Okay, disclaimer time.
Ranma 1/2 used wihtout permission
Knight Rider used without permission
I got some positive responses concerning this idea. Also, since I
wanted to try this anyway, I'll give it a go. As a bit or warning, I'll be
keeping some of the original plot, but replacing about 90 percent of the
rest. After all, I don't want to re-tell Knight Rider with Ranma characters.
^_^ If responses are good enough, I'll continue it. KR fans will notice
several changes in the cast, but enough from me. I'll let the fic do the
talking.
=================================
Knight Rider: A shadowy flight, a young loner's crusade to protect
the innocent, the weak, and the helpless. One man in a dangerous world of
criminals who operate above the law. A man who does not exist, and a car
unlike any other.
Part One, One Man Can Make A Difference
==================================
Nabiki Tendo sat in the plush office, the recent conversation cause
for both celebration and concern. The room was almost Victorian in design,
as was the rest of the mansion. An ornate mahongany desk, behind which she
sat, rested before a large picture window that allowed the Virginia sun to
cast its light on the expensive furniture and polished wood floors. Shelves
of literature lined the two far walls, flanked by busts of Plato and
Socrates on each side.
The project, so long in development and so high in cost, was nearly
complete. Only one element was missing, the most important one, a pilot. The
Knight Industries Two Thousand, despite all its capabilites, still needed a
human at the controls. Without that, it was just an immensely powerful and
insanely expensive car.
She had personally screened dozens of potential drivers, none of
them measuring up to what William Knight deemed necessary. Nabiki often
found herself ready to tear into the damnable old goat when he sent another
one packing. Why wouldn't he just pick one?
Activating the sleek terminal on her desk, an object entirely out of
place with the antique luxury of the office, she called up the files on the
next batch of drivers. Her eyes locked on the first name, one Ranma Long.
======================================
The sun descended below the Arizona horizon, bathing the desert with
glorious hues of purple and fiery gold. The road, to the causal observer,
seemed to stretch into infinity, almost as if it were connecting heaven and
earth.
The roar of engines disturbed the almost solemn silence of the
desert, halogen headlamps piercing the encroaching darkness with their
artificial glow as the two automobiles streaked down the blacktop. The lead
car swerved from lane to lane, tires squealing slightly as it moved to cut
off the cruiser behind it.
Ranma Long silently cursed as the two thugs managed to cut him off
again. His knuckels grew white as he gripped the wheel ever tighter, the 350
fuel-injected engine screaming as the speedometer needle held steady at 120
mph.
He couldn't believe how badly the bust had gone. The two ahead were
dealers for La Eme, or Murder Inc. as many called them. Julio Sanchez and
Juan Garcia had been the target of the sting operation for months, suspected
of running majiuana and cocaine across the border for the infamous Mexican
Mafia. Bringing those two in quietly would have not only given them
information, but would also have cemented the pay raise Ranma had been
angling for.
Now, he was the only cop left to chase them down. A detail of three
Highway Patrol officers had been murdered when they discovered the sting,
something Ranma intended to see those two bastards pay for.
The city of Phoenix grew increasingly closer, looking for all the
world like a glowing oasis in the expanse of sand and rock that even native
animals found hard going. Traffic was getting thicker as they neared the
city, cars appearing as rapid blurs of headlights as he raced after the two
suspects. Whatever else happened, Ranma would nail those two no matter what
it took.
The car in front, a white Buick caked with the desert dust, swerved
abruptly to avoid a newer model Cadillac. Ranma matched the maneuver easily,
keeping with the suspects with his unmarked Crown Victoria. His training in
martial arts, not to mention defensive driving techniques taught at the
academy, had honed his reflexes to razor keen perfection. Despite this,
however, Ranma felt a slight sensation of unease in his gut. A high speed
chase through a city such as Phoenix, much like anywhere else in America,
usually ended with several wrecked cars and people injured or killed. All it
took was one slight misstep and it would be all over.
While their car may have been able to hang with his, it could not
out run the radio. A call placed to the Phoenix Police had warned them of
the chase headed their way. Their units would be in position, waiting
somewhat impatiently to block the two's escape. The local cops would be
anxious to tear into the ones who had just killed three of their own. Law
enforcement was practically a huge family, and when you messed with one, you
messed with them all.
"Damn idiot!" Ranma exclaimed as the Buick cut off a small Hyuandai.
The tiny compact's brakes screamed as it dodged the larger piece of Detroit
engineering only to smack into another car on its right. Ranma kept after
them, not sparing a glance at the accident behind. Paramedics would soon be
on hand to tend to the injured.
He slammed on the brakes, cranking the wheel hard to the right to
follow the suspect's abrupt turn. The anti-lock brakes allowed to perform
the powerslide maneuver, spinning the wheel in the opposite direction and
punching the accellerator as he came out of the spin. The rear tires
squealed for a moment as the powerful engine's torque jumped, catching and
propelling the car forward again. They had managed to gain a couple of feet
on him, though still remained in sight. They probably knew that police
roadblocks were being set up just about everywhere.
They were stickng to the main streets so far, dodging and weaving
through slower traffic as they tried to escape. Ranma's eyes kept scanning
as much of the city as his speed would allow, details becoming lost in the
blur of motion around him. Up ahead, he saw the tell-tale flashing blue
lights and allowed himself to smile. This just might...
//CRAP!\\ The Mercedes ahead to his right moved into his lane,
forcing him to swerve out into oncoming traffic. Time seemed to slow to a
crawl as another Crown Victoria, a navy blue one, pulled out of a nearby
side street directly into his path. His eyes locked with the driver's, an
elderly lady whose face went pale from terror as he desperately tried to
avoid the horriffic wreck that was sure to come.
The two cars collided, the front left wheel riding up onto the hood
of the other car briefly as it was launched into the air. The G-forces
increased as the world began to spin out of control, his car leaving the
ground and spinning in space.
The sound of his roof hitting the pavement was immediately followed
and dwarfed by the thunder of his car rolling back into the air and hitting
the street again. Ranma couldn't count how many times the car flipped over,
just praying that he would survive the accident. Another sound ripped
thorugh his ears as the car abruptly stopped. Ranma barely felt the impact,
could hardly feel anything as the cold crept through him and the world faded
into nothingness.
==============================================
Nabiki looked at the bandaged form lying still on the bed. The
hospital room, like every other on the face of the planet, was a study in
sterility. The walls, floor, ceiling, every available surface was a dull
off-white color that reminded Nabiki of sick people. She really hated hospitals.
The form stirred, slowly awakening beneath the thin sheet covering
from the neck down. She had to admit, his recovery was nothing short of
miraculous. The accident should have killed him, officially had in fact, and
yet a mere two weeks later he was almost ready to leave. If nothing else,
Ranma Long was made of some pretty stern stuff.
A doctor came in shortly after Ranma began to awaken, a nurse
following with a tray of gauze and scissors. He was a balding man, the white
lab coat hiding the physique his gallant posture hinted towards. The nurse,
a petite brunette in a white blouse and khakis, moved to Ranma's face while
the doctor took a pair of scissors to the bandages.
The gauze coverings fell away as the scissors sliced through them,
eventually revealing a brand new reconstructed face.
"Welcome back, Mr. Knight," Nabiki said, using Ranma's new surname.
Ranma's sea blue eyes fluttered open, casting a bleary gaze in her direction.
"Who're you?" he asked, his voice scratchy from weeks of not being used.
"My name is Nabiki," she replied, "you're a very lucky man Mr. Knight."
"Knight?"
"The doctors said your memory may be a little off due to the head
injury you sustained," Nabiki said, hoping the thin explanation would hold.
"Fortunately, they were able to reconstruct your face." The doctor, who had
remained silent during the exchange, handed Ranma a mirror.
Ranma stared into the reflective surface, running his fingers across
the side of his face. His eyes showed a brief flash of recognition before
becoming lost and confused again.
"My face..." he trailed off as he continued to stare into the mirror.
"Ranma," Nabiki said, removing the mirror from his grasp, "there is
a lot that has to be explained to you."
"Yeah, like who am I?"
"But not here," Nabiki continued despite the interruption. "Get
dressed and meet me in the parking lot. The orderlies will show you the way."
"Hey, wait!" she heard him shout as she left the room. Nabiki
resisted the urge to punch the nearest wall as she strode briskly down the
antiseptic corridors. Of all the potential pilots, William just HAD to
choose that one, didn't he? No field tests, no sims of the Two Thousand,
just a cop from Arizona who knew how to drive with the best of them.
William, in his usual fashion, had simply said that Ranma was the one. No
one else could effectively pilot the damnable car, it had to be him.
Oh, well, if William wanted him that badly, Nabiki would ensure that
he got him. And when he failed miserably, William would see the light and
let HER choose. Or if, despite the odds, he was a success, well, she would
be forced to a full course meal with humble pie for dessert.
===============================
The sun stabbed at Ranma's eyes as he stepped out into the parking
lot. Cars and trucks of all sizes, shapes, and colors occupied nearly every
available parking space in the expansive lot. Around the perimeter stood
ancient pines, their green needles reaching to the heavens as they towered
above the people on the blacktop below.
The clothes were a good fit, blue denim jeans that were just baggy
enough to be comfortable and a white tee shirt covered by a black leather
jacket. The air held a slight chill to it as October got underway, promising
even more come November and December.
"Okay, Nabiki," Ranma said when he saw her. Her charcoal gray skirt
and vest accented her curves perfectly, black stockings vanishing above the
skirt's hem. "What's goin' on?"
"Your car is there," she said, pointing behind him. "Come to FLAG
headquarters as soon as possible."
"Where?" Ranma asked as Nabiki entered the back of an obsidian
Mercedes sedan. The Swedish car's engine purred to life, accellerating the
car out of the parking lot and his sight.
Ranma turned to see a sleek black Trans Am waiting for him. He
walked up to the idle machine, a low whistle of admiration escaping his
lips. Every curve of the aerodynamic design flowed smoothly into the next,
the somewhat pointed nose lending the impression of a bullet on wheels. The
entire body was black, even down to the hubcaps. A red light flashed back
and forth on the car's front, drawing his attention briefly.
Shrugging his shoulders, Ranma opened the driver's door, sliding
into the tan interior. He closed the door, scanning the impressive displays
of gadgetry on the dash.
//Whoa.\\ The dashboard's displays were entirely digital, not a
single gague to be found. A medium sized monitor, darkened like the rest of
the dash, rested in the crook of the dashboard. In the center, just above
the gear selector, was a small window and a panel of labelled buttons all
within easy reach.
Ranma turned the key, the engine immediately humming to life. The
dashboard displays lit up like a Christmas tree, three zeroes appearing in
the window labelled "Mph".
//This looks like Darth Vader's bathroom,\\ Ranma thought as he
grabbed the steering wheel, a boomerang-shaped piece of black plastic with
handles on each side. Shifting the car into Drive, he steered it gently out
of the parking lot.
===========================================
The countryside blurred past, unnoticed by Ranma. His hands worked
the steering wheel subconsciously, driving on auto-pilot as his mind
desperately tried to make sense of what had happened. He had no memory of
who he was, of what he had been doing before waking up that morning, that
Nabiki's explanation creating more questions than it answered. What was
FLAG? For that matter, WHERE was FLAG? Maybe she expected him to know how to
find it? And where had this car come from?
"I ain't gonna get answers like this," Ranma muttered to himself as
he cruised down the mostly empty highway. "Maybe I should go to this FLAG
thing. But where is it?"
"You mean you don't know?" The disembodied voice startled him, the
car veering wildly to the left before Ranma could regain control.
"Who..." he began, unsure of what had just happened. "Who said that?"
"I did," came the reply. Ranma looked down at the gear shift,
noticing the three vertical lines that had vanished into the center of the
small window.
"Who.. what are you?!"
"I am the Knight Industries Two Thousand, or KITT if you prefer,"
the voice said, the three red lines rising and falling in resemblance to a
strange kind of frequency analyzer.
"KITT?"
"That's right. And you are Ranma Knight, my driver."
"Hey, pal, I ain't your driver!"
"I'm afraid you are, Ranma," KITT replied. "I was told that your
memory was damaged in the accident, so I understand your confusion."
"What accident!" Did this thing know something?
"I do not know the details, but you were in a very serious car
accident shortly after being assigned as my pilot. FLAG was unwilling to
assign anyone else, possibly due to your rather high scores on the tests, so
they waited for your recovery. Thankfully, it was swift."
Ranma struggled to keep his focus on the road, his mind whirling
with conflicitng thoughts and feelings. What was going on!? Why couldn't he
remember!?
"Ranma," KITT said with a concerned tone, "your heart rate's
elevating, and your grip on the wheel is getting rather tight. Are you okay?"
Ranma slammed on the brakes, the rear wheels leaving twin trails of
black streaks on the pavement as the car skidded to a halt.
"What's goin' on here!"
"Ranma, please calm down," KITT said, "we have to get to FLAG
headquarters."
"I ain't goin nowhere!" Ranma pulled the doorhandle, a dumb sort of
surprise overtaking him briefly when the door refused to open. "Let me out!"
"I'm sorry, Ranma, I can't do that," KITT replied.
"The hell you can't!"
"Listen, we have to..."
"I SAID LET ME OUT YOU PILE OF JUNK!"
"Pile...of...junk!?" Ranma, still trying to open the door, didn't
notice the indignant tone in KITT's voice. "Pile of junk, am I? I'll show
you junk!"
The shock of the takeoff caught Ranma totally by surprise, forcing
him back in the seat as the car sped up. His hands grasped the wheel in a
white-knuckled grip as he pounded on the brake pedal.
"HEY! What's happenin'!"
"You're going to FLAG headquarters one way or another, even if I
have to drive you there myself!"
"Drive me yourself?" Ranma asked in disbelief. "How're you gonna do
that?"
"What do you think I'm doing now?" KITT replied as the car continued
to accellerate. Ranma looked at the dash display, shocked to find the car
already topping 160 and still climbing.
"Let me out!"
"Not until we get to FLAG headquarters. Now sit back and enjoy the
ride!" Ranma, realizing with dread that he was at the mercy of KITT, sat
back with his hands still on the wheel.
======================================
FLAG Headquarters was set back in the Virginia countryside, a
Victorian mansion dating back at least a century. Trees dotted the green
landscape around it, a long gravel drive leading up to the front doors.
Ranma took it all in, silently amazed. It was one of the most expansive
houses he'd ever laid eyes upon. Pines, elms, oaks, and weeping willows
streaked past as KITT raced along the loose rock to the looming estate.
"Uh, KITT," Ranma said, "you gonna slow down?" The house grew
rapidly closer as the speedometer read eighty mph. "KITT? KITT!"
The brakes engaged, KITT's rear sliding around and throwing a cloud
of dust and gravel in its wake. Ranma's teeth clenched as his grip on the
steering wheel threatened to break it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he braced
himself for the inevitable.
The sensation of movement ceased, Ranma still clinging to the wheel.
He barely registered the sound of his door opening. He slowly opened his
eyes and gawked in amazement at the doors to the house.
"Ranma," KITT said, "you can get out now."
Ranma wasted no time in leaping free, spinning around to glare at
the sleek machine.
"The hell's wrong with you!"
"Am I junk now?" KITT asked in a condescending and intimidating voice.
"Why, you..." The door ahead swung open, Nabiki's voice calling him.
"Ranma! So glad you could make it! This way, please!"
The halls of FLAG headquarters were as stately and luxurious as the
grounds. Everywhere Ranma looked he saw pieces of classical art and
sculpture. The walls and hardwood floors were polished almost to gleaming.
He lost count of how many doors he and Nabiki had passed, simply
keeping an eye on her. Up a flight of stairs, a few right turns, a left,
and... Ranma found himself before a large oak door bearing a chess piece on
it, a knight if he wasn't mistaken.
The inside of the room was as comfortable as the outside, a large
four-poster bed in the center. Nabiki stood aside as the form beneath the
comforter rose to a sitting position.
The old man was deathly pale, his translucent skin hanging off his
face. His eyes, on the other hand, held the intense and determined gaze of a
man half, even a quarter of his years.
"Hello, Ranma," he said in a voice that sounded much younger than he
looked.
"Who're you?"
"My name is William Knight, founder of the Knight Foundation for Law
And Government. Or FLAG for short."
"So that's what FLAG is," Ranma said softly as the realization hit him.
"I assume you met KITT?"
"You mean that psychotic car?"
"K-chan is NOT psychotic!" screamed a female voice from behind one
of the doors in the room. It burst open, an Asian woman storming through.
Her black hair hung down her back in a loose ponytail, her brown eyes
shining with indignation. Her blue coveralls bore the chess piece logo on
the left breast, which Ranma tore his eyes away from with a conscious effort.
"And he is not junk, either!" shouted the chestnut-haired American
woman who entered the room behind the former.
"Sorry, but, who are you?" Ranma asked.
"Allow me to introduce Akane Tendo and Bonnie Barstow, lead
designers and mechanics on the Two Thousand project," William Knight replied.
"You hurt KITT's feelings, Ranma," Akane growled at him.
"Hurt... how the hell do ya hurt a car's FEELINGS!"
"KITT is not an ordinary car," Nabiki said, cutting off the
arguement before it could even start. "He was designed by the Knight
Foundation for the purpose of locating and apprehending criminals."
"Then why not sell it to the police, or the FBI?" Ranma asked.
"We are not talking about common street hoods Ranma," William said
just before a spasm of coughing seized him. Akane and Bonnie moved to the
ailing man's side, offering silent comfort until the fit passed.
"These criminals often operate above the law, powerful enough to
evade capture by conventional means and even corrupt some law enforcement
personnel and agencies."
"So why do ya need me?" Ranma asked. "The damn thing drives itself!"
"True, but KITT cannot make the arrests himself, nor can he
interrogate suspects. For those reasons, among others you may or may not
understand, he needs a human pilot."
"And that's me."
"You got it, Ranma," Nabiki said.
"Why me?"
"Because you're the only one who can," WIlliam Knight said, his eyes
boring deep into Ranma's. He could feel the plea in that gaze, the authority
the man held. Ranma nearly relented before his mind re-asserted itself.
"What if I don't want to?"
"Fine by us," Akane said, "we don't need someone who'll just yell at
poor K-chan!"
"Oh, will you..."
"ENOUGH!" William shouted, his voice booming through the room with
startling force. He returned his gaze to Ranma, those eyes filled with a
determination the latter had neer before seen. "Ranma, please, pilot KITT at
least for a little while. If you still don't want to drive him, then I will
find someone else and send you on your way."
Ranma swallowed with an audible click, actually intimidated by the
sickly old man before him. He had never felt that kind of raw force from
anyone before, and knew he couldn't refuse. After all, he could leave
anytime, right?
"Just one question."
"Yes?"
"Who else is driving? I mean, KITT ain't the only one of those
things, right?"
"Actually, Ranma, he is."
"WHAT?!" Ranma couldn't believe what he had just heard. Only one car
and one driver? "That's nuts! I'm just one guy!"
"Ranma," WIlliam said, the epitome of seriousness, "one man can make
a difference. I am convinced that one man is you." The silence afterward
seemed to press heavily on Ranma's shoulders, a burden he soon wished to
shed. Nodding once, Ranma turned and left.
"Are you certain about this?" Bonnie asked. William could hear the
unease in her voice, and could not blame her. He was beginning to wonder
himself if this was a mistake.
"Yes," he replied. There was no sense in letting his uncertainty
slip. After all, if the founder of FLAG didn't have total faith in his
agent, then how would the others gain faith in him? "I'm certain he is the one."
=================================
Well, that's the teaser. What do you think?
Jed