Author's Note – A little something I wrote initially as my third-person sample for KITT's app to "The Wake", a LiveJournal-based rp. But I really like it, I think it stands alone nicely, and so I offer it here.
Disclaimer – "Knight Rider" and related characters belong to Universal Studios and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.
"A Quiet Knight"
KITT raced along the open highway, headlights cutting twin swaths of halogen brilliance through the moonless night. Michael was asleep, seat laid back as far as it'd go. KITT monitored his vital signs and enjoyed the comfortable silence, allowing himself a little Bach to play softly through his speaker system. Beethoven was actually his favorite, but he'd already played through the composer's entire works last night, and KITT liked a little variety. Not as much as Michael did, though. For all that the man had no patience for the classics, his tastes in music ran quite the gamut besides. Country, hip-hop, soft rock, classic rock – KITT's steering yoke always took a pounding when Michael drummed along to a strong rock-and-roll beat. KITT thought most of Michael's tastes were atrocious, but he supposed that was to be expected. Much of his own personality – and inadvertently, preferences – had been programmed by Devon Miles, after all. At least Michael was no big fan of heavy metal. KITT would have had to draw the line at having that nonsense fouling his speakers.
The sleek, pitch-black TransAm scanned a few potholes in the road ahead. His suspension was self-calibrating, but he feared that the jolts might wake his pilot. Smoothly, the yoke twisted, tires turned, and KITT easily navigated a path through the bad stretch of highway . . . until he came to a spot where he would have to go over at least one of three potholes, or else let himself run off the road for a few yards to go around. The ground on one side was rough with rocks and cacti, and erosion had carved wide gullies in the other, so the latter option was out. KITT liked speed – a lot – but he slowed down by half as he targeted himself over the shallowest of the pits in the asphalt. KITT sharpened the sensors monitoring Michael, fine-tuning to pick up the slightest of changes, but Michael remained asleep.
KITT was glad. His pilot needed the rest. The last case had taken its toll on FLAG's "lone ranger." Michael's body still sported numerous minor cuts, not-so-minor bruises, one cracked rib, and a sprained ankle. KITT had tried to talk his pilot into going to a hospital, if nothing else for some pain medications, but – stubborn as always – Michael had predictably refused. KITT's medical scanners could easily tell him that Michael was not seriously injured . . . but still the AI fretted. Things had turned ugly in a hurry, and if not for Michael's quick thinking and KITT's nigh-invulnerable shell, Michael would very likely be dead.
KITT tried not to think about that. He tried not to think about just how many times he had come close to losing Michael. Months ago, he protected his pilot even unto the threat of his own existence because it was simply his programming to do so. But now? KITT had been designed and programmed to be able to learn and adapt, and he had changed. A lot.
Michael Knight was more than just his operator. Michael was his partner. And his friend. KITT didn't know what he'd do without him, and it was one of the few things the AI didn't want to learn.
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