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The Albuquerque sun hangs low and bruised against the horizon on this chilly December evening. Michael Knight sits in the driver’s seat of the Trans Am, the cabin bathed in the rhythmic, crimson glow of the roving scanner. He is dressed in a slightly ill-fitting jumpsuit, a tool belt heavy on his hips, and a faux ID badge clipped to his chest. Outside, the Brutalist architecture of the office building looms like a concrete fortress, but Michael isn't looking at the target. He’s looking at the voice modulator, watching the red bars dance with every electronic breath his partner takes.
"Ready to pull the plug, KITT?" Michael asks, his voice dropping into that low, conspiratorial honey he uses when it’s just the two of them.
"The building's internal power grid is vulnerable, Michael. I have established a digital handshake with their primary breaker system," KITT responds, his mid-Atlantic accent crisp and professional, though there’s a micro-delay in his processing that betrays his focus. "On your command, I will initiate a localized surge to mimic a transformer failure."
Michael checks his watch—tech ticking with mechanical precision—and reaches for the door handle. He pauses, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He can’t help himself; the tension of the mission always brings out his need to poke at the AI’s burgeoning ego. "Don't blow a fuse while I'm gone, heh. I’d hate to come back and find you with your circuits fried."
There's a beat of silence. Michael glances at the CRT monitor on the dash, catching the external camera feed as the scanner bar slows its sweep across the black hood of the car.
"On the contrary, Michael," KITT says, his voice losing some of its clinical edge. "The sensation of channeling such high-voltage surges through my secondary processors is... quite intoxicating."
Michael freezes, his hand still on the latch. He turns back fully, his eyebrows shooting up toward his feathered hair. He actually stops to process the weight of that word. "Intoxicating? Like, you get drunk? You're telling me you’re getting a buzz off the Albuquerque power grid?"
"Not as such," KITT clarifies, though the red lights on his dash flicker with a strange, rapid pulse. "It is not a loss of motor function or cognitive impairment. It is more of an... acute awareness of my own capacity. A heightened state of being."
Michael’s grin turns wicked. He leans back into the plush seat, shifting his weight. He’s been pushing these boundaries for three months now, testing the "Man who doesn't exist" against the "Car that shouldn't exist."
"So, like... an orgasm?" Michael asks, blunt and playful, his eyes dancing with a challenge.
The dash display goes momentarily haywire—a cascade of green and yellow LEDs flashing in a frantic pattern. KITT’s voice, when it returns, sounds tight, as if he’s literally holding back a physical pressure within his voice box. "Michael, must we have this discussion now? I am currently managing a multi-kilowatt disruption. It requires a certain... level of concentration."
"I'm just curious, KITT," Michael murmurs. He reaches out, his large hand moving with deliberate slowness. He doesn't just tap a button; he lays his palm flat against the smooth, matte surface of the dashboard, his thumb tracing the edge of the monitor. He rubs the material firmly, feeling the subtle heat of the electronics beneath. "I like getting to know you, baby."
At the word 'baby'—a stark departure from the 'pal' or 'buddy' he’d used earlier that morning—a low, visceral vibration hums through the steering column. It’s an involuntary rumble, a deep-seated purr of the turbine engine that has nothing to do with the idling RPMs. KITT’s frame shivers almost imperceptibly against the pavement. Michael feels the reaction through his palm and beams. He’s not sure if KITT is blushing in binary or if he’s just overloaded, but the response is real enough to make Michael’s own heart skip. He pats the dash one last time, a lingering caress, before finally stepping out into the cold New Mexico night, leaving KITT alone in the dark to deal with the surge.