FicWad

KITT was very proud of his body.

Yes, the case could be made that it wasn't his body. It belonged to the Foundation for Law and Government. It was just a shell that had been prepared for him. But the alternate case could be made, and was indeed made by him in his mechanical brain - a human body was just as much a shell into which a consciousness was stuffed, wasn't it? KITT had concluded, after much internal debate, that his body belonged to him just as much his as a human's belonged to its brain.

His body. He took care of it. A car did not simply run without any maintenance. Some of it was Bonnie's job, but some of it he took care of himself - memory maintenance, fluid changes, exterior cleanliness, interior cleanliness. Lord, he did have to mind his the cleanliness when Michael Knight was around! The mud, the dirt, the bombs, the food that the man ate and got all over the upholstery - it was enough to drive a car batty. But KITT made the effort to keep himself clean. And Michael appreciated it - KITT could tell by the way he touched KITT's exterior. Bonnie had built tactile sensation into every one of KITT's body panels - a necessity for sensing danger and damage, she had said, and KITT agreed that it was only logical. The fact that this left him open to the displeasing sensations of cats padding on his roof and idiot Arnolds resting their dumbbells on his hood was offbalanced by the rather more pleasing sensations that Michael stimulated. The man had a way of patting KITT's roof or running a hand lazily along a fender that KITT found - yes, pleasing was the right word for it.

Of course, KITT wondered why Michael did that. The man was so difficult to read - much more so than the majority of the villains the two of them dealt with regularly. Did touch hold meaning for the man? Was that why he engaged in it so often? He engaged in it with other humans, too - but, KITT could not help noticing, almost exclusively with humans who possessed female genitalia. KITT often wondered whether these touches would be more pleasing to Michael if KITT possessed female genitalia. Not that KITT possessed male genitalia, but his voice was distinctly male. Was this displeasing to Michael? It was all terribly confusing, KITT decided. However, when it came to Michael, KITT always had a sounding board for his confusions.

KITT broached the topic during one of his usual checkups. He always felt an irrational vulnerability during these - yes, his external systems were partially deactivated when Bonnie was checking him, but he was in a heavily fortified semi trailer at those times, as well. There was no logical reason to feel vulnerable. There was also no logical reason to talk endlessly to escape the nervousness, but Bonnie had programmed in some irrationality in the name of a more human-like attitude on KITT's part. And so KITT brought out the topic that had been on his mind during his usual flow of checkup conversation.

"Perhaps we can discuss additional functionality?" KITT paused, choosing his words carefully. Then again, he always did. "I feel that I am not providing everything that Michael needs in order to be comfortable. This is the first partnership I've been in, after all." Bonnie made a noncommittal noise, and KITT felt it would be best to elaborate. "I have read about girls, and I find it all very confusing. He samples them, but does not seem to have found the flavor he desires." KITT paused again. Was Bonnie even listening? Sometimes she tuned him out - which KITT found terribly annoying. But no - her pupil dilation and heart rate had varied as soon as he mentioned girls, indicating interest. "Perhaps I shouldn't be telling you this, but he caresses my fenders in a way that is reminiscent of the manner in which he caresses the bottoms of these ladies. So, I think you can see what I'm getting at, Bonnie. Do you think I can provide him with erotic functionality?" KITT waited hopefully.

Bonnie paused at the end of that speech, and stood there, electron welder in hand, various expressions flitting across her face, for a good half-minute before replying. "Well, KITT... you know how guys are." She gestured vaguely with the welder, then stopped.

"Actually, Bonnie, I /don't/," KITT said, speaking with exaggerated clarity. "That's why I'm asking you!"

"Well, they're... they need..." Bonnie trailed off, looking into the distance, one hand resting abstractly on KITT's open hood.

"Yes?" KITT prompted.

Bonnie seemed to come back from somewhere. She bent back over KITT's cylinder head, quickly. "Well, sex."

"Sex." KITT chewed on the word. A means of reproduction, yes, but there were many convoluted definitions in his on-line database. "Is that what happens during those fades-to-black in the movies and books?" KITT had come across many in his samplings of popular culture. He had initially assumed that the people in question had just gone to sleep, but context in some of them suggested that physical intimacy of some kind had transpired. KITT found it quite baffling that an activity that took up so much of the time and mental energy of the human species was so delicately not-talked-about in much of popular culture.

"In most of them, yes." Bonnie started to put her tools away.

KITT added a few items to his mental priority list. "I will have to look into this. Thank you, Bonnie. You have been a great help."

Bonnie paused, looking at KITT with an oddly blank expression. "Er... are you going to read up on sex, KITT?"

"Well, naturally! If this is what Michael needs in order to be /comfortable/..." KITT's primary function was to protect human life; however, his prioritization was rather highly skewed towards Michael. It was at the point where KITT could harm a human who intended harm towards Michael - although it pained him to think about it.

For no reason that KITT could fathom, Bonnie giggled. Then again, humans sometimes had the oddest reactions to discussions of sex. "I wish you the best of luck, KITT," she said, once she had regained her composure.


KITT never left a subject alone until he had researched it thoroughly. However, three hundred twenty books and fifty-seven erotic films later, he was still very confused. One thing was completely clear - for most humans, the reproductive act was engaged in purely for pleasure, with no actual reproduction desired. But there, the clarity ended. The rituals surrounding the reproductive act were staggering in their complexity. Complexity appealed to KITT on a mathematical level, but the heterogeneity of human sexual response took complexity a bit too far, in his opinion. Acts and words that enhanced the sexual act for some had no effect on or were actively unappealing for others. Some even enhanced their enjoyment of the act by pretending that it was being performed on them against their will.

The idea of sexual orientation was more than complex enough in and of itself, KITT pondered. Once he had accepted that the reproductive act was not engaged in for actual reproduction, the idea that it might be engaged in between members of the same sex made perfect sense, of course. However, 'sexual preference' was terribly important to humans. KITT was glad that he had done this research - he had not realized before what a substantial faux pas it was to misidentify someone's sexual orientation. The logic behind that offense eluded him, however. It was apparent that this 'sexual preference' was not one of the simple human preferences that he was familiar with, such as Michael's preferences for spicy food or blondes; those preferences were nonbinding, and the man would happily eat bland food or appreciate a brunette. KITT had even formed a few preferences of that nature of his own, and he was quite proud of them. No, this 'sexual preference' went deeper, was more binding, and had strong societal pressures behind it. KITT was baffled. As many of the activities people engaged in involved stimulation of the sexual organ by organs on the other person that were not sexual, why was the distinction so important?

Perhaps, KITT mulled, there was a psychological interaction on the part of the provider of the sexual service with the recipient. Something like friendship, but a friendship that was influenced by this strange, pervasive idea of sexual orientation. It was all very interesting, KITT decided, and tried to put his ruminations to a practical purpose. From the reading he had done, coupled with his observations, it seemed that Michael was straight. Perhaps he found KITT appealing, but found his male voice off-putting. KITT wondered if Bonnie would be able to alter his voice projector to be female - maybe Michael would find that more pleasing? KITT decided that he would broach the topic after a period of further observation, with this research in mind.

The further observation would have to wait, however, as KITT was interrupted in his reverie by the subject of said reverie popping the door open and swinging inside. "Ready to go, partner?" Michael asked. The question was merely a pleasantry, and KITT did not even bother with a reply as he started his engines, brought his systems fully online, and relinquished control of his automotive functions to Michael. They screeched out of the garage, leaving two streaks of black rubber on the concrete. KITT could almost hear the muttered expletives of the FLAG custodian as he meticulously cleaned off the rubber, knowing that it would just be there again the next time the pair left. It was silly, it was wasteful of tires, and it was not as neat and clean as KITT liked every other part of himself to be - but he had to admit to himself that he loved it. He loved everything about being a car; the burnouts, the fishtails, the power slides, the turbo-boost jumps, the feeling of his tires balancing just on the edge of traction as he screeched around a corner, g-forces tugging at his composite body. It was all /thrilling/.

KITT felt the nudge of a connection at one of his I/O ports, and it had the whiff of Bonnie. He opened the port, allowing data to flow in. Devon tapped impatiently at his A/V link, and KITT opened that connection for Michael. "Devon calling."

"Yo, Devon! What's up? What's today's mystery?"

"No mystery," Devon said, gravely. "This is an interception. Four terrorists of unknown affiliation have stolen a number of munitions from a local Army dump, and are headed roughly south on surface streets. The guns they have stolen are making things... rather difficult for the local constabulary. We need you two to go stop them."

"Righto!" Michael said, as cheerfully as if Devon had told them to go fetch ice cream. "Does KITT know where we're headed?"

"Bonnie has uploaded the information to my databanks," KITT interjected. "Whenever you're ready, Michael."

"Well, let's get moving!"

Devon gave his usual, "Be careful, Michael," before signing off.

KITT flashed a map up on his display. "They are headed south on Cabrillo Highway. I suggest we take this route," KITT lit his proposed route on the map, "and head them off at the pass, as the westerns would have it - and away from any population centers."

"Ride 'em cowboy!" Michael said. KITT took that as agreement, and gently turned the wheel in Michael's hands. They flew down the tarmac at speeds that would be suicidally reckless if traveled by a normal driver in a normal car. With KITT's tires, brakes, and radar system, it was a perfectly reasonable speed. KITT liked reasonable.

They pulled onto Cabrillo Highway and slowed down. "What do they look like?" Michael asked, peering around at the empty road.

KITT accessed the data that had been passed onto him. "They are in a black pickup truck with a standard cab. It is carrying four men, all in fatigues, with black stocking caps on. I only have an estimate of the weapons they might have taken, but they almost certainly have high-powered automatic rifles and at least one grenade launcher."

Michael whistled. "That's quite an arsenal. Black pickup truck, eh? Like that one?"

KITT had already noted the vehicle. "My scanners indicate that the vehicle contains four humans and a number of weapons. I cannot tell, at this distance, what the nature of the weaponry is."

A loud, staccato brrrap sound split the air. KITT felt stings all over his hood, windshield, and A-pillar. Bullets - and from their feel, conventional ones. Nothing that would penetrate, but they would burn and itch like holy Hades for a while. "That's a pretty good answer!" Michael yelled, grabbing the wheel and yanking. The stings disappeared as he swerved KITT swerved out of the way of the bullets, KITT's tires kicking up rooster tails of dust from the dry dirt shoulder. The noise of the guns paused; KITT estimated with 98% certainty that the people in the pickup were merely re-aiming.

KITT took a few nanoseconds to ponder what action to take. The single passenger in the cab was hanging halfway out of the window, a pistol in his hand; two more masked people stood in the bed, looking over the cab. One of them held an automatic rifle, but the other was pulling out what looked like a grenade launcher - which would have more of an effect than the pistols on certain delicate parts of KITT's underbody.

The most straightforward action would be to ram the pickup. He would sustain little or no damage from that action, and Michael would be protected by the laser restraint system. But ramming the pickup might injure the occupants, especially the unrestrained pair in the back, and KITT cast about for another course of action. Quickly, too - a charge from what was most definitely a grenade launcher exploded too close-by for comfort, and KITT felt a sharp pain as some of the shrapnel tore into his exhaust system. He noted the dust that his tires had kicked up from the side of the road, and was struck with a minor burst of inspiration. "Michael," he said, "I will need to take control for a moment."

A little brake modulation in front and a judicious kick of power to the rear, and KITT started to circle the pickup at speed, kicking up clouds of dust every time his tires dropped onto the shoulder of the road. The occupants of the pickup increased their firing rate, but had difficulty hitting a target that was circling as rapidly as KITT was; the bullets and grenades went wide. In a short time, the air was filled with clouds of dust. KITT's radar kept him spinning in a tight circle around the truck, but the driver hit the brakes as his visibility went to nil.

"Nice going, KITT!" Michael yelled. He yanked at the bandana around his neck, unknotting it and re-tying it around his nose and mouth. He hit the Roof Left button. KITT sighed internally, but knew there was no holding the man back; he braked rapidly, screeching to a halt so that Michael could exit - well, not safely, but with perhaps a little less of a ludicrous risk. He sent a puff of air out of his cabin to clear the air Michael was leaping into; the man ran to the driver's door of the pickup, hauled the driver out with both hands, and started to pummel him.

KITT noted that the two men who had been in the back of the pickup had jumped out, and were stumbling out of the dust cloud. They regained their bearings, leveled the rifles they were carrying, and started firing into the cloud. "That will not do," KITT muttered to himself. He turned and headed for the two men, taking pains to put himself in the path of the bullets. He was irate enough at the sting they caused to knock the men off of their feet with a little less gentleness than he was capable of, and they plowed into the ground with moans and grunts of pain.

The dust was settling rapidly. Michael walked away from the pickup, looking none the worse for wear except for a light coating of dust; both the driver and the passenger in the cab were lying next to the pickup, stunned. Michael pulled the kerchief off of his mouth, revealing a broad grin. "Good work, partner!" he bellowed, loudly enough for KITT to hear him from 1.3 miles away. "Hardly even exciting!"

KITT hissed out a sigh. For goodness' sake - one of the men had been armed, and it had been two against one on top of that. "I will never understand your cavalier attitude towards bodily harm, Michael."

Michael jumped into the door that KITT opened for him. "It's only because I know you've always have my back, partner!" he said, settling into the driver's seat. "Let's tell Devon to have these boys picked up!"