"The partially, nearly Naked Gun 3 : 'They Saved Crumpf's Brain'..."

Summary: Frank Drebbin is out of retirement and on the case when he learns the fanatical former president and loser candidate Fred Crumpf may not be quite as dead as he left him and he and/or his crazies including his family threaten the newly elected President Woodrowmina Wilson.

Of course Nordberg is no longer on the squad because of, well, we never talk about that...

Part VII...

Hmmn...Frank eyed the open sachel and pages of "The Plot"...Wait that can't be Marilyn Monroe? He bent down as Creed in the opposing car fired through the partly opened window and the bullet passed through the two windows of Hocken's car to a thick metal plate on the tunnel beyond, ricocheting back just behind the car.

"Danged if I missed him!" Creed fumed. "Mr. Ford?"

Ford speeding to ram the police car in front, Creed emerging from window to fire back at Hocken's car.

"Whoa!" Hocken ducking a microsecond before the first bullet penetrated his windshield... "Down, Frank!" Drebbin ducking as well as Hocken swerved the car to get away from Creed's shots.

"Unwanted company, Mr. Creed!" Ford called as two police cars closed on them... A loudspeaker blaring for them to give themselves...

Creed shooting out one tire on the left most car in front of them which wildly spun off to the right wall, then firing into the second car which spun round and round, with a third car crashing into it. Fourth car immediately colliding.

"Hang on, Frank!" Hocken called. "This is my family car, you Nazi bastards!" he called out the window as Ford tried to ram him on the side while Creed took aim, firing into the car. Frank slapping a cartridge into his revolver and moving to take a shot.

"My apologies, Mr. Ford." Creed called to Ford. "I seem to have mucked up here."

"Not at all, Mr. Creed. But I fear we must disengage for now." Ford noted. "But not to fear...Tomorrow, or later tonight, is another day, or time."

"Much appreciated, Mr. Ford." Creed firing again as Frank began firing. Hocken keeping head down trying to dodge shots. "But allow me one last chance to redeem myself..." he bent down to open a case and pulled up a small rocket launcher.

"Aim for the tires, Frank!" Hocken called.

Frank firing and missing, the bullets ricocheting off the metal panels or embedding in the cement of the tunnel.

"Whoa!" Hocken stared as Creed stuck the rocket launcher out to fire at them, Hocken swerving the car wildly. The first rocket striking the last other functioning police car which flamed and struck the tunnel wall.

"Say, Ed. This tunnel's not underwater but I see water leaking from above?" Frank indicated.

"That can't be water...Uh oh..." Hocken looking while trying to keep down and drive... "I think they broke a gasoline line."

"I believe I smell gasoline, Mr. Creed..." Ford, sniffing. "I suggest we take the next exit and we leave this vale of tears while you send Mr. Drebbin off with a Viking funeral."

"Excellent notion, Mr. Ford." Creed called back. "I see a very fine puddle forming...Just say when!"

"Just a mo, there's the exit...All yours, Mr. Creed!" Ford called.

Uh-boy...Hocken staring as Creed aimed again out of the car before them, clearly intending to hit the growing pool of gasoline.

"Frank! Here we go!" he pressed down on pedal as Creed fired.

The tunnel erupting into a sea of flames...

"What the hell was that?!" Mayor Barkley cried in the Taglycan Complex main hall as the explosion rocked the place. Police and agents swarming to rush the civilians to safety.

Oh, God...Not again.

Drebbin.

...

About half a mile away, Banner and Derke, still in their guise as reporter and cameraman, were shaken and startled by the explosion about a thousand yards to their left and deep underground.

"Earthquake!" Derke, activating and aiming camera...Banner staring at him.

Well, we're supposed to be journalists.

Despite people fleeing, a number also crying "Quake!" and police quickly appearing, it was quickly clear this was not an earthquake.

"Come on!" Banner urged Derke. "This way..." as a number of police cars began collecting nearly to where the explosion had sounded.

"It's the tunnel!" one man cried, racing by them.

Hmmn...Banner pondered.

A bit more pyrotechnics that I might have wished for but...

"Slow down, we don't want to be the first on the scene!" he cautioned Derke.

We don't but ...We could scoop the other networks?

Several police men and women now hurried starting to set up barriers as fire trucks raced in. Now the first other reporters began showing up.

Dang, there goes our scoop, Derke thought.

"Come on, but careful..." Banner urged him. "There are other reporters here now. Ok, start filming me."

"This is Steven Rather..." My little tribute, Dan...Even if we're oceans apart on politics... "For Action News 10...An unexplained explosion near the Taglycan Center has rocked the streets of LA..." his phone buzzing.

Ah, there we are... "Hold it, Derke." He put up a hand. Derke turning to get some shots of the pandemonium.

Sighing, Banner opened phone...

"Yes? Is this...? Ok. Are you...Well? Good, good. And everything is good? No problems...? Everyone is secure? Excellent. And the President is safe, I trust? Good, good. We certainly don't want anything to happen to her...Yet."

Derke staring...

We don't? Ok...

"All right. Any word on Drebbin? I see. All right. And you're sure all went well? Would you mind sending me a picture, when you can? Thank you. You've done well as has everyone. Yes, well the Crumpfrer appreciates your sacrifice, my friend...As does the Party(ies). All hail our glorious Leader! Contact me when you can but be cautious. Don't arouse any suspicion. Good." He closed phone, beaming.

"Good news?" Derke asked.

"Very good news." Banner nodded. "Well, time to fight for the freedom of the press and get ourselves ejected...We've done all that's necessary. This way..."

"Ejected?" Derke stared. "But don't we need to see if that Drebbin guy's dead for sure?"

"Either he's dead or he's not and we can't do anything about that now." Banner shrugged. "Hey, coming through, press here!" he held up his phony press pass, indicating for Derke to do likewise.

A frowning police woman warned them from the barrier they'd now reached, Derke filming.

"Hows about letting us through, hon?" Banner smiled. "We gotta story to cover here."

"Uh-huh, turn around and go back five blocks, this area's closed. We have our media teams meeting with you guys there."

"But hows about telling us what's going on?!" Banner noted. "Give me an exclusive...The public has a right to..."

"Joe! Help me get these idiots out of here!" the policewoman called to another, burly male, officer...

"Lets move it, pal...Press table's back that way!" the male cop insisted.

"What's going on? Are you folks hiding something? What's happened? Hows about some details?! The public has a right to know!" Banner called.

Yeah, right on! Derke agreed, nodding.

"Move it along, buddy..." Joe the cop waved Banner off. Several other reporters coming up.

"They're trying to hide what's going on!" Banner called to his "brethren reporters".

"That's enough, move it along, now!" "Lets go! Come on." Other cops now coming to move the reporters and some onlookers back.

"Always the way, right?" Banner called to another reporter. "I'll be complaining to the Mayor, pal!" he called to Joe.

"Ok, lets go." He hissed to Derke. They moving carefully back just slow enough to seem to be reluctantly retreating.

"And once again we use Democracy against itself." Banner, grinning. "We avoided attracting attention being there too soon." He explained to a puzzled Derke.

"Never mind, just...Lets get back to the car."

"And we have word that a ceremony at the Taglycan Center was briefly disrupted..." A female reporter was telling her cameraman. "Several police may have been seriously injured in the explosion in the tunnel enroute to the Taglycan parking garage and a young boy, skateboarding on the edge of the tunnel is reported to have been wounded by a stray bullet. More as we learn details..."

Banner and Derke continued back...

"This way, we're heading for the car...Time to be heading for the Lair." Banner noted.

"But I thought we were here to see that that cop...Drebkin..."

"Drebbin. And it'll be great to hear he's dead but he's small potatoes and primarily a distraction. Now come on."

I really oughta know what's going on, Derke thought...Number two heir, after all.

...

About two hours later...

Creed and Ford walking, again in dark suits, having abandoned their uniforms, from their abandoned police car, they already lost among the city crowd in the busy LA nighttime area they'd previously chosen for leaving the "borrowed" police vehicle after the operation, heading for their own, carefully parked several miles from the Center.

"This is most distressing, Mr. Ford." Sigh as they walked.

"An unfortunate collateral in our profession, Mr. Creed." Ford noted sympathetically. "But the boy was only slightly wounded, according to the last report we heard. I will say, I think some blame must be laid at the parents' feet for allowing him out so late. And his considerable recklessness in entering an auto tunnel, rather filled with cars, at night, on skateboard."

"Yes, I suppose so...But while those involved, including those police officers, must accept their fates as line of duty as we accept our own risks, one prides oneself on avoiding injury and attracting attention through harm to innocents, particularly children. My record until tonight was pristine at least with regards to untargeted children, Mr. Ford. One feels a burden of guilt and the need to reflect on one's life choices."sigh.

"Understandable Mr. Ford..." nodding. "But are you seriously considering...?" concerned look.

"In lieu of such a happenstance, with all its potential for tragedy, one must consider it, Mr. Ford."

"Well, it would be a blow to our time-honored profession to lose an artist of your caliber, Mr. Creed. While I would feel obliged as your partner and friend to join in your action."

"Not necessary, dear friend. I would never ask such a sacrifice."

"We are a team, Mr. Creed...Like Astaire and Rogers, to part us would be a crime. Though, of course, should we depart the profession you know who are waiting in the wings to step into our position as the world's leading artists of assassination?" solemn look.

"Oh...Yes..." Sour look... "Lorelie Wilmore and her daughter, Lorelie "Rory" Jr..." frown.

The "Killmore Girls"...To take our podium spot?...Really?

"Hmmn...Not meaning to dismiss the expertise and style of such fine members of the profession...But they've such a tacky tag line." Creed shook head.

"But effective..." Ford pointed out. "'Killmore' does say it all. And they do kill with style, always putting their victims at total ease with their lovable Wasp young ladies style and witty banter. Plus, despite their natural caution to preserve their status in their community, not compromise the promising Miss Rory, or disgrace Lorelie's adoptive Wasp parents/Rory's grandparents, they are just three behind us...Till we complete tonight's assignment."

"Hmmn..." Creed reflected. "They do have a nice style but a bit saccharine at times...Living in such a perfect fairy-tale community, that small town in Connecticut they chose, adoptive parents/ grandparents always throwing money at them. I respect that Lorelie Scarchetti purged herself so well of her past after her once powerful crime family of New York was bloodily eliminated..."

"A brilliant move, winning the hearts of the partner and his wife of the lawyer she'd been sent to kill when she began her new profession as a freelancer after losing her Mafia princess position. But she needed some stability for her unborn child after her family's murderous enemies raped her and left her for dead." Ford noted.

"Makes a point of killing one member a year, in secret, of the other families, on the anniversary, doesn't she?" Creed asked.

"Understandable." Ford nodded. "After all, family is family. But it is heartwarming that she's refrained from killing her clueless adoptive parents despite the large fortune she could obtain on their deaths."

"Yes, but again...A bit saccharinely WASP at times. And really...It would be a shame to see our lead position lost." Creed sighed.

"What about...?" Ford pondered. "An anonymous donation to help pay for the boy's medical bills, with a little something extra for his schooling? A tasteful floral arrangement delivered with it to his home and a card, naturally anonymous, but expressing a private citizen's sorrow over our city's lamentable violence?"

Hmmn...Wan smile. "Mr. Ford, your flare for the social niceties remains ever acute. And on the personal level, you always know the right thing to do to make me feel better. Sounds wonderful."

"Excellent. Let me handle everything. I'll make the arrangements tomorrow."

"You're too good to me, Mr. Ford."

"It's my distinct pleasure, old friend. So, if we may proceed with the matter at hand...?" offers a photo.

"Lovely lady, if not looking too robust..." Creed noted.

"Mrs. Drebbin, spouse of our victim. Currently comatose at LA General... Excellent location for a chance to redeem ourselves of this minor setback." Ford nodded. "Mr. Drebbin being a most dutiful husband...He's sure to stop by sooner rather than later to let his wife know he's unharmed, even if she may be unaware of his efforts."

"I sensed that in him, despite our limited acquaintance. Well, so this means you'll get to take on a doctor's role again, I trust." smile.

"I must admit, I was hoping to do so...I enjoy the chance to stretch my acting skills."

"As I enjoy watching your performance, old friend. Well, thanks for indulging my moment of doubt."

"It's what I'm here for, Mr. Creed. Apart from our time-honored profession." Ford smiled.

...