♪ Followed by the dead ♪
♪ On the way to mercy ♪
♪ In the leper's head ♪
♪ In the after hours ♪ WOMAN: I get a call 7:00 a.m.
Owner's walking some developer through.
Thought all that money dried up.
Oil hasn't.
The guy's from Abu Dhabi or some Persian whosits or wherever.
He wants to turn this rat-hole into downtown lofts.
For rich kids playing starving artists.
The point is, this was my day off.
Was this stuff here before?
I think it came with the package.
OFFICER: Maybe he didn't want to bother the neighbors.
Could have done me the same favor.
I got to clean all this up.
♪ Till the night turns blue ♪
(g*n clicks)
OFFICER: Found the first one two days ago.
Same pedigree, same decorating sense.
And in both cases, the only prints on the g*n were the victim's.
g*n only had one b*llet?
Guess these guys are on a budget.
All we're missing are the black high-tops.
Must be some cult thing, right?
♪ The night turns blue ♪
DETECTIVE: Four days, three bodies.
Single sh*t through the head.
Past nine months, there's been a similar series of bodies turning up.
Miami, Houston, Denver.
It's three cities, seven men each time.
Looks like we've got ourselves a serial k*ller.
Who's seen too many Saw movies.
This time, he left something behind.
Those cables?
To a video camera.
Somebody's making a movie.
Yeah, the victim pulled the trigger, but this wasn't a su1c1de.
Somebody was watching him, enjoying the show.
♪ The night turns blue ♪
(g*nsh*t)
(chuckles) I knew that that lecture was a bad idea.
Oh, come on.
I-I needed a date.
Amita's out of town on a conference.
The Royal Astronomical Society.
You love the Royal Astronomical Society.
Yeah, well, I did love the Royal Astronomical Society.
Why are you going into such a tailspin over this?
I'm not in a tailspin, Earth is.
Icarus-like.
We're soon fated to tumble from orbit and be engulfed by the sun in some vaporous death.
ALAN: What am I missing?
Do I have to wait for Larry King?
The Royal Astronomical Society published a paper recalculating the demise of the Earth and shortening its lifespan considerably.
We've got another 7.59 billion years.
You know, with these pills I've been taking, I might be around then.
Well, given the evolutionary trajectory, you may be the only one who is.
What is this?
These brokerage accounts and bank statements?
I'm, uh, just wallowing.
I've joined the ranks of those who've seen their 401k's turn into 201k's.
It's all my fault -- trusting this financial guy who told me that shopping malls in Orange Country were the next sure thing.
How much have you lost?
I still have my city pension.
I think.
DAVID: We checked out the soundproofing and blackout material -- all common stuff you can find at any home improvement store.
And the g*ns? All stolen, a dead end.
If we're looking at a serial k*ller, they are equal opportunity -- victims are all over the map.
Yeah, different ages, ethnicities.
One thing in common: they all seem to have suffered financial setbacks recently.
Who hasn't?
Our first victim's wife caught him visiting online sites, adult services classifieds.
She accused him of blowing their savings on hookers.
Certain names showed up a lot -- uh, "Layla, 750 bucks," "Carol, 500."
We're checking the other victims' computers to see if we find the same kind of story.
Could be that our k*ller is meeting these guys online through these classifieds.
All right. Keep me posted.
DON: Retirement: Your Savings And You.
So, w-what are you doing? Investment portfolios.
You know, Dad invested his retirement savings with some genius who blew it on strip malls.
We're, like, going to have to bail him out.
You know, I had a lot of money with that guy, too.
Really? Yeah.
I-I make a decent enough salary, I can swing it.
I'm just going to have to talk to him.
Yeah, good luck with that.
So, did you get to the stuff I sent you?
You know, there's not a lot to see.
I mean, there's a serious dearth of data in these files, which is why I began looking for answers in the desert.
That was on Larry's desk, right?
He's got me babysitting it.
He's a restless soul, huh? Sure is.
Sort of like your three victims.
Like everyone, they move through the city leaving trails, forensic data, marking where they've been, like ATM visits, cell phone calls, credit card purchases.
But serial K*llers are very opportunistic; they choose victims where they see victims, like around where they live or around where they work.
So, I'm going to use geographic profiling to examine the forensic data, see where these three victims might have crossed paths.
If I can find their intersection, then I can find the k*ller.
Glad to see my own Zen garden's inspired you.
Been a while since it did anything for me.
Maybe the change of scenery is giving it new relevance.
Chalk up another victory to de-cluttering.
Which, uh, if I remember right, you said was a prelude to leaving.
And your point is?
You cleaned out your office, you divested yourself of your academic duties, and yet you're still here.
Am I missing something?
Leaving is a process.
Uh, lightening one's load is the first of many paving stones that have to be laid.
I'm dwelling in the moment.
(computer chirping) And the moment is here.
We got something.
A four-block radius where all three victims made credit card purchases.
Lee Stoyer charged $37 for gasoline at a filling station, just a few blocks from a deli where Edward Mendez bought a sandwich and coffee.
And down the street from a Quick-mart where Martin Hedges purchased lotto tickets and cigarettes.
Do you have that list of I.P. addresses that Don sent over?
The online erotic services sites frequented by the decedents.
Here it is.
As I recall, Carol and Layla were particular favorites.
(typing)
Here's the location for that I.P. address.
(pop music playing, men chattering)
(loud whistling)
MAN: Oh, yeah!
I hope the Jell-O sh*ts have penicillin in 'em.
Come on, Granger.
They don't have places like this back in Utah?
Idaho. Idaho.
(man whooping, indistinct chatter)
You boys look like you've been underappreciated.
How about we start with a drink?
Well, we're here on business.
Federal employees get a discount.
You know, some deeper than others.
We're looking for a Layla or a Carol.
You know them? Nope.
But I do know a couple of girls who'd be happy to make you forget all about them.
What do you got?
Since when's a VIP room guys only?
Definitely not my experience.
(phones ringing)
(racetrack announcers talking over monitors)
Hey! Hey!
Back up! Back up! FBI!
Pencils down! Hands up!
Hands up, okay.
I'm sure you have all your work backed up, gentlemen.
Where'd all this come from?
She's not talking, but one of her computer schlubs told us plenty.
He I.D.'d all three victims.
Said they were serious gamblers.
They used the erotic sites to place their bets.
Layla, Carol -- not hookers.
These were teams -- L.A. Lakers, Carolina Panthers.
Dollar amounts were the money they laid down.
All three dead guys were in way deep.
They owed our girl in there six figures each.
What does this have to do with a serial k*ller?
I don't know, seeing her in those handcuffs, though, might not be a bad way to go.
LAPD just found another body. Same M.O.
Jordan Harper, 37.
But this time, we got a witness.
She was there?
Not exactly.
Mom just got back from a business trip.
She checked her nanny cam recording, found that her Wi-Fi frequency got crossed with a transmission coming from the building across the street.
MAN: Place your bets.
Last call.
Betting is now closed.
(g*n cocks)
(g*n clicks)
There are four men dead.
Not su1c1de.
Betting is now closed.
It's the kind of game you don't win, even if you survive.
(g*nsh*t)
MAN: Betting is now closed.
LARRY: Russian roulette.
Legend goes that the Russian officers, starving at the front, resorted to wagering their lives for a crust of bread.
NIKKI: That's the Russian Army.
What's up with these guys?
Well, we can only tell you what's up with the game, 'cause the site's protected.
Only gamblers who are betting on the contests have access.
I was able to cr*ck the encryption.
I mean, the whole thing's a tournament.
Right? You got eight players, one winner.
Hundreds of people betting online.
A marriage of greed and bloodlust wedded to technology.
This website has all the bells and whistles.
I mean, you can pull up character bios and fan pages and blogs.
You can even order a video from previous contests.
So, whoever's running these games is streaming them online, taking the bets, recalibrating the odds, all in seconds.
Sickness aside, I mean, what's the point?
One man lives, one man dies -- why not just flip a coin?
(g*n clicks)
Well, it's more complex than that.
With one b*llet, one spin, the g*n passed back and forth, the game takes on nuance.
I think to understand it, you have to put yourself inside the game, become it.
Just like a ball dropped on a roulette wheel, the b*llet is chambered and spun.
But unlike roulette, where your eye can follow the ball, the b*llet becomes invisible, its location a mystery.
Early on, gamblers like to play the long sh*t.
And a one in six chance that the g*n will fire means six-to-one odds.
That's a big payout if you guess right.
Longer you play, the worse the odds get.
One in six becomes one in five, then one in four.
And as chances increase that the g*n will go off, the bets become more even odds.
The payouts get smaller, until finally, (g*n clicks) one player's luck runs out.
(g*nsh*t)
Gamblers play the odds, but psychology is also a factor here.
CHARLIE: People believe whatever they want, right?
If a player has a hot hand, he can't lose.
Someone on a losing streak thinks their luck has got to change, so logic, emotion, uh, greed -- they all play a part here.
Well, so far, we're only through round one.
Four matches, four victors.
Four losers.
Round two is next.
Two more guys are gonna die.
I already hacked the site, so if we can do a real-time trace the next time they start streaming, then we can track it back to its source, the, uh, the game itself.
Okay. We I.D.'d the other guy in the nanny cam video, the winner.
Glen Olin.
39. Accountant, huh?
Wife reported him missing about a week ago.
Currently unemployed.
Look, I mean, these guys don't just wake up one morning and put a g*n to their head.
Somebody put them in those chairs.
DAVID: Maybe Olin's wife can point us in the right direction.
WOMAN: Glen had a job interview last Monday.
He left in the morning. He never came home.
You know what the interview was for?
I don't know.
He's had several.
Glen was laid off last year.
We've lost our health insurance.
We may lose the house.
It hasn't been easy.
That picture was taken in France on our honeymoon.
We were supposed to stay at this five-star hotel, but they lost our reservation.
Glen went out and bought camping gear.
He said, "We can do better than five stars.
We can have a million of them every night."
Something's happened.
I know it.
That's why you're here.
Miss Olin, are you aware of your husband having a gambling problem?
I saw the signs.
The distraction, the irritability, the late nights on the computer.
Like before.
He got help.
He told me he'd never do it again.
He promised me.
Okay, I'm going to need to take that computer.
Where is he?
What's happened?
Please, tell me the truth.
(g*n clicks)
MAN (on video): Place your bets.
NIKKI: How many people you think have watched this video?
You heard from Charlie?
Yeah, toiling away on the trace program, hopefully nearing an answer.
Well, too late for John Murray, aka "The Dominator."
LAPD found his body an hour ago.
MAN: And final bets.
(g*n clicks)
That is some kind of sick.
He calls himself "The Immortal."
I've seen irrational feelings of invincibility across a card table, but this is extreme.
So, you really were a gambler?
In a previous incarnation.
What makes a man do this?
The gambler's ruin.
Doubling down, chasing losses.
Thousand-dollar wager fast becomes a six-figure debt, and you just start to see no way out.
MAN: And final bets.
Is that what happened to you?
My situation was a little more prosaic.
You know, there's a line in "The Gambler..."
Yeah. "You gotta know when to hold 'em..."
♪ Know when to fold 'em. ♪ Yeah. "The Gambler."
Kenny Rogers, right?
I'm strictly a Torme and Tenors man, but, um, I was talking about the movie.
Yeah, there's a line where Paul Sorvino asks James Caan, "What is it all gamblers have in common?"
And Caan says, "They're all looking to lose."
Well, that was me.
I actually found power in losing, you know.
Freedom over the material.
Less in my pockets meant less on my mind.
Betting is now closed.
(g*nsh*t)
(door opens)
Where are your friends?
They're busy.
Works for me.
You know, there was a time in my life when a ruthless woman was a turn-on.
You mean, like yesterday?
Shows you how wrong I can be.
Here I thought you were a respectable businesswoman.
Would have never taken you for a bookie.
I tend to all men's vices.
Yeah, as long as they pay.
We know about the Russian roulette.
I got nothing to do with that.
We got four dead men, each owing you six figures.
That is gonna be a really tough sell for any lawyer.
I'm giving you a chance here.
My friends won't.
This guy comes into my place looking for talent.
Deadbeats, my hardest-luck cases.
He wanted a list.
So you gave it to him?
He was offering them a chance to play their way out of debt.
Each round they won, they'd get 100 grand.
The winner would take home a million.
So you sold their debt.
Sold them.
They're gamblers.
They made a choice.
All right.
I want a name. I don't have one.
But...
I can give you a face.
Heard it might be an all-nighter.
Ugh! I hope not.
What's this?
I stopped by Scarpatto's.
Picked up a some Bolognese, a little salad.
Didn't want you to miss dinner.
Thanks. I appreciate the thought.
But, you know, you really shouldn't be buying me take-out.
You really shouldn't be buying yourself take-out.
Not given your finances.
Oh, who d*ed and made you Suze Orman?
Well, now is not the time, but we really do need to talk about this, okay?
About what? About reality.
I ran an analysis of your portfolio.
There is no way that your finances are going to recover enough for you to bankroll your retirement.
Oh, I see. So, no more take-out -- that's your solution.
Well, you supported me my whole life.
It's time for me to return the favor.
Yeah, but it doesn't work out that way.
You see, a father is supposed to support his children, not the other way around.
Oh, it goes bad if it gets cold.
♪♪ So, I thought you were gonna show me a face.
You don't like what you see?
It's just that after, like, the 30th butt cr*ck, it starts to get a little old.
So, is it normal to have hidden cameras inside lap dance lounges?
I like to look out for my girls.
And the occasional mark with deep pockets who makes a drunken mistake.
You got me pegged.
You know, while we're being honest, why do you like bad girls?
Not enough attention from Mom, Dad was a player?
Or, um, maybe just the opposite?
Nice family, church picnics, Boy Scouts, Pledge of Allegiance.
Then, maybe one day in the Army, you get a taste.
Relief from the w*r.
Or boredom.
You liked it.
I guess now I got you pegged.
I can see your face.
There. That's him.
DAVID: Name's Kai Kragen.
Reality TV show producer.
Flamed out doing a show called "Thrill Drill."
It's one of those cheese-ball deals where people do bogus stunts for cash.
Except on Kragen's last show, things got a little bit too real.
Contestant was decapitated doing a bungee jump.
I saw that. It was all over YouTube.
Yeah, and that incident -- it just trashed his career, and then lawsuits bankrupted him.
So we got a reality TV show producer who needs the money.
All right, check it out.
I love the picture.
My favorite subject.
COLBY: Surprised it didn't go the way of the rest of your stuff.
Restitution to the family of the guy whose head you lopped off.
It survived, just like me.
Well, we have our own picture of you.
Nice hidden camera, Hoover.
You guys got me.
I had a lap dance.
Not the best path to a meaningful relationship, but it's also not a crime.
We have other photos, too.
I think you know them.
Ooh.
Looks like they pissed somebody off.
We have a witness who says you recruited them for an online Russian roulette tournament.
We saw the show.
It's right up there with "Thrill Drill" for high impact.
I'm out of the snuff business.
You know, we saw your old house on Mulholland.
It was very nice.
That must have been hard to give up.
Yeah, not to mention all the money.
That's TV.
One day you're up, and next day you're covered in blood, holding someone's head.
I'll be back.
Maybe you already are.
Look, I have a respectable career producing infomercials now.
All right? One I need to get back to.
(scoffs)
(sniffing)
I-I don't see why you guys are wasting your time.
Whether a guy puts a g*n to his head in a game or a bunch of people are eating cow testicles on an island, it's all entertainment, right?
Next time you want to talk to me, call my lawyer.
You guys know the way out?
So, what do you think? (cell phone ringing)
Think we need to find out how he's paying for that powder.
Hey, Charlie, what's up?
We're on our way.
Next game just started streaming.
Place your bets.
How we doing?
Uh, the location's somewhere downtown.
It's-it's near Skid Row.
I'm zeroing in on I.P. address.
You guys got that?
Got it. We're on our way.
(siren wailing)
DON: All right, Nikki's on her way, too.
MAN: Last call. Final bets.
MAN: And betting is now closed.
(g*n clicks)
Charlie?
Almost. Almost. Um...
Come on. Yeah, there it is. I got it.
Okay, it's the intersection of First and Main Street.
It's, like, a tenement building on the corner.
Okay, you guys got that?
First and Main. (siren wailing)
We're two blocks away, Don.
MAN: Last call. All final bets.
Betting is now closed.
(tires screech)
They got a satellite dish on the third floor.
(g*nsh*t)
(distant g*nsh*t)
FBI! Let's go! Put your hands up!
FBI! Get up! Put them up!
Behind your head, both of you. Let's go.
You, back there!
Don't do it, man.
Drop that g*n.
(panting)
I lost him.
Him, too.
DAVID: Who is in charge of the Russian roulette games?
Is it Kragen?
Six men are dead.
Not to mention Miami, Houston, Denver.
Look, we have your computer.
We know you've been watching the games.
You've been keeping close tabs on the betting, on the odds.
You were a fan long before you were a player.
I was never a fan.
DON: Right, you're an addict.
You bet on people who are gonna blow their brains out.
The only thing I ever bet on was a house, a job, security.
I'm making a far safer bet now.
Yeah, with a g*n to your head?
We're consenting adults.
Well, why don't you tell your wife that.
I know you think you may have let her down.
Okay?
What you're doing right now is not going to help.
What you need to do is think about your wife.
You need to talk to her.
I think about her every moment.
She's the reason I'm doing all this.
The last thing I want to do is talk to her.
Like I said, I'm a consenting adult.
I-I haven't committed any crime. Hmm?
You got nothing to hold me on.
If we put you on the street, you're going right back to that game.
It's down to the final two -- my sh*t at a million bucks.
What do you think?
How can a man so completely lose touch with reality?
You know, I'm not so sure he has.
Mm, what? More meditation on the gambler's ruin?
I've seen players give in to the dark side, their addiction, where all they believe in is the game.
His eyes are filled with a different kind of certainty.
Those numbers you found on Olin's computers -- calculations on the odds, and the betting...
I'd like to see those.
The guys we grabbed at the game lawyered up.
I mean, somebody got to them.
DON: Then you guys should tail Olin.
Okay.
Agent Eppes!
I hear you found Glen.
Where is he? Can I see him?
We don't really have enough to hold him.
We're going to have to let him go.
No, no, no. You let him back out there, he'll k*ll himself.
You can't do this!
Glen! Glen!
Glen! Wait!
(crying) Glen...
(sobbing)
Glad to see you're not alone.
(chuckles)
Got another friend?
Sure.
(clears throat)
You want to talk about it?
Ah, all is good.
It's this case, right?
Men k*lling themselves for money.
Yeah, I mean, this guy... he's got this woman -- I mean, she loves him.
And-and he's got a home and...
Yeah, well, you can't help people if they don't want to be helped.
Hey, Charlie talk to you?
Yeah, he tried.
Boy, we are so similar.
We just don't want help from anybody, right?
I must've got it from you.
But I learned.
Who's he talking to?
Guy's given up on life.
I'm glad to see he still has time for his friends.
Yeah, speaking of which, you give any thought to our last conversation?
About me signing up for Twitter?
Yeah. Hell yeah.
And the answer is still hell no.
I'm-I'm just saying, man, if I'm out at a bar, having a few beers, having a good time, I tweet, you read it, then you come on over and join me.
Dude, if you want to have a drink, you just call me.
You "tweeting" me -- ugh.
I don't even like the way that sounds.
All right, whatever.
Just keep on living in the 20th century.
Hold on. Where's he going?
I don't know, but his car's parked the other direction.
(engine starts)
(tires screeching)
(tires screeching)
Well, we know who he was calling.
Guys really want him back in the game.
You know, if you were on Twitter, you wouldn't have to tell Don about this in person.
And... pull!
LARRY: I appreciate the enthusiasm, Charles, but I don't think the word "pull" is the appropriate term of art here.
You're worried about appropriate, I'm hoping one of these kids doesn't snap an iPhone picture for the folks back home.
Then we'll both be on sabbatical.
(computer chirping)
Well, the tracking program is still searching.
So I think we're going to have to wait for the next game to start streaming.
Let's load the g*n.
CHARLIE: Now, what exactly are we looking for?
An edge, Charlie -- just some justification for Glen Olin's certitude.
Right. Right. And spin.
We will go again.
I don't mean to keep bugging you about you leaving and all.
That's a relief.
Well, the longer you stay, the more I'm wondering how committed you are to leaving.
Y-You're not having as much fun as I am right now? Fire!
(g*n clicks) Exactly.
But as intriguing as all this is, it's also distracting.
The school, the FBI -- I just...
I want to return to just some place of pure thought.
Okay, go to the arcade.
You know, play your Tempest, clear your head.
I'm just no match for the clutter.
You know, it's-it's like your game.
I mean, there's always one more enemy to be zapped.
Fire. (g*n clicks)
I appreciate your concern, but my dawdling has nothing to do with some change of heart.
Then what?
My paving stones are not yet aligned.
Fire.
All right, we've got a winner.
We do, indeed.
What?
We just found Olin's edge.
DON: So, you're saying it's fixed?
According to these figures, yes.
Okay, so, on the left are numbers we got off of Glen Olin's computer.
These are odds and betting patterns for the previous three tournaments.
Numbers on the right are ours.
Now, we generated these by running Russian roulette games with student volunteers.
We didn't k*ll anyone.
These figures show that in almost every case, the house came away the winner.
Making sure that the right person lost at the right time, maximizing their returns.
How do you fix Russian roulette?
Same as in casino roulette.
By fixing the wheel.
See, remember our revolver.
The b*llet is chambered and spun.
The spin is random.
And the b*llet disappears.
Where she stops, nobody knows. Unless they do.
You control the wheel, you control the game.
It's a sure thing.
Techs examined the g*ns from the crime scenes.
Each has a radio receiver inside it.
And triggered by remote, the device activates a photo-eye on the cylinder-stop inside the g*n.
Yeah, there's no way that they would've found it if they weren't looking for it.
Oh, hey, Char...
Oh, this -- it's okay.
It's a dummy. (chuckles)
Placing a b*llet in a marked chamber, all the user has to do is push a button on a remote control; that stops the cylinder.
It stops the b*llet, wherever they want, every spin, every time.
Glen Olin knew these contests were rigged, and that explains his confidence.
Yeah, he's in on it.
Well, his cell phone records say different.
He called his bookie last night.
He placed every dollar he's ever won so far in the game.
What, on himself?
His opponent.
"The Immortal" must be in on the fix.
Well, he was willing to risk his life the first time on a chance at $100,000.
Now he can bet on a sure thing worth, uh, five or six times that amount.
I know some guys are willing to do anything to make sure their family is taken care of, but Olin has decided his life is worth the price.
Hey, Don, we got Kragen.
Interpol had him on a list.
He's been laundering money offshore through his infomercial company.
Check this out, it gets better.
There was a chip on one of the cameras we recovered at the game, hadn't been fully recorded over.
There were takes from an infomercial of his on Shinto knives.
All right, good. Pick him up.
Got a body.
The remote control transmitters.
Somebody helped themselves to a pair.
Yeah, that's not all they took.
23 files have been downloaded.
(g*nf*re)
Liked that guy a lot better when he was pointing the g*n at his own head.
The Immortal has a name.
AFIS didn't come back with anything on his prints, so I cast a wider net.
Got a response from up north.
Mm. Brian Walters.
DUI, Vancouver, '07.
Guy's a Canuck.
And a bona fide TV professional.
Now, among his other crimes, add outsourcing.
Guy's worked on a bunch of American shows sh*t up in Canada, including "Thrill Drill."
That's how he met Kragen.
Walters did special effects for Kragen -- explosions, smoke, pyrotechnics.
Well, now we know who rigged the g*ns.
So, they were in it together? From the start.
Now, I'm guessing that Kragen promised Walters a big payday -- the million-dollar prize in the game.
Uh, maybe he wanted more money, like a share in the profits.
Mm-hmm. And when Kragen balked, Walters decided to cut his partner out.
Now, we recovered the files that Walters downloaded from Kragen's computer.
Gamblers' user names, dollar amounts, players they bet on.
So, Walters has taken over the game.
NIKKI: Yeah, and running it his way now.
Walters sent an e-mail from Kragen's computer to the eight highest rollers, inviting them to the final match.
Except it's not gonna be online.
It's gonna be in person.
He's flying them in, staging a human cockfight.
And Olin's gonna lose.
Walters' e-mail included a web address with a link to a protected site.
That could be the instructions on when and where the game is going down.
Charlie was able to cr*ck the Russian roulette tournament's website.
Maybe he can do the same, help us find this game.
All right, get that address to him.
Hey, how's the hack going?
It's going slowly.
I don't even have a location.
(computer chirps)
And it's not helping my concentration that Amita keeps e-mailing me nonstop from her conference.
She bored?
She's anxious.
She keeps sending me sample wedding invitations.
Like, we haven't even set a date yet.
You're coming to the wedding, right?
I would like to.
You would like to?
(sighs)
Well, Charlie, it's complicated.
I don't even know where I'm gonna be.
What's complicated?
It's my wedding day, Larry.
All right, I don't, I don't care if you're in Machu Picchu, Katmandu or-or the Corn Palace.
I do expect you to hop on a plane and be at my wedding, okay?
Yeah.
What is going on with you?
I don't know. I just lack clarity.
In the past, one door closes, another door opens.
And now it's like I'm caught in some... vestibule of indecision.
(computer chirps)
Another invitation?
Yeah.
To the game.
You know the rules, gentlemen.
Betting starts at $1 million.
The players drew lots to determine the order.
Player number two... will begin.
Place your bets.
Last call.
(murmuring)
Final bets.
Taking all final bets.
(g*n cocks)
(beeping)
The betting is now closed.
DAVID: Hey! FBI!
I want to see hands!
(g*ns cocking)
Something we said?
Everybody, uh, just... just be cool, okay?
We didn't come here looking for a fight.
There's no army behind us.
We just want to take this guy out of here in one piece.
All right, so, let's just put our g*ns away.
Okay?
We all go home.
Nobody loses.
You got another idea?
Okay.
Okay, you, I want in.
But I want The Immortal here to go first.
I'm putting my money behind him.
That's not the assigned order.
What's the problem?
You get nervous?
You pick up the g*n.
Now, I got a pretty good feeling about that first trigger pull.
Second one, not so much, but the one after that, I got a very bad feeling about, and I'll bet you have the exact same feeling as I do.
Why are you guys doing this?
I'm saving your life.
You are coming with us.
I don't want to be saved.
So, what are you waiting for?
Pick up the g*n.
Go ahead.
(crowd murmuring)
That's what I thought.
We-we are going to take him out of that door.
We all know if the sh**ting starts, nobody wins.
(g*ns uncocking)
He's not smiling now.
MARGO: Agent Granger.
Hey.
Thought that was you.
Ah, you just couldn't, uh, stay away from the place, huh?
I was here giving a statement.
It's good to see you.
Yeah, you, too.
You know, I know we got off to a bad start, but I was thinking that perhaps we could do something about that.
Dinner, maybe?
Yeah. Maybe.
You know where to find me.
Mm-hmm.
♪♪ Make sure there's no hidden camera.
Yeah, be careful with that one, buddy.
Okay. And this coming from the guy who looks for love at the morgue.
Oh, no. Claudia hasn't worked there in a year.
Oh. Who said anything about Claudia?
♪ p*stol was never loaded ♪ Another bad bet.
I lost everything again.
Well, you got something much better, pal.
Oh, you mean my life?
It's not worth much.
That's everything.
♪ So let me catch my breath ♪ I don't know what to say to her.
Yeah, you do.
♪ Before you start crying ♪
♪ Turn off the television and end yours ♪
♪ Hey, Liza ♪
♪ I love you to the bones ♪
♪ But I can't stick around here anymore ♪ Oh, yeah.
I remember that day.
That was, uh, Princeton.
You just passed your orals. That's right.
Larry walked me through them.
Good game?
Now, before you lecture me, Professor...
Am I lecturing you?
I just want to assure you that I wasn't fiddling on a golf course while my portfolio was burning.
Okay. Dad, I didn't say anything.
Good, 'cause I want you to listen for a second.
I decided to take you up on your offer of help.
Great. 'Cause I was gonna say...
I'm sorry. I'm listening.
I don't want you to give me any money, because I'm-I'm going to go back to work.
But, uh, checking the job listings, I, uh... I found out that, uh, my computer design skills are not quite up to date.
So I need a refresher course, and I thought maybe you might give me one.
(chuckles)
You want me to teach you...?
Come on, you know how that goes, Dad.
No, I'll pay you for it.
Of course you'll have to give me the money.
(laughs) Where is Larry?
He blew off our chess game again.
Oh, he's, uh...
He's dealing with some stuff right now.
Yeah. Isn't that always the case?
(video game sound effects)
♪ I can't stick around here anymore ♪
♪ Any minute now ♪
♪ They'll come crashing down our door ♪
♪ So grab what you need ♪
♪ We got to go ♪
♪ Oh, no, no, no, no ♪
♪ No, no. ♪