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Blue Thunder - Thunderbolt
Blue Thunder - Thunderbolt
written by Peter Forsythe
Based on the short story "Fly,Cupid's Arrow"
written by Linda Chapple

Blue Thunder is based on haracters and situations created by
Dan O'Bannon and Don Jakoby

Copyright@2005 by Columbia Pictures
All Rights Reserved

No infringement of copyright is intended.

Author's note - this short fan fic is set in between Blue Thunder 2-Millennium Thunder and Blue Thunder 3-Iron Thunder.

Louisville, Kentucky
July 21, 2005 AD

Contrary to many people's expectations, life as a member of the Blue Thunder team was not one of constant excitement and danger. There were long interludes of routine patrols and sweeps that were almost boring in their total uneventuality. Even during the Terror Alerts that often cropped up, due to intelligence from Homeland Security, or a recent terrorist attack, like the recent bombings in London, England, some patrols held a bad case of sheer boredom. Richard Holt was of the opinion that there was nothing wrong with peace and quiet every now and then, but when they had been on routine patrols and investigative flights which had led toabsolutely zip for the past month,(especially when the Terror Threat Alerts were at normal and both he and his partner, Michael Ralston were flying in the regular police jetranger during normal duties)a person could be excused for getting a mite bored.

It was only last month, when a witness, also his confidental secretary, who could put her employer, corrupted financier Richard J. Lassiter behind solid steel bars was rescued by the Blue Thunder unit from an estate where her kidnappers were previously holding her hostage, until Lassiter's court-trial was finished. He has been sentenced for 25 years for fraud, extortion and imtimidation, and was scheduled to be transferred to the Oldham County Penitentiary, a medium-security facility, located in the eastern part of the state. Complaining of a gut instinct that Lassister would have his associates prepared to rescue him from lifetime imprisonment while being transferred in a police motorcade, Frank Murphy warned both Michael and Richard not to go anyway near the transportation, however both did. If they hadn't, then Lassiter would have gotten away scot free, thanks to a truck parked in the middle of the routed road with heavy automatic weapons, which was blown away by Blue Thunder's 20mm 6-barrel Vulcan electric cannon. In prison, Lassiter already had developed plans in breaking out of the jail, only to find one of the jail's snitches overhearing his conversation with his lawyer, which resulted in him having a knife stabbed into his back. With no information or clues of as to how or when Lassiter plans to escape, Murphy authorized to let Richard "Ski" Butowski go undercover as a prisoner and Lyman "Bubba" Kelsey as one of the jail's guards. This was done to stage an operation which hopefully would reveal the financier's thoughts, but what Ralston and the crew did not know was that Lassiter had already caught-on about the undercover operation, and already had a solution for it, which includes kindapping Ski, holding him as "insurance".

Thankfully, that did not happen, and Lassiter was killed when Blue Thunder arrived on the scene. Lassiter nearly shot Ski, but Ralston fired off the helicopter's electric cannon, blowing Lassiter into a billion bloody pieces. That also included his henchmen, who made the fatal mistake of firing on the high-tech police helicopter.

That was another interesting aspect of the first prototype left over from Project THOR. Whenever the terror alert was raised, or a special situation had risen, The APEX Division(which was a department within the Homeland Security government agency)assigned the Blue Thunder Unit to various law enforcement agencies within the Bluegrass state. Sometimes they were assigned to the FBI or Treasury. Which usually meant pulling the LMPD personnel and officers from their regular duties and activating the unit.

"Yeah, Michael?" Holt perked up at the sound of Ralston's voice. "What do you need?"
"I need for you to quit fidgeting. It's getting on my nerves."

Holt twisted around in his seat to glare at the back of Ralston's neck. Unfortunately, the patented Holt 'Gaze of Death" proved just as ineffectual on this occasion as it had before, and Ralston remained singularly unsinged, unfazed, and generally unaware that he should have been a smoking pile of ashes in the pilot seat. Although, given that he was currently piloting Blue Thunder01 over the early afternoon rush hour on I-71 East, having anything happen to Ralston might be considered unwise.

"I wasn't fidgeting," Holt said, with considerable dignity. "I was just..." he groped for the appropriate word.
"Fidgeting," Ralston supplied ruthlessly.
"Well, Christ, Michael," Holt said defensively. "It's been so boring as hell!"Ralston twsited around to give him a crooked grin of sympathy. "Nothing wrong with a little bit of boring, every now and again," he jokingly soothed."Yeah, it's all right for you, but boring doesn't exactly impress the girls," Holt said morosely. "I was counting on us pulling off something brilliant in time for Valentine's Day, then I could have walked up to any girl and got a date from her."
"Oh, so that's why you've stopped harping on about a life of peace and tranquility,"Ralston said, as the light dawned. He managed to hold down his laughter with difficulty. "I'm glad you're still looking at women after Laura had passed away. But honestly, Rick, being in trhe news just attracts the wrong kind of woman. You don;t want to wind up with some glory-hunting groupie-type who's all cleavage and no brain, do you?" He paused as he took in the way Holt's eyes had glazed over."Forget I said that," he sighed.
Special base to Blue Thunder, come in."
The sound of the radio successfully distarcted Rick and he swung back to the compuetr console in front of him. "Apex Control, this is Blue Thunder 01. We copy."
"Blue Thunder, please alter course to assist in a traffic accident. We haven't all the details, as yet, but it appears to be a large one, and there is a possibility of a fuel tanker being involved. All units have been asked to assist."
"Copy, Apex," Holt acknowledged. "We're on our way."

Holt passes on the location to Ralston and felt himself tense as the Witch(what he called Blue Thunder)altered course and started heading in the direction of the accident and pile up. Which was on the Gene Snyder Freeway, going west, and not far from the Springhurst Shopping Area near the Ford Motor Plant. Npw that he got his wish and a little excitement had come into his life, he found himself regretting he had made one. A traffic pile-up meant that people could be hurt, even killed, and there was no way he would have wished harm to someone just to make that a little bit more exciting. He remembered the one traffic pile-up they had been called on to help out with and his stomach started to tie itself in knots. It had been the night that Justin Preminger had blown away that Iranian family in St.James Court in Old Louisville, and when he first met Ralston. The spectre of a fuel-tanker going up in flames didn't exactly make him feel any better.
"Take it easy, Rick."
"As always, Michael seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, or some kind of sixth sense which told him that his partner was unsettled. Something he may have inherited from Annette. Holt was torn between exasperation and appreciation. "Do you have some kind of camera back here that I don't know about?" he demanded.
Ralston chuckled. "Yeah, that's likely, isn't it? Nah, I just know you and how you can start to visualize what we're going to see. I'm not saying that's a bad thing," he said hastily, practically hearing the furious bristle his young partner would make at the idea that he was anything other than professional, "but it can sometimes wear a persondown if they're not careful.""Special base and Apex said a fuel tanker, Michael," Holt pointed out."That they did, but it hasn't exploded just yet. I can see the crash site from up here and there are no clouds of black smoke. If the tanker had gone up, we'd already know about it."

After a second, Holt realized that Michael was right. From the height they were flying at, they would have already spotted the signs of the kind of fire a ruptured fuel tank would create. the fact that there was nothing in sight came as a huge reassurance and he sank back into his seat with a sigh of relief. the old adage of 'be careful what you wish for' came to mind and he decided that peace and quiet had its positive side.

It did not take them long to locate the site of the accident and Ralston circled the spot slowly as Rick ran a few automatic scans. There was a fuel tanker, but to his relief, Rick saw that the driver had managed to avoid pilling into the tangle of wreckage of the other cars and was simply canted at an angle on the side of the freeway. He could see no signs of the actual tank having been breached and as he watched, a fireman came into sight from the far side, looked up and waved reassuringly.

"That's always a good sight to see," Ralston said, as he looked down as well. "At least that's one thing we don't have to worry about. Let's see about finding a place to put down."

By now, the Louisville Metro Police Department had coordinated with the other services to get things organized and it wasn't long before Ralston was able to get in touch with someone on the ground who directed him to where an air-ambulance from Jewish-Norton's Hospital was in the process of lifting up off the ground. He stood off uuntil the other skycopter was clear and then settled down in its place. After shutting Blue Thunder 01 down, Michael and Richard got out and made for the uniformed officer who seemed to be in charge. He turned to give them a quick smile and acknowledging nod before returning his attention to the Fire Chief.

"Frankly, it's a damn miracle we haven't had any fatalities," the Chief was saying in relief. "We've just airlifted the two worst injured and we have about a dozen more people we need to cut out of their cars, but when I think about how bad it could have been...."He shook his head in grateful disbelief.

In a way, the scene reminded Ralston of something he read in a Buck Rogers novel. Right after the battle with the War Witch, Buck went to the remains of NASA Headquarters in Houston, Texas, to confront the ghosts of his past. A wonderful, touching story about Buck becoming adjusted to 25th Century Earth, despite the fact that his own planet was in turmoil. The portions of bleak depression in the story were soon interrupted when Buck had to investigate a series of starship disappearances near a black hole. It turned out later in the story that a rogue space pirate had in his posession a crystal that could scramble the signals of those ships and send them into that same collapsar.Like the one where Buck came to Kentucky to stop some mercenaries raiding the ruins of Fort Knox, Ralston also enjoyed that short high-tech space opera fantasy.

"Maybe St.Valentine was watching over us today," the officer said, with another easy smile. Now that he knew he didn't have a scene of carnage on his hands, his mood had tilted towards the mildly euphoric. He had some visions of having to arrange for people to be told that their loved ones were currently a mangled, bloody, and burned mess on the Gene Snyder freeway.

The Fire Chief groaned. "Don't remind me! I was in the middle of arranging to send my wife a bunch of flowers when I had to scramble. Now, I don't know when I'll be able to get it done."

"Here, use my cell phone," Holt offered, digging it out of his flight suit and hanging it to the Fire Chief. "I've got the number of a very good florist stored, if you don't have one in mind." He realized that all three men were looking at him with identical expressions of fascinated amusement and he reddened. "I send my girlfriend a lot of flowers, okay?" he finished defensively.

"Yeah, right," Ralston laughed. he introduced himslef to the officer, letting Holt off the hook while the Fire Chief eagerly took advantage of the offer he had been given. Ralston noted with approval that he was still watching his men as he did so, ready to respond to any sign that they needed his experience and authority.

"You look like you've got everything pretty much under control," he commented.

The metro police officer, who had introduced himslef as Sergeant Grissom, nodded in relief. "It looked really bad at first, especially when we realized that a fuel tanker was involved, but there was only one critically injured person and the paramedics seemed to think that he had a pretty good chance, especially since he could be airlifted to Jewish, Norton's, or University Hospital. Traffic's going to be snarled up for the rest of the afternoon, by the looks of things, since we need to cut people out of their cars before we can shift most of the wreckage. Could have been way worse, though."

"I'll say," Ralston concurred slowly. "Anything we can do to help?"

Grissom frowned slowly and shook his head. "Unless Cheif Priest can come up with something. I don't see why we should tie you up. That air ambulance will be coming back once it's dropped off at the hospital, so if there is another badly injured person in there, we'll be able to get them to the hospital fast. the firemen have already gone through the cars to make sure that the people we still have trapped are more frightened than in danger. Hey, Morris!" he called as the Chief switched off the phone and returned it to Holt with a grateful smile. "Do you need Blue Thunder around?"

Morris Priest pursed his lips and gave them a thoughtful look. "You got thermal imaging?" he asked.

Ralston gestured at Holt. "Ask the Boy Genius," he said with a grin.

Holt wrinkled his nose at him before turning back to the Fire Chief. "We do and I did a scan of the crash site as we were passing over it. Would you like to have a look?"

Fire chief Morris Priest gave him a borad smile. "That I would. Might help us catch something we missed on the visual. Lars!" he bellowed over his shoulder. A tall, chunky blond firefighter straightened up and looked in Priest's direction, then came towards them in obedience to the Chief's wave. "Right then, let's see what you've got."

Always happy to show off Blue Thunder's abilities, especially to an appreciative audience, Holt spent a contented fiifteen minutes going over the scans with Morris and his assistant Lars Crawford, comparing it with what the firemen had already determined on their own. Once that had been done, the firemen thanked him and drifted off, already slipping into their own specialized language and sounding just as incomprehensible to Holt as he and a fellow computer tech would undoubtedly sound to them in similar circumstances. Holt went in search of Ralston and wasn't surprised to find him helping some of the officers keeping back the television and newspaper reporters who had swarmed to the site. Holt had already registered two news helicopters circling the area while he had been talking to Chief Preist and his assistant. WAVE 3 and WHAS 11, no less. It would be a matter of time before SkyFox 41 and WLKY 32 sent their newscopters out here.

"Goddamn Ghouls," he muttered under his breath, casting a jaundiced eye upwards. "I'll bet they are disappointed that the tanker did not go up and give them some prime time footage."

He noted the look of envy a couple of the police officers gave Ralston, as he made it perfectly clear that the presence of the media swarm was unwanted. The higher ups at Apex had long since given up trying to get Ralston to make nice with the reporters. Michael used to have some reporter friends, and nowadays he had little to no patience with reporters. Even those who had the gall to stick a microphone in the face of a grief-stricken parent and ask them how they 'felt' about their only child having been found raped and murdered in some dark alleyway. Police officers, however, were supposed to be unfailingly polite, even when every instinct was telling them to scream a few home truths and NC-17 rated obscentities in the smug faces in front of them.

A sound distracted him and he looked around, ttrying to pin it down. It seemed to be coming from behind a Winnebago that had been hit by another car, and Holt circled the tangled metal warily. he had just figured out what the sound was and where it was coming from when he was startled by a hand coming down on his shoulder. He glanced around to find Ralston behind him.

"Time to go, kid. They don't really need us here," the bearded young man stated. "And I'm going to be on assault charges if I have to listen to the sanctimonious whining from that idotic dipshit from WAVE 3 for much longer."

"Wait up a moment, Michael," Holt shushed him. "I can hear a girl crying somewhere around here."

Ralston rolled his eyes at his friend. "Rick, the way you're tuned into girls, she could be crying in the enxt state and you'd hear her," he groused. He obediently got quiet when Holt glared at him and trailed after his partner as he continued to weave his way between the piles of shapeless metal.

Now that they were away from the main bustle, he started to hear what Rick's sharp ears had picked up. There was defintely a woman crying soemwhere close. When they eventually walked around another battered car and found her, Ralston felt his jaw sagging as he took in the sight. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting to find, but a young woman in full bridal dress had been nowhere near the top of the list.

She was sitting on the ground next to a car that was discreetly decorated with ribbons, now snapped and fluttering desultorily in what little breeze there was. A man in chauffeur's uniform, minus his jacket, was crouched down beside her, obviously trying to cheer her up. As they got closer, Ralston saw that the m an's jacket had been put on the ground to prevent the woman from soiling her dress. The car, a beautifully restored 1930's Rolls Royce, had been rear-ended by another car, but neither the driver nor the bride seemed injured in any way. Neither were they going anywhere, since they were securely blocked in by all the other cars.

"Hey, how are you doing?" Holt said, softly as he reached her side and crouched down beside her.

She barely seemed to register his arrival, so lost to her misery, but the young chauffeur gave him a strained smile. Ralston saw the way he was favouring one arm, but he couldn't see any sign of blood.

"She's a little upset," he said awkwardly, in one of the most massive understatements Ralston had heard in quite awhile. "We were supposed to be at the church in ten minutes."

"Damn," Holt said, the genuine sympathy in his voice making the innocuous word thoroughly appropriate. "Can't you call and tell them what has happened."The woman's finally seemed to register that there were new people around and she made a valiant attempt to stop her tears. "He'll....he'll think I don't w-want to marry him!" she whispered. "T-this was sup-posed to b-be third time l-lucky!"

The other men exchanged confused looks. Ralston saw that the chauffeur seemed as much at sea as he was. "Mind elaborating on that, Miss...?"

The chauffeur gave a start. "Oh, sorry, this this is Miss Julie Cooper. I'm Sam."

"Hi, Sam. Any idea what is upsetting her so much."

Sam gave a baffled shake of the head. "Apart from the obvious, that she is late, no. I know she was really agitated about being on time. Even after the accident, once she knew I was okay, all she seemed to care about was the fact that she was going to be late."

"Sure you are okay?" Ralston asked, pointing at his arm.

Sam colored. "It's just a sprain. One of the paramedics already looked at it and strapped me up," he explained. "I have to get it checked over later, but there are other people a lot more injured around. I'm worried about Miss Cooper. The phone in the car isn't working any more, so I can't use it to let my boss know what has happened."

"Ah, now that's something we can help you with," Ralston said with a mischievous smile. He reached down to filch Rick's phone out of pocket, ignoring the initial yelp of protest from his partner. "Here, call in and let them know you're okay."

While Sam gratefully took advantage of the offer, Ralston watched in amusement as his partner went work on Julie. One of the nice things about Rick was that he seemed genuinely unaware of the effect he had on women. Half of the time, he was far more successful in his quest for a date(since Laura died)when he wasn't making a conscious effort to impress. Right now, he wasn't trying to do anything more than calm down a distressed woman and see what he could do to help, but he was unknowingly saying and doing all the right things. By the time Sam had got through to his employers and had reassured them that he was all right(and broken the bad news about the car), she had calmed down enough to actually register their existence. She even managed to smile a little weakly in the factc that she was actually lucky to be alive and her fiance had better appreciate that or be pummelled into submission by one Officer Richard Holt of the Louisville Metro Police Department.

"It's just that this was the third time we've tried to get married, you know?" she said in despair. "The first time, I chickened out a month before the wedding and everyone was so mad. I just wasn't ready. And the second time, Mikey and my parents had a blsitering row and everything was in such a mess we decided not to go through with it. So this time we were so sure it was going to be third time lucky, you know? And now it's all ruined again!"

The tears spilled over and Rick looked up at Ralston a little helplessly. realizing that he was being called upon to add something to the conversation, Michael cast around for something positive to say. "Look, there's no way anyone can blame youfor this, Julie. I figure they'll just be thankful that you weren't."

"But we'll have to pay for eveything and we can't afford to do it all again!" Julie wailed. "Mikey said he loved the idea of my being his Valentine bride!"

Ralston sighed as she started to sob again. Kids, he thought. They weren't rational to begin with, but when you added being in love to the mix....hell, what would old Lieutenant Frank Chaney think of this? His thoughts of his late superior officer from Desert Storm were interrupted when he caught the accusing look Richard was giving him and shrugged helplessly. He tried to be helpful and where had it got him? "Look, it's not as if we can do anything about it, besides let your folks know what has happened."

Michael Ralston actually saw it happen, for once. he actually witnessed when one of Richard Holt's insane plans sprang into full-blown existence inside his head. He opened his mouth to demand that they leave immediately, before whatever stroke of 'genius' that had hit his partner expanded to pull him into it, but he was already too late.

"You know, we might be able to do something to help," Holt was saying thoughtfully.

"Yeah, like I said, we can contact her folks and let them know she's okay..." Ralston knew he was on to a loser, but he figured it was worth a try. he just knew that if he kept trying, one day he would head off one of Holt's lunatic schemes at the pass. Almost as bad as Annette when she forces me to do something, he thought. Goddamn his hide and hers!

"No, we could do better than that," Holt said, scornfully. "We could take her to the church!"

"We could what?!" Ralston yelped in disbelief.

"No, wait, Michael, hear me out," Holt said hastily, as he saw Michael suck in a breath to vehemently veto the idea. "There's no way Julie can arrange to find another lift to get her to the church on time, but Blue Thunder is just over there and we can get her there in maybe half an hour and even if we have to land out of the way..."

"There's a park directly opposite of it," Sam provided helpfully, before quailing under the glare that earned from Ralston. "Well, there is," he said sulkily. "A nice one with a pond."

"See, that's even better!" Holt said enthusiastically. "It's like Fate is on our side."

"So help me, Rick, if you even mention that fat cherub's name..." Ralston threatened. He ran his hands through his dark hair, helplessly aware that Julie had stopped crying and was now gazing up at him with an expression of hopeful trust on her face. So, for that matter, were Rick and Sam. Quite why the hell he was et on it escaped Ralston, unless it was some kind of vague professional desire for a job to be completed.

"Look, it's not that simple," he began desperately. "I can't just land Blue Thunder anywhere I like in the city. You know that, Rick."

"I can radio through to Apex and explain," Holt assured him. "I'm sure they'll go for it once I explain."


"Do you think that you could?" Julie breathed, clasping her hands together, her eyes like stars. Seeing her like that, Michael could see why she had a groom hyperventilating with panic at her non-appearance at an altar somewhere.

"It will depend on what Captain Murphy has to say," he decided, taking the easy way out of foisting the decision on someone else. He could not see Frank Murphy going for the idea, somehow.

"If only Mikki, Becky and the Desert Moon band could see us now," he said, walking over to the helicopter. "Those friends of mine would also plead with me to do the same."

Unfortunately for his hopes, Murphy and the entire personnel back at the ASTRO Division/Apex Control/LMPD Helipad showed an unholy eagerness to accept and go along with the plan.

"Come on, Michael," Frank said, as Ralston fumed at him over a private channel. Rick was fussing over Julie being buckled in properly and she was excitedly chattering over his cell-phone to her parents. "It's Valentine's Day, for God's sake. Let a little romance into your soul."

"Can't; I sold it to Annette at that last poker game we had with you and Kate, remember?" Ralston groused. He find himself grinning reluctantly when Murphy laughed. "Okay, okay, so I'm stuck with being Cupid's errand-boy. I suppose it could be worse. She could be an expectant mother in labor."

"Man, don't even joke about that!" Murphy exclaimed in horror.

"Sorry," Michael said.

Ralston's hope that Chief Priest might need them for something was also destroyed by a negligent wave of the hand. Indeed, the Chief had a suspiciously soft look in his eyes when he looked across at the bride, and Michael had a sinking feeling that the man probably had a daughter of his own and was busy empathizing with the other father at the church. His final hope dashed, Ralston summoned up a smile and got intobthe pilot's seat, quickly running through the pre-flight checks before powering up the rotors. About the only source of amusement he could find was the sight of the media circus a little off to the right of them. They had started to get excited when they had spotted the unusual sights of a woman in full bridal outfit being hurried across to Blue Thunder and being strapped in. Then Ralston and Holt got in and they were very obviously going to take off. It came as little surprise to see several of the vans reverse up and start to follow them when they took off.

"Did you get through to your parents, Julie?" he asked, once they were safely in the air.

"Yes. They had heard about the accident and everyone was afarid I had been hurt, so they were really pleased to hear from me." She gave a small gurgle of amusement. "I just told them I was onb my way. I sort of thought I'd keep Blue Thunder as a surprise."

Ralston rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling back. He could dimly remember going to extraordinary lengths to surprise his late parents, and he suspected that Julie was young and female enough to want to make the geandest of all possible entrances for her wedding. And he had no doubt that she had a willing co-conspirator in his partner. A glance over his shoulder caught the broad grin on Rick's face as he kept an eye on his console. Michael shook his head, switching his attention back to piloting.

The foolishness of youth never ceases to amaze me, he thought jadedly.

His eyes glued to the external cameras, Rick watched the trail of news vans following after themand his grin broadened. This was going to make a much better item on the evening news!

That night, every news program in Metro Louisville that had managed to get its hand on the film carried the item. The sight of Blue Thunder settling down in the small local park named Iroquois, in the south end of Louisville, startling the locals, was amusing enough, as it was the confused mob of people who had spilled out of the small church opposite. But the icing on the cake was when the young co-pilot of Blue Thunder had got out and ran around to the other side. Then he had carefully helped down the young bride, radiant in white lace and cream satin, her head-dress whipping around in the small wind sent down by the idly turning roors. She laughed and tossed the head-dress to one one side, leaving a coronet of tiny white flowers encicrling her dark hair. She had looked around in time to see a young man running towards her and flung herself into his arms before being swept up by him and taken towards the church.

"And that, Officer Ralston," Rick drawled, as they got back into Blue Thunder and took off again. "Is how you get in good with Cupid. He owes me, now. So maybe I'll finally get that date with someone special. Maybe even with J.J."

Ralston snorted. "I'll believe it when I see it, Rick. Besides, I know you won't succeed because you forgot one tiny, but essential detail."

Holt gave him a suspicious look. "Okay, I'm going to regret this. But, I'll bite. What important detail did I forget?"

"You forgot to hang hang around and catch the bouquet, of course."

Instead, for their services and as a sign of gratitude, they got a series of books written by Senator Dudley Martin and former Air-10 and 50 pilot Gil Franzen. A series of technothrillers entitled Arms Race, Revenge In The Sky, Trojan Horse, Skydiver, Clipped Wings, Payload, The Long Flight, and Godchild. Plus two movies: Clear And Present Danger and The Island. Plus two movie passes to see the Ridley Scott film Second Thunder, with Clint Eastwood, Gil Gerard, James Farentino, Dana Carvey, Marley Winston, Bill Bollinger, and Terry Burke.

When you looked at the end result, it wasn't so bad.

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