This wasn't originally intended to be a full chapter, but I decided to publish it as one, as I really don't want the story to slow down. We'll have plenty of time for character development in the next one... so, enjoy!

When Michael regained consciousness, the whole world was a blur. All he felt was nausea, an intolerable headache and a terrible, stabbing pain in his chest. His heart was throbbing at the same rhythm as his head was aching. In complete disorientation, he looked around, not even sure about where he was or what he was seeing. After blinking heavily a couple of times, he determined that he was in KITT, he was not alone, and that RC3 on the front passenger seat was already awake.

„KITT!" The sad-toned answer came from the passenger seat:

„No use, I've tried."

„What happened, RC? Where are we?", asked Michael with a weak and tired voice. At first, RC didn't say anything, only shook his head slowly.

„Where are we?", Michael asked again, now a bit more clearly.

„I don't know", said RC silently, „either somewhere in Nevada or California. I cannot exactly think straight right now, man."

„Me neither", agreed Michael, „though we gotta figure this out. I feel like I was thrown out of a truck." Ironically, it was a pretty good description of what happened. Michael's eyes widened as a thought shocked him. „Whatever happened to Bonnie and Devon?"

RC pointed his index finger towards the back seats; Michael immediately turned his head and saw his two friends lying there unconscious.

„Oh, I see... argh!" The stabbing pain struck his chest again, pulsating through the left side of his body. Michael touched the center of the pain and he noticed that an object punctured his skin and was still stabbed into him. „What... what is this?"

RC showed him an object, looking like an oversized pushpin, blood dried on its part that was under his skin. „I think this is what those men shot us with, to knock us out. I pulled mine out when I woke up."

„So why didn't you pull it out of me, too?", asked Michael apparently outraged. „You could've spared me a great deal of this pain..."

„It didn't hurt for me at all. Actually, the most painful part was when I pulled it out, so I guessed I'd let you do it for yourself. Sorry, I didn't know", answered RC, heaving a sigh.

„A'right, let's do this", said Michael and grabbed the projectile with his right hand, „One... two... three... AAARGH!" He managed to remove the object from his body and just dropped it.

„Better?", RC asked, with all the curiosity he was able to collect in that moment. However, Michael was not better; more like shocked.

„RC, can you feel all parts of your body right now?" The addressed looked confused.

„Why do you ask?"

„I can't feel my left hand and leg", Michael answered.

„Damn, that thing must have hit you on the wrong place. Do you think you can drive like this?"

„I don't even think I can walk like this." Michael wished he could just ask KITT to analyze the projectile and maybe synthetize an antidote right away.

Meanwhile, Devon Miles was just awakening on the back seat. It was not an easy time for him, going through so many things in one day. The thoughts that occured to Michael during the highway chase now started to torment Devon as well. The Foundation, Knight Industries... the whole program, the whole mission they were on. His mind wandered into the past, an old memory at the Knight Manor, back home. There was a time when his friendship with Wilton Knight was... suspended. The manipulations of Mrs. Elizabeth Knight and other unfortunate states of things poisoned their relationship, developed a distrust between the two friends. Wilton was the reckless driving force behind their operations, while Devon was the businessman, the negotiator, the conservative one, the one able to keep a cool head. While this may have caused a bit of tension between the two sometimes, mostly it was what helped them become a dynamic team together. After years, the circumstances formed so that Devon and Wilton reunited again at Knight Industries, as business partners. This happened not long before the idea of a talking, undestructible car was born. The insane Yank, as Devon sometimes liked to call him, was obsessed about that thing, the shiny black, accident-free, learning and intelligent vehicle. The Englishman, however, was not so pleased about the idea. In the beginning, time seemed to prove the British cautiousness right. Still, by the time Wilton passed away, Devon knew that he has to continue to protect his friend's legacy, and keep the Foundation for Law and Government alive; the creation of which organization he first believed to be an unnecessary, thoughtless and dangerous act against the legal system. In time, he learned that his late friend was absolutely right about FLAG's necessity. He realized that there is an enormous amount of grave injustice in the world outside of the legal boundaries. It's something that he actually always knew, but thought that one man can do nothing against it. Wilton thought otherwise. For that, some people saw him as a dreamer, an innovator; others as a damn fool. Even Devon himself said that the idea of „one man and his car fighting crime" is the byproduct of foolish American superhero fantasies, and has its rightful place in comic books, pulp fiction and low-budget television series, rather than in the business they were involved in. But Wilton Knight was hellbent on it, and when he fell ill and his health started deteriorating, Devon vowed that he will complete the work to the very end. It was not a vow to Wilton, no; it was a vow to himself. And Devon Miles was rightly known to be a man of his word.

Right then, Devon felt that he was never so close to failing Wilton, to failing himself.