[suspenseful music playing]
[Elvis] I'm listening.
[man, on phone] Good.
Be at the Griffith Observatory in 30 minutes.
Come alone.
[car engine revs]
[ignition shuts off]
[car doors open and close]
[man, on phone] Go to the gift shop.
Buy a snow globe, a keychain, and a cherry Blow Pop.
- [Elvis] Blow Pop? - [man] Just do it.
Then go to the far left elevator and take it to the basement.
I'd take the next one.
[computerized voice] Welcome, Mr. Presley.
[dings]
You're late, Mr. Presley.
Well, it's a hell of a commute.
And eight bucks for a snow globe?
Yeah. We make a killing off that stuff.
By the way, not really what I was picturing for a headquarters.
Oh, this? No, this is just the room
where we murder people who try to break into the headquarters.
You have a problem with our methods, Agent King?
Well, believe it or not, I don't really like being called "King."
[laughs] Well, it's a little late for that kind of input,
because I already made this.
[suspenseful music playing]
It's out of my hands. The sticker makes it official.
[dramatic music playing]
Yeah. Shocked silence. That's right.
Welcome to TCB Headquarters.
[ominous music playing]
[feedback squeals]
This is the beating heart of TCB.
From here, we operate in the shadows.
Mm-hmm.
That's pretty damn big shadows.
[The Commander] Yeah, she's a beaut.
Ten stories beneath the Hollywood sign, impervious to nukes,
and completely fireproof thanks to the asbestos,
which we recently learned was a poor choice.
Problem?
Nah! Not for about 40 years, which would put you in your seventies,
and who wants to live forever, am I right?
We call this the Eye.
From here, we watch the world.
Just yesterday, I watched H Chí Minh
order an off-menu fish entrée at a bistro in Hanoi.
Well, that's, uh, pretty specific.
So was he, actually.
And here's our weapons testing range.
Speaking of, watch out for these blast doors.
They'll cut a toe clean off.
- Gregory Peck learned that the hard way. - [alarm blaring]
Twice, actually.
Turns out he's kind of a moron.
- [Elvis] What the hell is that? - [The Commander] Good eye, cowboy.
We call that the Pit.
No roughhousing near that thing.
Lost a few guys last month.
Well, you could put a cover on it.
[laughs] Put a cov... Put a cover?
Then why even have one?
[loud whooshing]
What the hell was that?
[The Commander] Fucking Robert.
So, I assume I've got an office around here somewhere, Commander?
- Uh, not yet. - Good.
Then we can get it right the first time.
Gonna need something big.
Uh, your office will probably do.
I'm also gonna need a TV budget.
Mine tend to get shot a whole bunch.
- And speaking of guns... - Uh, know what?
That's something you should probably take up with your supervisor.
Uh...
[laughs]
My what?
[man's voice] Did you bring the Blow Pop?
Nice!
[altered man's voice] Creepy as shit, right?
Mr. Presley, say hello to your Agent in Charge.
[giggles] This is gonna be fun.
Yeah... Not gonna happen.
Aw. Sad face.
Oh, she being in charge of me?
Ha!
Gonna pretend I didn't hear that.
Mm, that's a good one. I do that all the time too.
You gonna sit? For the briefing?
Not really my style.
Easier to take notes.
Also not my style.
[CeCe] Seems like a weirdly stubborn style.
Now you're getting it.
I don't enjoy public speaking.
I've been told, however, picturing your audience naked can help.
So...
[chuckles]
Problem?
Not anymore.
So, down to business.
We gonna talk about that shitshow that went down at Altamont?
- Later. - Because that device you sent us to find
turned that concert into a bloodbath.
Jesus. People bleed, okay? No time for that right now.
We have a bit of an emergency.
A file that threatens to expose the existence of TCB
has fallen into enemy hands.
You two are gonna get it back.
Piece of cake. Ooh, that sounds good. Yes, please.
[The Commander] And we need to get the file before this asshole reads it.
Huh. Okay. Slightly trickier cake.
Now I'm gonna assume that you just got your slides swapped here,
and you just didn't insult the President of the greatest country in the world.
What, Costa Rica?
I'm partial to Portugal.
In any case, at 1600 hours and 32 minutes,
that file will land on Nixon's desk in his private residence.
You two need to get it before he does.
Heh. Uh-huh.
[chuckles]
And by "get it," you mean "break into the White House"?
Yeah, fuck, break in, blow up, freeze ray. You know, work out the details.
It's not gonna happen, ace.
And you're not gonna change my mind with a stare.
Oh no, sorry, I...
I was just trying to remember who you remind me of naked.
- What? - Loving the weird energy right now.
[speakerphone buzzes]
[woman, on phone] Sir, we have a situation.
Words. Go.
Yeah, well, there's a tiny chance there's part of a finger in it,
so you're gonna have to...
How the fuck should I know why a chocolate volcano overflows? It should...
It should be fucking finger-proof!
I don't have a goddamn PhD in fucking chocolate volcanos!
Oh yeah? Well, you know what?
I'm gonna come over there and rip your fucking dick off,
shove it in the top of the volcano,
then we're gonna see how this goddamn thing goes...
Hang on a second.
Why are you guys still here? Please go do what I asked you.
Uh, listen up, Commander. I'm not stealing from the President.
It's not stealing if it's not his.
Same way it's not murder if you do it with your eyes closed.
Now go.
Sinatra. Naked, Sinatra. Neck down, you're Sinatra. That's it.
- [electricity crackling] - [door opens]
Ugh, what do you want?
[CeCe] Uh, bad time?
Uh, not if your lungs are impervious to DNA-altering nanobots.
Let's pretend they aren't.
Then I'd pretend to make it very quick and only breathe out.
Okay. Anyway, got a mission. Set us up?
Ooh!
So, what'll it be? Shooters? Melters? Exploders?
Ooh, we got some new screamers in. Or if you're feeling a little more...
hands-on?
It's a non-lethal mission, Howard.
Well, why didn't you say so? I would've completely tuned you out.
I can turn off my ears, you know.
Experiment gone wrong. Or... right.
- Howard, just... - [Howard] Ugh, fine.
Ooh! Wait! New idea.
Have you seen the new tranquilizer gun?
Metal detectors don't pick it up, and it causes total memory loss.
Ow! Shit!
Goddamn!
Ugh! What do you two want?
Okay. Guess we're off to DC.
Yep. And your flight leaves LAX in an hour.
[Elvis] Well, now, hang on a second.
Don't you have some kind of badass spy plane that we can use?
Of course we do. Don't be stupid. I'll be on that.
But the Commander wants us to keep up appearances, so you'll be flying...
[baby crying]
[man coughing]
[crowd shouting angrily]
Wait a minute.
So, you want me to help you break into the second-greatest home in America,
and I don't even get any kickass spy gadgets?
Come on, CeCe.
Look, I signed for the tranq gun,
and the paperwork trolls are so anal it's weird.
Fine.
Here. Take this.
There we go, there we go, there we go, there we go.
[laughs]
Now we're cookin', CeCe with an E. What's it do?
How the fuck should I know? I didn't make it.
[Bobby Ray] Say cheese!
- [camera snaps] - [Elvis] Yeah. Okay.
Maybe a few less photos of our secret spy mission, buddy.
Uh-huh, which those two are not coming on.
Bobby Ray is my right hand.
And Scatter's a grenade in my other hand.
If I'm on the mission, they are too.
Yeah, okay, just keep Nixon busy
while I fake-join a tour group and grab the file.
Hang on. A tour? Can I do that?
Nope. But how about the next best thing?
Howard shoved that disaster in my bag when he heard we were coming here.
Hot damn, it's also an audiobook!
Yeah. He said it would blow your mind.
Which, knowing Howard, might mean literally, so I'd be careful with that.
- [beeps] - [CeCe] Well, your funeral.
Now are you sure you can get to Nixon?
An idea or two, mostly along the lines of...
Elvis Presley, to see the President.
Okay, that was pretty cool.
- [metal detector beeps] - [agent] Sorry, Elvis.
I-I'm a giant fan, I really am,
but you can't take this in.
But it's a gift. For the President.
The President? Really?
Well, as soon as you get me a cool box for it, it is.
Oh, wait, then I know there's a really cool box in the Lincoln Bedroom.
Works for me, friend.
Yes, sir!
You got to be fucking kidding me. That actually worked?
[chuckles]
You're in my world now.
Which apparently includes one very stupid Secret Service agent.
[camera snaps]
[Howard, over recording] Hi, and welcome to the White House,
a structure that was stolen brick-by-brick from France,
and then reassembled in reverse so no one would notice.
What?
By now you should be passing the Roosevelt Room,
named after President Teddy Roosevelt,
who himself was named after the bear that ate his mother and then raised him.
Hey, E! Room's named after a bear, by the way.
I get that you want him on the mission, but does he have to be on the comms?
Hey, you gave him the book.
Take away his earpiece.
I don't think I will.
Not your call. I'm the Agent in Charge.
Then charge on over and handle it.
[CeCe, over radio] I need you focused on the mission.
Who, yours or mine?
It's the same mission!
Wrong.
You see, you're here to steal.
I'm here to prove that Nixon is tied with yours truly
for the World's Greatest American.
Spoiler alert, the guy actually completely sucks balls.
Get ready to be wrong one more time.
[Nixon] Mr. Presley.
It's an absolute honor to meet you, sir.
[CeCe] Ugh, gross.
Mr. President, honor is all mine, sir.
You are truly a great American.
[Nixon] Oh, thank you.
[CeCe] Couldn't quite hear that last part, but just curious.
What's the view like fully up his ass?
[Howard] Completed in 1909,
the Oval Office was designed by a guy named Brian,
who believed all right angles were a sign of the apocalypse.
Which they are.
Total fucking idiot. What a bunch of bullshit.
Which is why it's called the East Room.
Excuse me. Where's the bathroom?
Oh, bathrooms are at the end of this tour.
Mm.
Look, I kind of had a half-eaten burrito I found behind my hotel for breakfast.
- Ew, that's disgusting. - Yeah. Yeah.
Wait till you see it. You're about to if you don't tell me where the bathroom is.
Down the hall to your right.
Cool. Back in a jiff.
["Rubberneckin'" by Elvis Presley playing]
♪ Stop, look, and listen, baby ♪
♪ That's my philosophy ♪
♪ It's called rubberneckin', baby ♪
- [stomach gurgles] - Oh God.
I really shouldn't have eaten that burrito.
♪ Stop, look, and listen, baby ♪
♪ That's my philosophy ♪
♪ It's called rubberneckin', baby ♪
♪ But that's all right with me ♪
[song ends abruptly]
Yeah. And all those Secret Service morons just let him in, gun and all.
[man] Boss seems fine with him.
[gasps and pants]
Thanks. Wait, how did you get in here?
[uncertain groan]
[inhales and coughs]
[grunts]
Well, this has been great.
I must say it's been my honor, Mr. President.
But, unfortunately, I've got to head to the residence and read some...
Whoa, whoa. Not yet.
I mean, I almost forgot.
[snaps fingers]
You see, I, uh... I brought you something, sir.
[Nixon] Oh. It's magnificent.
I bet I could take down a drug-dealing hippie from 50 yards with this baby.
- Technically, you could take down seven. - [laughs]
That's the dream. Thank you.
For all you've done to restore security to this country, Mr. President,
you, sir, have earned it.
Hey, check this out. Gun!
[yells]
- [bones crack] - [punches land]
[cackles]
I'm just fucking with you boys.
[groans]
That's a good one, Mr. President.
[CeCe] Yeah. What a charmer.
Damn it. This hallway should be empty.
But of course Nixon has private security douchebags.
[sighs] We gotta get past those guys.
Wait, what are you doing? Are you stealing?
- [innocent grunt] - Don't worry. I steal too. All the time.
I just call it "souveniring."
It's all about the branding these days.
- [footsteps] - Shit. Need a Plan B, fast.
[gibbering]
[funky suspense music playing]
[Scatter yells]
[beckoning grunts]
Well, one great gift deserves another.
I understand you like badges.
Federal Narcotics Officer.
Just flash that baby if any staties give you trouble on the highway.
Wow.
I absolutely love it, sir.
What a generous, awesome, great-guy thing to do, Mr. President.
It's an incredibly irresponsible abuse of power, but sure, why not?
You know, a few really stupid people
don't realize what a great American you are, sir.
Little busy here, so if you can distract him
without actually blowing the guy, that would be great.
[funky music playing]
[sniffing]
Uh, is it just me, or does one of us smell like unwashed ass and beef jerky?
[Scatter gibbers]
Ah, see? I knew it. Awesome.
Now, the badge is only honorary, of course.
Well, let's play it by ear.
But that doesn't mean you can't beat the crap out of some criminals for me
from time to time, right?
[cackles]
[laughs]
Also maybe beat up a few Jews while you're at it.
- Do what now? - Ooh! That took a turn.
Sorry. Did I say "Jews"?
I, uh...
I meant Negroes. They blend for me, and sometimes literally.
[cackles]
Don't get me started on crossbreeding. [laughing]
[CeCe] There it is.
Moron.
Status report.
Crawling through a metal tube with a monkey.
Well, that sounds distressingly off-mission.
Don't worry, we're close.
Just keep me posted. And get it done.
Same goes for you.
Because if you're not done in five minutes,
these chocolate stains
become bloodstains.
- [grunting softly] - Okay, that's the residence, dead ahead.
[gibbers]
What, the tranq gun? Ugh, fine.
Hey, hey! Look at me. For emergencies only.
And a few extras for fun.
[gasps]
Did you just shoot the First Lady?
Wait, wrong tone.
[laughing] Did you just shoot the First fucking Lady?
Hilarious! Okay, now watch the door, okay?
[Scatter grunts]
[agent] Please. Already?
It's barely two o'clock.
Ah!
Helping a VIP guest like Elvis does not make me a groupie...
Ah!
[body thuds]
So, when you think about it,
the Vietnam War is really just the Lord's way
of ridding the world of another mongoloid bloodline.
Yep. I can think of a bloodline I'd love to get rid of,
sir.
[Nixon] Ha! I bet you can.
You know, Jesus loves napalm. It's in Corinthians.
- Of course, they call it... - [groans]
Can't take much more of this.
Yeah, even that weird-ass book was better than this shit.
[Nixon] Jesus, is that the time?
Sorry, I need to get back to the residence.
Great! Please do. Sounds good.
[CeCe] No! No! Sounds bad.
We're still in here.
Stall your shitty, racist hero.
Well, it was great meeting a like-minded man of action.
No, you know what? Can you wait a second, Mr. President?
Let's get a photo together.
I love it! Make it quick.
Let's do this, CeCe.
Excuse me!
Please don't take that tone with the Agent in Charge.
[Elvis] Which you're still not.
Get the file.
What file? Oh, right, right, right.
Oh, hello. That was easy.
Hell of a grip, son.
Feel free to loosen up.
Take the picture, Bobby Ray.
Take your time.
Whoops! Left the lens cap on.
[laughs] Whoopsie-daisy.
Hang on.
Oh man, no flash.
Whoops. Uh, hang on.
Now, what does this button here do?
Oh hell, I hadn't used one of these in a while.
- Don't have all day here. - Oh, it won't take a minute, Dick.
- Excuse me? - Oh no, no, no. Not like "dick," Dick.
Not like some spineless, lowlife piece of shit on the bottom of my boot
that gets scraped off onto a bigger pile of shit, kind of dick.
No. Like your name, Mr. President. Dick.
- I prefer "Mr. President." - I'll try to remember that.
[CeCe] Good news, I got the file.
And even gooder news, he had two letter openers, so we each get one.
Ooh.
Okay. What'd I miss?
[Scatter slurps, sighs]
- [barks] - [gibbers]
[laughs] Okay, fun thought,
but no live souvenirs.
[Bobby Ray] Damn it!
Okay, flash on, film in, cap off,
no scary birds at the window,
and are we ready?
[camera snaps]
Quite a grip there. Almost broke my hand.
Well, you can't blame a guy for trying.
Should've just shot that racist bastard.
On a secret TCB mission. Heh! Would've made a splash.
[CeCe] What are you two talking about?
Please tell me you morons aren't talking about TCB
during the mission that's about hiding the existence of TCB.
Don't worry, the asshole's gone.
Nixon records everything in the Oval Office, jackass.
We're screwed. Like, in every fucking hole.
This is why you shouldn't be in charge.
Mistakes like this.
[CeCe] Psst!
Okay, this is bad.
Hey, at least we got the file.
The file means shit if you're on tape talking about TCB. We're fucked.
Then how come the chimp's doing his celebration bump?
Hey! Cocaine is for winners.
Can we just call the Commander?
Why? So I can tell our boss that while I was busy hiding from gunmen,
crawling through vents and choking on monkey ass,
my subordinate fucked up his simple mission
to keep a shitty racist happy, and in the process...
- [sniffing] - ...exposed the existence of an organization
that managed to hide in the shadows for fucking centuries?
No, I wouldn't pitch it quite like that.
We need to know where Nixon's White House recording system is.
Oh come on, that's easy.
It's in a secret room behind the bowling alley.
What? It's Howard's audiobook.
Well, it's the best lead we've got. Come on.
Hold on a sec.
[glass shatters]
He doesn't deserve this.
But I do deserve this.
Hey, uh, think we got time for a game?
Uh, still on a covert mission, BR.
That must be it over there.
[doorknob rattles]
Oh hell no. Mm-mm. No more vents for this girl.
Scatter.
[gibbering]
[howls]
Okay, that works too.
[CeCe chuckles]
Jackpot.
"Kennedy blackmail," "Johnson blackmail," "Arnold Palmer blackmail,"
"Nixon's..."
"Nixon's sex ideas"?
What the hell are Nixon's sex ideas?
Ugh. Guessing angry missionary while watching police beat up teenagers?
Yep, I'd say that's about right.
Okay, I just went ahead and cut a full 17 minutes out of the tape.
The TCB thing is completely erased.
[guns cock]
Hey, fellas. Care for a game?
["Rubberneckin'" playing on jukebox]
♪ That's my philosophy ♪
[Bobby Ray] Strike! Still got it!
♪ Rubberneckin', baby ♪
♪ But that's all right with me... ♪
Getting the sense these guys aren't Secret Service.
Nixon's guys, ran into them earlier.
Full-on douchebags.
- [Scatter screeches] - [man] What the...
[Howard, over recording] Next up, the residence,
where Bess Truman famously killed
several extraterrestrials with her bare hands.
Congratulations. Blow-Your-Mind mode engaged.
♪ Stop, look, and listen, baby ♪
♪ That's my philosophy... ♪
How does this pen work?
Well, here's the thing. That actually might just be a really nice pen.
- [Elvis] What? - How am I supposed to know?
Howard doesn't label things.
Damn it. Next time I pick my own gadgets.
[man grunts]
Yep. Just a pen.
[alarm blares]
Okay, yeah, probably time to go.
[gibbering]
Shit. Where's the extraction point?
We got some agent-looking fellas coming up behind us back there.
Not to mention that.
[CeCe] Marine One? Oh fuck. We're fucked.
Huh?
[panting]
- Okay. - Did you get Nixon's sex idea tape?
Asking for a friend.
From now on, you're on all my missions.
Also, family photo. What'd you get?
"Truth about Area 51"?
Oh. My thing sucks.
As requested.
So, uh, you gonna tell me what's in there?
Son, that's above your pay grade.
[laughs]
You obviously have no idea how much I get paid.
Wait, are we flying the wrong way?
You're goddamned right.
I insist on every mission ending by flying into the sunset.
Fuck yeah.
God, my nipples are hard.
Maximum density.
[mysterious music playing]
Okay, Woodward. This is how this is gonna work.
It's simple.
I feed you information on Tricky Dick,
and you get to be the reporter who brought down an American President.
You don't call me. I call you.
And no names. Ever.
From here on, just call me Deep Throat.
Little nickname between Pat Nixon and I.
The woman's insatiable.
Hey, hey, anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like Robert Redford...
naked?
[upbeat rockabilly music playing]