Chapter Text
The set up seemed a little weird, but Parker had worked in weirder places, and this was better than the whole ‘soldier of fortune’ thing that he’d been heading for (dragged kicking and screaming to be honest, he had no desire to get into the sort of jobs some of his former squad mates were heading for). Devon Miles was a trip, with the prissy accent, the three-piece suits and the ‘mind your manners’ attitude, but Parker had worse CO’s back in the day and he was pretty sure he’d be able to work with the guy. He wasn’t sure about the guy already working in this set up: he was supposed to be some sort of super-agent, an invisible, unpredictable force of nature. People like that, in Parker’s experience, were full of themselves and hard to work with. Not that they would be working together. These Foundation for Law and Government people had a different partner in mind for him.
The whole ‘your partner is mounted in a car’ thing was going to take some getting used to though, as well as the whole ‘the car will decide if it will work with you or not’ thing. The FLAG setup seemed like a pretty worthwhile gig: he liked the idea of standing up for the little guy, and not staying in one place stuck behind a desk was attractive too. The Navy had tried to promote him out of the field, and he’d left the teams as a result. Navy SEALS were not designed to be desk jockeys.
Miles had mentioned that the car was driving in from some other property where it spent the evenings, and they were waiting for it to arrive outside the mansion, like it was normal for cars to have a home and place of work and not weird at all. People were coming in and out, starting their morning work, and when the black trans am with gold highlights on the lights and fender, and a discrete gold belly stripe down the sides pulled up, several stopped to say good morning to it. The windows were tinted, so he couldn’t see in, and Parker wondered if the gruff voice responding was the person who’d driven it over. The yellow light flicking back and forth was also weird, but Parker followed Miles down the steps to stand in front of it. He was hoping whatever it was wouldn’t give him testicle cancer or something: he knew better than to make that almost-not-a-joke straight away.
“Good morning, Karr,” Miles said pleasantly, “I’d like to introduce your prospective driver, Parker Johnson.”
“Good morning,” Parker stuck his hands in his pockets, since offering to shake hands would make him look like an idiot, and squatting down to pat the fender would make it look like he thought it was a pet or something. He had met Dr Curtis the day before when she’d run down the specs of the vehicle in the absence of the lead engineer, who was on maternity leave. She’d given him a piece of advice that hadn’t made much sense as she was leaving, but he kept it in mind now: be yourself, because he hates insincerity.
“Good morning,” the gruff voice replied, “I am the Knight Autonomous Roving Robot, K.A.R.R. for short. I prefer to be called Karr.”
“I prefer to be called Parker,” Parker replied, and the yellow bar flashed at him once. He wondered what that meant. The doors on the vehicle popped open, but no one got out.
“Shall we attempt a test drive?” the voice asked, and Parker glanced at Miles, who gestured for him to get in on the driver’s side. The question wasn’t exactly phrased as a vote of confidence, but Parker knew he was on trial here as much as Karr was, so he chose not to quibble.
The glass cleared as they got in, and Parker whistled when he got a look at the interior. Talk about high tech, there were buttons for everything, and he looked them over, working out what they meant as best he could.
“This is going to take some learning,” Parker confessed, glancing at Miles, “I’ve never had a vehicle so high tech before.”
“A period of adjustment is expected,” Miles replied, as the doors closed themselves, “I believe I mentioned that there would be a series of field tests prior to you both taking on missions?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need it,” Parker sighed, “That Dr Curtis wasn’t kidding when she said the dash was complicated. It looks like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise in here.”
“I can assist you,” the voice spoke up, a set of red bars flashing in time with it, “If you deign to speak to me.”
“Yeah, thanks, that would be good,” Parker shot a startled glance at the bars, “Sorry, I guess I was speaking to you both? No offence was meant.”
“Shall we?” Miles gestured, with the air of someone intervening in an argument, and Parker reached out to hit the start button, unsettled by the lack of car keys but willing to adjust.
“Sure,” Parker glanced at the dashboard, hoping Karr would understand he was speaking to him and not Miles, “Do you have a destination in mind? Is there a test track?”
“There is,” Karr confirmed, “But live traffic will be more interesting, don’t you think?”
“Let’s see what trouble we can get into,” Parker agreed and put the vehicle in gear, sending them down the driveway smoothly, through already open gates and out into the suburbia. He hung a right and headed for the freeway, appreciating the smoothness of the suspension and responsiveness of the controls.
“There’s no seat belts?” Parker asked after they’d been driving for a while and was amused to see alarm on Miles’ face. He wasn’t about to start throwing the so-called indestructible car around, but from the expression on Miles’ face it seemed the question was alarming. It made him wonder if the last driver they’d interviewed had tried something he shouldn’t.
“Are you planning to need them?” Karr asked in a sly tone, “This is supposed to be a test drive, not an attempt to cause mayhem.”
“If I say: ‘safety first’ will you believe me?” Parker fired back. He was pretty sure the guy was joking with him.
“No,” Karr said firmly, but the tone was definitely teasing now, “However, there is a safety function available should you require restraining. The passive laser restraint system will not only hold you in the seat, it won’t leave bruises when we come to a sudden stop.”
“There will be no sudden stops,” Miles asserted from his seat, and Parker grinned over at him. He’d never been able to resist winding up the stuffed shirts in his command.
“Now, Mr Miles, proper preparation prevents poor performance,” Parker kept his voice playful, “It would be negligent of me not to ensure your safety.”
“Indeed, Mr Miles,” Karr agreed, which made Miles’ eyes widen even more, “Surely you agree?”
They were hitting heavier traffic now, and Parker cut the banter to concentrate. From his briefing yesterday, this vehicle could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands, and even a small ‘fender bender’ from his end could result in injury to others. Also, he was pretty sure the car would eject him from the cabin if he dinged it in their first drive. He’d seen the ejector seat options.
“I like the way it drives,” Parker mentioned as he applied speed to avoid a traffic snarl. The effortless handling of the vehicle was like nothing he’d ever driven before, despite the weight of it.
“He,” Karr corrected sharply. Evidently Parker had hit a nerve somewhere. There were clearly all sorts of pitfalls he hadn’t been expecting and he made a note to explain himself more carefully. At least until they were familiar with each other.
“Not you, the car,” Parker replied with a frown, “Or are you the car? I’ve never worked with this sort of set up before.”
There was what could only be described as a thinking silence. Miles was staring at them both in fascination, which was a bit weird, in Parker’s opinion. Surely, he’d seen people work out how to relate to each other before?
“The car is technically my body, though I can exist outside it,” Karr said eventually, and Parker glanced at the light bars, “I would prefer that my body is not referred to as an it.”
“He, then,” Parker nodded, “I like the way he drives, very smooth. Good power on the accelerator too.”
“Thank you,” it was kind of messed up that someone felt they had to say thanks for being recognised, “Flick has put considerable effort into enhancing my capabilities from a lesser vehicle.”
“Flick?” Parker frowned, “Is that Dr Curtis’ first name?”
“Dr Curtis’ is my lead technician, and her first name is April,” Karr corrected, “I was referring to my lead engineer, Dr Felicity Harper. She designed and built the chassis for me. Or more accurately, for us.”
“Us?” Parker asked, wondering if Karr meant him as well. He would be using the chassis after all, but how could someone design a car specifically for someone they’d never met?
“The Knight Industries Two Thousand uses almost the same chassis and configuration,” Karr replied, “It has been in the field for over a year now.”
“Oh yeah, the other team,” Parker recalled, “Mr Miles mentioned them.”
He turned the gull wing to the left and encountered the first resistance from the car in the whole drive. Miles had said the car could self-pilot and correct his steering, so he wasn’t entirely surprised. He did wonder why it had resisted him, he wasn’t close to hitting anything.
“I would prefer to avoid this on ramp,” Karr stated, “I’ve had negative experience with it in the past.”
“Now Karr,” Miles scolded, “There is no logic in blaming the on ramp. It was simply bad timing.”
Parker would have passed the on ramp, as he was just driving aimlessly and had wanted to see what they could do at speed, but the wheel turned in his hands, overriding his decision to miss the turn. Apparently, Miles had the authority to override their decisions. Parker wasn’t sure he liked that.
“What happened last time?” Parker asked rather than starting an argument with his prospective boss. There was sure to be a reason for deeming this a negative experience, whatever that meant.
“An accident in opposing traffic caused significant damage to several vehicles on both sides of the freeway, resulting in two fatalities. I was damaged while protecting a family in a smaller vehicle,” Karr said sulkily.
“Oh, a bad luck spot,” Parker nodded, “There’s a turn out near my uncles’ place that I always have either a near miss at, or in one case an actual accident. I get it.”
There was a truck in front of them now, speeding up to merge into traffic, and Parker held back, eyeing the wobble in the trailer suspiciously. Most people didn’t believe in ‘bad luck’ spots, but he’d had far too many close calls in the same spot to ignore them. Lights flickered on the dashboard, but he ignored that in favour of pulling back a bit further, the car behind him blaring it’s horn in irritation.
“Jack ass,” Parker muttered. There was a bang, and several tyres on the rig ahead blew, causing it to jackknife and tip onto its side. Before Parker could hit the brakes, something grabbed hold of him, and the car sped up, launching itself into the air, clearing the tipped trailer and landing well clear on the other side, hitting the road with a jolt and accelerating smoothly away into traffic, leaving the accident behind.
“I do believe the correct phrase is ‘I told you so’,” Karr said smugly as the invisible restraints let go of his passengers. Who were, as promised, unbruised.
“Woo hoo!” Parker hollered, “Now that is what I call a safety feature! Way to go, dude!”
“Not another one,” Miles sighed from his seat. Parker ignored the comment, turning to look back at the mess behind them. The jackass hadn’t hit the truck because they’d been far enough back for him to stop, and probably because he’d slammed on the brakes when Karr took off. Flying cars were not common experiences.
“Didn’t even clip it,” Parker admired, “Nice work, partner!”
“Thank you,” Karr replied, “I will show you how to engage turbo boost manually on the test track. It is a useful skill.”
Karr had kept control of the vehicle and was heading them smoothly along the freeway. Parker settled back into his seat the right way around, watching the way they wove carefully through the traffic with admiration. He’d known intellectually that the vehicle had driven itself to the front door of the Foundation, but seeing it do that in actual traffic was impressive. Seeing it decide to leap over a truck was super impressive.
“Mr Johnson, Karr is not supposed to drive himself, except in an emergency,” Miles spoke up from the passenger seat, when he realised that Parker wasn’t going to take over again.
“Why?” Parker waved a hand at the dashboard, “He’s doing the speed limit and all.”
“He doesn’t have a driver’s license,” Miles replied, which was stupid, because how did a car get a license to drive itself? “He may only drive in an emergency without a license.”
“I do have a driver’s license,” Karr announced before Parker could say something that would blow the job interview, “Michael gave it to me as a graduation present. I can assure you it is legal.”
Parker grinned. He’d heard a little about Michael Knight, the other guy who drove a talking car, from Dr Curtis. She’d seemed to like him. Parker thought he’d probably like the guy too, if he was willing to get a driver’s license for someone who was basically a car to get around the ‘you can’t drive yourself’ rule. Provided of course he’d done it to help the car, and not just to be a dick to his employer.
“What?” Miles seemed outraged and the glove compartment popped open. There was a black leather wallet inside and Parker reached over and pulled it out. It was the old paper style licence, so no photo required, good for ten years, with the name Karr Knight on it. The insurance papers had Karr Knight on them as well.
“We will have to update the insurance papers to include your name, Parker,” Karr mused, coming off the freeway and heading into a different part of suburbia, “And you will need several permits in addition to your normal license. This chassis has modifications that require special permits if we are to avoid drawing the ire of law enforcement. I will arrange them for us.”
“Does Kitt have one of these?” Devon spluttered, still fixated on the licence.
“He does,” Karr confirmed, “It was apparently a Christmas present, their first year together. Flick gave me the wallet. April gave me the picture.”
There was a clear plastic window for photos in the wallet, which contained a picture of a dark-haired woman with short hair, and twin babies in her arms. Devon fell silent, and Parker put everything back the way it was, closing the glove compartment tidily. They were winding through leafy streets, steadily gaining height, a clear destination on Karr’s mind.
“Where are we going?” Parker asked curiously. The higher they went, the more expensive the houses were, and Parker was beginning to wonder if he was going to be stuck around a bunch of rich people for this entire gig. Not that he minded rich people, as long as they weren’t jerks.
“To get your comm link,” Karr replied, “And to introduce you to the people at the Foundry. Fred has agreed to garage you there overnight, should accommodation be required. She has also begun the process of procuring the documentation needed with your name on it. I assume you are keeping the last name of Johnson?”
Miles made a startled noise beside Parker. He had said it was very unlikely that Karr would make a positive decision instantly, and that multiple meetings may be required. Looks like Parker had made a better impression than expected. The set up was still weird, but he thought he could work with it.
“Yeah, I’m not changing my name,” Parker confirmed, “Or at least, that was never mentioned.”
“It may be something you should consider,” Miles said sternly, “The work you do may draw unwanted attention to your family.”
“I wish any fool dumb enough to go after my family luck,” Parker snorted, “My uncle sleeps with a shotgun.”
He didn’t have any other family to speak of. Or more accurately, to speak to. His folks had tossed him out the year he turned thirteen. His uncle had raised him to be as independent as he was, and he’d gone into the Navy as soon as he was old enough to join up.
They had been driving along beside a high stone wall, now they turned into a driveway as an elaborate gate rolled aside to let them in. There was a security station there, and the men inside waved, unconcerned as Karr rolled them up onto the driveway, bounded by the wall and surrounded by an enormous field of grass. There was a bamboo forest in the distance, and some smaller trees too. Weird posts stuck up out of the grass, and Parker made a note to work out what they were later.
“Aren’t they supposed to check we’re authorised?” Parker frowned, glancing back at the guards.
“I am authorised,” Karr replied, “And you are tolerated because you’re with me.”
“Tolerated, huh?” Parker snorted, “And there is no way you could be placed under duress?”
There was silence as they rolled though the field, and Parker shot Miles a concerned look. He hadn’t meant to pose an unanswerable question. He didn’t know a lot about computers, but he did know they didn’t react well when they were asked questions they couldn’t answer.
“I will discuss your concern with Fred,” Karr said eventually, “You have a valid point.”
“Good,” Parker nodded, relieved he hadn’t said something wrong, “Gates are always the weak point, and duress is the easiest way to get through them.”
Karr rolled them around a curve and Parker forgot all about arguing over security. The place was a glass and concrete mansion, and he was blown away by it. Karr bumped up off the paving and onto the grass, driving until he reached one of two pools. The doors popped open, and Parker got out, closing his door and whistling in appreciation. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, given the grounds were so different to the Foundation and its old-fashioned charm.
“That is some kind of house,” he marvelled, “This is what you call a garage?”
“Mine is beneath it, but yes,” Karr was definitely amused by him now, “Excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Karr rolled away and Parker turned to stare at Miles, “And he says I can stay here?”
“Do you want to?” Miles frowned, “There is accommodation at the Foundation for you, should you wish it. The Foundation grounds are FLAG’s main headquarters and the main garage for Karr is located there.”
“Uh, no offence, but the Foundation is not the kind of place I’d fit,” Parker thought about the long runs, the fitness routine he used in downtime, and the occasional nightmare. Better not to deal with all that in front of his buttoned-down boss. Besides if the car was here, he should be too, at the start at least.
“Well, the decision is yours, and Michael’s of course. This is his home,” Miles waved at the grounds, “He inherited it.”
Michael was beginning to sound like a typical rich guy and Parker stuck his hands in his pockets, wondering if they’d get along. If the guy was deployed most of the time, it might be workable. There was a whine of turbines and Parker turned, expecting to see Karr already. Instead, the car behind him was all black, with a red light panning from side to side, looking a lot less friendly than Karr.
“You must be the other one,” Parker said, pulling his hands from his pockets.
“Kitt,” a male voice behind him said, and Parker swung around, leading with his elbow in startled reflex. The man behind him took a half step back, arching backwards out of the way, then returned to an upright position, not even bringing his hands up to counterattack. Parker was relieved he hadn’t struck him as he was clearly not a threat, but before he could begin to apologise something hit the back of his knees and he went down onto a black metal surface, which bounced him, recollected him and tilted awkwardly to prevent him from moving easily back into a balanced position.
“Kitt!” Miles exclaimed.
“He attempted to strike my Driver,” Kitt’s light baritone carried a very real tone of anger and insult, “That is not acceptable.”
“Easy pal, I startled him,” the other man said lightly, “Let him off please.”
Parker found himself bounced again, this time off the side of the hood and onto the grass. He rolled to his feet in a smooth move and stepped back, hands splayed at his sides in a gesture of nonaggression.
“Was that really necessary?” Miles threw his hands up in the air. He sounded like an exasperated father. It was incongruous given the setting.
“Yes,” Kitt replied at once, earning a chuckle from the guy who must be his driver. He put a hand on Miles’ shoulder in a pacifying gesture then held it out for a shake to Parker.
“Michael Knight, Kitt’s Driver,” Michael was tall, lean, built like a runner, but clearly able to handle himself in a fight. Also, clearly not the rich boy Parker had been expecting, in trainers, jeans and a t-shirt. His hand was calloused, and he didn’t play the tough guy game of trying to break Parker’s hand when they shook. Parker could appreciate that.
“Parker Johnson, Karr’s driver, provided I didn’t just get myself fired,” Parker replied, and Michael laughed. Despite the easy demeanour, he was guarding his ribs a little and moving more deliberately than an uninjured man would.
“You’re fine,” he waved a hand, “I should have made some noise. I forget sometimes. Hazards of field work. This is my partner, the Knight Industries Two Thousand, K.I.T.T. for short. He prefers to be called Kitt.”
Interesting he used the same sort of introduction Karr had. Parker wondered about that, but put it aside.
“Parker, please,” he turned to the vehicle that had basically attacked him, wondering if Karr was able to do that too, “And I apologise, Michael, Kitt. I’m not usually so willing to lead with an elbow.”
“What did Karr do?” Michael asked, amused, sitting on Kitt’s hood as if the machine couldn’t launch him through the air. It seemed menacing just sitting there, the red light not as friendly as Karr’s yellow.
“Turbo boosted, I think it’s called, over a truck that tipped right in front of us,” Parker mimed the gesture enthusiastically, “We were at an on ramp that Karr had previous bad luck with? Not his fault, either way. I guess the adrenaline is still pumping a little.”
“Oh dear,” Kitt sounded calmer now, and Michael chuckled. This time the whine of turbines was Karr, and he was accompanied by the woman in the photo from his wallet, who was walking beside him with a newborn baby in one arm, and a one-armed robot rolling along beside her.
“It’s living in the future,” Parker muttered. The woman was wearing a short skirt, her prosthetic clearly visible, and Parker dragged his eyes away.
“Kitt, was that necessary?” Karr asked grumpily. There was no response, but his and Kitt’s light show sped up and Michael rolled his eyes.
“Play nicely guys,” the woman also rolled her eyes and came over to pass the baby to Michael, who took it with a grin, settling it against his shoulder.
“Where is Artie?” he asked and the woman moved back towards Karr, who popped his driver’s side door open as she approached.
“Kat threw a fit when I tried to put her down, but Artie is always more than happy to go for a spin,” she picked up a second baby and the door closed. She walked back towards Parker, holding out her free hand to shake his.
“Flick Harper, chief engineer and mommy,” she introduced herself with a grin, and Parker shook her hand, “Karr asked me to give you this.”
‘This’ was a digital watch, a nice one, black with a couple of buttons on the side, handed to him by the robot. Parker turned it over, wondering why he was being given a watch.
“It’s a comm link,” Flick continued, “It lets Karr stay in contact with you from a distance, and there’s some fancy features in there too. Most of the team wear one.”
Hers was a Timex, and when Parker glanced at Michael, he realised the other man was wearing one identical to the object in his hands. There was something significant in that, cos the guy was surely off duty right now, and injured. Parker was no dummy, he recognised a significant fact when it stared him in the face, so he slipped his divers watch off his wrist and stowed it in his inner jacket pocket, fastening the ‘comm link’ in its place.
It beeped, and a blue light came on. None of the people around him seemed surprised.
“Welcome Parker Johnson. I am Fred, the Foundry’s manager,” a female voice said, “This is Bot-ler, one of my assistants. Will you be spending the evening with us?”
“Uh, yeah, please,” Parker replied as the robot waved at him in hello, “If that is convenient?”
“It is,” Fred confirmed, “I will prepare a room for you. Do you have any specific personal requirements?”
“No, but thanks. I’ll have to go get my stuff,” Parker replied, “And can you add my license plate to the access list?”
“You intend to maintain a personal vehicle?” Fred sounded surprised, and Parker found himself the centre of attention.
“Uh, I assume Karr isn’t going to want to ferry me around for boring errands,” Parker was surprised when everyone relaxed at his answer, “And I like my bike.”
“Motor bike?” Karr said suddenly, “Unacceptable. They have an appalling safety record.”
“Uh… I’m a safe rider, thank you very much,” Parker bristled, “And I restored that thing from the ground up, I’m not about to just leave it somewhere to rust.”
“My chassis is far superior,” Karr stated, and Flick snorted in amusement from where she’d gone to sit next to Michael.
“Elitist,” she teased Karr, “The man is allowed to maintain a personal vehicle, dearest.”
Parker was startled at the term of endearment, but none of the humans with him seemed to think twice about it. Another point on the ‘weirdness’ list.
“An unsafe one?” Karr asked snidely, “Remind me where your personal vehicle currently is?”
“Hey, they rammed me off the road,” Flick replied, “It’s a wreck for a reason: besides it wasn’t a motorbike. Don’t be an asshole.”
“Language in front of the children!” Michael, Kitt and Fred chorused, all sounding amused. Miles huffed and folded his arms, staring at all of them as if they were insane. Perhaps they were, but this was the kind of insane that spoke of family, and Parker figured he could roll with it.
“I will examine this motorbike,” Karr decided, “If it meets safety standards, I will not decommission it.”
“Thanks,” Parker replied, then turned to Miles, “I assume you’ll come back with us to the Foundation? We kinda drove you here.”
“Indeed,” the tone could have dried a desert, and Miles moved towards the passenger side.
“Decommission?” Parker asked as Miles settled into his seat. The drivers side door popped open pointedly, but Parker wanted to know what he was getting into, figuratively speaking. No one had mentioned cars that could attack people. Or motorbikes.
“Run it over, shoot it with the grappling hook, land on it post turbo boost,” Flick said helpfully, “Don’t worry, it’s a good sign. If he didn’t care, you’d be a poor match. Just don’t do any show boating and you’ll be fine.”
“Right,” Parker replied uncertainly, “Well, I’ll see you all later.”
“Dinners at seven. Good luck with the paperwork, Devon is a demon over it. And we’ll probably come to the Foundation tomorrow with you both for some field tests,” Michael said, patting the back of the baby sleeping on his shoulder steadily. He sure didn’t look like a threat, or competition right now. At least he didn’t until he cracked a wicked grin, “Show you how it’s done.”
“Oh, it is so on,” Parker pointed at him, “I’m not a bad driver, even without a super car.”
“Neither is he,” Kitt spoke up, “Remind me to tell you about the incident on the race track some time.”
“Second in Daytona,” Michael mumbled, “Shoulda been first.”
“They were shooting at you,” Kitt reminded him, sounding exasperated. An argument started up, more in the tone of affectionate bickering than real ire. Parker left them to it, getting into the drivers’ seat and starting the car, steering carefully for the driveway. A weird set up was the tip of the iceberg apparently. He figured he could find himself a place here.
Provided his new partner didn’t ‘decommission’ his bike.