# I'm gonna have me some fun if it costs me my very last dime
# If I wind up broke, well, I'll always remember that I had a swinging time
# I'm gonna give it everything I've got
# Let me shoot a seven with every shot
# Viva Las Vegas
# Viva
# Viva Las Vegas
Who do they think it is?
A federal prosecutor who disappeared five years ago, the day before a mob trial.
Five years? So there's not much left.
Yep. That's why they flew you to Sin City, Bones.
They call this America's playground?
We're 15 miles outside Vegas, Bones. This is America's frying pan.
No kidding. A person can melt before finding a body anywhere near here.
Once the mob makes a prosecutor disappear, they want him staying that way.
- Agent Booth. - Agent Zang.
Dr Brennan, thanks for coming. OK. May 20, 2001.
Mason Roberts was supposed to be at UNLV, but he never showed.
Found his car three blocks from his office, engine still running.
- No leads? - Leads don't mean much without a body.
Then yesterday we get this tip from a call girl at the Tangiers Hotel.
So I dragged out one of the top forensic anthropologists on the word of a prostitute?
- What difference does her profession make? - I'm backing you up.
I wasn’t judging. I had your back.
Anyway, the body's right where she said it'd be, mile-marker 15.
Confirm victim is male, late 30s.
- No clothing, no personal artefacts. - This informant, any chance I can talk to her?
As long as you don't expect her to talk back. She died. Cancer.
Deathbed confession and she was still scared.
Fractures to the skull and extremities caused by something cylindrical like a pipe or a bat.
- Straight out of Capone's playbook. - I'll know more once I have dental records.
What? Bones?
It's a vulture. Dead body. Kinda how it works.
They don't circle skeletal remains. Get my bag.
Oh, right. It's the sunbaked rotting corpses they're into.
It's a female, mid-20s. Similar injuries to the male victim,
but this is a fresh kill. A week to ten days.
- Popular dumping ground for these guys. - The same guys five years later?
Well, if not, it'd be one hell of a coincidence.
I'd have to compare them side by side,
but from what I see, whoever buried that victim buried this one.
So two dead for the price of one.
Viva Las Vegas.
Yep. Dental records confirm -
the male victim is Mason Roberts, bludgeoned to death,
presumably with a baseball bat.
- He looks like a long-ball hitter. - "Sweet Pete" Arno.
He's the gaming exec at the Tangiers. He was on Roberts' to-do list when he disappeared.
- Any specs on the female victim yet? - Only preliminary.
Blows to the cranium, torso and upper extremities.
- All similar to Roberts. - But the likely result of domestic abuse.
Likely result? There's nothing domestic about a mob hit.
But the shape of her injuries, the pattern of healing and rebreaking -
there's a history of assault here, not from any baseball bat.
Plus, I found this embedded in her skull.
- A hearing aid? - They're common with abuse victims.
Repeated blows to the head can damage the bones of the inner ear.
Uh, sorry to butt in, but I got a name off the serial number.
The hearing aid is registered to a Wilhelmina Morgan of Mount Charleston, Nevada.
- Oh, that's not too far from here. - She goes by the name Billie.
Listed as Billie Morgan, 26. Reported missing two weeks ago by her husband, Donald.
- Her husband covering his tracks? - Possible.
He might know how she and Roberts ended up here. He may even know your friends.
You get on that. I'll fly these remains to the Jeffersonian.
- Whoa. Hey, whoa. You can't leave. - I can't?
No. I mean, we came for one body and suddenly there's two. What if there's more?
Ship the remains here along with bugs, dirt, the works. If there's a forensic link, we'll find it.
- As long as you keep me in the loop. - As if we could keep you out.
OK. All right. Fine. That's the deal. Box them up and we go break the news to big Don.
- And here I thought she'd left me. - Now, why would she do that, Don?
I got laid off a couple months ago.
Poor Billie. She hated seeing me sitting around the house all day depressed.
- Drinking? - Punching walls?
No. I just... I fell off a ladder.
Breaking a fall would fracture distal radius, not proximal phalanges.
I got a report that says neighbours heard you screaming at your wife three weeks ago.
Screaming? No. Just arguing.
Billie wanted to help. She thought she could bring in money dancing - the exotic kind.
- I flipped out. - And broke your thumb against her face?
- No! I could never hurt Billie, OK? - Then how did she lose her hearing?
I don't know. She was a kid, playing sports. One too many soccer balls to the head.
- Oh, please. - Don, you're my number-one suspect.
So it would be wise if you were straight with us.
Implants.
Breast implants?
She thought they'd help her chances of landing a job as a dancer.
As much as I hated the idea, I borrowed eight grand from the loan shark
and gave the money to Billie.
That's the last time I ever saw her.
- So that's how you broke your thumb. - Huh?
The loan shark comes to collect his eight grand, Don can't pay him, so...
- Now I owe him ten. - I need the loan shark's name.
Just give me a name.
Mackey. Yeah, that's right. Louis Mackey.
Yeah. Send his information to my cellphone as soon as you can. Thanks.
- We had the shark in our system. - Proving that he exists.
Don's story might seem a little, I don't know, hinky, but just try to keep an open mind.
An open mind to what? Those soccer balls to the head?
I'm just not sold on the domestic abuse thing. A scrawny guy like that?
- Rage has nothing to do with size. - I know.
You know that I know that. It's just, I looked into the guy's eyes and I... I just didn't see it.
What about the breast implants? They would've been part of her remains.
Then the money had to be for something else.
Hopefully this guy will be able to tell us what it was.
Hey.
- There's our loan shark. Let's go. - OK. Just give me a moment here.
Oh, my God! I completely forgot. You can't be here, Booth. You're a degenerate gambler.
Former gambler, not degenerate. I've been through the programme. He's on the move.
OK, what if you get a sudden urge to gamble? It's like sending an alcoholic to a distillery.
- Do you need to sit down? - I'm fine.
It's just the sound of the winning. It'll pass.
- The sound or the winning? - This reminds me of the first time.
I walked into the Desert Inn with 35 bucks in my pocket and I walked out with ten grand.
Next night I lost everything. Tapped out my ATM trying to get it back.
- What's that game called? - Craps.
- What's the matter now? - It's the game. It's called craps.
Hey, this used to be my game, Bones. Roll them bones. Chuck the dice. 7-11!
- That's craps. - Oh, jeez!
And he's going for the bar.
- Stay here. I know how to talk to these guys. - You can barely breathe.
- I'm fine. Just trust me, all right? Wait here. - And do what exactly?
You're an anthropologist. Observe the culture.
Winner seven.
Lou Mackey. Don't I owe you money?
- You have me confused with someone else. - I don't think I do.
My buddy, Don Morgan, he introduced us.
30, scrawny guy, broken thumb.
- Do I need to call security? - Yeah. You know, that's a great idea.
Then maybe you can tell all of us what you did to Don and how his wife ended up dead.
- I don't know anything about any wife. - Come on. Don't make me work so hard here.
Look, the guy owed me money. He neglected to pay.
Then he fell off of a ladder.
- It's instant karma. - Instant karma.
That's gonna get you every time, isn't it? What about, uh... Billie Morgan?
Did she have instant karma, too?
She's attractive. I didn't even know he was married.
How about the name Mason Roberts? I'm sure that rings a bell.
Whisper on the strip is that you finally found him.
Congratulations. Now leave me alone.
If you know more than what you're saying, I'm gonna find out eventually.
Do I look worried?
I'm a businessman. What are you harassing me for?
You know, it's just something I have about bullies.
Thanks for the drink.
- 19's a winner. - Yes!
Yes.
- Hey, Bones. - Have you ever played this? It's basic math.
Count the cards, then you know what the dealer has.
- lxnay. - The most common card is a ten.
If you assume the down card's a ten...
- Sorry. You're gonna have to... - We're about to leave.
- I was just getting good. - At cheating.
- It's not cheating, it's strategy. - Not to them, it's not.
Well, what is the fun in that? The odds are skewed in the dealer's favour.
- Right. Now do you see the attraction? - The man will win if he doesn't hit on eight.
- Aegialia concinna. - Gesundheit.
Also known as scarab beetles. They came from the soil around Billie Morgan.
These adults feed on putrefied organic matter, or, in this case, Billie.
- As a result, they suffered short lifespans. - From ingesting her flesh?
More likely the glucocorticoid in her system. I have yet to isolate which one.
Be sure to notify Dr Brennan when you do. Any specifics on the bat used to kill Roberts?
Here's a replica. Cincinnati Slugger with a three-inch diameter, weighing 27 ounces.
You'd think the mob would find less clichéd ways to whack people.
But there's something else. Staining indicates seepage to the cervical spine.
So, somehow, blood from his head got down to his neck.
- Vertebra C-7. Are those cut marks? - So his throat was cut, too.
Did you find a specific cause of death on Billie yet?
- A haemothorax in her left lung. - Caused by a left-sided rib fracture.
A rib punctures a lung, causing internal bleeding?
Between pre-existing injuries and new ones, the girl never had a chance to heal.
Won't Dr Brennan love to hear that?
Take a closer look at the stress markers to her sternum, Zackary. Strike you as unusual?
They do seem more the result of repetitive, medium-impact blows
than a single high impact from a bat.
- This husband dished it out. - Maybe she dished it back.
- These fractures on her knuckles... - Defensive wounds.
Let me zoom in.
Repetitive manual blows, fractured knuckles. The glucocorticoid that killed your bugs...
- Could it be cortisone to treat an injury? - It's certainly possible.
- What are you thinking, Dr Brennan? - That Billie could've been a boxer.
What? You mean, like a real boxer, in a ring?
- Wouldn't gloves prevent injuries like these? - Unless she wasn't wearing gloves.
- What boxer does that? - Ultimate fighters.
Ultimate fighters! Huh! You're into that crap, too, huh, Hodgins?
- Dude, it's barbaric. I can't turn it off. - And it's actually legal?
Completely. They wear protective gear, which would fly in the face of her injuries.
- Unless it was underground. - Underground where?
- Come on. Haven't you seen Fight Club? - Illegal, no-holds-barred slugfests.
Modern-day panem et circenses.
But generally there's no free bread.
- What? - So Don Morgan didn't beat his wife.
Hate to say I told you so.
Why didn't you tell us, Don?
Because I didn't know, all right? She never told me.
Your own wife didn't tell you she was fighting?
Because I'd never let her. Billie hadn't boxed in a year.
Commission took her licence because of her hearing.
- It about broke her heart, but she was done. - Apparently not.
Somebody offered Billie an illegal fight and you jumped at the chance.
- Are you out of your mind? - You borrowed money,
you put it all on Billie and she paid the price.
- No. No! That's not true. - Who are you protecting, Don?
Nobody! Look, I swear I didn't know.
Don, we can protect you if you let us.
If I knew who killed Billie, I'd tell you.
Believe me. Please.
Why would anyone fight illegally?
Not everybody can be Oscar De La Hoya.
Who?
Injuries, criminal past, failed drug tests leave them with no skills,
so they take a fight wherever they find one.
Even if it kills them?
- Brennan. - I found something in Billie's shoes.
Hexavalent chromium, a chemical used in automotive shops specialising in chroming.
Mechanics who use them have to file reports with the EPA.
Ow! What?!
- No gambling. - Am I interrupting something?
It's just keno, all right? I'm sorry if Hodgins lost me at hexavalium chromo...
Hexavalent chromium. How can we contact the Environmental Protection Agency?
I'm on it.
- This was an auto shop? - Yeah.
The EPA, they shut it down months ago for hazardous waste material.
It was the only shop authorised to use that chromium stuff. See it anywhere?
It could be absorbed into the dust particles on the floor.
- Along with flash paper. - What's that?
Betting slips that burn fast in case there's a raid.
- Look at this. - They painted a ring for the fights.
- So this was the fight club. - If there's blood, I'd say it is.
Where's your light thingy?
Blood. The whole place is covered in blood.
Of the 30 blood samples found,
six were A positive, same as Billie. I'm waiting on DNA.
30 fighters is five fights per hour over a three-hour period.
Or three fights over five hours, six over...
We get the idea, Zack. Lots of fights.
I ran thermal imaging on Billie's remaining soft tissue.
- She might've looked like this after the fight. - The sweet science.
Just when I get to a place where I can almost stomach seeing maggots eating intestines,
this. How could anybody do this to themselves?
You know, in 900 BC, the Greek ruler Theseus entertained himself
watching two men in chairs beat each other to death.
Just saying, it's nothing new.
I can work up force and velocity readings for each blow.
Zack can help me ID her opponent from the circumference of the fists.
I'd rather Zack focus on our second weapon for Roberts.
None of these are narrow enough. It's as if he was cut with a razor blade.
Or a razor wire. Luca Brasi.
The Godfather?.
- Please, someone, buy a DVD player. - You mean a garrotte?
Yes. A garrotte pulled so tightly around Luca's... or, rather, Roberts' neck...
That it sliced his throat and his carotid artery.
OK. The whole maggots-eating-intestines thing is not nearly as gross to me now.
Yeah. OK. Thanks a lot. Agent Zang said he found the owner of the old body shop.
He said some guy paid him $3,000 cash to use the place for one night.
- No names, no questions asked. - Seems like a theme in this town.
Hey, why is he hitting on a 16? I mean, look at him. He's completely distracted.
Well, you know what? Actually, Bones, you can if the face card is show...
- All right. Let me just... - I don't want to hear it.
There he is.
- Hey, look at this. It's my buddy, Lou Mackey. - Great. So we're friends now.
- Tell me where a fight fan can get a little, uh... - Seeley?
- Frankie? - What are you doing back in Vegas, huh?
- Man's got a lot of friends. - So it would seem.
- I'll catch up with you later. - Hey, Lou...
- See you, friend. - Is he a problem?
No, no. It's all good. Hey, look at you, huh?
Yeah. Frankie! Temperance Brennan, Frank Daniels. We served in the Gulf together.
- Right. We hit the strip when we got back. - And you never left?
I bounce around. Here, Chicago, LA. You know me, huh? Always chasing rainbows.
Good old Frankie. How's Karen?
No, that's over. She ran off with some loser stockbroker. It's just as well. I don't need that.
- Come on, are you all right? You need any... - Don't start with that. I'm getting by, all right?
- With guys like Lou Mackey? - Yeah, well, a minor occupational hazard.
- Have you considered medication? - Bones!
Antidepressants raise your norepinephrine level. It could help control the impulsivity.
- Are you a drug rep now or something? - It's...
Excuse us, Bones, OK?
I was wondering if you know anything about underground fight clubs.
- I know one. Bare knuckles. No rules. - I need to know where.
It moves around. This guy, Joe Nolan, he sells "800" numbers.
You call, you find out the time, place, code to get in.
- The old boxer Joe Nolan? - Welterweight champ in '92.
He owns a gym here on Federal.
- Thanks. - Hey, uh...
You think you can spot me a couple of bucks? I forgot my wallet at the house there.
- Yeah. - Just something. I'll get you back.
Yeah.
- Frankie's a better guy than he seems. - Yet he knows this Nolan guy.
Anybody who knows the fight game knows Joe.
I mean, the guy, he was, you know, set to be the next Sugar Ray.
Until he was accused of throwing a couple fights.
What? Losing on purpose? Why would anyone do that?
- Maybe I should talk to Joe alone. - What's with the impulse to leave me behind?
The usual rules, they don't apply here.
The deeper we get, I don't want anyone knowing that we're FBI.
- Well, that's easy for me. I'm not. - OK, fine.
# Come on, baby, let's go stepping out tonight
# You look so good and you feel so fine
# I'm real proud to say that you're mine
- Hey, what do you think? - I have enough Bibles, but try next door.
- You said I could be a school teacher. - Not the spinster kind.
You know, the hot one who makes the boys crazy. Here.
- Put on the one that I picked out. All right? - OK, but don't be so bossy.
We're newlyweds, I said. Taking Sin City by storm. Ready for action!
But, you know, marriage is such an archaic institution.
Listen, Bones, I know what I'm doing, OK?
I've done this before. Just stop arguing.
I'm not. It's just, you know, I don't need a piece of paper to prove my commitment.
- Fine. We're engaged. - Why would I be OK with engagement?
Whatever, Bones, all right? We're a loosely committed couple of hot high rollers.
See? With money to burn. Cos that is what's gonna get us in the door.
Like this?
Yeah.
Yeah, like that.
- Hey, Cam. - Dr Brennan.
Judging by the angle of the blows, Billie's last opponent was 5'6" and left-handed.
With a fist size of approximately 90mm. Zack measured.
- That's hot. - Hot?
- Wait a minute. What's hot? - Uh, nothing.
Vegas! Vegas is hot. It's very hot here.
How does anyone walk in these things?
Them boots ain't made for walking, sweetheart.
- That was completely over the top. - All right, you play your part, I'll play mine.
Hey, Booth. The girl.
Yeah, I see. 5'6", southpaw.
And left-handed.
- Can I help you folks? - I can't believe it! Sloppy Joe Nolan.
- Sloppy Joe? - That's how he left his opponents.
- These days, it's just Joe. - I busted a lace, Joe.
Sorry to bother you, but you know, you had a huge impact on my style back in the army.
Juke to the body followed by a right hook. Worked every time.
Army fighter? How many of these has-beens do you get?
- At least this one looks like he's in shape. - Yeah, my man's in great shape.
- Believe me. - Easy there, honey.
Let's see those moves that made you so famous.
Yeah, go ahead, tiger. Show these clowns.
Yeah, maybe I will, OK? Just a little.
- Come on, tiger. - Uh, let's see, Joe.
Give it that little, you know, tap. You know, a juke to the body, a real hard right,
followed by a whole bunch of them.
- So much for my "has-been" army fighter. - Not bad.
- You know, I still got it. - Yeah. Maybe a little too much.
- What's your name? - Tony. My fiancée, Roxanne.
- We're more engaged to be engaged. - Are you looking to train or what?
I don't fight no more, but they say you could direct me and Roxie
to a little, you know, underground action.
- They say a lot. - Yeah, it was some guy at the Rio.
A "you didn't hear it from me" type.
- Sorry. I can't help you. - Yeah, that guy was just trying to hit on me.
I know a number to call. Not that I give it to just anybody.
Oh, come on, Joe. They seem like such nice people.
- Yeah. We're nice people. - A thousand bucks.
- Each. - Whoa! That's steep.
No, Tony, come on. We only live once. I wanna see a fight.
- Nothing like being a kept man, huh? - Yeah. I don't know what I'd do without her.
That was amazing. What got into you?
It's from watching old movies with my dad. He liked Clara Bow.
- Clara Bow was a silent film star, Bones. - Yeah, that's how I imagined she sounded.
Like you imagined she carried around a wad of cash?
Oh, that. No, I couldn't sleep last night so I snuck off to play a little crap.
Craps. Plural. I can't believe your beginner's luck.
- Don't. You'll jinx it. - You believe in jinxes?
I don't, but after hearing the dealer say it...
Right. No jinxes. We got a big night ahead of us.
The federal prosecutor and Billie show evidence of topical chemicals.
This'll extract the elements I need to cross-reference with the beetles safely.
Not that she was safe, letting herself get drawn into a fight like that.
- We've all been in a fight we wish we hadn't. - Not me.
- You've never fought or thrown a punch? - Never saw the logic of it.
- It's not about logic. It's emotional. It's anger. - I don't get angry. It's not rational.
- What if someone kicked sand in your face? - I don't go to the beach.
Work with me here. There has to be something that would piss you off.
What if I call you a scrawny twit who can't hold a conversation with a 10 year old?
I don't have much in common with a 10 year old. I don't know what a twit is, but I am thin.
Dude, you're a Vulcan. And a dull Vulcan at that.
- Can we please work? - Now you're pissing me off.
You're a freak. Anger is part of being human.
- Grow a set. - I would really like to work, Hodgins.
You know, it is not enough to be some robotic second-rate grad student.
I am the most valuable grad student who's ever been installed at the Jeffersonian.
And you're gonna be a student the rest of your life because you have no fire.
- I'm working on my dissertation. - You've been saying that for years.
You don't have your doctorate because you have no drive, no passion for what you love.
- Dude. - It's not what you think.
You got pissed.
No, striking you seemed to be the most practical way to get you to focus on work.
- But I didn't realise how much it would hurt. - Nice punch though.
Thank you. And my dissertation will be finished by the end of the month.
- Have the chemicals been extracted? - Looks good.
- Dr Brennan wanted the results. - I'm moving.
You're not gonna hit me again, are you?
Get up!
I suppose from an anthropological standpoint,
this taps into the nihilistic part of the psyche fascinated by blood and gore.
- It's human cockfighting. - More like surrogates engaged in battles
on behalf of the elite lords who don't have the courage to fight.
You know what? Come back to me, Roxie.
Ooh, look at all the sweat.
That's it! It's over! Your winner, Little Mikey!
Come on! Give it up! Give it up, everybody! Come on, for Little Mikey! Let's go!
- What in hell are you looking at? - Not much.
Hey, Tony.
Tony!
Sorry, Booth. I just couldn't have you blowing my cover.
Yeah, and as they taught us in Quantico, Walt, I wasn't about to.
- Do you know everyone here? - I had no idea we had an agent in there.
I've been under deep cover about a month. I still can't crack who's running the show.
- What do you know about Joe Nolan? - He's one of many buffers.
That "800" number changes with every event.
- Tracking it is like playing Whac-A-Mole. - Have you ever seen her fight at the club?
Uh, yeah. It's, uh, Billie something, right?
Yeah. Four-to-one underdog. She whooped this hot Latina pretty good.
- About 5'6", left-handed? - She works out at Nolan's club?
Marisol. Tough as nails. Undefeated before your girl came along.
What if Billie bet on herself?
Well, you know what? With the money that Don borrowed, $8,000,
four-to-one, that'd get under their feet.
- Maybe it's what got her killed. - We gotta talk to Marisol.
We'll go find her. So what's next for you?
I sprained my wrist with no chance to heal. If I lose another bout, I'm off the rotation.
- Booth's a boxer. - Excuse me?
If we can find a way to get you into the rotation, you can fight Walt and lose.
- Then he can stay and heal. - You're volunteering me to fight?
I'm volunteering you to throw one. You could lose with your hands tied behind your back.
- Hodgins. - How's this for coincidence?
Beetles from Roberts' body had the same lifespan as Billie's, but not from cortisone.
His died from ingesting Pinus elliottii.
Pine? In the desert?
Yeah. Pine oil resin is often used to treat the same skin conditions as cortisone.
OK, confirm that and get back to me.
- Pine oil. - OK. Pine oil.
- What's that mean? - I don't know yet.
Go pick your fight.
- What the hell's all this all about anyway? - He insulted me, Joe.
- And I need the money. - I thought you didn't fight any more.
You know, that was before I got blindsided out of retirement. Will this do?
Glad to see your sugar mamma taught you a thing or two.
- Hey. The fight's on. - No trouble convincing Joe?
- Nah. She give us anything yet? - Nothing. We're gonna need a warrant.
- What's our evidence? - Zang's talking to it.
Marisol's bones, tissue and muscle are still healing.
If we match her injuries to Billie's, we can prove they fought.
If the fight killed Billie, Marisol's guilty.
Which could force her to give up whoever runs the fights.
- She might do it in exchange for protection. - You want DNA to send to the Jeffersonian.
- Actually, I want to send Marisol. - This girl? The whole girl?
Our squints can perform a live autopsy while thermal-imaging reconstructs a fight.
- You're lucky I know a judge in Vegas. - Of course you do.
OK. Marisol. You're not under arrest, you're just here as evidence.
- So when this agent leaves you... - I'm gonna kick your skinny ass.
Honey, I'm from the Bronx. Don't for a second think you scare me.
I didn't kill nobody, all right? I didn't even fight.
Well, let's go over to the scanner and prove it.
- Or disprove it. - Hodgins.
- I'll take your robe. - Is this gonna hurt?
- You won't even know it's happening, OK? - Sorry if these are cold.
- What happened? - Blood pools in injuries.
Thermal imaging records that. Now we're gonna match your injuries against Billie's.
- You nervous? - About what, huh?
Throw a few to make it look good and let Walt take me down.
It's over! Your winner, Diana the Destroyer!
All right, ladies and gentlemen, we've got some fresh blood to shed for you tonight.
The great Tony the Tiger!
- Why are they booing? - They find it more fun than cheering.
- That's the guy from Nolan's gym. - I had a feeling we'd see him again.
- Hey. - What are you doing here?
- You're supposed to be over there. - There's been a change in the card.
- I'm sorry, man. They pulled me. - What?!
In this corner, a man who needs no introduction,
Monroe!
- They said he'd be a bigger draw for betters. - He's sorta bigger everything.
All right, ladies and gentlemen, place your bets. Last call for wagers right now.
Get your money down.
- You can't fight him, Booth. He'll kill you. - I don't really have a choice, Roxie.
Tiger, centre ring. Now.
You're gonna get your ass kicked!
OK, boys, on my signal...
kill!
Damage to Billie's scapula and thoracic vertebrae.
Force and velocity match patella damage to Marisol's left knee.
This contusion on Billie's fifth rib, the mark looks like it was delivered by a heel or a fist.
Now a right, followed by a grab to the throat.
And Billie's down again.
More damage to the scapula.
Whoa. Easy on Billie's chest, Marisol.
Fracture of Billie's sternum at the third costal cartilage
is congruent with damage to Marisol's left hand.
And we have another match.
Billie ducks and then causes the maxillary fractures in Marisol's skull.
Marisol seems to favour the right-to-the-body, left-to-the-head combo.
- I do not. - Deny it all you want. We've got the evidence.
- The chokehold... - Excuse me. Tony!
... matches the bruising on Billie's neck.
Tony, stay down.
Monroe has calcium deposits on his left medial epicondyle.
And that helps me how?
Excuse me.
He can't extend his arm. And he lacks range of motion in his quadratus lumborum.
Hit him there.
- Hit him where? - In his lower back above his right kidney.
- The tide has turned. - I told you she could fight.
She doesn't fight. She dominates.
Give him your Nolan move!
Wow.
- You can say that again. - How could I miss that?
- We all missed it, Zack. - Missed what? What is it?
Your winner! The last man standing!
Tony the man-eating Tiger!
- Tony the Tiger! - I did it.
Your winner!
- Hey, Cam. - We missed it.
The fatal blow was obscured. Marisol cracked Billie's ribs, but didn't puncture the lung.
It was a bat. The same baseball bat that killed the federal prosecutor.
- What is it? - It was a baseball bat that killed Billie.
Just like the one used on Roberts.
So when you're dressed, the agent will take you back to the airport.
Marisol...
why do you fight?
Where else am I gonna make a thousand in one night without selling myself?
And I can make even more betting on myself.
- As long as I ain't greedy. - What do you mean?
Bookies don't mind us making a few bucks on the side. But just a few.
- Had you bet on your fight with Billie? - Girl cost me $200.
Had Billie bet on herself?
Marisol.
From what I heard, some guys picked Billie up after the fight and they didn't look happy.
Why didn't you tell the police or tell us?
Look, I might not have much, but what I got, I aim to keep.
What could be so important to you that you could let somebody get away with murder?
My daughter. She's two. She lives with my mom, OK?
- And if they found out I was brought here... - Who's they?
Look, I don't know.
And I don't want to know.
I'm sorry.
Thanks, Angela.
So we were right. Billie bet on herself, which is why I bet on you.
- You bet on me? - Yeah, with Nick from Nolan's gym.
For two reasons, but when I heard the odds...
- My odds? What were they? - 20-to-1, so I bet with Nick figuring that...
Wait. 20-to-1 against? Really? Did I look that bad?
If Nick pays me, he's not our guy.
If he doesn't, it may not prove he killed Billie, but it'll put him in contention.
At the very least. Very smart, Bones.
What was the other reason?
Come on. I have winnings to collect.
Hey, Nick!
- I thought you ran out on us. - Nick Arno don't run from anybody.
- Arno? Sweet Pete's kid? - That was quite a show you put on tonight.
- Yeah, well, I had my lucky charm here. - Yeah, and I believe you owe us some money.
I suppose, but... See, the gentlemen I answer to,
they have an unwritten rule about fighters getting greedy. Spouses too.
- No, we're not even engaged. - Wait, what's the rule?
Enjoy a taste, but never expect a meal. Least of all with a ringer involved.
- I ain't no ringer. - What's a ringer?
- They think I cheated. - She's good, army boy. Real good.
- But I've seen Monroe take out whole gangs. - Then I want my money back.
- Consider it a fine. - Are you serious?
Maybe I'm not making myself clear here. As our new top seed, he works for us now.
You don't punch out our best guy and walk away, not when there's money to be made.
- You think you can make me fight? - You only find out if you don't.
I want to talk to this gentleman you answer to.
And I want world peace. Look, take my advice.
Let Joe here escort you safely back to your hotel.
Let your beautiful... whatever she is ice your wounds.
In about a day or two, we'll come and get you for your next fight.
- Get him outta here, Joe. - Let's go.
I vouched for you, so it's my ass in the sling, understand?
- We didn't mean to get you in trouble. - Yet here I am.
So you're gonna do exactly what Nick says.
The people that are running things, they don't play. I got enough strikes against me as it is.
- You got an itch, Joe? - What?
The cortisone. It could've been topical.
Like the pine oil, they're both ingredients in lotions used to treat skin ailments.
- What the hell is she talking about? - About your rash.
- Psoriasis? - Eczema, which is none of your concern.
Whoa, whoa, hey! Where we gonna go, Joe?
Are we gonna go back to our hotel or... mile-marker 15?
Where we found Billie Morgan and Mason Roberts.
You remember them.
- Who are you people? - I'm with the FBI, Joe.
I don't have my badge and I don't have my gun, but you'd be wise to believe me.
- You have a choice. - What kind of choice do I have?
To be the man that you were before you threw your first fight.
Or you wind up dead like the rest of these guys.
You were the real deal. You were strong and fast.
Everybody wanted to fight like you.
There was so much money.
Easy money.
I thought I could handle it.
He was gonna get me another shot at the title.
- Who? - Nick's father, Sweet Pete.
And he's owned me ever since. Made me throw more fights.
- Made you kill Mason Roberts? - I didn't kill anybody.
I just buried 'em.
For Pete?
And when Billie Morgan won her bet, you buried her, too.
She was a sweet kid,
just looking for a way out.
- I begged Pete to let her be. - He killed her.
I might as well have done it myself. I brought her in. I knew the punks she'd be dealing with.
Bad enough you're under Sweet Pete's thumb, but now you're under his son's too?
That's what happens when your luck turns in this town.
You keep hoping it's gonna turn around again, hoping you're gonna get back to even.
But you never do.
Write your own story now, Joe.
You can make Nick, Sweet Pete, all his friends just disappear,
the way they did to Billie and Roberts.
Authorities have arrested Nick Arno along with his father,
Tangiers Casino gaming executive Peter Arno, otherwise known as Sweet Pete,
in connection with the murder five years ago of prosecutor Mason Roberts, among others.
"Among others"? Is that what Billie Morgan is to these people?
It's day one. Relax. You know, Billie's gonna have her story told. It's just a matter of time.
- So what was the second reason? - What?
You never told me the second reason why you bet on me.
Yeah, it was...
silly.
Come on. You know, try me.
Beginner's luck.
I haven't lost at anything since I've been here, so, well, I...
- I figured if I bet on you then... - I couldn't lose.
- Sounds silly, right? - It sounds familiar.
Thanks.
You're welcome.
- Are you ready? - Yeah, let's go.
What's that mean?
ENGLISH SDH