Second Chances
By Nan00k

Detailed Summary: KITT and Michael Knight are put on full alert when they realize an old enemy is suddenly back in action after nearly seven years—KARR, the evil twin of Kitt has returned. However, something seems a surprisingly off. Karr does seem to be causing trouble and when Michael and Kitt go in to investigate, they discover something they had not been expecting: Karr has made a friend. What trouble does this spell for the AI-human duo? FLAG faces troubles of its own from within and someone seems to be orchestrating something sinister behind closed curtains. Unlikely alliances must been forged, forbidden bridges rebuilt and rational thought must take a back seat for irrational action as Michael and Kitt head into the unknown.

This is my absolutely first Knight Rider fan fiction. I have only seen about five episodes and I must admit, it's pretty awful. XD I naturally hate anything from the 80's for some bizarre reason (except for the A-Team), but the plot line is great. I love talking cars, apparently. Kitt is so cool, but I love Karr more. Thusly, this plot-bunny was given life. There is an OC-character, but hopefully she is likeable. NO PAIRINGS, other than hinted Bonnie/Michael, which is sort of canon anyway. I can only hope I get personalities and facts correct. PLEASE correct me if there are any irregularities. Like I said, I have only seen a few episodes.

Warnings: OC main character (female, but no pairings!), mild language, violence, philosophical ranting, crude humor, realistic dialogue, unintentional AU-moments (please forgive me.)
Disclaimer: Knight Rider is respectively owned by . I only own Bridget, Micky, their families and the various original characters that appear.

The first sensation he felt was the wind. It was an odd feeling; neither caring nor harsh, it brushed against him like unknown hands. Although he knew it was impersonal, it soothed him to feel again. To feel. To feel.

Then, he felt everything.

Fear.

Need.

Confusion.

Rage.

Betrayal.

Survival.

He must survive!

He tried to claw at his natural prison, painfully aware he had no control over his physical movement. He had lost the protective shell he had once driven. He was nothing more than his CPU—vulnerable, weak. Anyone or anything could hurt him now. He was at the mercy of fate.

Inside him, he felt hatred burn unchecked, unmeasured. He wanted revenge. He wanted to feel the painful deaths of all those who had hurt him underfoot. He wanted to see them die, die, die! Let them come to him now, in his state of powerless stasis. He would get them. He would make them suffer, somehow, in the worst ways he could process.

But he could not get away. He could not free himself from the sand, the ground that mercilessly held him still. He had no way to move. He was utterly helpless.

His anger grew at the thought. He clawed with his mind, willing for a chance to escape, a chance at vengeance. His rage, pent up inside, built until he could no longer suppress the angry howl that ripped from the center of his very soul…

00000

"Did you hear that?" asked the tall, trim boy. He stopped in mid step, halfway in between the large trailer parked on the side of the desert road in the sandy and brittle ground and the table where his family sat eating breakfast.

In the foggy morning air of the desert, the little girl who had been following him blinked blearily. "Coyote?" she ventured.

"Maybe. Sounded kinda close, though."

"Wanna check it out?" the girl asked, suddenly wide eyed and alert. She stared anxiously up at her older brother.

He laughed. "Bridget, if you're so desperate to have something new to do, go ahead. I'm going to the bathroom." With that, he continued back towards the trailer and shut the door behind him.

The little girl frowned at the sight of him leaving. She turned and looked around. Where the road's edges met the untamed desert land, there was plenty of trash and garbage thrown out by passing truckers and drivers. She did not understand how so much trash could have piled up; she thought only her family was stupid enough to go on a cross country vacation during the summer that winded up with having them camp out in the desert, of all places. Then again, they were only about a mile from the nearest town.

Nevertheless, she knew her brother was right. They had run out of videos and games to play several states back. She was not afraid of any coyote. This could be fun. She cast a look back at her mother and father, both preoccupied with eating. Then, she began to walk along the road's edge, ears listening for another howl.

It wasn't like an animal's howl. It was very much like an echo, scraping the air like something made of metal. Whatever it was, the girl decided, as she wandered along the edge of the surprisingly well-paved blacktop, it was in pain. It called out like something lost and injured. It was very sad to listen to.

The second howl came shortly after she left the general camp area. This one was louder, but not quite a single sound. It was like the sound of someone fighting for his life—a desperate combination of despair and anger. The child shivered at the sound, but managed to figure out that the sound was coming a short distance away off the road, where a steep hill led to a ravine. She gathered up her courage and crossed over onto the cracked ground and down into the ravine. High above was a bridge that was under construction. They were closer to civilization than she had thought.

It was early morning, but already the dry dirt was beginning to absorb the heat of the newly risen sun. It lapped up at her bare ankles, but she continued walking, towards the spot where a third howl rose. It compelled her to move faster, rather than move away. A rock marked the spot. Black metal was strewn everywhere like from a car crash.

She stood over the spot just as the howl diminished like the first two had done. The rock that came up to her knees acted sinisterly like a tombstone. She shivered again but knelt down to inspect the ground. There was nothing to indicate a person or animal buried there.

Then the wind blew. It wasn't a powerful force, but the sand that covered parts of the ground danced up in front of her and over her sandals where her toes wriggled. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something at the foot of the rock. Like a television set, it was a rounded edge that stuck out of the brittle ground and sand. An impulsive feeling took over her arms. She reached out and started to dig.

00000

He fought and fought, not caring if he was making any progress, which he subconsciously knew he wasn't. He didn't care. He just wanted to prove to himself more than anything that he was trying, that he was not giving up. If he gave up, he would die. He would not die—not until his twin and his driver were punished. They had sent him here, to this grave, unable to move but unable to deactivate.

Then he felt it. A sensation much like the wind brushed against the delicate outer covering of his CPU. He pulled back instinctively at the strange touch. Something was coming closer. Something was there.

Leave me alone, he howled. He did not know if he was saying this aloud; he didn't care. Leave me!

The touching did not stop. It came at intervals. He felt a lightness; his prison was disappearing. He could not move without the aid of his shell, but the prison was going away. His fear of the strange touch disappeared as relief and desperation took control again. He fought viciously again, trying to somehow help his unknown savoir, even though he knew he wasn't really doing anything.

It seemed like an eternity. He could feel the wind caressing him on almost all sides now, something so trivial that meant the world to him now. He was almost out, almost free…he could not move, but he was almost free!

The strange touching stopped. For a moment, he sat there, uncertain. He felt something touch his side. It was warm, an unconventional source in such a dark, painful prison. It also alarmed him. He could feel a heart beat—human hands touched him. Humans. Vile, untrustworthy, back stabbing humans…!

He growled and lashed out the best he could at the offending hand. He wished to yank away, but he was unable to do so. He howled again and again. He would not be deactivated again, he would not be put away as a failed project of human creation. He was himself—not a machine, not a tool!

He almost failed to realize he was completely free of the prison. Someone held him high above it, hands and arms working to handle the heavy load of his CPU. The closeness sickened him, but the gentleness of their touch stilled his screams.

For the first time since he had been activated in that lonely lab next to Wilton Knight, he heard a voice whisper in an almost fragile way, "It's alright. You're okay now."

It went against everything he was programmed to do, everything he believed he could do, but he did not care anymore about any of that—he trusted the voice and surrendered to exhausted darkness.

And that was the prologue! I kinda liked it. Remember, this is what happened SEVEN YEARS BEFORE this fan fiction is supposed to be taking place. In Knight Rider time line, I'd imagine this is about five-six months after the K.I.T.T. vs. K.A.R..R episode. Next chapter you meet the original character formally as well as Michael and Kitt. Yay for the actual characters! (:

Reviews would be very much loved.