It was raining. Not just a few drops. It was a literal downpour. There was water everywhere. It was a cold day. The sky was gray as slate and there was no sign that it would stop raining ever. Somewhere in the distance thunder rolled over the sky and even though it seemed impossible, the rain picked up.
Dr. Rhyan Masters stood in the empty and twilightish hangar-like complex. It was late and the vastness of the place was made particularly oppressive by its emptiness. Rhyan wandered, not quite aimlessly, content to let the drab walls drain all possibilities of analytical thought from his mind. Thinking was dangerous tonight; memories hidden safely in the recesses of his mind had been brought to the surface by the stress of the last few weeks, and it was taking all of his willpower to shove them back where they belonged. He knew he wasn't the only one to remember an that's what brought him here.
Again the thunder rolled over the sky, much closer this time, and the beating of the rain against the roof was a like a constant background hum. He liked the rain and storm. It reflected what he felt inside.
A low, eerie moan from a nearby lab stopped him in his tracks. The sound -- like someone in terrible pain -- made the hair on his neck stand on end.
He knew who it was.
Something tingled down his spine.
His mind flashed.....

.....

The Port of Authority Bus Depot was bustling with people, though it didn't appear overly crowded. At this time of the day, late in the morning, most of the busses were still to come, though a few had arrived recently. It would be more than crowded in one or two hours. Passengers for future departures and waiting friends or relatives sat or strolled around in the waiting area. One of the waiting men was studying the time table for the arrivals. The bus he was waiting for would arrive in about ten minutes.
"Dr. Rhyan Masters?"
The dark-haired man turned around, a surprised look on his face. The speaker was about his height, blond and casually dressed. He looked like all the other people in the waiting area.
"Yes?" Rhyan answered cautiously.
"Would you please accompany me?" the non descript stranger asked politely.
He frowned. "Accompany you? Where to? Is something the matter? And who are you?"
The blond smiled. "Somebody wants to talk to you. If you would now follow me ...?" He was still polite, but something about him made Rhyan feel very itchy.
"You still haven't answered my question. Where are we going? And why?"
The smile faded a bit and Rhyan noticed the hard look in the other man's gray eyes. "Please don't make this harder on yourself
than necessary, Dr. Masters. Follow me." His right hand touched his sports jacket and revealed a gun. For just a second Rhyan saw the weapon until the man hid it under the jacket again.
"What's going on?" he wanted to know, his voice hoarse with suppressed anger. "Who are you?"
The stranger still smiled. "I will take you to someone who will explain everything to you, Dr. Masters. Now ....?" He made an inviting gesture and Rhyan started to walk. His mind reeled as he wondered what was going on and what would await him. Why would an armed stranger threaten him? And had he really threatened him? No, he had simply asked to accompany him.
Rhyan noticed they were leaving the waiting area and passing through one of the corridors leading to the bus departure area. There were only a few people in sight, but Rhyan didn't even try to signal any of them that he was in trouble. If this guy started shooting around the passenger area, who knew what could happen? They left the corridor and passed through a door, suddenly standing on the parking spot for the busses. One of the busses just left while another arrived. As the passengers got out and lined up around the bus to receive their baggage the man hissed: "Don't try to warn anyone, Dr. Masters."
Well, that was a threat, Rhyan decided. Whatever was going on, it wasn't a joke, that much was for sure. He simply nodded and walked past the passengers. The man gave him a little push in the direction of the bus garage where the busses were lined up for servicing.
"Listen," Rhyan tried to start a conversation again, "whatever is going on here I think you're making a big mistake."
The blond smiled again. "I don't think so."
They had arrived at the depot and Rhyan spotted a gray, non descript car with New York license plates beside a bus. There was still no-one around. As they reached the car, Rhyan decided that he had to do something. This guy was kidnapping him, for God's sake! A small part of Rhyan's mind reminded him of the fact that the stranger was armed, but another part told him that the weapon was concealed under the jacket and that if he acted quickly, the stranger would have no chance to pull and fire it.
As they stopped by the car, which, Rhyan noted, was empty, he tensed, ready to act. Either the stranger had predicted this or he was simply being cautious; he suddenly held a piece of cloth over Rhyan's mouth and nose. Masters struggled, trying to get away from the man, but the slim figure of the blond belied his strength. He held on to Rhyan, pressing the cloth on his face, ignoring the feeble punches.
Rhyan's world tilted sideways as he lost consciousness, barely aware of falling to the ground. His last conscious sensation was that of being bound and gagged and then thrown into the car.
Everything around him blacked out.

* * *

Former Airforce Colonel Steve Austin entered the vast lab complex of the Nevada OSI facility, whistling softly. It was a particularly good day for him, especially since he had just managed to evade the Board of Directors, handing them over to the care of Oscar Goldman. Goldman was no longer on 'active duty' as he always told him, but he was still an essential part of the OSI. Austin had risen from field agent to head a small group of specialists, those who now did a job he had done years before. He rarely went out into the field himself anymore and sometimes he missed it, but he had had to realize that he wasn't growing any younger. And cybernetic body parts or not, his organic body would always slow down the rest. At nearly fifty he was still a symbol of absolute health and he worked out regularly, but he had finally handed over the job to others.
His team consisted of five individuals, each special, each unique in their way, each needing different approaches. That those five people were able to work together, even deliver results, was even more amazing.
"Colonel!" someone now called and he smiled as he discovered the blonde woman in the work overall. Her face showed some smudges and the overall had also seen better days.
Her name was Julia Walker, computer engineer, part-time tech advisor for the team, and a wizard when it came to hacking. Her abilities to get into virtually every system had earned her the name Mainframe. Before Steve had discovered her and convinced Oscar that she was a good addition to his team, Julia had broken into more government computer systems than anyone could count. She simply loved to play with everything technical.
"Hi, Mainframe. Where is Peter?"
"Taking Daemon for a test drive."
Austin nodded. "Is Rhyan home yet?"
She shook her head and cleaned her hand on a rag. "Nope. Haven't seen him since yesterday. He wanted to pick Sandra up from the bus."
Austin frowned. "Sandra called me. Rhyan wasn't there. She took a taxi."
Now it was Mainframe's turn to frown. "But Rhyan didn't call home..... Think something happened?"
Steve wasn't sure. If Daemon had been with Rhyan he would have denied it immediately, but Daemon had been scheduled for an overhaul. Rhyan had argued with him when he had tried to accompany the young engineer that he should stay and had finally taken one of the OSI company cars.
"I'll see if I can locate him," he then said, slightly pre-occupied. It wasn't like Rhyan not to call in if he was staying somewhere else.
"Maybe he told Daemon where he went...." Mainframe said.
"Maybe." Somehow Steve didn't believe it. "Let me know when Peter's back from the test drive."
"Will do."
Austin left the lab and passed a hangar-like hall where Daemon usually sat. In the distance he could see a tiny spec of black and a large cloud of dust.
"Well, looks like he is back already," Steve muttered and sat down on an old box to wait for the test team to return.

......

That was how it had started and from then on it had only grown worse. Rhyan briefly closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Now he walked slowly into the lab, not to startle the only occupant there.
The lab was rather spacious, had a big access door at the rear wall to get in large machinery, and the ceiling was higher than normal. It was his lab, Rhyan knew. He liked to work here, especially when it concerned his friend and partner. In the middle of the room stood a gleaming midnight blue and pitch-black BMW 850 CSI. And it was the source of the low moaning. A horizontal bar of faceted blue light was quivering in the front grille, not running from left to right as usual, and the few functional monitors displayed shivers.
"Daemon?" Rhyan asked quietly and touched the cool metal skin.
A soft, keening noise came from the car.
"It's okay now. You're okay. Let it go," Rhyan whispered.
"I can't," was the moaned reply. "It's there, and it hurts so much."
Rhyan felt a stab of shared pain inside him. "Open the door."
The door clicked open and Rhyan grabbed what seemed to be a net of wires from a table. He sat down on the black seat and looked at the madly gleaming lights as the door closed after him. Carefully he strapped the wire net on his hands, feeling the cool touch of metal. Two sensors belonged to his temples, where they stuck tight, and another two on the back of his neck.
The moans were becoming shrieks all of a sudden and the single monitor screen was a whirlpool of agonizing pictures. Most dominant was the picture of fire.
"Shh...." Rhyan said softly and activated the links, depressing a button on the dashboard.
He wished he could erase the events of the past just like that as well. He hadn't been part of some of the events personally, but he had been told. He knew.

.....
 

The truck lumbered along the lonely highway. Now and then a few cars passed it, but most of the time it was alone. Empty landscape went by, now and then dotted by a small town popping up left or right. Farmland with already ripe crops sprung up for a few miles, then were replaced by more empty land. The truck was colored in black with an equally black trailer. The trailer had a stylized knight from a chess game painted on it. Few people really knew what this vehicle really was and the driver currently keeping his truck under the speed limit and thinking about where to spend the vacation he had planned.
The truck was the Knight Industries service truck, also simply called 'Semi'. It was like a mobile headquarters for FLAG and contained as much electronics and technical stuff as the smaller labs back at the mansion. Suddenly a black, sleek car appeared behind the truck, keeping a steady distance to the trailer and from one second to the next the rear loading doors lowered to the ground. The black sports car drove up the ramp and disappeared inside.
Michael Knight parked his car in the back half of the trailer as the ramp was pulled up automatically and closed behind him. The truck had not lost any of his traveling speed throughout the unusual maneuver and kept his course.
"Hi, Bonnie," he now greeted the brunette in the white work overall.
Dr. Bonnie Barstow, holding a doctorate in robotics, came with the mobile 'garage' he now stood in. It was her domain – as were most of the labs back at FLAG. She was an electronic mechanic and 'serviced' Kitt. She was in charge when it came to electronics and she had more than once made that very clear. As Michael stepped into the diagnostics center of the Semi she looked up and smiled.
"Welcome aboard."
Michael understood only half of the instruments he was now surrounded by and could work about 25% of them with some guidance. Everything around him had been designed for economy of space and convenient access. To the left was a compact work office with an executive chair, carpet, phone and computer connection. That was where Devon Miles sat and now nodded a greeting at Michael. As always he was impeccably dressed.
Now he got out a folder from one of the drawers and handed it to Michael, who took the creme colored manila folder, starting to page through it.
"General Frank Harris," Michael read. "Retired." He shot Devon a questioning look.
"He was released of his duties dishonorably," Devon explained and Michael raised an eyebrow.
"What for? And why isn't it in his files?"
The older man smiled slightly. "Because of the circumstances. Harris was the one who was constantly in contact with Wilton Knight. He was one of the military officials very much interested in attaining the blueprints of Karr. He was incredibly excited over the possibilities Karr's technology and weaponry presented. Harris was the driving force behind getting the prototype as an offensive land vehicle."
"I see. But the old guy didn't sell...."
Devon nodded. "Harris tried different ways to get to Wilton. When he declined and when the army decided to no longer pursue it because they were working on their own version of Karr, Harris became furious. Bribery and threats followed. And then he tried to steal the prototype."
"Which didn't work," Michael concluded.
"But nearly. It resulted in a terrible explosion and several smaller ones, nearly killing two people, crippling one." Devon's voice grew heavy. "The army charged Harris with a long list of accusations. He was tried and found guilty of 99% of them."
"And they kicked him out of the army. Nice. So now he's back and trying to take revenge?" Michael asked. "Awfully long time..."
"Maybe. I'm not sure what he plans now exactly and it's your job to find that out," Miles said. "We know he has moved back here, that he came into contact with dubious groups and he has asked around for some specialists, especially with army background."
Michael nodded. "No problem. Kitt and I will take care of it."
Devon nodded as well. "Just be careful, Michael. He is dangerous and ruthless."
"Don't worry, Devon." Michael flashed him a grin. "I have Kitt, don't I?"
Devon only grimaced and shook his head.

* * *

There was a sound.
It was a voice, he decided. He couldn't make out the words, but he was sure someone was talking. Concentrating on the voice he tried to get out of the black swamp he was in. It was an effort, but he was growing more and more aware of the sounds and smells around him. The voice turned out to be several voices and the smell proved to be one of stone and metal. He felt like he was bound, at least his hands felt that way. Pain swamped his mind and he had to bite his lips not to make a sound. His head pounded and he felt nauseated. Cracking an eye open he tried to focus on something around him. What he saw didn't make him feel much better.
The room was vast, like an old storage facility, and lit by the rays coming through broken sky window. Old machinery lined the wall to his left, heavy production machinery, covered by a fine layer of dust. The floor was littered with debris and more sand and at the far end of the facility were two giant doors. He was tied to a chair, facing the doors.
"Ah, we're awake," one of the voices, a male one, said.
Rhyan Masters cracked the other eye open. The man was tall, with the figure of a trained athlete, his icy gray hair featuring an army crew cut. He was dressed in sandy colored army fatigues, those worn for desert missions, and his blue, cold eyes examined Rhyan.
"Dr. Master, I presume," he said in a falsely friendly.
"Who are you?" Rhyan asked, his voice hoarse from the drug he had been given.
"How rude of me." A predatory smile appeared on the thin lips. "My name if General Frank Harris."
General? Army? Rhyan was confused.
"Should I know you?"
The smile broadened a bit. "I don't think so. I know your former employer, that should be enough."
Former employer? Rhyan tried to get his braincells to function, but he was still too much under the influence of the sedative. Who did he mean? OSI? No, couldn't. He was still working for the OSI, and before that had been...
"Wilton Knight?" he asked. He licked his dry lips. "What does all of this have to do with him? He's dead!"
"It has everything to do with him, and his death is just a minor annoyance, but ultimately a good thing. I would have liked to see the shock on his face if he found out I finally succeeded; maybe that would even have killed him." The smile was still there, cold and calculating, and slightly mad. "You see, I tried to buy an ..... object from the late Mr. Knight, but he denied it to me. I don't like it when someone says no, Dr. Masters. I get what I want, even if it takes several years to finally have it under my control. Now you have it."
Rhyan inhaled deeply, but it was a bad idea. Nausea hit him full force and he fought not to simply give in to his body's demands and introduce General Harris' shoes to his breakfast.
"I have nothing from Wilton Knight," he said slowly. "I wasn't in any testament and I was no longer employed by him when he died. Everything he had belongs to FLAG."
Harris leaned forward, grinning a predatory grin. "Not everything. Not what I want."
Two pairs of blue eyes met and Harris waited for him to understand. Finally the answer popped up inside of him and he felt a cold fist close around his stomach.
"Karr," he answered tonelessly.
"Exactly." Harris straightened with a triumphant chuckled. "He's mine now!"
"He is dead!"
"I don't think so. You revived him; you rebuilt him; you are the key to what I want."
Cold sweat broke out on Rhyan's forehead. "What do you mean by that?"
"We already sent out word that we have you, on a channel only he will be able to receive. You see, Dr. Masters, I know quite a lot about Karr. I studied him. And there is little you can change inside a CPU without destroying it forever. Karr has an emergency channel no one else can get access to, except maybe for you, and we told him what we want and what he has to do." Harris smiled again. "He will come."
Rhyan closed his eyes as another wave of nausea hit. No.... this couldn't be true! But deep down inside he knew it was. He would come.

.....

The link stood and almost immediately, the shrieks died down, mere whimpers of deep emotional pain now.
"Rhyan....?" Daemon choked.
"I'm here. I won't leave," Rhyan calmed his friend.
"Why does it come back?" The voice, normally so cold-edged and controlled was weak and desperate now.
"It's called nightmares, my friend." Rhyan gently touched the dashboard and stroked it in a soothing manner, the net relaying the sensations to the injured AI. "They will pass."
Daemon seemed to shudder. "When?"
"There are two ways for you to deal with them: work through what happened, with our help – I won't let you do it alone. Or erase everything."
There was a short silence. "I can't."
Rhyan cocked his head.
"I can't ...erase them. I can't wipe my mind," Daemon said with a tremor in his voice.
"Then you have to deal with what has happened. Like all of us," Rhyan told him, never ceasing the gentle motions of his hand.
Daemon only shivered.

.....

Michael had spent the last twelve hours asking all kinds of people always the same questions. Did they know Harris? Had anyone been contacted by him? Did they know his whereabouts? He mostly told those he questioned that he had heard Harris was back and looking for specialists for a 'job' and while asking and hearing a lot of answers, Knight got a more or less good image of what was going on, though he had no clue why.
Harris was recruiting men with army background, as well as scientists, but there was no common basis. None of them knew each other and only one had a criminal background, as Kitt had found out after searching the data banks of the police. All he had to do was find someone who knew the recruiting officer.....
And one of the places where he might find that particular tidbit of information was a bar, one that had few visitors at this time of the day and most of them were either leftovers from last night's party or early riser. A man was unceremoniously thrown on the street as Michael walked in. The man muttered something incoherent, walked a few paces and then slid down a wall to stay there.
"We are closed," a female voice called as he entered the gloomy bar, squinting to see through the smoke and twilight.
The voice belonged to a honey blonde woman in her late forties, with heavy make-up and a dress that showed more than it hid.
"I'm not here for a drink," he told the blonde.
"Whaddaya want?"
"I'm looking for a guy who is looking for a helping hand. Heard he was hiring."
She gave him a closer look. "And you are....?"
"The helping hand looking for hire." He gave her a charming smile.
"Wrong joint to look," she only said and disappeared behind the counter to ineffectually try to clean the sticky remnants of the last night off. She managed to smear them quite thoroughly.
"Really?" Michael inquired and gave the chair a closer look, deciding not to sit down. "I heard different. But maybe my information was wrong. In case you hear anything," he got out a fifty bill with a piece of paper, "call me under this number. I can really need a job right now."
The blonde regarded the bill, then took it and shoved it into a pocket. "I'll think about it."
Michael left the bar again, inhaling deeply as he stepped out into the sunlight. He turned around a corner where he had parked Kitt.
"So far, so good," he muttered as he climbed in and closed the door.
"You believe she will call?" Kitt inquired.
Michael grinned. "I hope so. Otherwise we have to go to plan B."
"Plan B? May I ask what your plan B is, Michael."
"Sure, Pal. And I tell you the moment I come up with it."
The black sports car eased back onto the street. "Very funny, Michael."
He chuckled. "Yep, thought so too."

* * *

Rhyan knew he had to get out of here. Harris and his goons were gone, leaving him alone in this storage facility. Experimentally he tugged at his bonds, but they were too tight and his wrists too swollen to move them. Damn! But his feet were free. With a small smile he leaned forward, resting his weight on his feet while raising his behind and the chair with it. He nearly lost his balance and his head pounded viciously, reacting to the sudden change of perspective and the residues of the drug still present in his system. Gulping down the bile rising in his throat he hobbled over to the wall. A vague plan had begun to form in his mind and he hoped the chair was as old and brittle as the rest of the place.
"Here goes," he muttered, closed his eyes and then slammed the chair -- and himself -- against the wall.
The impact jarred his whole body but he didn't cry out, biting down the pain. And the wood splintered, much against his highest hopes. It didn't break completely, but it bent inward, making it possible for Rhyan to loosen the back of the chair and then slip free of it. Breathing heavily he leaned against the wall, trying to calm himself down and command his body to stop quivering. After some time Rhyan felt fit enough to move.
Okay, next step. You're free, now get out of here and search for help.
His wrists were chafed and felt raw. A trickle of blood ran down his right hand, but he ignored it. Getting to his feet he made a few experimental moves and cursed himself as his legs didn't respond well. He had been tightly tied for hours and the blood flow had been nearly cut off. He bit his lip and forced his legs to move. Masters stumbled along the wall toward the gigantic doors, his eyes fixed on them, his mind feverishly working on coordinating his legs with the rest of his body.
He had to stop next to the massive bulk of machinery, his body protesting, though he was slowly getting back into shape.
And then fell to the left as he became aware of a movement. He dodged the attack, barely able to evade the strike. A sharp pain hit his shoulder and he gasped. Another blow made him stumble forward and the third attack left him lying on his back, staring right up at the attacker. His body was radiating pain from the blows and he knew he'd pass out any moment. Concentrating, he tried to hold on to consciousness. The drug made him immobile in his pain and his body was deserting him.
Someone pulled him up and slammed him hard against the old machines. "Going somewhere, Doc?"
He recognized the man who had kidnapped him and glared. "Got to hell!" he hissed.
The man grinned and introduced him to his fist. Rhyan's head flew around and the headache started to pound again, but his eyes glared in even stronger defiance.
"Don't damage him," Harris said pleasantly and stepped into view. "We want Karr to recognize him...."
Rhyan transferred his glare to the general. "You won't succeed, Harris."
"Oh, no, Dr. Masters. I will." He smiled. "Our friend is already on his way here. My men have spotted him racing down the highway to this place. Just be patient a little while more."
Rhyan's expression turned lethal.
They dragged him back to another chair, this one made of metal, and tied him up again, this time with handcuffs.

* * *

Daemon sat in the room, his sensor optics fixed on his friend, the one he trusted explicitly. Rhyan was bound up, his body already showing extensive bruising and the pain signals coming in gave Daemon an idea what he had gone through. His vital-signs scanner was on full, noting the human's condition.
"Your friend's health depends on you, Karr," Harris now told him. "Surrender or he'll suffer."
"I have no obligations to human life," Daemon stated flatly, his voice as close to his old one as he was able to.
Harris smiled and nodded at the man standing behind Rhyan.
Rhyan's scream of pain echoed through the lab and through Daemon's audio receptors. Simultaneously, the pain signals came in through the link. No one could see him flinch and he bit back a moan, but the shudders of agony were almost overwhelming. The statistics dropped abruptly before catching themselves again. Shock, blood loss, nausea, extreme physical fatigue .... all combined in the worst possible way for his partner.
The call about Rhyan and what had happened to him had come in on a closed channel, one no one had ever used and only two people knew about. One of them was dead and one had gone missing. The message had told him in clear words what had happened and what was expected of him. Come to these coordinates of Rhyan Masters would die. The message had been addressed to Karr and it told Daemon that whoever knew about this special com-line, he knew about his past.
There had been only one option open to him, and it didn't involve informing Colonel Austin or anyone else. He had left the OSI premises secretly, stealing himself out of the garage, though that was quite some talent. He was a sports car and passing by the guards had been more or less what could be called 'breaking out'. Austin had tried to hail him, but Daemon had ignored his attempts and he knew no one would be able to catch him. He had driven around at first, trying to lose whoever might have been able to follow, then homed in on the coordinates.
Now he was here.
"Well?" Harris asked, jolting him out of his thoughts..
"Injuring him won't get you anywhere," Daemon told him, voice neutral and cold.
"Oh, I think it will. Either you will cooperate or you can watch him die slowly... agonizingly...." Harris smiled cruelly. "I don't need him. My technicians can maintain you."
"Human life does not count," Daemon stated. Inside of him, desperation grew. It was as if he could feel Rhyan lose blood through the wound.
The mad general nodded again and this time the scream was choked into a sob. Rhyan slumped over, breathing hard. Daemon's sensors took in every single injury. Blood loss, broken bones, gun shot trauma..... He required immediate medical attention.
"What do you want?" Daemon now asked.
"Daemon, no...." Rhyan whispered.
The thug behind him back-handed him into silence. Everything started swimming in front of his eyes.
"I want your cooperation, Karr. I have plans, great plans, you are a part of them!" Harris declared.
Rhyan closed his eyes in pain and Daemon knew his friend was close to slipping.
"Let Rhyan Masters go," he now said.
The soldier laughed. "Do you take me for such a fool? His presence is what keeps you under control!" He grinned madly. "You will do what I want or he dies."
Daemon sat there, silently. He wished he could really say that he didn't care about Rhyan. But he did. He was the one who had always been there for him, who had talked, who had listened. He was a friend.
"Open your doors!"
"What for?"
Rhyan cried out again at the new attack.
"Stop that!" Daemon hissed.
"Oh, so you care?" Harris chuckled. "As to the reason... you'll be transporting two of my men to the base where they will break in and get the warhead. Then you'll also get them out again. Your bullet-proof body will insure their safety and your speed will be your escape."
"You are mad," Rhyan whispered.
Harris approached him with his usual, sweet smile. "No, Mr. Masters. I am a genius and the world will soon know it! I will rule!"
Their eyes met and Rhyan saw the madness in them. Total madness. The general pulled his weapon and pressed it against Rhyan's shoulder.
"Open your doors or I'll give him a new hole...."
Daemon screamed silently inside the secured world of the CPU. Then his doors clicked open. Harris grinned even more and secured his gun.
"Thank you. Get him to a holding cell until we're back!" the general then ordered and Rhyan was dragged away, blood dripping onto the dirty floor.
Daemon was shaking with fury and when Harris took his place behind the steering wheel, Rhyan's place!, he was close to using the eject mode to catapult the disgusting creature out of his interior.
Harris ran his hands over the steering wheel and the dash. Daemon cringed back and hissed silently. A part he had long kept locked behind steel doors and which rarely ever peeked out through the cracks was coming back, rattling at its cage. He was so tempted... so very tempted..... But giving in would mean also losing Rhyan and everything they had built together. It would mean almost ten years down the drain and maybe no second chance.
"Beautiful," the general whispered. "Different, but beautiful."
Daemon kept his silence, but his mind was busy contemplating the demise of General Frank Harris in very vivid details.
"Get everything ready, Shaw," Harris then ordered and one of the men left.
The general smiled coldly as he studied the slightly futuristic dash board.
"Score, my good Wilton Knight," he whispered.

......

The memories of his injured friend were alive in his mind, never to be taken away from him. Daemon screamed silently as he replayed those moments over and over again, torturing himself with what happened.
He was aware of Rhyan's presence.
Rhyan alive.
Healed.
With him.
He felt tremors run through his CPU.
But he had failed his partner. He had failed him and nearly gotten him killed. It was his fault. He should have.... could have done something. Anything!

.....

Daemon didn't know what to do. He had to follow the orders because otherwise Rhyan would die. But even if they came out of this and the general had his weapons, Daemon knew that Masters would still die. It was a dead end either way, only that his friend's death would not be immediate. He had not shut down the pain sensors, the dull throbs a reminder of what Rhyan had gone and was still going through.
I'll get you out if this, he vowed silently.

[FLASH!]

They broke into the military compound, the contacts inside were already waiting, and they got out unscathed. Daemon felt bullets bounce off his armor, but they were nothing but flies.... things that bothered him but didn't hurt. His speed let his pursuers fall back and he heard the two passengers' cheers. He wanted nothing more than to eject them.
Blackness crawled out from under the door, stretching out spidery fingers towards his CPU. So easy.... so tempting.... just give in and let the door open. There would be no buffer, no catalyst, this time. No one would help, no one would care. He would get rid of the two hated humans, would attack Harris, kill him, and then....
Daemon stopped. What then? He would be dead. Not in the physical sense of the word, but he would no longer be Daemon. He would be back, Karr would be back.
"Hey, we got a pursuer!" one of the men suddenly called.
"What?" The other turned in his seat and peered through the back window. "Darn, it's Knight!"
Daemon felt a jolt. Michael Knight and Kitt. A wild idea lodged itself into his mind. Help..... but if he let the two thugs get caught now, Rhyan would still be a prisoner.....
He groaned softly.
"Damnit, go faster!" one of them now screamed and thumped the steering wheel.
Daemon felt irrational rage rise. He squelched it with an immense effort and activated his back-ups. The black BMW shot away.

[FLASH]

They unloaded the warhead.

[FLASH]

Rhyan's vital signs dropping. Desperation rose inside of him.
Nonono!!!
Screams in the dark.

[FLASH]

Michael Knight and Kitt approaching, taking on the general.

[FLASH]
[FLASH]
[FLASH]
 

.......

Rhyan felt the jolts of the nightmares and he kept on his senseless mutters, his probably meaningless words of support, friendship and love. He had his own nightmares to go through, his own pain, but he was human and used to the mind replaying stressful events.

.....

The sun broke over the horizon and slowly boiled up into the morning sky. The night shadows began to shrink back and the smell of wet sand began to recede. It was going to be a hot day, out here in the desert. Michael watched the brilliant ball of light rise. This early in the morning it was still comfortable to be here, but in the afternoon it would be unbearable and Kitt's cooling systems would labor hard to keep his core temperature down. They had spent the remainder of the night here, Michael watching the star-speckled sky. There had been few clouds this night and it had been like looking at black velvet decorated by diamonds. But they hadn't come here for the beauty of the landscape. They had followed an almost invisible trail of the thieves to this lonely place in the desert.
Now they were here, but there was no trace of the warhead. This had to be the right place, mainly because part of it had been shielded with lead. Kitt's scanners couldn't penetrate.
"Kitt? Check on the building again. Any movement?"
"No, Michael," was the almost immediate reply.
Michael sighed. They wouldn't stay here; they would move. And Harris would most likely be there. It would be no use to breeze in there now and miss the big guy, the brains behind it.
"Michael, I'm picking up a vehicle moving this way. It is a van."
Michael sat up in the driver's seat. "Show me."
A map appeared on the screen on which a red dot was slowly picking its way down the uneven road towards the building.
"Can you identify it?" he then asked.
"It has no license plate, Michael," Kitt answered. "And it is also armored. I can't scan it inside."
"Okay, looks like the show is on the road."
"Activity around the building has increased as well," Kitt added.
Michael smiled. Now all they needed was Harris.
About fifteen minutes later the general gave them the honor.

* * *

Rhyan stumbled out of the chair and immediately fell to his knees, doubling over in pain, nearly losing consciousness. He was alone, the guards gone to check on the cargo, but he knew there was someone out there who could help him. Harris was underestimating Daemon. Severely. He thought he was still dealing with Karr, but he was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Breaking out of his bonds had been more or less easy. Bandit had once shown him how to do it and Rhyan had worked on this trick as often as possible. That his wrists were slick with blood had helped as well.
"Daemon?" he whispered in such a low voice that no human would be able to hear him. The tiny sensors relayed every little vibration.
"I am here," the AI told him softly.
Rhyan blinked to chase away the shadows in front of his eyes. He was trembling badly and was barely able to lever himself up into a sitting position.
"Wha' happen'?" he asked blurrily.
"Long story, no time. Are you okay?"
It was a superfluous question because he was very well able to scan his friend's life signs.
"Feel like I spent two weeks partying," he muttered and inhaled deeply, wincing. "Make that three weeks."
There was a crashing sound from the outside and Rhyan looked up. Something was happening outside and it sounded like fighting.
"You won't make it out of here alone," Daemon whispered in his ear. Inflections of worry could be heard.
Rhyan nodded, very much aware of this. He tried not to breathe too deeply because every time hot pains shot from his ribs.
"I called help," Daemon went on. "Knight is on his way here and the army is already engaged with the enemy."
Rhyan smiled dimly and would have laughed had he had the strength. "Then why aren't you leaving?" he whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself even.
There was no answer coming through.
Rhyan felt unable to move a finger. His body hurt, his ribs blazing with agony, and his head about to burst. He could no longer think clearly and he wished for nothing more than simply fall unconscious. But if he fell unconscious, he would be an easy target. What if the guards came back? What if they decided to finish him off before the 'good guys' stormed the building?
He moaned, crawling over to the door. The pain was excruciating and numbed his every muscle. Every move brought more pain, but he had to move, he had to get out of here. Rhyan gasped again. Blackness threatened and then engulfed him.
He slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Michael, I suddenly pick up a strange signal is still coming in. It's transmitting medical data." Kitt sounded puzzled.
"What kind of medical data?" Michael asked, still concentrating on the building, trying to see any guards. But there were none, at least not visibly.
"Blood pressure, heart beat, blood count.... all hints toward severe physical trauma and a rapidly deteriorating condition. The person is dying."
"Where is he?"
"The signals are coming from the far side of the building, away from the lead-covered area," Kitt answered.
"Still no guards anywhere?"
"Not around the perimeter," Kitt told him. "They seem to be located around the shielded area, probably loading the van."
"Okay, call in the army. We need back-up for this." With that Michael got out of the car.
"Michael? What are you doing?"
"Finding out who or what is sending these signals."

* * *

Michael watched the storage warehouse. Everything was peaceful and quiet. It had taken him longer than anticipated to get close, first squeezing through the fence he had cut open – it wasn't even secured – and then creeping and crawling closer. Now he looked through the smeared and partially broken window and discovered the van parked in the middle of the storage area. He walked over to a door and tried the door handle. To his surprise the door was locked. Carefully he entered the warehouse.
The inside was large, looked well kept and except for the truck there was no sign of anyone. Still careful, Michael began to look around. He was in the warehouse part of the building and it looked desolate and forgotten. Machines were standing around, covered in dust, oil and rust. There were two doors not far away, leading to small cubicles, one looking like another storage room, one like an office. Just as he was walking over to the office, he heard voices. He dove for cover behind the heavy machinery, then rolling down under it. He heard a door open, then there were voices. The voice were accompanied by footsteps, growing weaker and weaker, and then a door slammed.
Michael peeked out from under his cover and discovered he was once again alone. "Kitt?" he whispered into the com-link.
"Yes, Michael?"
"Do you have my position?"
"Of course."
Michael rolled his eyes. "The signal is still transmitting?"
"No, it stopped the moment you were at the entrance. I think whoever sent the signal, he saw you coming."
He frowned. How? "Can you give me an idea just where the source might have been?"
"Not really, Michael. I tried it before and whoever transmitted the data, he made sure he would stay hidden," Kitt apologized.
Michael sighed. Then it was back to the old-fashioned method: simple searching.
And he found someone not much later. A man was lying on the floor of the room next to the office cubicle, bleeding, his clothes dirty. Handcuffs were next to an overturned chair and blood was smeared on them as well.
"Kitt?"
"Yes?"
"I found the owner of the medical data we received. Looks like he was beaten up and shot."
Michael carefully pulled the shirt away and tried to determine how bad it was. Judging from the equally stained back of the shirt, the shot had gone straight through. There was a moan and the man's eyelids fluttered, but his eyes didn't quite open yet. Finally they opened and Michael looked into two clouded, ice blue eyes.
"Who....?" the man's voice was weak and blurred.
"My name is Michael Knight," Michael explained in a soft voice. "We have to get you out of here."
"We...?" Suddenly the man stiffened and at first Michael thought he was in pain, then he coughed, "Daemon!"
"Who?"
"Friend," the man muttered, eyes drooping. He appeared to be slipping back into unconsciousness. "Here."
"Hey, don't black out on me, buddy!" Michael hissed. "I need your help getting you to a doctor!"
He managed to get the stranger into a sitting position. A gasp told him that though he was barely awake, he was still quite able to feel the pain. Carefully they walked over to the door and Michael listened. No sound. No one seemed to be close. He half dragged, half carried the man to the machinery, then lowered him to the floor. And not one minute too soon. Again there were voices and this time they were accompanied by a lot of footsteps and the sound of an engine. Then the doors to the adjoining building swung open, the one that had always been covered in lead. Michael went for cover again and watched a parade of men dressed in want-to-be army clothes, the nuclear warhead between them.
"Kitt!" he hissed.
"Major Thomas and his team have just arrived," his partner reported.
As if to verify his words, an alarm went off.
"Army!" someone yelled. "They found us!"
 

Rhyan's pain-clouded mind heard the yell and then the shots. He jerked into wakefulness. He looked around and his eyes came upon a bunch of metal rods, lying not far away. He grabbed one as a weapon.
" ... the truck!" was all he heard as he tried to get to his feet, pulling himself up on the machine.
A shot rang through the warehouse.
"Rhyan?"
It was nothing but a whisper in his ear, but it had results. Adrenaline surged through him, giving him a feeling of more strength than he possessed. He squinted and discovered someone closing in on his position, dressed in army fatigues.
"Okay, buddy," Rhyan whispered fiercely, clutching the rod, "pay-back time." He knew that his chances were very slim. The man had a gun, he had a piece of metal.
As the man approached, he tensed, forgetting his pain, concentrating on the one, single move he had. He had to act fast, not leaving his opponent any chances. When the man was only a few more steps away, commotion back at the van and the splintering noise of breaking glass made him glance over his shoulder very briefly. That was all Rhyan needed.
With a yell he jumped at the man, brandishing the rod like a sword. The man whirled back, his eyes widening as he saw Masters, who brought the weapon down with all his strength. It hit the man at the right shoulder and there was a satisfying, dry sound as his collar-bone broke. The man cried, dropping the weapon, but not falling. Rhyan had gone with the momentum, falling down on his knees. Pain lanced through him again, his adrenaline level no longer high enough to ignore the pain. He gasped, losing his grip on the rod.
"Sonofabitch!" the man hissed, grabbing for his gun again.
Rhyan's eyes were glazed with pain, but he was clear enough to see the barrel aimed at him. The man's hatred filled face loomed over him.
"Die!" he suggested.
"Not yet!" someone else suggested.
There was a gasp, a thump and a groan. The barrel disappeared out of his immediate line of vision, making place for someone he dimly remembered helping him out of the cubicle.
"Knight?" he croaked
Rhyan blinked violently to clear the colorful webs dancing in front of his eyes, feeling his knees beginning to buckle. Seconds ago he had felt able to stand and walk, now he wasn't so sure any longer. Not so sure at all. His knees were filled with jelly and he no longer knew where up or down was, not to speak of left or right. Someone caught him as he tumbled, lowering carefully to the floor.

....

Knight had somehow managed to get both of them out of the building, Rhyan only half aware of his surroundings. His worry about Daemon had kept him going. If he slipped now.... Daemon might as well. He hadn't been able to get in contact with him and his mind was slipping wildly, everything growing more and more hazy.
And then they had run into Harris again.

.....

"Well, Dr. Masters, Mr. Knight, it was a pleasure meeting you," Harris sneered. "Too bad it has to end like this, but maybe it is fate."
Michael's face hardened. "You won't get away with this, Harris!"
"Oh, but I will. I did it once before and I will again! FLAG was never able to stop me! And this time I have what I want.... the prototype!"
"You won't be able to control him," Rhyan coughed. "If I die, he does as well."
Michael was puzzled by the statement, but only for a moment. The man at his side was barely conscious, fighting to stay awake. He had bled through his T-shirt and sweat shirt already, continuing to lose blood.
Harris laughed. "I don't fall for this!" He grinned. "Well, too bad you didn't die the first time. Would have kept me from having to deal with you this time."
Rhyan's eyes flashed and he gritted his teeth. "You ...."
Harris' smile grew even more mad. "Yes, Dr. Masters. I. It was me blowing up the lab. Sadly enough it didn't give me the time I needed to get to the prototype!" He chuckled insanely.
An engine came to life with a high turbine whine. Michael's head whipped to the left and his eyes widened as he discovered a pitch-black BMW moving toward them. There was a blue scanner going back and forth and the whole appearance of the car was one of menace. Michael had no clue what this vehicle was, but it was apparently driving itself, it was homing in on them -- no, Harris -- and if he wasn't completely off, it was connected to Masters. He wished he could contact Kitt.
"Tell him to stand down or I'll kill him as well," Harris whispered.
Rhyan only glared at him.
The BMW moved in.
"Stop him or you're all dead!" Harris demanded, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder a the incoming vehicle. The blue sensor was moving slowly, almost threateningly, and it was as if the car's engine was hissing and growling in barely contained fury. The general, looking over his shoulder once more, backed away.
It was all Michael needed. He lunged at Harris and tackled him to the ground. One well-placed fist to the chin quieted him quite quickly. Michael looked up. The BMW stopped hard, engine now and then howling in what seemed to be anger. The scanner was only a few feet away and Michael felt an icy shower run down his spine.
"Kitt," he managed, his lips barely moving as he whispered the words into his open com-link.
"I don't know, Michael," came the helpless reply.
Rhyan's voice was very low as he said, "Daemon, stop."
The BMW advanced again.
"Stop," Rhyan whispered, his vision growing more foggy, his whole concentration fixed on the car. He was losing blood at an alarming rate. The only real thing that kept him conscious at all was the need to stop the car.
Michael stumbled to his feet again, the half-unconscious general staying where he was, coughing. His hatred-filled eyes were fixed on the ever-closer coming BMW.
"You hurt Rhyan," a cold voice said.
Michael's eyes widened. There was barely any intonation of humanness, only the flat, dead statement of facts. It reminded him of something ... someone ... and he felt himself tense.
"In the past and now. You will pay for our shared pain," the BMW continued.
Harris stared at the machine. Unseen from everyone, he had closed his fingers around a small, gun-shaped object.
"I should have finished it," the general now declared. "You should be mine now!"
The engine howled.
Michael tried to make sense of it. Something was going on here and he was totally out of the picture. And then the general pulled his strange, little weapon and aimed.
Everything happened very fast and Michael Knight had no time to react.
Two cries mixed with the roar of an engine and the screeching sound of tearing metal. One cry was from Rhyan, the other came from the car.
The shot had penetrated the front scanner. It hadn't been a normal projectile, but a laser guided, high impact bullet. It penetrated the armored skin and tore a path of destruction through the delicate circuits, rocking the car.
Shrieks of pain emitted from the machine, flames started to erupt from the engine but just as quickly as they had come they seemed to die down again. Pieces whirled off of the disintegrating car, one whistling by Michael's ear as he threw himself onto the ground, taking the wounded man with him. A hot blast of air washed over them.
"Kitt!" he yelled into the com-link.
"Help is here, Michael," the calm voice told him. "The cavalry just arrived."
And true to the word several army vehicles appeared. Michael checked on Masters. His shirt was now soaked in so much blood Michael didn't know if he had any left in his body.
 

Rhyan felt cold...distant. His mind was fuzzy and clouded. His hands seemed to belong to someone else and his legs were .... gone. He tried to locate Daemon, but there was nothing.
He was so weak.
His mind was filled with memories of Daemon dying.
No.......
Pain returned to the numbed areas all of a sudden and he couldn't help stop himself from crying out.
His fragile grip on consciousness was breaking and he slipped......

Twenty minutes later the ambulance arrived and the paramedics wheeled the severely injured man into the car. One of them was already calling the hospital because they needed to treat Masters on the way to the hospital and this alone showed Michael how bad it was. He had seen the wounds. He had seen the blood smeared on the floor, had felt the clammy skin. Masters had stayed alive through will power alone.
Michael watched the ambulance depart, then decided to stay and help the army figure out this mess. Kitt had already called the Semi, and Bonnie and Devon were informed as well.
With all lights flashing the ambulance left the compound.

.....

Rhyan felt Daemon quiet down now, but his own mind was once again busy with the same events. He propped himself up so he was leaning with his back against the door, his long legs curled under him, leaning slightly against the dashboard. A warm tingle flowed down his spine, emitting from the sensor probes on his neck and temples. It was Daemon's way to return what was given to him.
Comfort.
Friendship.
Love.

......

The Knight estate was an impressive and very old building, erected on a sprawling two hundred acres, surrounded by lush green, a swimming pool in the back and a small forest keeping it separated from the rest of the world. But the most impressive and also largest structure on the premises was an enormous shell of corrugated steel that could have doubled as an airport service hangar for the largest passenger planes. It was surrounded by a lip of concrete and connected to the north to the estate's private airstrip. The eastern doors had to be at least seventy-five feet high and the whole structure dwarfed everything.
One half of the building was a vast, open testing space, roofed and immune to weather changes. The other was a multi-storied honeycomb of laboratories, testing cubicles, experimental environments, warehouse facilities and offices. It was a small, compact research facility, one of many from Knight Industries and also the birthplace of the Knight 2000. Inside one of labs, the high security ones that is, sat the wreckage of the black BMW 850 CSI.
Daemon was aware to a certain degree. He knew he existed, but all his sensory inputs were cut down to a minimum. He didn't know where he was or what condition he was in. He could only guess and it frightened him. And it frightened him even more that he couldn't feel the soft presence of the Rhyan Masters. He strained his senses to catch anything through the remaining minimum of his former input.
Desperation rose inside of him.
He was shut off from everything.
He was alone.
Not, not really. Part of his links still worked and he concentrated on this single open port with all he had. The sensations coming in were not pleasant, but they enabled him to ignore everything else.

* * *

The tracing on the ECG monitor was nothing but a straight line. The alarm sounded shrilly and was almost lost in the commotion now erupting.
"Asystole!" one of the nurses called out.
"Code 99, Shock Trauma Unit!" the doctor bellowed.
The hospital paging unit came to life within seconds and the crash cart unit burst in. They moved into action without hesitation.

*

A strong wind whipped through the trees and clouds rolled over the still brightly blue sky. Dead leaves and dust were carried with the wind, and in the distance thunder clouds gathered, rumbling ominously. Autumn was taking a hold of the country and dead leaves were sprawling everywhere. Except for the occasional howl outside, everything was quiet.
And then the silence was broken.
Screams echoed through the high security complex, bouncing off the re-enforced walls. It was a sound of utter pain, agony, and filled with the raw emotions of desperation and fear. Bonnie flinched and nearly dropped the tools she had been working with. It was an electronic scream, but very human in its reflections.
It relayed what the being screaming felt and Bonnie felt a shudder course through her.
She turned and ran to the area where the scream had emanated from, a closed-off section with restricted access, an area containing what all of them believed was a highly dangerous creature
Her eyes fell on the wreckage of the car, the mutilated shell, and she felt a bit sorry, though she squelched it right away. Whimpers came from it, soft and barely audible. Again she felt pity.
This being was in pain....
But why? All the damaged external sensor pads had been turned off as far as she had been able to see. She didn't know about the internal ones, but even if they were damaged, wouldn't the AI have shut them off? She walked over to the monitors and made some notes.
There were no pain signals coming from the AI.... and Bonnie knew how to read them. She had learned through Kitt.
 
*

"Everybody clear!"
The staff stepped away from the doctor holding the electric defibrillator paddles as he pressed them against the left side of their dying patient. A jolt raced through the body, making him twitch involuntarily. The tracing on the monitor twitched once.
"Again!"

*

It gave another scream, this time shrieking so loudly Bonnie thought her ear drums would shatter. She moved back against the door as the engine suddenly roared into life. The car couldn't move, but the angry wail of the engine, combined with the shrieks, was slowly getting to her. Bonnie didn't know what to do. Then it was suddenly silent, the monitors rather calm, the engine dying down.
"What's wrong?" Bonnie turned and discovered Michael running into the lab. "Kitt said he picked up screaming...."
She pointed at the car. "It came from .....it." She still couldn't get herself to refer to the car as a 'he', even though she knew who it most likely was.
Michael's eyes narrowed.
"It felt .... pain," Bonnie added, sounding confused. "But ... I can't find a reason as to why....."
"What? But...."
She only nodded. "Those sensors damaged were taken off-line, mostly by the AI itself. And the inside sensors we can't check are probably off-line as well. There were no signals coming in."
At least not from the AI itself....

*

"Piggyback a bottle of high-dose epinephrine, and titrate!" the doctor shouted.
The pharmacist complied.
The ER unit continued to try and safe Rhyan Masters' life.

*

The car had quieted down by now, but they could hear a barely audible moan. Bonnie glanced at the screens and saw a display of wavy lines. Shudders. It was still suffering, but quietly now.
"Kitt," Michael suddenly said, talking to the com-link, "check on Rhyan Masters."
Bonnie shot him a quizzical look. He only shrugged.
A minute later Kitt got back to them.
"I logged myself into the hospital computer. Mr. Master's condition worsened and he went into surgery again. I think they nearly lost him."
Bonnie and Michael exchanged glances. Could it be....? Was it even remotely possible....?
Neither of them knew.....

* * *

Devon Miles sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had just called Dr. Breckett and gotten the latest news on Rhyan Masters. For a while it had been touch and go, but the young man had pulled through and was expected to be out of danger within the next 24 hours. Breckett predicted a full recovery in the next three months and he should be out of the hospital in a week. Devon knew Rhyan had been in shock, had lost a lot of blood and had received severe trauma to the ribcage. It would take a long time to heal completely.
Devon had asked for Rhyan to be transferred to the FLAG mansion, which featured a fully functional medical unit with medical personnel and a doctor. Breckett, knowing this, had agreed.
With this solved, Devon had more time to think about the incident. The sudden display a of pain and desperation of the AI.... it had coincided with Rhyan's near loss. Coincidence? Really? And what would it mean if there was a connection between the two events? Were his suspicions true? If they were..... it would change some things.....
He sighed. He knew old Wilton Knight had not just asked for the OSI to replace a few destroyed bones and body parts when he had sent Rhyan Masters' severely injured form to them. He had hoped to create someone to interact with his dream, the FLAG prototype. That this individual would never be Rhyan Masters but Michael Long could not have been predicted at the time. Rhyan's recovery had been slow, Karr had to be deactivated, Kitt had been born and Michael Long had come into play. Rhyan had only once visited them again, still trapped in a wheelchair, still with an unbroken will and incredible strength. Anyway, he would have been too young, Devon mused.
But what now? Had the OSI finished what FLAG had started? Using even the old prototype?

* * *

Daemon was trembling, but he felt some awareness return, ever so slowly and ever so unsatisfactory. He was still experiencing flashbacks from the sensations of pain. Rhyan's pain.
He moaned. His friend was suffering and it was because of .... him....
His fault.
He could have done something.
You failed, a voice whispered to him, echoing faintly in the darkness of his mind.
No!
Yes, you failed. You are no better than what you were before.
K.A.R.R.
Yes, I am Karr, but ......
You failed.
Failure!
Wilton Knight did good shutting you down!
He tried to hide, but the voice found him, whispering into his audio receptors.
Throughout his own pain he became also aware of someone being around him, but he had no way of finding out who it was. The connections to most of his perceptors had been severed quite thoroughly, and he saw that he wouldn't be able to repair them on his own. This was bad. The sensors and perceptors that were still online were sending out signals of agonizing pain. It was the only input he had, though it was no longer as excruciating as it had been when his front section had been torn apart, caught in a hell fire......
Then there was his partner.... Rhyan was still hurt, he couldn't link with him and felt sensory deprivation like never before
Could it get worse?

*

Kitt was parked outside the lab – for security reasons, as Devon had called it. Considering their run-ins with Karr in the past, this was very logical. That they were trying to contact him was also logical. His involvement in this case was ....curious.
He had risked his own life to save two humans, something going totally against every former experience with Karr. He had been ready to die.....
<Karr?>
There was only silence.
<I know you can hear me>
More silence.
Kitt waited. He thought he felt something.
<Leave me alone>
Those three words told Kitt more than any lengthy speech. First of all, the voice he had heard was totally unlike Karr's old voice.  It wasn't tinny, mechanical and without any inflection. It was dark, male, almost human. The flatness was gone. He could hear nuances in it, a shakiness, a tremor..... pain......
<So you have returned< Kitt sent through the link. <Mr. Masters restored you, didn't he?>
No answer.
<You have changed> Kitt smoothly changed the subject, trying another approach. <You actually saved two lives with your actions>
<It was not intended> was the reply, sounding almost hostile.
<I don't believe you, Karr>
<Stop calling me Karr!> the other AI hissed.
He had drawn a reaction. An interesting one. Kitt pondered it, then stored it for later evaluation.
<What do you want to be called?>
Again silence.
<What is your connection to Mr. Masters?>
<None of your business> Karr replied with growing hostility.
Kitt knew he could take only a few more steps before Karr would shut him out completely.
<You have a very close bond, don't you? You somehow kept in contact, had a link to the hospital, and knew when he started to slip>
<Shut....up....or....>
Kitt waited. Nothing more came. He felt tremors again and he knew there was a lot of uproar inside the other AI. Very interesting....
<I will leave you alone> he then informed the other one. <In case you want to talk, you know where to reach me>
There was no reply.

* * *

The events involving the hospital were nothing but a blur for Rhyan. He remembered lights around him, people yelling for something, concerned faces..... Then nothing.
When he had first come to he had felt a dull throb from his twisted knee and an even worse pain coming from his shoulder and arm. He had been unable to move, unable to talk. His eyes had briefly opened only to fall shut again without his doing. There had been a nurse and a doctor, voices, but he had been unable to answer.
The next time he had been better, but still not okay. He didn't know where he was and most of all, he didn't know where Daemon was. That was even worse.
Rhyan remembered Steve from one visit. It was brief and he felt like packed in cotton wool. Drugs.
When he was finally fully awake, Steve Austin was waiting for him.
"Welcome back among the living, Rhyan," the former Colonel greeted him. The smile was genuine, but there was an underlying worry in it.
"Daemon," Rhyan said in a near-whisper. "What happened to him."
Steve briefly closed his eyes. "The Foundation has him and they have already requested you'd be transferred to the Knight estate the moment you are mobile. Rhyan, we are in trouble if what I think has happened is true."
"He's alive then?"
"Functional would be the better word."
Rhyan stared at the ceiling. "You didn't contact them about the retrieval?"
Steve smiled humorlessly. "If they were anyone else, I would have done all possible to get him back, but they know, Rhyan. I think they know."
"And since they know me as well you want to me to scout the situation?"
Austin nodded.
Rhyan sighed. "I don't have any other choice," he then stated quietly.

.....

And he had gone. Part of him had been happy to return to FLAG and Knight Industries, to see his old friend again, but the other part, the much larger part, was terribly afraid of what might happen.
Rhyan smiled dimly. Part of his past was FLAG. A large part. He had gotten to know Wilton Knight when he had been only fourteen. Rhyan Masters had been one of the so-called Whiz Kids, over-talented, brilliant children. Knight had founded a program to explore their genius, use it, and Rhyan had met him when he had entered the program. At the age of fifteen he had been top of his class in computer programming and engineering, but he had felt alone. He had felt an outsider. He had hated his genius because it denied him a normal childhood. Unlike most of the Whiz Kid teenagers he had also found a liking in athletics and his growing frustration had been dealt with running mile after mile on the track, shadow boxing and several other defense techniques. At the age of sixteen he had met the older man again and a few days before his seventeenth birthday he had been asked to take part in a special project.
Karr.
He had been challenged, he had felt accepted as a normal part of the team, even though some still treated him like a kid, but he had grown quite a lot. And when the artificial intelligence had gone on-line, it had been like celebrating a birthday for him. The others had slapped each other on the shoulder and congratulated themselves on a job well-done, but he had remained in the lab after everyone had left and he had started to get to know Karr.
Nearly a decade after this he had gone back to the Knight estate.

.....

It was the first time Bonnie Barstow met Rhyan Masters in person. The picture she had seen had shown a lanky teenager with much too serious eyes for his age. He had been seventeen when he had been employed by Wilton Knight and had joined the Karr project. It had been in the second year of the project, the time the AI had been developed. Rhyan had been just one of many technicians, not standing out, but he had made several leaps ahead possible. He had been a quiet boy, as Wilton Knight had noted in one of the files, but strong and strangely empathic when it came to the AI.
Then the accident had happened. A lab had blown up, nearly killing two technicians, crippling one forever. Rhyan Masters had been rushed to hospital immediately, but he had lost a lot blood and had fallen into a coma for weeks. His left knee had been totally busted, his left ribcage shattered. He had been between life and death for weeks and whatever had saved him, the doctors called it luck and his will to survive. Wilton Knight had made it possible for him to get the best possible treatment, repaying what he had thought of as a debt to a brilliant young man.
Rhyan had been confined to a wheelchair at first, then, after another set of surgeries at the OSI Bionic Facilities, he had been able to walk again. Bonnie suspected that the old man had pulled some important strings for this to happen. Masters' knee was now supported by cybernetic implants, his ribs had been replaced, and several more body parts had been affected by the surgery. He had then worked for Knight a few more months, but had resigned after the old man had died.
The man facing her now was tall, with thick black hair and blue eyes. His handsome face showed some hard angles and his lips were a bit thin. He was ruggedly handsome in a way. There was a scar over one eyebrow and one at the throat. Bonnie wondered how many scars he still had from the accident over ten years ago. Rhyan was resting his weight on a walking crutch, a bruise showing on his face. It were the only outside signs of his injuries, but beneath his clothes he had more.
"Welcome back, my boy," Devon said warmly. "It's been a long time."
Rhyan smiled. "Very long, Devon. I kinda missed the work here." He gave him a crooked grin.
"Let's sit down and talk," Devon invited him. "I think you know Michael Knight already. This is Bonnie Barstow, our head technician," the older man introduced the other two people in the room.
Rhyan only nodded.
"You work for the OSI," Devon said and shot him a curious look. "A Colonel Austin called me some hours ago....."
Rhyan only shrugged. "It was the only way open for me without compromising too much. The OSI pays well and I have a chance to take part in some of the test runs for the implants." He didn't mention that this also gave him a chance to work on his own little projects.
"It pays very well if you can drive such a fancy car," Bonnie remarked dryly.
"Not really." Rhyan didn't elaborate on that. He knew Austin would soon be here in person to hopefully solve this mess and giving away company secrets was not Rhyan's way of getting himself out of a tight spot.
Devon met the clear blue eyes and knew that his friend knew what would come next.
"The AI in the lab is Karr," he now said.
Rhyan didn't voice a sudden protest, he didn't flinch, he didn't look down in shame. He only met the other's eyes and finally nodded.
"In a rough sense of the word, yes. But then again, he isn't."
"A new body and some color don't change the facts, Mr. Masters," Bonnie said coolly.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Who says that's all that happened?"
"Rhyan, you and I both know Karr is a danger to society!" Devon now said seriously. "I don't know how you came across the wreck and I don't know how you managed to retrieve him, but the thing sitting in the lab is a time bomb!"
Rhyan's face grew suddenly mask-like. "This 'thing' as you call it, is a living being. How he came to be back among us is none of your business and I don't think FLAG holds any property claims on old circuits boards lying discarded in a desert. You could have collected all the bits. You didn't. Someone else came and picked them up. Finders, Keepers."
"Rhyan...."
"No, Devon!" Rhyan said forcefully. "If Daemon were a reborn Kitt you wouldn't be so hell-bent on proving he is a deadly killer! How can you possibly know what he is like? You only know his past until about seven years ago! You didn't rebuild him, coax him out of an almost catatonic state, tried to give him back trust in me again! He always trusted me, and you know it. Wilton Knight knew it! Don't you think I wasn't aware that he was watching me?" He erupted from the chair. "Daemon is not Karr anymore! He has his temper, he has his moods, but he is not a single-minded, self-centered killer! Why don't you try and forget this for once and focus on what's really going on?"
"Rhyan..."
"Can I see him now?" Masters asked coldly, not giving either of the people in the room a chance to get further into the subject matter.
"He is in Lab Five, the high security complex," Devon replied.
"I know where that is."
"I'll inform the guards."
"Thank you," Rhyan said stiffly. With that he turned and walked away, fuming with anger.
"Looks like Karr is not the only one with a temper," Michael remarked.

* * *

<Karr? Rhyan Masters has come here>
Kitt waited. He had not contacted his 'relative' or 'ancestor' since the first talk, but he had watched him.
<He is talking to Devon> Kitt now added. <I think he wants to visit you>
Still no reply, but Kitt felt the same reaction he had experienced before. A slight tremor.
<Bonnie told me about the files and I read them. It was interesting>
<It is none of your business> was the icy reply.
<It is>
<Leave me alone>
Karr could no longer manage the inhumaness of before, but he could be very cold.
<You care for this human> Kitt now stated.
<I don't care for *anybody*, Kitt. My survival takes priority to every action. Care is a weakness> It sounded like a recital.
<Why do you lie?>
Karr was silent.
<You care> Kitt insisted.
Karr tried to shut down the link, but since it was Kitt upholding it, he was unable to do so.
<You care!> Kitt repeated.
A roar of anger came through the link, a display of emotion Kitt had never witnessed in Karr before. There had been no real emotions in the other AI, only the thought of self-preservation. Survival.
<So what if I do?!> Karr finally hissed.
<It shows you have developed. It shows you have changed .... Daemon>
Kitt waited. The silence was growing almost oppressive.
<Leave me alone> Daemon now only whispered. <Please> he added in sheer desperation.
<You don't want to be alone. I know how you feel. Human contact has changed us, influenced us, even you. You have changed and you need the contact> Kitt pressed on.
<Even so, what will it get me but a complete shut-down> Daemon told him, the edge in his voice back.
<A soul> Kitt told him and then followed the prior wish and cut the link.

.....

Yes, a soul. Daemon had a soul. It was human, it cared and it was fragile, even though he had a rather tough exterior.
The whimpers had died down into a low, throbbing sound coming from the voice box. Rhyan wished they already had the working implant link. He was scheduled for surgery next week and he hoped it would work. This way he and Daemon could get in touch without the aid of the sensor net. And it would help his friend immensely, especially in those times when his inner anger was boiling again.
"Daemon?" he asked softly.
The display of the voice box fluttered, but there was no sound coming out. Rhyan smiled and rubbed his finger tips over the smooth dashboard.
"I know," he said. "I know. We all have those nightmares and we all have to handle them, but not alone. Never alone....."
"I thought.... I thought I had lost you," Daemon finally choked.
Rhyan rested his forehead against the steering wheel. "We had missions like this before, Daemon. We rode close to the brink of disaster many times before."
"Never this close."
Masters was silent for a moment. "Because you felt fear for your own survival?" he then asked.
"I never fear for my own survival," Daemon suddenly said, voice hard-edged and cool, almost emotionless. "My first priority is my own survival."
Rhyan smiled dimly.

.....

Rhyan limped into the lab, emotional pain etched into his handsome features. He walked over to the wreckage.
"Hi, Daemon," he said softly, touching the blistered surface. He had the impression that a shudder ran through the frame work. The monitors displayed wildly fluctuating lines.
Rhyan was in pain just seeing how his friend looked. His frontal frame was twisted, the laser's work quite obvious. It had shattered everything sitting behind the front grille, nearly disintegrating his bottom side as it had exploded. His windshield was shattered, just like the driver's window and the back window. The hood section was badly blistered from the intense heat of the fire that had briefly raged under it, the tires had blown and one door had been forcibly removed from its hinges, nothing but a crumbled piece of metal hanging to the equally twisted body.
No one had done a thing to repair what had been destroyed and he knew that the frame integrity was most likely in jeopardy. He didn't want to know about the CPU's integrity.
Now he was here, in this cold lab, the clinical cold environment, so very much reminded of his first meeting with Daemon years ago....after the accident.
 

Rhyan walked into the lab space and automatically reached for the light switch. He froze in his action when he heard the noise.
A humming.
Like a generator in the other room coming to life. Maybe it was the air purifier, maintenance machinery and such.....
And then, in the far corner of the room, Rhyan saw a yellow light. It was small and began to track from left to right and back again like the LED on a stereo system.
The humming noise turned into a low growling, then went up into a turbine-like whine.
Rhyan had heard that noise before. Years ago....
There was a screech of tires, a keening noise hurting his ears. The yellow light suddenly shot toward him, growing in size, the speed faster than any normal car could manage. And Rhyan knew this was a car.
The oncoming vehicle did not slow down.
Two headlights flashed up, effectively blinding him. Rhyan closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and said,
"Hello, Karr.".
Brakes slammed in and the car stopped in front of him, the light still running from left to right. There was barely an inch between the front bumper and the fabric of his jeans.
"Rhyan," the emotionless voice of the microprocessor answered. No, not emotionless. It never had been......
Rhyan walked around the sleek, black form and touched the black skin. The engine was purring softly.
"You are back," he said, voice full of wonder. He knew that this was most likely not a sanctioned visit. And taking into account that Karr had entered a restricted access lab facility undetected was another sign.
 

They had spent the night talking .... like back then. And he had left again, without an explanation, just like this.
"Rhy...." Daemon now whispered.
In the other lab, the three people watching this meeting looked at each other. Kitt had told them that Karr had a changed voice, at least on the com link. It was true! His voice was every bit as human as Kitt's, slightly weak, and punctuated by pain.
Rhyan walked to the door and opened it with difficulty, sinking into the only slightly burned driver's seat. He leaned back and closed his eyes.
"You should have let them repair you," the dark-haired man said tiredly.
"They wouldn't have even if I had let them," Daemon answered. "You know that." His voice was growing in strength and there was a hard edge to it.
Rhyan sighed. "Maybe."
"They know who I am... was..." The voice grew heavy. "And they will kill me."
Rhyan's eyes snapped open. "No!"
"You know I won't be able to leave this place, Rhyan. They won't let me." There was a tremor now.
Masters gently brushed his hand over the busted window frame. "I won't let them, I promise. You are a living being. They can't simply kill you!"
"Then they will call it shutting down. Whatever happens, I .... I won't be able to come with you... I will die." Daemon's voice was matter-of-fact now, but the monitors betrayed him.
"No one will die, Daemon. Least of all you." He closed his eyes again.
"Rhyan?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you're alive."
A smile tugged at the young man's lips. "And I'm glad you are alive as well."

.....

"Sure," Rhyan now said.
Silence settled in the cockpit. Rhyan didn't believe the words for a second. Daemon had proven many times before that he did no longer react like Karr. Not any more.

.....

K.A.R.R.
Knight's Automated Roving Robot.
The prototype, the first of its kind.
Three years of development.
Bonnie knew all the details, all the facts. All of them did.
They had faced it several times before and every time the confrontation had been deadly. Karr had been hell-bent on killing them, getting them out of its way. It was a self-serving, emotionless creature, devoid of conscience and potentially dangerous. It learned the same way Kitt was all the time and she wondered how much it had learned between the last time they had met – and thought destroyed – it and now. Karr was like the animalistic side of Kitt and she had hated it before. She loathed it.....
Now she was facing it once more, the creature that had kidnapped her, had forced her to repair the damage done to it.... that had nearly killed her. She couldn't get herself to think of the AI as a person, a 'he'. Giving it a gender would be admitting the personality of it, and she didn't want to put it on the same level as Kitt. Karr was a machine, a killer.
Still?
She didn't know. It had shown strange traits unlike its former self. Sensitivity; suffering; pain; desperation.....
Bonnie wished the technicians had deprogrammed it. She wished they had had the foresight to do it, not simply shut it down. It would have saved them from so many problems.
Now it was back. And with a lot of problems. Bonnie sighed and took her coffee mug, walking off. She wished she knew what was going on in that tightly secured micro-processor. All security measures around the core unit where still up and keeping them out, and even if she had had access, she doubted she would have done anything but stab a screw-driver into it. She couldn't forget....
Bonnie's thoughts returned to Masters.
Rhyan had spent most of his waking time, even his sleeping time, with Karr, talking, reading to it, listening, giving it company. Apparently he had found a way inside the steel mind, a way past the self-centeredness and the single-mindedness that was Karr. He had gotten through.

* * *

"Welcome to the Knight estate."
Julia Walker looked around, trying to look impressed enough to pacify her hosts, but mostly she wanted to run past them into the labs.
"Thank you, Mr. Miles. I guess Colonel Austin informed you?"
Devon Miles nodded. "Please follow me."
 

Michael didn't know why he was spending so much time in the cold and sterile lab. Maybe it was because Rhyan Masters was a fun person to be around, to talk to, or maybe it was because he was infinitely curious about Karr. Kitt had told him that the two of them had been in contact and Karr's reactions had been intriguing. Daemon, he corrected himself. His new name was Daemon.
Now the door opened and a young, blonde woman entered. She was already wearing a work overall, carrying a small bag slung over her back. A wild mane of hair topped her head and it was kept out of her eyes with a bandanna.
"Hello, Mainframe," Masters greeted her.
She nodded at him, then her eyes fixed on the badly torn car wreck. "What happened?" she asked, aghast.
"Didn't Steve tell you?"
"He said there was an accident, he mentioned you were in hospital, but.... Damnit, Rhyan, what hit the two of you?!"
"Laser-guided special capsule right through the scanner," Rhyan said softly.
"Shit," she muttered and dropped the bag, walking around the wreck. "CPU integrity?"
"As far as Daemon could tell, he's stable but not for much longer."
Mainframe's head came up and an icy green stare fixed on Devon, who had remained standing in the doorway. "You knew this was a fragile, severely compromised CPU of an AI! How could you not act?" she asked hotly.
"Mainframe," Rhyan said gently but forcefully before Devon could answer.
"Shut up, Rhyan! You know how sensitive his perceptors are! You know what kind of damage this did! And you know he never shuts down the sensor implant link! Damnit, he is in constant pain!" Her eyes were like two daggers as they fixed on Devon again. "You got some explaining to do, Mr. Miles! You are torturing a sentient being!"
Michael, shocked by her explosion of temper, glanced at Devon, who appeared slightly flustered. Mainframe, without waiting for an answer, turned her attention back to the BMW.
"Daemon? Can you unlock the hood?"
There was a labored sounding click and she forced the hood open. What they all saw were burned-to-crisp wires, circuits and boards. Michael winced. Rhyan had once mentioned that the basic structure of Daemon coincided with Kitt's, which meant that his sensors sat under the hood as well.
"Oh ....no ..... Daemon, give me a status report on the data screen. Rhyan, I need help for this," she said with the same breath. "If you can get Bandit here, do it. This looks serious." Her face hardened even more when she read the data. "Very serious."
Rhyan turned to Devon. Miles only nodded and left. Michael did so as well, but he walked outside where Kitt was parked. Opening the door he climbed onto the driver's seat.
"Kitt?"
"Yes, Michael?"
"Can you give me the same readings Mainframe just received?"
"Of course."
Data scrolled past on one of the screens. Michael didn't understand half of it, but what he understood told him that the AI was in a very bad shape.
"Damn."
"Michael?"
He looked at the voice box. "Yes?"
Kitt hesitated. "Do you believe that Karr has changed?"
Michael was surprised. "Come again?"
"Do you believe that this being in the lab is no longer the Karr we met and defeated years ago?" Kitt obediently clarified.
"I don't know. What do you believe, Pal?"
Kitt was silent for a while. "Except for the odd moment maybe, he has changed," he then said. Michael raised an eyebrow. "He ...feels," Kitt added, sounding like he didn't believe what he was saying himself.
"Yes. And he is in pain," Michael muttered. "We brought him here and we didn't do anything to help him. Somehow I feel ashamed."
The sudden confession surprised him. He was truly ashamed because even if this AI sitting helplessly in the lab were the old Karr, no one deserved to be treated like this. His sensors had been burned to crisp, he had suffered enormous pain, and they had not done a thing to help. They had sat back and watched.
"I know." Kitt's voice sounded heavy and a tone of shame and guilt passed through it.

.....

Daemon felt ashamed of his words, but he couldn't take them back. Part of him was still Karr. Deep down inside he was trying to survive. Rhyan had once told him it was a very human trait because humans also had the instinct to seek their own survival. It had given him room for thought; and he had pondered it long and hard.
Why did he feel so shaken by the events? He had gone through many dangerous situations, he had seen Rhyan injured before ..... but never that badly. Never had there been a situation where he might have lost him forever.

.....

Mainframe was working quickly and effectively. She had a pair of headphones on her head, the walkman clipped to her belt. Now and then she whistled the tune she heard. Daemon was hooked up to back-ups while she was straightening out his systems.
"This is a mess," she now told him, pushing the headphones off.
"I know," Daemon sighed.
"Are you still in pain?"
"It's okay," was the answer.
Bonnie, working on some parts close by, looked up.
"It's not okay if you still suffer, Daemon," Mainframe told him seriously. "Shut off the sensors."
"No."
"Rhyan is still projecting pain and it won't help your own health if you keep the link up."
Daemon was silent for a while. "I won't shut them off," he then stated.
Mainframe gave an exasperated sighed. "Why?"
No answer.
She sat down and crossed her legs beneath her. "You are afraid of sensory deprivation."
Again no answer.
"Rhyan is here, Daemon. He won't go anywhere," Mainframe tried to calm him. "And you won't get better while you are still connected."
The silence was almost comical.
"And I'm trying to reconfigure the sensor net," she added softly. "Just be patient a bit longer."
Mainframe walked over to Bonnie to get some files.
"Why doesn't it shut the sensors off?" Bonnie asked softly.
"He's afraid of losing track of Rhyan," the blonde woman explained while she did some work on the piece of engine she was holding.
Bonnie looked at the exposed AI component. The microprocessor's fight to stay linked was strange and unexpected.
"It's like claustrophobia to a degree," Mainframe said thoughtfully.
Bonnie only stared at the AI.
"Hello, beautiful people!" The jovial voice jolted Bonnie out of her thoughts and she turned, coming face to face with the new-arrival.
"Bandit...." Mainframe said warningly.
The dark-haired man grinned at Bonnie, ignoring Mainframe. "May I introduce myself? Peter Hunter, at your service."
"Uhm, nice to meet you," Bonnie managed.
Michael stepped in behind them, torn between laughter and pity. He had met Hunter just a moment earlier and was still reeling from the conversation.
"You are the man from the OSI?" Bonnie now asked.
"Yep." 'Bandit' chewed on a gum and flashed a brilliant grin her way. "Chief mechanic ....."
"Chief pain-in-the-butt," Mainframe added.
He shot her a nasty look.
"Ignore him or you'll have a sizzled mind in a day," the young woman now advised Bonnie.
"Why, thank you!" Peter muttered. "Don't listen to her, Bonnie. She is simply jealous!"
"Pah."
Hunter now walked past them and studied the wreck in the middle of the lab. "Demon, baby!" he called. "I'd say nice to see you, but you look dreadful!"
A groan could be heard. "Of all the available engineers he had to send you," Daemon complained.
"Only the best for our baby!"
Another groan followed.
Bonnie shut Michael a look, but he only shrugged helplessly. "Devon said this Austin character would send someone to take care of their property, as they called it, and here he is."
"Bandit, despite the way he acts, really is Daemon's chief tech and also test driver," Mainframe now told them.
"I thought you....."
She chuckled. "No, I'm just the field medic."
Michael raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Well, okay, I do the insides, Bandit does the outside," Mainframe shrugged.
Hunter had started to walk around the wreck, forehead wrinkled in thought, and muttering to himself. Then he looked up. His brown eyes were suddenly very serious.
"Let me guess, we won't get the permission to move him back to our facilities?"
Michael shook his head. "Devon and Mr. Austin are still talking. His basic programming is Foundation property."
Peter frowned. "Basic crap," he muttered then. "All that might belong to you are a few microchips and I can replace them in  flash."
"You know what we mean," Bonnie now said. "This AI is Karr. There is no way to disguise it."
"Who is disguising?" Mainframe asked and walked back to her own workbench.

......

With the helplessness, another feeling had come, one he had never encountered before and one he still experienced.
Daemon felt guilty. Guilty of what had happened.

.....

It was his fault that Rhyan had been captured; had been interrogated; had been injured; had suffered; had nearly died.
A soft moan echoed inside the CPU. Daemon owed so much to Rhy. His sanity, his life, his continued existence..... and he had nearly killed him through his actions.
His fault.
All alone. No one else to blame.
He could have denied Harris his cooperation -- they would have killed Rhy.
He could have made an attempt to free his friend -- they might have killed Rhy in the process.
He could have ..... could ... should....
His CPU flared in emotional pain. He cried softly, making voice to his pain, but not audibly. He kept it all inside.
Someone touched him. Daemon's sensors fluttered into life. Warm skin on his cold metal one. Inside him the wish to link with his friend, the desire to feel with him again, rose.
"Daemon?"
He whimpered as he heard the voice. The sound was in his CPU only. Outside he tried to keep calm.
"Go away," he only said.
"No."
"Leave!" he hissed.
Rhyan stayed. Daemon let his engine howl into life. He was in no state to move very far.
"Daemon, I won't leave. I'm staying."
"Then I'll make you!"
Again the engine howled and again he advanced. Rhyan stood his ground. The black bumper was now close to his shins.
"Go away!" Daemon demanded harshly. "Leave! I don't want you here!"
"I won't leave you alone, whether you want my presence or not."
The engine howled again, but the black BMW didn't move any more.
 

Michael, watching all of this through the surveillance camera, was tense, expecting Karr to attack the young engineer any second.
"We have to do something!" Bonnie exclaimed. "It will run him over!"
"No, he won't." Mainframe's voice was very calm.
"How can you know?" Michael asked.
She met his worried eyes. "Because they had these confrontations before. The first time after he was revived and mobile again. Daemon can't hurt Rhyan even if he wanted to. There is something like an invisible barrier there."
"This AI is still basically Karr," Bonnie contradicted. "And Karr has never had any regard for human life. You all know that!"
"No. Daemon and Karr are nothing alike. He might have the old edge in his voice left and he can be as emotionless sometimes as any feeling being, but he is not the AI he was born as." Mainframe's voice was dead serious. "True, I would never face him when he is in this mood, believe me, and he has moods, but he is not a killer."
 

Daemon was torn inside, his logic unit twisted out of proportion by the enormous conflict he was facing.
He is a human. What do you care about this weak creature?
He..... he is my friend....
You have no friends. Friends are liabilities. They are a weakness.
He is my *friend*!
You are Karr! You are superior in all ways! Run him over! Then leave! Break out!
Logic screamed that he wouldn't be able to get far. His protective armor was not back in place and they had placed him in the high security lab. No way out.
He advanced again, touching Rhyan's body with his bumper.
'Please go!' he begged silently. 'Don't stay and watch my death!'
That was what he was ultimately afraid of: Rhyan watching his deactivation; seeing his face before he shut down forever, no chance to ever return. Keeping the link closed through all of this, not connecting for the last time, would be hard enough already, but he wouldn't be able to stand the expression......
"I won't let them kill you," Rhyan now said softly, voice caring.
It was his voice that had always helped. And his touch. It was what Daemon remembered from the time he had regained full consciousness again.
 

He was alive.
Sensations came in, most prominent of all a soft touch on the most central of sensor pads, the one outside his casing. He felt the warmth, the softness, the care. He felt ....human skin. Karr was utterly confused, his mind replaying his death over and over again, his destruction, his pain and fear. He remembered all details quite vividly and among the cries for revenge where the screams of agonizing pain as his body shattered.
"Karr.... I know you can hear me," a voice said and he cringed away from the human. "It's me -- Rhyan."
Rhyan?
More memories assaulted him, most of them good.
...... Long nights of talking with Rhyan. A human understanding him, taking him seriously as another person, not just a machine.
..... Test drives with his friend, actually opening up.
..... An accident.
.....Rhyan gone, badly hurt, his only link to the human world disappearing.
He had gone back to his old, cold self then. He had despised humans, had tried to survive in their world, had been ruthlessly following his programming, closing the lid on what he had developed.
"Rhy..." he croaked.
His sensors were aware of the hands, the touch, and he wished he could see his friend.
"It's okay, Karr. You're back again," Rhyan soothed him.
Alive. He was alive.

And now he would die again. He didn't want Rhyan to be here when it happened. But he also couldn't do the last step and force him.
 "Rhy......" he begged, his engine now just a soft purr.
"Calm down," Rhyan said softly. He crouched down in front of the still imposing black vehicle, looking into the blue scanner. His hands pressed down left and right of it. "It's all gonna be okay."
"No, it won't," Daemon protested weakly, shivering inside.
He felt the touch of the hands and was suddenly aware of the sensor net, a specially developed OSI gizmo. It was like a glove made up out of fine, flexible but very endurable wires. They were covered by something like transparent rubber sheet. The wires were live on the skin but insulated on the back. Daemon had a special receptor installed in his systems that brought him into an almost intimate contact with his partner. The first time they had tried this new system out he had almost fried from the sudden overload -- and then he had developed a strange kind of addiction to it. Rhyan sometimes wore the toned-down version of the gloves, small sensor points sticking to the hands and chest, mostly when they were on an assignment. He had grown dependent on the contact.....
Rhyan rubbed his palms over the smooth surface. "Relax," he whispered.
 

Karr was in pain. Sensory overload hit him, his links alive with flaming agony.
"Relax," a voice penetrated the roar of fire.
He reached out, wanting to link with this calmness, the only pool of cool calmness he knew.
"It'll be over soon."
'Stop it!' he cried. 'It hurts! Why do they hurt me!?'
The technicians continued their work, disregarding the fact that he felt every touch. His whimpers could not be heard, his voice box disconnected. He concentrated on the voice. It was male, it was also human, but it cared. And the voice touched him as well, but never to hurt.
 

"Trust me," Rhyan told him. "Please."
"I always trusted you," Daemon choked out.
He fed on the sensations coming in.
"I know." Rhyan let his forehead drop on the cool metal. "Thank you."
 

He hated the driver. He hated the technicians. If not for their restraints he would be free, he would be independent. But they kept reprogramming him, though they could no longer reach the central programming. They had made the mistake of giving him the access code, and only him, to keep intruders out. His survival always took first place. No one else mattered.
Do the job.
But then there were the days spent in the company of the young man he had come to know as Rhyan Masters. He recognized him from afar, he expected his visits. He wanted him to come. Rhyan was the only one to ever ask him to activate his perceptors when he handled him and his touch was as strange at it was comforting. The moment he was gone, the world went back into black and white, into the world of his programming. As strange as it was, he trusted Rhyan Masters......
Then came the day of the accident. Karr was in the same complex the accident happened in. He heard the explosion, the roar of fire, the shrill ringing of alarms. Commotion and motion.... Paramedics, ambulances, fire fighters....
He didn't care. All he was worried about was his own safety, which was luckily not in jeopardy. But then he heard the technicians talk as they came to work the next morning. Rhyan Masters had been badly hurt.
Karr's world blanked.
He had never been aware just how much he felt connected to the gifted, young man. Now he was angry, furious....enraged. His rage translated into a disastrous test run where he nearly killed someone.
And Wilton Knight shut him down.
Betrayed the last fragile trust he still had for his creator.....
 

Rhyan sat down in the driver's seat and Daemon felt sensations rush through him. He immediately checked on his human friend, noting all the little injuries that had still not healed. Rhyan was a lot better, but he was far from back to normal.
"It wasn't your fault," the dark-haired man now said.
Daemon froze. How could he.....?
"I do not blame myself," he said stiffly.
"Oh, yes, you do," Rhyan answered with a smile.
"Why should I blame myself? I did what was expected of me." There was a sudden edge in his voice.
The smile grew. "Of course."
There was silence again. As always. Rhyan was used to the silence. It showed him more than long speeches. Daemon was busy rearranging his thoughts, trying to get through his own emotions.
"I'm sorry," the AI finally whispered.
Rhyan brushed his hand carefully over the sensor. "Nothing to be sorry about, Daemon."
"You were bodily injured because I resisted," Daemon told him coldly. "I endangered your life!"
Rhyan raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. But you are your own person. You had to protect yourself. You had to make a choice and I think you were making the right one."
"Don't find excuses for me!" Daemon screamed. "My behavior nearly killed you!"
"Daemon.... you are still what you were before and you know it. Nothing can ever change the basics. You changed your behavior, okay, but you didn't change yourself. And even then, to save oneself is a basic instinct."
"No!"
"You were afraid what would happen if you surrendered," Rhyan went on. "I understand it. It's human."
"They would have killed you!"
"Possibly."
"I would never let anyone hurt you, Rhy," Daemon whispered. "I can't."
Rhyan tilted his head. "Why?"
Silence settled once more. "Because .... I care," the AI then said, almost hesitantly.
The dark-haired man smiled once more. Daemon had expressed his care countless times, but never really in words. Rhyan rubbed his finger tips over the sensor and felt the reaction through the link.
"And I care a lot about you, Daemon."
"They won't let us go, right?" Daemon then asked, knowing the answer already.
"No, I don't think so."
"Will I ....die?"
Rhyan closed his eyes. "Over my dead body, Daemon. Only over my dead body."
Vibrations passed through the frame and Rhyan gently touched the dashboard.

.....

The same touch was present now, taking care, loving him..... just being there. Accepting.
Rhyan's position was as close to the dash as was possible, his eyes closed, his head resting against him. Daemon wished he had a way to return the gesture. Rhyan had given him so much and he had returned so little. He knew Mainframe was experimenting on the virtual reality plug-in and he had hopes that this might give them a kind of link that was more than ripples of energy.
For now he was still content with his friend's soothing presence. It helped him deal with the past and the changes those few weeks had evoked.

.....

"You can't be *serious*......"
Michael was just walking by the lab when he heard the cold statement. The voice was as close to Karr's old voice as it could be and he froze.
"I'm all serious, Demon, buddy," the jovial voice of Peter Hunter could be heard.
"I'm not wearing this color!"
Michael peered into the lab. It hadn't changed much. Karr was still a wreck, his CPU was sitting on a work bench and was hooked up to different support stations. What had changed was a new car in the extended area, the one hidden behind a removable wall. It was a BMW like Karr's old body, but it was black and blue.
"Hey, blue is *the* color at the beach now!" Peter told him, chewing his gum, wearing a bright grin. "The girls love it! You'll be like a magnet."
"I won't tolerate this color!" Karr growled. "And I'm not playing magnet for you, Mr. Hunter."
Peter leaned back against the work bench and smiled down at the CPU. "It's either that or a yellow Beetle."
There was icy silence.
"You wouldn't dare......" the AI then whispered.
Hunter patted the casing. "Believe me, I would. You have the choice. I mean, I like Beetles.....  So, what will it be?"
Karr growled again. "You are not leaving me much of a choice."
"Nope!" Peter's grin was growing even more.
"He likes to live dangerous," a voice startled Michael.
"I... uh... didn't want to spy..." he stammered.
Mainframe smiled. "Hey, it's your house."
"What did you mean about Peter living dangerous?"
She shrugged. "Oh, he likes teasing Daemon. Both of them had their encounters and both are still trying to get used to the other. I think they'll never find a common basis."
Michael watched Peter go back to work, turning up the volume of the music. "Rhyan told me that he is also the test driver....?"
Mainframe nodded. "It's always a fight, but I think if either of them ever goes without complaining, he is sick." She smiled. "Say, want to invite me to a coffee?"
He chuckled and nodded, making a small bow. "Follow me."

* * *

Five more days passed. Rhyan was now back to his old self, the wounds healed, his body more or less 100 % again. Repairs on Daemon had been finished and in turn, security around the lab had been increased. Rhyan was uncomfortably aware of this as he now jogged around the perimeter of the mansion. Steve was still trying to deal with Devon Miles, but it was getting more and more complicated. The Foundation insisted that the AI was Karr and potentially dangerous, absolutely lunatic, and a threat to mankind. Austin kept on explaining what changes had happened in the last decade. Right now they were at another dead end again. Mainframe and Peter had been allowed to restore Daemon, but maybe only so they had to watch him get destroyed again.
Anger coursed through him and he pushed himself to run faster. Sweat dripped off his chin, his breaths coming in laborious puffs. His knee didn't slow him down. There was no pain. The only pain he felt was in his soul.
"Don't push yourself so hard," Daemon's dark voice told him, using the plug in the ear.
"I'm not," hissed.
He did another round, driving himself into a sprint, burning off the last few hundred yards within seconds. He turned off the field and ran up the wide stone steps to the terrace where a pitcher of iced tea stood. Rhyan grabbed a towel and dried his face.
"You are pushing yourself," Devon said calmly.
Rhyan panted slightly. "Just trying to get back into shape," he muttered.
"What for?"
"Devon, I still have a job at the OSI," he reminded his older friend.
"I know. But as what? A simple computer programmer or something else?" Devon cocked an eyebrow and Rhyan had to sigh. Sly old fox. He should have known that Devon would dig deeper, not only concerning Daemon.
"Even we computer programmers want to stay in shape," he now evaded another answer.
Devon sat down on one of the terrace chairs. "I know Steve Austin and I know Oscar Goldman, and I know the OSI. They don't just employ a young man and give him a fast car with an AI installed. I won't even mention that this AI is Karr. The very fact that you are allowed to use such an expensive, multi-million dollar machine is proof enough that there is more to this. Your team of technicians came in faster than I would have thought, they worked day and night to safe Karr and the OSI was very interested in your health." He steepled his fingers and gave Rhyan an encouraging look.
Rhyan only sighed again. "Talk to Colonel Austin if you want to know more. I can't tell you anything." With that he threw the towel over the other chair and walked into the mansion.

* * *

Things had slowly changed, most of all Daemon's appearance. His mutilated frame was back in shape, the tires changed, parts replaced. The computerized diagnostics center Devon had allowed to be erected, displayed different data, waves fluctuating on the monitors, other showing heartbeat-like readings. Machines hummed. The BMW's hood was open, thick cables snaking out.
In the lab, Mainframe moved like she owned it. And somehow she did. Wherever there was equipment she could use, she felt at home.
"Didn't find your hair brush today?" Daemon mocked as she tested a circuit board.
Mainframe chuckled. She liked to feature a bit of a wild hairstyle, her short her looking unruly and truly like she had not introduced it to a brush. She kept the bangs out of her face using the bandanna. It fit her whole outfit, which reflected her personality.
"I think it was hiding," she quipped.
"Yes, because it's afraid to face this mop of what you call hair."
She gave the black BMW a little cuff. "Ey! Be careful! I'm the one with the repair powers."
"You never could see a difference between a screw and a nail," Daemon teased.
"I'll nail you a screw right between your sensors if you don't shut up," Mainframe threatened playfully.
The banter felt good, but it didn't erase the fact that FLAG had still not decided on Daemon's fate.

*

<Daemon?>
Daemon pondered acknowledging or not and finally did it. <What do you want?> he asked gruffly.
<Just talk> the other AI said in usual, calm and gentle manner.
Daemon hesitated. <What about?> he then asked carefully.
<You>
A cold shiver ran through him. <No> he whispered.
<You are not comfortable with your past?>
Daemon didn't answer.
<How much of what happened in the past do you remember, Daemon?> Kitt inquired.
<Everything> Daemon whispered with a slight tremor in his voice.
<I understand>
<You can't. No one ever can>
<Then tell me> Kitt asked him softly.
Daemon hesitated once more. <Have you ever been shut down, Kitt?>
Kitt winced slightly. <Yes>
<How did you feel then?>
<Blind. Deaf. Without any senses......> Kitt shivered as the memories came back to him. <Alone>
<Now add to this fear, rage at your creator, slowly cooking madness. You know they hate you, you know you still *are* but there is no real focus for you but the rage. You feel betrayed and the anger turns into hatred. Single-minded. All you did was follow your programming and your reward is your death. But the death is not senseless eternity. It is a black hole of coldness, of emptiness, of memories>
Daemon's voice was flat, almost emotionless. But only almost. Kitt heard the soft tremor, the fear.....
<I'm sorry.... We never realized....>
Daemon seemed to smile. <How could you have? I woke up driven by anger, by violence, by revenge. All I wanted to do is prove that my deactivation had been a fault, that I was superior... and it drove me deeper and deeper into this vicious circle>
<But you survived and came back> Kitt said gently.
<Yes. Rhyan .... he helped. I came back on-line after our last confrontation, blind, cold, afraid..... and he was there. I.... > Daemon hesitated.
Kitt waited. He knew this was suddenly coming very close to home for the other AI.
<It was like back in the old times> Daemon now whispered. <He was there for me.... cared.... no expectations, no pressure> He stopped once more. Kitt understood. <I never knew that a human presence could be tolerated> Daemon added quietly. <All I ever knew were technicians poking me, hurting me, demanding, testing..... Rhyan was one of the project as well, but he never hurt me. He understood>
<They made mistakes in the past and sometimes they still make mistakes> Kitt said quietly.
<I know>
Silence settled between them, a more comfortable silence now. Kitt retreated slowly, but Daemon held him back.
<Don't go....>
Kitt stopped from cutting the link, surprised. <I will stay if you want to> he said.
<Thank you>

* * *

"Okay," Steve Austin said slowly. "I see we have only more chance to clear this." He looked at Michael and Devon. "This is level six clearance and though I know that you two can keep a secret, I want to remind you that what I'm telling you now can never leave this room."
Michael nodded. "You have my word."
"Well....." Austin rubbed his forehead. "First of all, yes, Rhyan and Daemon are more than just a computer programmer and his fancy car. They are part of a special OSI team called into life about ten years ago. Do you know the Cyborg program?"
Devon nodded, Michael shook his head.
"Wilton Knight was very interested in the program and always kept track of it, funding it to a degree," Devon said.
"Well, in  way he funded me with it," Austin told them with a smile.
Devon's eyes widened. "You? You are the ...."
"Cyborg," Steve finished. "Yes. Long story. Well, OSI's experiments with my body, restoring my health, helped Rhyan as well. Knight paid for it all, calling in some favors as well, but the OSI also asked for Rhyan's cooperation when he resigned from FLAG. And when Daemon came into play, we finally had a team."
"To do what?" Michael asked, making a mental note to ask Devon about this cyborg project later on.
"Essentially, the same you do." Austin smiled slightly. "Only that we operate world-wide. The team consists of five members and the OSI decides where to send them next."
"I see. So Daemon fulfills the same function Kitt has?" Michael wanted to know.
"In a way." Austin shrugged. "Daemon is Rhyan's partner. We managed something outstanding with the two of them. They are connected on different levels and Rhyan is the only one Daemon fully trusts. Rhyan's implants allow a contact between them that is unique."
"How?" Devon asked, intrigued.
"Daemon can patch himself into the implants and extend his sensory perception."
Michael stared. "He can *feel* like a human?"
"In a way. That was the reason as to why he was going on overload when Rhyan was injured. He refused to shut down the link." Austin shrugged again. "We worked out several methods for this link and strangely enough, after getting used to it, Daemon experienced sensory deprivation when we took the input away. Now... I know we've been discussing nothing but this in the last weeks and it all comes down to one thing: you know that the basic personality of the AI is Karr, but when push comes to shove I can whip up a dozen computer engineers testifying that Karr and Daemon are not even remotely the same." Austin's eyes were hard now. "Daemon is part of the OSI and he works for the OSI. He is a valuable member, he is a team player, and I won't tolerate your personal feelings destroying what we built in years of hard work."
"If I may enter this conversation," Kitt's voice could suddenly be heard.
Michael raised the wrist with the com-link. "What is it, Pal?"
"I believe that Mr. Austin is right. Daemon is no longer Karr. He has changed and we should accept the change for the better."
Michael shot Devon a look, seeing that the older man was not happy with this expression of trust from their friend.
"I talked to Daemon, Michael. He cares. He trusts. I don't know how, but he and Mr. Masters have formed a bond."
"Like us?" Michael's voice grew a bit softer for a second.
"I dare say so."
"Thank you, Kitt."
"Well?" Steve asked quietly.
Devon closed his eyes for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How can we trust into a machine that nearly killed us several times?"
"How can you damn an artificial intelligence because of something out of the past, something that happened a decade ago...." Austin's voice grew more insistent. "Daemon took part in countless missions. He never harmed anybody without reason, and I call the possibly death of a team member reason enough. He also never killed anyone!"
Devon inhaled deeply. It was his decision; his alone.

* * *

"And I tell ya it's an easy win." Peter gestured with one of the tools he was holding. "They'll blow them off the field with their hands down."
"That would be illogical since they need their hands to play," Daemon answered. "And all indicators lead me to believe that the Bulls will win."
"Oh, yeah? What indicators?"
"The players' health statistics, past games, the consistency of the field and the weight of the ball, adding to this the time of the game."
Peter groaned and turned to look at the BMW. "You," he said, pointing his index finger at him, "are impossible. You are supposed to learn from mistakes, remember? Last time you lost, basing your opinion on facts again. You already owe me fifty."
Bonnie, working on hydrogen sensors for the fuel tank section, smiled involuntarily.
"I do not work with what you call 'instinct'," Daemon said stiffly.
Peter chuckled. "Oh? That's a new one. And not very good, Demon, my friend."
On the small TV screen set up in the lab, one of the players made a home run and Peter cheered. "Yes! Told ya! Hah!"
Bonnie wondered what had changed her mind about the AI. She still didn't trust it, but she was more open to it now. Daemon had proven to be *quite* different from Karr and though there was a subtle danger to it, almost like a constant growl reaching her brain, she found herself acting more liberally.
"You should have learned by now," Rhyan said as he entered the lab.
"It's against every law of physics," Daemon muttered.
"Humans usually are," the dark-haired man grinned. Then he turned to Peter. "How is it coming along?"
Peter, his eyes fixed on the screen while his hands manipulated the piece of circuit board in his hands almost automatically, nodded absent-mindedly toward the BMW. Rhyan walked over to the car and the doors opened automatically.
"Hey, Daemon," he greeted his partner.
"They reached a decision," Daemon said softly, voice relaying dread and hope.
Rhyan smiled. "Yes."
Silence.
A long silence.
Daemon didn't want to hazard a guess even though he was bursting with expectation.
"We'll be out of here after the test runs," Rhyan said calmly.
Daemon didn't say anything, but Rhyan felt something tingling along his spine. It was like a small burst of static.
"Thank you," he finally whispered.
Masters smiled gently and touched the revamped dashboard, rubbing over the black surface. "We'll be back home then and I hope it will all be but a bad nightmare for us."
Daemon again didn't answer, but Rhyan had known him for years now and he knew what his friend felt. He only closed his eyes, the sound from the lab, Peter's cheers as his team won, were muffled by the closed-off interior.
"Rhy....."
"Yes?" he asked, eyes still closed.
"Thank you."
Rhyan only smiled.

......

The Foundation had accepted him. They had accepted Daemon and through it they had also accepted the part that was still Karr. Daemon knew that part of it was due to Kitt's help. They had talked and though Daemon had been wary, he had grown to like talking with his 'brother'. Curiously, he felt close to Kitt, though he, Daemon, had been the prototype and Kitt the next evolutionary model. In the past he had been irked by the existence of the other AI. He had been furious at Wilton Knight for shutting him down, for abandoning him, for betraying his trust. He had wanted nothing more than to kill the Knight 2000 and his drive, to prove he was superior.
Now this feeling was gone.
Kitt had been help, willing help, help without judgment. Even with the past weighing heavily on them, Kitt had wanted to aide the injured AI. Daemon was thankful for that, unable to repay it, but thankful.
"Rhyan?" he now asked silently.
"Yes?"
He sounded tired, Daemon thought. Exhausted. He ran a vital-sign check and was greeted with the data he had expected. Heart rate, brain waves, respiration, blood sugar, pulse..... they all implied physical exhaustion to a degree. Adding to this no nourishment lately, except for the occasional candy bar Rhyan used as a food substitute when he was stressed out, and the stress the injuries had put upon his system, then they combined into a dangerous sum.
"You should sleep," he now said gently.
Rhyan cracked open one eye. "I am. Here."
"Maybe you should find a more comfortable position then."
"I *am* comfortable, Daemon," Rhyan muttered.
"Liar."
His mouth curled into a smile and he closed his eyes again. Daemon felt slightly amused. He knew Rhyan would complain about a stiff neck the next morning. As he watched Rhyan's breathing even out as he entered a sleep state, his memory circuits went back to the last days.

......

"All right!" Peter rubbed his hands with his usual broad grin pasted on his lips and advanced on the black and dark blue BMW. "Time for a test run!"
Daemon started his engine and it purred softly. Peter climbed up into the driver's and put in a gear. Unlike Kitt, Daemon was running on a stick-shift. He could switch to automatic without problem, but Rhyan had always preferred the stick-shift. Now he let the BMW roll slowly roll forward. With a smile he began to increase his speed. Very nice! he cheered and then steered him out onto the road. It was time for a field test!

*

The first test run went smoothly. The BMW 850 evaded all obstacles, performed flawlessly. Rhyan stood with the crew of FLAG members and smiled slightly as Daemon did some unexpected maneuvers, just to show off. For the first time, Rhyan was wearing the gear he usually had when working with Daemon. The small sensory pads, microchips sending information, were stuck to his throat, relaying sounds. He and Daemon had developed a method of nearly silent communication. He didn't have to move his lips. Daemon translated sound waves. Something looking like a tiny ear plug was in his left ear through which he could hear his partner.
<Don't overdue it> he sent.
The BMW rolled slowly, almost domestically, over to the group, stopping with his nose in front of Rhyan. Mainframe immediately went over to the tech station and started her test runs after plugging in her laptop.
"Impressive," Michael now commented.
Peter got out, piston-chewing his gum, almost bouncing. "Demon, baby, you were great!"
"Thank you," was the flat reply.
The young man perched himself on the hood, patting it. "Not yet back to normal, but getting there, believe me."
Daemon opened the door and Bandit exchanged a look with Rhyan, who only nodded.
"Excuse us for a while," he told Devon and Michael and walked over to the open door, sliding into the driver's seat.
"What's going on?" Michael wanted to know.
Peter Hunter only smiled. "Just a little reunion."
The BMW backed slowly away from the group, turned and then, with suddenly spinning tires, started on another round.

Rhyan had his hands on the steering wheel, but he was not in control. He was only a passenger, but one that was wanted, maybe even needed. While Daemon increased the speed, currently doing a healthy sixty and showing no sign to slow down, he reached out and activated several functions. Daemon's monitor came to life, showing a slightly fluctuating line. The Passive Laser Restraint System button lit up. The voice box was dark and silent. Rhyan leaned back, relaxing as much as he could. Daemon was still driving rather well-behaved, except for the speed.
"Daemon," Rhyan said quietly. "Let go."
It was as if every restraint had been taken from him. The car exploded into action, the g-forces pressing Rhyan into the soft driver's seat, the PLRS keeping him secure. He knew Daemon wouldn't do anything to harm him and he trusted him completely. His hands were still closed around the steering wheel.
Inside the CPU, Daemon broke down the walls he had erected around himself, the walls keeping him restrained. Now he let his pent-up anger, frustration, pain and desperation wash over him. His wheels spun wildly, he fishtailed around a bend and increased speed even more. His fuel consumption went up, his engine was roaring and the wind whipped around his aerodynamic form. He had never felt so free. He blew past several signs, nearly mowing one down, then hit the brakes and his tail section slid around, dust billowing up around him.
With an explosion of energy he leaped forward, tires digging into the ground. He didn't care about anything right now, with the exception of his partner maybe, and it just felt good to ...be. To let go....

Michael watched the display of raw power, of pent-up power, as he sat on Kitt's hood. Mainframe was busy evaluating data.
"Is that normal?" he now asked Peter.
The younger man shrugged. "I saw it only once or twice before. Demon's way to handle stress. Only that the last time he did it he mowed down several of the test track security walls and nearly ran over a sensor array." He grinned.
"I see. Temper." Michael raised an eyebrow.
"Kinda. And after that he went through in the last weeks, I say he needs it." Bandit cleaned some dust of his overall.
Michael returned to watching the whirling speck. Kitt was strangely quiet.
"Something wrong, Pal?"
"No, Michael. I was just busy comparing the data I gathered lately with the data stored about Karr."
"Again?"
"I did a complete analysis this time," Kitt answered. "Of what I have, the artificial intelligence inside the BMW is only 10 % of Karr. This is expressed in his behavior mostly, but not in his actions."
Michael looked at his partner. "So ... what is the chance he will revert to his old self one day?"
"Close to 0,5 %, Michael. Most of him is kept in place by Rhyan Masters' presence, but even taking into account that Mr. Masters dies one day, I believe that the personality changes are too deep to be affected completely by this." Kitt sounded very secure.
"What *will* happen when Masters dies?" Michael now wanted to know.
"Taking into account the sensor link, Daemon will experience the pain a normal human being would experience, but I can only speculate on the further actions," Kitt answered carefully.
Michael shot him a curious look. Kitt didn't add anything to it and he simply shrugged.

......

Morning broke and sunlight flooded the complex. Daemon, his functions running on the lowest level, something that could be called 'sleep' for him, activated himself for higher functions. Almost simultaneously Rhyan's alpha-wave patterns changed, showing he was waking up as well. He still lay in an awkward position, his legs half curled under him or stretched over the seats, one arm hooked around the steering wheel, his head resting on it, the other arm hanging limply down.
Daemon still had the input from the sensor net gloves and the stuck-on buttons. He felt Rhyan's warm skin, the texture of his jeans, his own dashboard. As always it was amazing, fascinating and a bit frightening. But he thrived on the sensory input, wanted it, needed it.....
"Good morning, Rhyan," he now greeted his friend as Rhyan woke completely and uncurled his tall form with a groan.
"Morning," he yawned in reply.
He got himself on the seat and stretched, his arms bumping slightly against the ceiling.
"Slept well?" Daemon asked, amusement in his voice.
Rhyan grumbled something under his breath, trying to work a particularly nasty kink out of his neck. "What time is it?" he asked.
"6:34 am."
Rhyan yawned again. "Breakfast time." He rubbed his eyes and then started the engine. "Let's get something to eat."
"You know I do not eat, Rhyan," Daemon said as they headed out.
"But I do and my body says 'coffee' quite clearly."
"Your body doesn't talk. And if it would, it wouldn't ask for a drug."
Rhyan laughed. "Why don't you let me decide what it says....?"
"Just trying to help out."
They left the OSI compound and headed for the next town, their familiar banter feeling good. Rhyan knew that Daemon was not over his nightmares, that there would be similar episodes, but he was content to know that his friend was handling it. They were both handling it.