purples and oranges of the sky above it. It truly was a beautiful car, he had to admit it.
“Okay, Kitt, before you say anything, I am not driving.”
The AI didn’t answer.
“Okay, be that way.”
The ruby scanner flickered at him, a little redder than usual as if in admonition.
“I’m not driving.” He flung open the door and threw himself into the driver’s seat. “So its not illeg-“
He wasn’t in Kitt.
The door slammed shut before he could react, an unfamiliar engine roaring to life, and before his eyes the exterior of the car transformed into a shape that was definitely not Mustang.
“Hello, Michael.”
His eyes caught the voice box, its retro dancing bars of red light seen before only in photos.
“Kitt?” There was no familiarity in the question.
“In person, Mr Knight.” The voice managed to smile.
And the Trans Am drove them out of the parking lot.
-o-o-o-
“Where is Kitt?”
“He has an errand.”
“An errand?”
“Personal.”
“Kitt doesn’t have ‘personal’.”
“That you know of. And that is something we should speak about, young man.”
Mike eyed the dash. He knew about the Knight Industries Two Thousand. How could he not? This was his father’s car. His partner’s father as AI parents went. And its age was showing. The dash was a mixture of retro and the latest technology. Components were obviously mismatched and there were gaps where a larger piece of the jigsaw had been replaced by a smaller. The interior was worn, well used. A pair of boots lay discarded on the passenger seat floor.
“Where is my father?”
“Not here.”
The voice had a higher timbre and a curiously emotional tone. He had the strongest feeling he was being laughed at.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular.”
“Then what the hell are we doing?”
“Having a conversation. A long overdue conversation.”
Streetlights reflected off the unfamiliar hood. His stomach knotted involuntarily.
“There is nothing to be afraid of, Michael.” His name was said with an unexpected fondness.
“I’m not afraid.”
“I may be older, but that only makes me more experienced. And besides, your vitals are as obvious as your father’s.”
Now that made him even more uncomfortable. Knowing his Kitt was continually monitoring his state of health was one thing. An unknown factor with that information was an entirely different situation.
“What do you want?”
“As I said, a simple conversation.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Nothing. I just thought there were a few facts you should become familiar with.”
“Such as?” His hand was not clinging to the arm rest. Not at all. Age obviously hadn’t slowed the Trans Am down. They were going nowhere at an extremely high speed.
“Your father’s status.”
Mike forced himself not to react, his eyes only narrowing slightly. “What about it?”
“All is not as it seems.”
“Are you usually this dramatic in your disclosure or are you going out of your way just for me?”
“Shut up and listen, kid.”
Okay, that was direct. But there was still that impression of laughter. He swallowed a retort and did as he was told.
For now.
-o-o-o-
Kitt looked up at the younger man, so much like Michael yet so much not. The most notable difference was the hair. None of those out of control curls Kitt was continually reminding his driver to prune regularly. No blue eyes. Not quite the height.
But the attitude. That was very prevalent. The AI was struck by its familiarity. A familiarity gained over many, many years. It reminded him most of those first few stormy months where the AI had to educate the angry man behind his wheel.
There was pain there, too. Not the same pain. Not the shot in the face betrayal that Michael had been smothered in. No, this was different. An absence in those eyes. Eyes that for their colour could have been Michael’s.
He was his son after all.
And he had the same inability to sit still.
“How much do you know about your father?”
Those eyes blinked, suddenly flooded with a hesitant curiosity.
“Everything that was in his file.”
“The file kept by Knight Industries?”
“Is there another?”
“No.” So they had kept him in the dark. Michael had suspected as much and Kitt had to admit he wasn’t surprised. After all, since Devon had been removed from the picture, the bureaucracy had taken over. Charles Graiman was a scientist and, unlike the former director, he didn’t have the political skill to tame the government once the Foundation had been forced to accept federal funding.
A circuit twisted in memory of the elderly statesman. Devon had left a gap that could not be filled.
He shook himself, now was not the time to fall into a sentimental catatonia.
“You look a great deal like your father.” Before the plastic surgery.
The man frowned as if that was the last thing he had expected to hear. “Really? Funny about that whole genetic thing.” And it was dismissed.
Sore spot detected.
Kitt cut off the freeway and headed for a back road. He felt like chewing some dust..
“Why did you take the name ‘Michael Knight’?”
“I thought you didn’t need to know anything?”
“I stand corrected.”
That was followed by a silence broken only by tyres biting gravel.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Is it any of your business?”
“Technically speaking, you joined the family business, so I would say ‘yes’.”
A pair of brown eyes pierced the dash. “So you are still ‘in business’?”
“In a way, yes.” A pause. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
His lips thinned. “I didn’t take the name. It was already mine. Michael Knight is my father. I just exercised a right I didn’t know I had until just recently.”
“Your mother never wanted it.”
Mike’s face closed and the air around him dropped several degrees in temperature. “Don’t.” A hand rose up as if to fend off the dashboard. “Don’t go there.”
“Very well.”
“And please, get to the point, I don’t have all night.”
“On the contrary, you have no immediate plans and I have blocked any transmissions from the SSC.”
“You’ve what?”
“It’s a useful trick you might like to exercise from time to time. I really don’t know how the two of you function with so many people breathing down your necks. It was bad enough with the director of FLAG piling missions on your father with no regard for his health. If I were you, I’d start managing my contacts with a little more assertiveness.”
“We manage.”
This wasn’t going as well as it could have. Perhaps he should have let Michael handle this. There were some human factors that, despite his experience, still baffled him from time to time. The young man’s resistance to just about everything was one of them.
But then a relay flipped and he reminded himself forcibly once again that this man was his father’s son in many ways.
“Your father and I do not work for the SSC. We exist in accordance with the will and testament of both Wilton Knight and Devon Miles. In fact, the SSC and its forebearers would have preferred that I be dismantled and Michael retired. As it is, we exist and are tolerated.” He paused for a reaction, but there was none other than an expression of faint curiosity. “We continue to follow the directive we were originally given and abide by the philosophy that ‘one man can make a difference’.” And he couldn’t help but add… “As long as he has an AI to keep him from getting himself killed.”
Still no comment.
“What I wanted you to know is that if you ever need assistance, be it SSC related or not, you need not hesitate to call us.” He threw up a frequency on his monitor. “K3 has a direct line to me. He and I speak occasionally.” A pulse jump and a widening of his eyes, a definite reaction to that tidbit of information. “Don’t worry, it’s purely familial. No classified information passes between us.” Unless necessary.
“I need you to know that we are there if you need us.”
His and Michael’s loyalty was clear. The only remaining question was staring at his voice box as if it might suddenly jump out and bite him.
-o-o-o-
Mike had mixed feelings regarding his father. Many years of resentment combined with some understanding. The two factors fought and he found himself shunting the problem to one side, not sure what to do about it.
Apparently this AI didn’t have that problem.
“Anything else?” It came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t correct himself. He felt due to the circumstances he had a right to be perturbed.
“Only one thing.” Kitt’s voice became cool. “Do not trust Torres.”
That came out of left field. “What?”
“Michael has had some suspicions regarding the man for some time. I have been trawling the networks, but have been unable to locate any untoward dealings. However, circumstantial evidence leads me to believe that he is involved in some kind of artificial intelligence research unknown to Knight Industries. Doctor Graiman refuses to answer my queries and his vitals tell me he is hiding something.”
Mike froze. “Sarah-“
“I have given her a similar warning, however, I believe her view on the subject is clouded by her feelings for her father.”
He bit his lip. “And my father sent you to tell me this?”
“Michael does not know I’m here.”
That made him blink. Kitt’s father was obviously far more autonomous than Kitt.
For now.
That thought sparked a whole new array of possibilities.
Suddenly the car screeched to a stop, dust catching up and clouding the cone of headlight in front of the car. “Your partner has arrived.”
Sure enough, twin headlights appeared in the distance, their white sparked by twin red. The car door opened and Mike jumped out before it could close on him again. His earwig buzzed, his partner’s familiar tones questioning his health.
“I’m fine, Kitt.”
The Mustang arrived in a cloud of aggravated dust, but Mike’s earwig buzzed with that not so familiar voice. “Keep it that way, Michael. Both of you.” And before he could react, the Trans Am disappeared into the dark, its only legacy another lung-choking cloud of dust.
“Mike?”
“I’m fine, Kitt. Where the hell were you?”
“On an errand.”
Coughing, his legs splitting headlight beams, he made it to the driver’s side door. “An errand? You were in on this?”
“Naturally.”
“Why?”
“Do you think my father would have been able to access you if I hadn’t?”
That gave him pause. “I don’t know, Kitt.”
“Thank you for your confidence in me.”
Great, now he was miffed. “Hey, I’m the one who should be pissed here.”
“Get in the car, Michael.”
“Yes, ma’am!” First checking that the interior was the familiar cabin he expected, he climbed in, agitation clearly communicated. “Where the hell are we?”
“Nevada. Just outside Las Vegas.”
“Why?”
“You’ve read your father’s file. This is where Michael Knight was born.”
Headlights lit up dust. “Why did he bring me here?”
“I do not know. My father did not say. What did he want to tell you?”
“You don’t know?”
“He did not tell me.”
“Kitt.” He rubbed his face with his hand.
“Yes, Michael?”
“We need to have some serious discussions regarding security.”
“Perhaps after you dispose of that offensive bottle.”
The beer bottle was still in his hand, forgotten. Damn. “That should have clued me in it wasn’t you. My car didn’t nag me.”
“My father has given up. I, however, persist.”
“Kitt-“
“Alcohol consumption in a moving vehicle is an offence.”
“So’s kidnapping!”
“Michael-“
“Kitt-“
Another voice broke in, lighter in tenor and rather amused. “This is entertaining.”
“You!”
“Father!”
-o-o-o-
Kitt didn’t answer. Some miles away, he enjoyed a little fond amusement of both the younger pair and a few memories of similar situations. His tyres ate asphalt and soon the seriousness of their situation returned.
“Michael?”
“Kitt, where the hell have you been?”
“On an errand.”
“Do you have any idea-“
“Michael, I will be there shortly. We have much to discuss.”
-o-o-o-
Universe: KR: Child of the Phoenix
Author: Gumnut
Fandom: Knight Rider 2008
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Look before you climb in, Mike.
Word count: 2,307
Spoilers & warnings: Knight Rider 2008 up to 1.15
Author's note: Some of you may have seen the majority of this before, but now it is finished! Unbeta'd so all mistakes can be thrown at me.
Costume party
A ‘Child of the Phoenix’ fic
By Gumnut
14-17 Nov 2008/14 Feb 2009
Mike clenched his teeth and twisted a little harder.
No result.
His breath hissed out between his teeth. Damn bottle top. You’d think science would have demanded all tops be screw tops. The annoyance of needing a bottle opener was just that, an annoyance. Sure Kitt had the appropriate appendage to solve all his bottle opening quandaries, but also had a firm opinion on drinking and driving despite the fact that Mike had no plan whatsoever to touch the steering wheel between here and the beach. And hell, couldn’t he bend the law just a little? He had been dying for a beer all day and had no time to stop anywhere. One little bottle opened and quickly consumed couldn’t be too much of a breach, could it? But he knew the truth of the matter. He would still have to listen to a recital of exactly why Kitt disapproved on his little libation for the entire twenty miles.
But then at least he would get the drink. He shook his hand, attempting to return blood to the gouges in his palm left by the stubborn metal.
The sun was setting and the parking lot was in shadow by the time he gave up and headed back to the car. There was no doubt that Kitt knew what was in his hand, so he had no idea why he even tried to hide it. Human nature? Guilty as charged? Last ditch effort to avoid the inevitable.
The mustang sat silent where he had left it, its gleaming black paintwork reflected the purples and oranges of the sky above it. It truly was a beautiful car, he had to admit it.
“Okay, Kitt, before you say anything, I am not driving.”
The AI didn’t answer.
“Okay, be that way.”
The ruby scanner flickered at him, a little redder than usual as if in admonition.
“I’m not driving.” He flung open the door and threw himself into the driver’s seat. “So its not illeg-“
He wasn’t in Kitt.
The door slammed shut before he could react, an unfamiliar engine roaring to life, and before his eyes the exterior of the car transformed into a shape that was definitely not Mustang.
“Hello, Michael.”
His eyes caught the voice box, its retro dancing bars of red light seen before only in photos.
“Kitt?” There was no familiarity in the question.
“In person, Mr Knight.” The voice managed to smile.
And the Trans Am drove them out of the parking lot.
-o-o-o-
“Where is Kitt?”
“He has an errand.”
“An errand?”
“Personal.”
“Kitt doesn’t have ‘personal’.”
“That you know of. And that is something we should speak about, young man.”
Mike eyed the dash. He knew about the Knight Industries Two Thousand. How could he not? This was his father’s car. His partner’s father as AI parents went. And its age was showing. The dash was a mixture of retro and the latest technology. Components were obviously mismatched and there were gaps where a larger piece of the jigsaw had been replaced by a smaller. The interior was worn, well used. A pair of boots lay discarded on the passenger seat floor.
“Where is my father?”
“Not here.”
The voice had a higher timbre and a curiously emotional tone. He had the strongest feeling he was being laughed at.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular.”
“Then what the hell are we doing?”
“Having a conversation. A long overdue conversation.”
Streetlights reflected off the unfamiliar hood. His stomach knotted involuntarily.
“There is nothing to be afraid of, Michael.” His name was said with an unexpected fondness.
“I’m not afraid.”
“I may be older, but that only makes me more experienced. And besides, your vitals are as obvious as your father’s.”
Now that made him even more uncomfortable. Knowing his Kitt was continually monitoring his state of health was one thing. An unknown factor with that information was an entirely different situation.
“What do you want?”
“As I said, a simple conversation.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Nothing. I just thought there were a few facts you should become familiar with.”
“Such as?” His hand was not clinging to the arm rest. Not at all. Age obviously hadn’t slowed the Trans Am down. They were going nowhere at an extremely high speed.
“Your father’s status.”
Mike forced himself not to react, his eyes only narrowing slightly. “What about it?”
“All is not as it seems.”
“Are you usually this dramatic in your disclosure or are you going out of your way just for me?”
“Shut up and listen, kid.”
Okay, that was direct. But there was still that impression of laughter. He swallowed a retort and did as he was told.
For now.
-o-o-o-
Kitt looked up at the younger man, so much like Michael yet so much not. The most notable difference was the hair. None of those out of control curls Kitt was continually reminding his driver to prune regularly. No blue eyes. Not quite the height.
But the attitude. That was very prevalent. The AI was struck by its familiarity. A familiarity gained over many, many years. It reminded him most of those first few stormy months where the AI had to educate the angry man behind his wheel.
There was pain there, too. Not the same pain. Not the shot in the face betrayal that Michael had been smothered in. No, this was different. An absence in those eyes. Eyes that for their colour could have been Michael’s.
He was his son after all.
And he had the same inability to sit still.
“How much do you know about your father?”
Those eyes blinked, suddenly flooded with a hesitant curiosity.
“Everything that was in his file.”
“The file kept by Knight Industries?”
“Is there another?”
“No.” So they had kept him in the dark. Michael had suspected as much and Kitt had to admit he wasn’t surprised. After all, since Devon had been removed from the picture, the bureaucracy had taken over. Charles Graiman was a scientist and, unlike the former director, he didn’t have the political skill to tame the government once the Foundation had been forced to accept federal funding.
A circuit twisted in memory of the elderly statesman. Devon had left a gap that could not be filled.
He shook himself, now was not the time to fall into a sentimental catatonia.
“You look a great deal like your father.” Before the plastic surgery.
The man frowned as if that was the last thing he had expected to hear. “Really? Funny about that whole genetic thing.” And it was dismissed.
Sore spot detected.
Kitt cut off the freeway and headed for a back road. He felt like chewing some dust..
“Why did you take the name ‘Michael Knight’?”
“I thought you didn’t need to know anything?”
“I stand corrected.”
That was followed by a silence broken only by tyres biting gravel.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Is it any of your business?”
“Technically speaking, you joined the family business, so I would say ‘yes’.”
A pair of brown eyes pierced the dash. “So you are still ‘in business’?”
“In a way, yes.” A pause. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
His lips thinned. “I didn’t take the name. It was already mine. Michael Knight is my father. I just exercised a right I didn’t know I had until just recently.”
“Your mother never wanted it.”
Mike’s face closed and the air around him dropped several degrees in temperature. “Don’t.” A hand rose up as if to fend off the dashboard. “Don’t go there.”
“Very well.”
“And please, get to the point, I don’t have all night.”
“On the contrary, you have no immediate plans and I have blocked any transmissions from the SSC.”
“You’ve what?”
“It’s a useful trick you might like to exercise from time to time. I really don’t know how the two of you function with so many people breathing down your necks. It was bad enough with the director of FLAG piling missions on your father with no regard for his health. If I were you, I’d start managing my contacts with a little more assertiveness.”
“We manage.”
This wasn’t going as well as it could have. Perhaps he should have let Michael handle this. There were some human factors that, despite his experience, still baffled him from time to time. The young man’s resistance to just about everything was one of them.
But then a relay flipped and he reminded himself forcibly once again that this man was his father’s son in many ways.
“Your father and I do not work for the SSC. We exist in accordance with the will and testament of both Wilton Knight and Devon Miles. In fact, the SSC and its forebearers would have preferred that I be dismantled and Michael retired. As it is, we exist and are tolerated.” He paused for a reaction, but there was none other than an expression of faint curiosity. “We continue to follow the directive we were originally given and abide by the philosophy that ‘one man can make a difference’.” And he couldn’t help but add… “As long as he has an AI to keep him from getting himself killed.”
Still no comment.
“What I wanted you to know is that if you ever need assistance, be it SSC related or not, you need not hesitate to call us.” He threw up a frequency on his monitor. “K3 has a direct line to me. He and I speak occasionally.” A pulse jump and a widening of his eyes, a definite reaction to that tidbit of information. “Don’t worry, it’s purely familial. No classified information passes between us.” Unless necessary.
“I need you to know that we are there if you need us.”
His and Michael’s loyalty was clear. The only remaining question was staring at his voice box as if it might suddenly jump out and bite him.
-o-o-o-
Mike had mixed feelings regarding his father. Many years of resentment combined with some understanding. The two factors fought and he found himself shunting the problem to one side, not sure what to do about it.
Apparently this AI didn’t have that problem.
“Anything else?” It came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t correct himself. He felt due to the circumstances he had a right to be perturbed.
“Only one thing.” Kitt’s voice became cool. “Do not trust Torres.”
That came out of left field. “What?”
“Michael has had some suspicions regarding the man for some time. I have been trawling the networks, but have been unable to locate any untoward dealings. However, circumstantial evidence leads me to believe that he is involved in some kind of artificial intelligence research unknown to Knight Industries. Doctor Graiman refuses to answer my queries and his vitals tell me he is hiding something.”
Mike froze. “Sarah-“
“I have given her a similar warning, however, I believe her view on the subject is clouded by her feelings for her father.”
He bit his lip. “And my father sent you to tell me this?”
“Michael does not know I’m here.”
That made him blink. Kitt’s father was obviously far more autonomous than Kitt.
For now.
That thought sparked a whole new array of possibilities.
Suddenly the car screeched to a stop, dust catching up and clouding the cone of headlight in front of the car. “Your partner has arrived.”
Sure enough, twin headlights appeared in the distance, their white sparked by twin red. The car door opened and Mike jumped out before it could close on him again. His earwig buzzed, his partner’s familiar tones questioning his health.
“I’m fine, Kitt.”
The Mustang arrived in a cloud of aggravated dust, but Mike’s earwig buzzed with that not so familiar voice. “Keep it that way, Michael. Both of you.” And before he could react, the Trans Am disappeared into the dark, its only legacy another lung-choking cloud of dust.
“Mike?”
“I’m fine, Kitt. Where the hell were you?”
“On an errand.”
Coughing, his legs splitting headlight beams, he made it to the driver’s side door. “An errand? You were in on this?”
“Naturally.”
“Why?”
“Do you think my father would have been able to access you if I hadn’t?”
That gave him pause. “I don’t know, Kitt.”
“Thank you for your confidence in me.”
Great, now he was miffed. “Hey, I’m the one who should be pissed here.”
“Get in the car, Michael.”
“Yes, ma’am!” First checking that the interior was the familiar cabin he expected, he climbed in, agitation clearly communicated. “Where the hell are we?”
“Nevada. Just outside Las Vegas.”
“Why?”
“You’ve read your father’s file. This is where Michael Knight was born.”
Headlights lit up dust. “Why did he bring me here?”
“I do not know. My father did not say. What did he want to tell you?”
“You don’t know?”
“He did not tell me.”
“Kitt.” He rubbed his face with his hand.
“Yes, Michael?”
“We need to have some serious discussions regarding security.”
“Perhaps after you dispose of that offensive bottle.”
The beer bottle was still in his hand, forgotten. Damn. “That should have clued me in it wasn’t you. My car didn’t nag me.”
“My father has given up. I, however, persist.”
“Kitt-“
“Alcohol consumption in a moving vehicle is an offence.”
“So’s kidnapping!”
“Michael-“
“Kitt-“
Another voice broke in, lighter in tenor and rather amused. “This is entertaining.”
“You!”
“Father!”
-o-o-o-
Kitt didn’t answer. Some miles away, he enjoyed a little fond amusement of both the younger pair and a few memories of similar situations. His tyres ate asphalt and soon the seriousness of their situation returned.
“Michael?”
“Kitt, where the hell have you been?”
“On an errand.”
“Do you have any idea-“
“Michael, I will be there shortly. We have much to discuss.”
-o-o-o-