The Gamer in the Grease

THE GAMER IN THE GREASE

TEASER

EXT. BACK ALLEY OF A FAST FOOD CHAIN - NIGHT

(FATHER and SON are collecting grease from a grease receptacle. They are maneuvering hoses.)

SON: Sucking fry oil from these seafood restaurants are the worst. I don't mind the chicken places but the seafood makes me sick.

FATHER: Quit moanin' and put the hose in.

SON: (Opens a panel of the grease receptacle) Ugh, smells like shrimp. (Puts the hose in) Okay! Suck it.

(The father turns on the machine. Something gets caught in the hose.)

SON: Hold it. Hold it. (He pulls out...) Ugh, I got hair. A lot. It's gross.

FATHER: Probably a rat. Let's just open 'er up.

(They open up the receptacle together. It looks unappetizing.)

FATHER: Go ahead and pull it out.

(Son reaches his gloved hand in and pulls out a fleshy, dead human.

Son screams as the camera pans to the corpse slowly sinking back into the grease.)

EXT. BACK ALLEY OF A FAST FOOD CHAIN - DAY

(Police sirens.)

(FBI and police cars are already at the scene. CAM is also there directing personnel. BOOTH and BRENNAN arrive. They are walking from Booth's car.)

BOOTH: Fishing is not a sport.

BRENNAN: What? Monuments to sporting events in Ancient Egypt include fishing, as well as swimming and wrestling.

BOOTH: C'mon. No sweat, no sport.

BRENNAN: Well. Oh, Boris Spassky at chess. He used to perspire profusely.

BOOTH: Why do you gotta make things so complicated? Let me break it down for you, okay? Basketball, football, hockey... that's a sport. Board games, fishing? Not a sport.

CAM: No problem going easy on the fried food after this one.

(They walk towards the body)

BOOTH: Woah.

BRENNAN: Well, the International Olympic Committee is considering adding chess as a sport.

(Booth scoffs)

CAM: Not a sport.

BOOTH: See? Not a sport.

CAM: Neither is, uh, ribbon twirling, bridge, or synchronized swimming.

BOOTH: Synchronized swimming. That is not a sport. That's for sure.

(Brennan makes an unhappy noise)

CAM: Oh god. I'm in the middle of something, aren't I?

(Booth whistles and points to the body)

CAM: Oh look! Dead guy.

BOOTH: Yeah, look at that. Colonel's not gonna like this one.

CAM: Male. No sign of clothing. All other stats still unknown. He was found at the bottom of this grease receptacle by those lovely gentlemen over there.

BRENNAN: The remains are covered in flesh. Why am I here?

CAM: I don't know. I told Booth.

(Booth makes a noise)

CAM: Oh god. In the middle, again.

BOOTH: Look, I heard murder victim, you know, in cooking oil and I thought, 'Bones would just love this one'. So, how long has tempura guy been in there?

CAM: The tank hasn't been emptied in a couple weeks.

BOOTH: Two weeks, okay.

BRENNAN: I could be biking now. An activity during which I perspire.

CAM: Daily addition of hot oil hastened decomposition and led to early hydration of body fat.

BOOTH: God, so he drowned or maybe fried?

BRENNAN: Billiards is considered a sport by the International Olympic Committee.

BOOTH: Bones, we're working here.

BRENNAN: Not me.

(She walks away, playing with her phone)

BOOTH: Wa-woah.

CAM: Can we get the body out of here, please?

(She also moves away and observes as the tech guys lift the body out)

TECH GUY: Be careful now. Easy.

CAM: Okay, careful.

TECH GUY: Easy. Is the skin slipping? The skin is slipping!

(And all of the skin, organs, and intestines start to fall off in clumps onto the pavement. Cam and Booth watch in fascination, horror, and disgust. As do we all.)

CAM: Oh my.

BOOTH: Uh, Bones! Look at that - bones, huh?

BRENNAN: Oh, this is good for me.

BOOTH: Yeah.

(Brennan walks over to the four tech guys who are still holding onto the skeleton. She snaps on some gloves)

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - MEDICO-LEGAL LAB

(HODGINS, SWEETS, and FISHER are standing around a workstation)

SWEETS: You're kidding. Avatar?

FISHER: Yup. (Flicks at the three 'Avatar Premiere' tickets in his hand) There were over 10 000 entries for 500 tickets.

SWEETS: And you won.

FISHER: Yeah. Good fortune. If I thought that good fortune existed.

HODGINS: And you're taking us.

FISHER: All friendship is fleeting and ends in abandonment so, why not spend a few good hours with you guys until it all falls apart.

(Fisher has a file in his hand and the three of them are walking towards another workstation)

SWEETS: Works for me.

HODGINS: Heck yeah, it does. Nice. Avatar. You guys do realize that being this excited about a sci-fi film will drastically cut down on the number of women that will sleep with us.

FISHER: Oh, I'm into the high double digits, sex-wise so... not worried.

SWEETS: You're closing in on a hundred women?

FISHER: Mhm.

(Sweets does not look happy about this)

BRENNAN (O.S.): Mr. Fisher? I'm ready.

FISHER: Coming, Dr. Brennan.

(Fisher slaps Hodgins with the folder and walks off)

SWEETS: A hundred women? That's a lot.

HODGINS: Yeah, yeah. Hats off to the guy, huh?

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - FORENSIC PLATFORM

(Brennan and Fisher are examining the body)

BRENNAN: Compound depressed fracture to the temporal bone.

FISHER: More hairline fractures on the femur, humerus, and scapula.

BRENNAN: And here. On the right ilium.

FISHER: There are puncture marks on the ilium, ilia lumbar and sacroiliac. So, he was beaten and stabbed. Somebody really went after this guy.

(Cam arrives, carrying a bowl of organ)

CAM: Those injuries didn't kill him. There's grease in all levels of the bronchi, which means our victim was alive when he was tossed into the vat. (She squeezes liquid out of the lung into the bowl) Cause of death is drowning in cooking. Or, vice versa.

FISHER: Saturated fats. They're a killer.

(The three of them walk over to a computer as Cam brings up a graph)

CAM: Also, carboxyhemoglobin test shows our victim had a 17% carbon monoxide level - triple the norm and double what even the heaviest people would have.

FISHER: He could've worked with cars. Along the freeway, maybe a tollbooth?

BRENNAN: (Turns back to the body) Let's review occupational markers. Acute asymmetrical spinal subluxation, which in life would've been apparent in a pronounced leftward lean. Chronic periosteal reaction with bone formation over the clavical -

CAM: - Constant pressure on his collarbone.

BRENNAN: Mhm. Remodeled bite marks on the tibia - probably canine.

FISHER: Sounds like this guy spent most of his life carrying something heavy on his left shoulder while dodging dogs.

BRENNAN: Together with the high levels of carbon monoxide, I posit that our victim was a mail carrier.

FISHER: Someone went postal on this postman.

OPENING CREDITS

ACT TWO

INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - KITCHEN

(Booth shows Brennan the Postal ID card of STEVE RIFTON. Booth is sitting on the counter while Brennan is examining the card.)

BOOTH: Steve Rifton: 26 year-old mailman reported missing by his wife 12 days ago. (He hops off the counter) You figured out he was a mailman and guess what? He's a mailman!

BRENNAN: Why are you surprised?

BOOTH: It just surprises me. It amazes me sometimes how you figure that stuff out - he's a mailman, you figured that out.

(Booth takes out a map)

BRENNAN: I'm good at my job.

BOOTH: Wait 'til you see what I got here. Okay. Here -

BRENNAN: Oh, marked in red -

BOOTH: Right - Is Steve Rifton's postal route. (He circles the area with his finger) And here -

BRENNAN: Marked in black -

BOOTH: Right - Is the grease truck route. See what I've done here?

BRENNAN: Obviously, you've created a geographic Venn diagram.

BOOTH: No, no, no, no, incorrect. What I've shown here is they've overlapped in the same area.

BRENNAN: You need to Google 'Venn diagram'.

BOOTH: No, you know what I'm thinking? Lonely housewife, you know, husband away on a business trip. Bow-chicka-wow-wow.

BRENNAN: What's 'bow-chicka-wow-wow'?

BOOTH: You know, boom-clicka-mow-mow. It's very - uh - common porno-plot theme which, in real life, it's a jealous husband stuffing, you know, a horny mailman in the grease traps.

(Booth is also attempting to refold the map, can't, which results in Brennan taking it from him, successfully refolding it and handing it back. This whole exchange is rather adorable.)

BRENNAN: Who's that?

BOOTH: It's the victim's wife.

BRENNAN: (She stops him as they near the sliding doors) Well, are we going to tell her about the clacka-mow-boom-chicka-mow-mow-boom?

BOOTH: (He opens the door) No, no, it's bow-chicka-wow-wow, boom-clacka-mow-mow.

INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - CONFERENCE ROOM

(Booth, Brennan and JILL RIFTON are sitting at the desk)

JILL RIFTON: It's so unfair. All those years of effort. Steve finally gets somewhere and then gets killed.

BOOTH: Can you think of anyone who would want your husband dead?

JILL RIFTON: You know who Steve is, right? I mean, was.

BRENNAN: A postman.

BOOTH: Yeah, mailman.

JILL RIFTON: That was Steve's job, his vocation. (She takes out her wallet from her purse) His avocation was gaming. (She hands Brennan a picture)

BRENNAN: He was a professional gambler? (She shows Booth the picture)

JILL RIFTON: Video gaming. My husband became the reigning world champ in Punky Pong after he got a perfect score. It was on the news.

BOOTH: Did he have any enemies?

JILL RIFTON: Sure. The thousands of people he beat out for the world title. It's a very competitive sport.

BRENNAN: Ah, Agent Booth would never accept Punky Pong as a sport.

BOOTH: Did your husband have any trouble at work?

JILL RIFTON: Steve was never gonna be Postmaster General, that's for sure. He had a very high IQ; you know how those people can be - very absentminded.

BRENNAN: I don't think that's true. At all.

JILL RIFTON: Sometimes it was tough to get his attention but he was a good man. Please find whoever hurt him.

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - OOKEY ROOM

(Fisher and Hodgins are standing around while the body soaks in a clear container with kegs of beer feeding into it.)

HODGINS: Does Dr. Brennan know you're soaking the body in beer?

FISHER: Yeast speeds up the putrefaction process. It's the kinder, gentler way of removing the last vestiges of flesh and cartilage from the skeleton.

(Sweets enters)

SWEETS: Is that beer?

HODGINS: Yeah. Yeah, it beats being scrapped or eaten by beetles.

FISHER: Technically, his remaining cells will be very drunk before he ceases to exist.

HODGINS: So, hey, Fisher. How long does this thing take to marinate?

FISHER: Few hours.

HODGINS: Okay, good. Both of you - come with me.

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - ANGELA'S OFFICE

(The Avatar trailer plays on the Angelatron.)

SWEETS: Oh, okay, I am no longer able to discern special effects from live action.

HODGINS: This is 2D. 3D is gonna blow your mind. Oh, one of us needs to be in line right now.

FISHER: Okay, we're up against freaks and fanatics for the best seats. To defeat them, we must become freaks and fanatics.

SWEETS: (looking at his PDA) Right, well, I cleared most of my days but I am a mental health professional with responsibilities.

(ANGELA walks in looking less than happy)

FISHER: Between me and Hodgins, we'll have the forensics covered.

ANGELA: What's with the blue people?

(The three guys turn to look at her)

HODGINS, SWEETS, FISHER (in unison): The Navi

ANGELA: I beg your pardon.

FISHER: Denizens of a lush planet called Pandora.

ANGELA: You boys are not allowed to watch movies on my monitor.

(Angela, with arms crossed, walks in front of the screen)

HODGINS: Angela. This is so much more than a movie.

SWEETS: Yeah, I mean, we're sorry but the screen is so big.

FISHER: You get p0rn on this thing?

ANGELA: (Pointing) Get out. (More forcefully) Out.

(They leave. Hodgins hands her the control.)

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - MEDICO-LEGAL LAB

(Fisher, Hodgins, and Sweets are planning)

FISHER: All right, listen, I'll take the first shift, you guys cover me.

SWEETS: Everyone email me your projected availabilities, I'll set up a schedule.

HODGINS: Yup.

FISHER: Okay.

(They break.)

EXT. SEEGER HOME - NIGHT

(Booth and Brennan are getting out of his car)

BOOTH: Our mailman had a clean record except for complaints from this guy Seeger.

BRENNAN: Right. Seeger claims that he trespassed and was acting creepy around his son.

BOOTH: Well, protecting the well being of your own kid seems like a good reason to kill someone - I'm not saying that I approve, I'm just saying - look, I understand.

(They approach the garage and hear video game noises. They see a boy, DOUGIE SEEGER. He is concentrating intently on the game.)

BRENNAN: Oo. This is probably the child who got creeped on by the victim. (They enter the garage) Hello?

BOOTH: Excuse me. Hello?

BRENNAN: Hello?

BOOTH: Hi. I'm Agent Booth. (He takes out his badge) I'm with the FBI.

BRENNAN: Oh, show him your gun. Kids love guns.

BOOTH: Let me handle this.

(Dougie's father, KEITH SEEGER, enters from the house entrance)

KEITH SEEGER: Can I help you?

BOOTH: Yeah, Agent Booth with the FBI. I'm her to talk to you about the mailman incident.

KEITH SEEGER: That was 3 months ago.

BOOTH: Right. And what was the problem?

KEITH SEEGER: The problem was - I come out, the guy is here staring at my son. Dougie, uh, is autistic. He can't watch out for himself in that way.

BRENNAN: (Standing next to the machine where Dougie is playing) He's very focused on this game.

KEITH SEEGER: Punky Pong. Dougie plays it most of the day. Take it away, he shuts - shuts down. So uh, someone else complain about the mailman? That why the FBI's involved?

BOOTH: Look. You're aware that this mailman is the Punky Pong World Champion.

KEITH SEEGER: You gotta be kidding me. That's why he was checking out Dougie? The game? Well, he should've said something. He just took off. That's why I made the complaint. If I was out of line, I'll apologize.

(The video game screen shows Game Over. Dougie looks over at Brennan who smiles at him. He just turns back to the game and starts over at level 1.)

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - ANGELA'S OFFICE - LATER

(Angela and Brennan are standing in front of Angela's monitor where screen shots of Punky Pong are seen.)

ANGELA: Punky Pong is kind of an old-school game but it takes a lot of skill. There are a lot of message boards and websites dedicated to it even today. But, I found something on one of them -

BRENNAN: How many people play?

ANGELA: Uh, thousands. They put out a retro version on modern platforms like Xbox and it's having this whole resurgence but what I found is -

BRENNAN: Why do they only allow world records to be attained on a vintage arcade machine?

ANGELA: Well, I guess the purists like it old school. But, sweetie, I think you need to see -

BRENNAN: Are there many of those machines? Because the autistic boy had one.

ANGELA: Uh, I think around 20 000 were made and there are probably about 1500 that are still in existence but I think this is something that you really need to see. (She brings up a video of BILLY GABEL) This is Billy Gabel. He was the Punky Pong World Champion before our murder victim claimed the throne.

(Angela hits play)

BILLY GABEL (on screen, vehemently): I am still the rightful champion. The manner in which Steve Rifton stole my crown is shameful. I will not put up with this. Steve Rifton: I am the rightful and eternal World Champion and you are dead.

BRENNAN: Angela. You should've shown me this first.

ANGELA: Uh - (chuckles good-naturedly as she clearly tried to) well - okay.

ACT THREE

INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - SWEETS' OFFICE - NEXT DAY

(Sweets watches the video of Billy Gabel on his laptop with Booth and Brennan)

SWEETS: Okay. So, video games provide the outlet for aggression that more physically taxing sports also provide.

BOOTH: C'mon, video games are not a sport.

BRENNAN: Well, technically they are. Sport being a competitive activity governed by a set of rules -

SWEETS: Dr. Brennan is correct.

BOOTH: Right, okay, so you actually think that this geek is capable of murder because some guy beat his high score?

SWEETS: Oh yeah. If one's instincts are deeply rooted in the status that they've enjoyed from the game and someone takes that away -

BOOTH: It would just be another geek lining up to see a space movie.

SWEETS: No! It's not just another space movie! It's a symbol-laden alternate reality with... (Booth and Brennan look at him strangely. Sweets sighs and gives up.) So, this guy was the recognized champion for nearly 10 years, right? If he feels that his notoriety was stolen, he might take revenge. (Sweets' phone rings. It's Hodgins.) Sorry. (He exchanges some weird looks with Booth and Brennan as he ponders whether to answer. He does.) This is Dr. Lance Sweets.

Hodgins (O.S.): Yo.

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - OOKEY ROOM

(Hodgins is straddling the phone on his shoulder as he examines evidence)

HODGINS: Fisher just called from the movie line. He's gotta get back to the lab so you have to relieve him because I can't.

INTERCUT - TELEPHONE CONVERSATION

SWEETS: I understand. That's a fascinating case, um - (to Booth and Brennan) I'm needed for a consult. We're - we're through here, right?

BOOTH: Oh no, you're coming with us to see if this geek is actually psycho or not, pal.

SWEETS: Yeah... okay. (Into phone) So I'm afraid you're gonna have to, uh, take care of the patient on your own at this juncture. Right now.

HODGINS: Sweets, I'm knee-deep in larvae and dicotyledons here.

SWEETS: I'm sorry doctor. Bye now.

HODGINS (O.S.): Sweets! Don't -

(Sweets hangs up)

HODGINS: Okay. (Hodgins hangs up with a sigh)

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - OOKEY ROOM - A LITTLE LATER

(Hodgins is briefing Cam. He says all this rather quickly.)

HODGINS: This is it. This is it. This is all I've got so far.

CAM: Please tell me these all crawled into the dumpster after the oil was removed from the restaurant.

HODGINS: No. All the insects had antemortem burns, which means they flew into the oil while it was cooking.

CAM: So easy to diet around here.

HODGINS: So, I assumed that the fragment of the cricket exoskeleton from the skull wound trace had migrated into the skull from the grease but definitely uncooked which means my three mysterious particulates were all transferred from the weapon. Now, (he brings up a new picture on the computer screen) the exoskeleton is from the Gryllidae family, probably a nocturnal cricket, the graminoid seed is from a fescue grass and I thought the silk-like fiber was from a tetrapod but what kind is indeterminate at this point.

CAM: You're talking really fast. Are you late for something?

HODGINS: No. No. Why? Do you want me to go through it all again, more slowly?

CAM: No, that's okay. Do you know where the cricket and the grass came from?

HODGINS: Yes. Yes. North America.

CAM: Great. So, Asia's out.

HODGINS: I'm still analyzing what was in the water where the fescue grew but, you know, I can check that against specific water districts and narrow down the location further, so...

CAM: Great.

(Cam turns to leave and Hodgins checks his watch)

CAM: Oh. (She turns back around) Have you Fisher?

HODGINS: Uh, no. No. But I'll go find him.

CAM: That's not necessary. I'm sure he'll turn up.

HODGINS: Yeah, but you know what, the mass spec is doing its thing and the computer, the computer really checks all the districts so I'm on autopilot here for at least the next 2 hours and we know Fisher - how depressed he gets - so I'll go find him.

(Hodgins rushes out while Cam is left staring after him, confused)

INT. GABEL VINTAGE GAME REPAIR SHOP

(Booth, Brennan, and Sweets enters. BILLY GABEL is at the back, repairing something. Booth shows Sweets a plaque with "Pong Master Bill" 2004 engraved on it.

BOOTH: (He pulls the electrical plug and the machine sounds stop) FBI. You Pong Master Bill?

BILLY GABEL: That's right.

SWEETS: We're here about the threats you made against Steve Rifton on the internet.

BILLY GABEL: That guy cheated. I don't believe he played a perfect game. I want my title back.

BRENNAN: Is this how you made a living? Repairing vintage arcade games?

BILLY GABEL: It's a skill. I know why he called you. 'Cause he knows what he did was wrong.

BOOTH: He's dead. Murdered.

BILLY GABEL: What?

BOOTH: Did you kill him?

BRENNAN: These are very complex devices and it appears you have to machine many of the parts yourself.

BILLY GABEL: Look, if I was gonna kill somebody, it would be the Ref. He's the one that accepted Steve's crappy videotape as evidence of a perfect game.

BOOTH: And this Ref's name is?

BILLY GABEL: Chris Ballinger. H heads the Gemini Constellation - the organization that decides on World Records for Punky Pong. Right after Ref declared Steve World Champion, they went into business together.

BRENNAN: Oh. What kind of business?

BILLY GABEL: Going out on tours, signing autographs. The way I hear it, the Ref is hooked up with some babe and now he's doing better than ever. Maybe he killed Rifton.

EXT. MOVIE THEATRE

(It's the screening of Avatar and there is a long line-up outside the theatre. Hodgins finds Fisher in the line.)

HODGINS: Fisher. There you are. Hey. You gotta get going, man, Cam's looking for you.

FISHER: It's okay. I gotta set this tent up.

HODGINS: Hey, this is good! This is really good positioning here, man. Not bad.

FISHER: You might want to step back. Look out! (The tent enlarges as Fisher throws to stretch it out.)

HODGINS: Wow, you do this often?

FISHER: Gotta come prepared. Oh, fresh meat tarts and a box of wine. (He hands the cooler and wine to Hodgins) Have at it.

(Fisher leaves)

HODGINS: Nice.

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - BONE ROOM

(Fisher rushes in, out of breath. Cam soon follows.)

FISHER: Hey.

CAM: Hey. Are you out of breath, Mr. Fisher?

FISHER: No, I'm - I'm just thankful I'm breathing, you know. Never know when that luxury will end. So, I examined the uh, the marks on the pelvis. They were made by a hollow rigid weapon 9.4 mm in diameter.

CAM: Was the same weapon used on the victim's skull?

FISHER: That seems unlikely because the cranial injury was made by a blunt instrument, uh, that left a 12 cm fracture... right there.

CAM: Any guesses to what it could be?

FISHER: Not at all. No. But I did, uh, scrap what looks like metal shavings from both the cranial fracture and the uh, stab wounds in the pelvis. Maybe Hodgins can find a match.

CAM: Very good, Mr. Fisher. (She turns to leave)

FISHER: All right, I've always been a multitasker.

CAM: Multitasker? (She turns around again) What would be splitting your focus?

FISHER: The head and the pelvis. Completely separate parts of the body.

CAM: Right. Did Hodgins come back with you 'cause I haven't seen him.

FISHER: Yeah, he should be out there. I gotta get back to work here but he's... check the men's room. Or don't. Good luck.

(Cam leaves. Fisher breathes a sigh of relief.)

INT. VIDEO ARCADE

(Opens on a sign that says: "Play on Steve Rifton's Winning Punky Pong Machine; High Score plays DEIRDRE RYAN". Brennan, Booth, and Sweets are walking through.)

BRENNAN: There is some excellent hand-eye coordination here. This is an activity that could definitely be considered a sport.

SWEETS: Yeah. There's an intense, competitive edge, skill, stamina -

BOOTH: For something to be a sport, there has to be some chance of injury, okay guys?

BRENNAN: Oh, Booth. That man dressed in traditional stripes could be the Ref.

BOOTH: Not that kind of Ref, okay? (He shows CHRIS BALLINGER his badge) FBI.

CHRIS BALLINGER: What can I do for the FBI?

BOOTH: Well, we'd like to ask you a few questions about Steve Rifton.

CHRIS BALLINGER: Oh, I've got a few myself. The guy just disappeared on me. We had a business deal and he left me high and dry. FBI - what? He wasn't kidnapped, was he?

BOOTH: Oh, he's dead. Which is probably why he didn't keep his business commitment.

CHRIS BALLINGER: He's dead? Oh man.

DEIRDRE RYAN: Yes! Take that Steve Rifton! I am the reigning empress of Punky Pong!

(High fives and cheers all around)

BRENNAN: (Points) She must be the babe who replaced Steve.

SWEETS: Wow. You didn't waste any time, did you?

CHRIS BALLINGER: Look, I had business commitments with Steve. Had to move quickly or I was gonna lose a ton of dough.

DEIRDRE RYAN: (Approaches the group) What's up Chris?

CHRIS BALLINGER: Deirdre. These people are with the FBI.

(Brennan is pushing through the crowd to get to the machine)

SWEETS: Plus, gamers are predominantly male so a lot more are gonna turn out to see her compete, right?

DEIRDRE RYAN: Sexist little twerp. It's not about looks, it's about ability.

CHRIS BALLINGER: Steve is dead, Deirdre. We are suspects so you don't say a thing to these people.

BRENNAN: Booth?

BOOTH: Yeah.

BRENNAN: The front of this machine has been scrubbed.

(The crowd makes way for Booth and Sweets to approach Brennan. She shines an ultraviolet light on the machine. It is covered in blood.)

BOOTH: What do you got?

BRENNAN: Blood.

BOOTH: Yup. 'K, that's it! Machine is coming with us. Part of a federal investigation now.

ACT FOUR

INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - INTERROGATION ROOM

BOOTH: Did you sign this check, Mr. Ballinger?

CHRIS BALLINGER: Yeah, yeah, this is made out to Steve Rifton

BOOTH: $12 000. That's a lot of money for an old arcade machine.

CHRIS BALLINGER: Steve not only got the world record in Punky Pong on that very machine, okay? He got a perfect score. What that machine is, there? Is a piece of gaming history. Serious gamers would drop 50 bucks a pop to play on a unique piece of equipment like that. $100 if Steve was standing beside it.

BOOTH: You see, that is a conflict of interest, right there. So you decide if Rifton gets the world record and you profit from it.

CHRIS BALLINGER: You've been talking to Billy Gabel, am I right?

BOOTH: No, we've got a tape proving that Steve Rifton won fair and square, am I right?

CHRIS BALLINGER: Yeah. That's how we do it. Now, if you guys want it for verification, fine. I'll, I'll hand it over.

BOOTH: How about the blood? Can you explain the blood on the machine?

CHRIS BALLINGER: Kids play the game, right? They get anxious, hyper even. Sometimes, their noses bleed. Sometimes, they put a little sauce into it and they bash their heads. Either way, I'm cleaning blood off the floor every day. We had a business plan, me and Steve. Why would I kill him?

BOOTH: I don't know. Maybe he reneges, you take exception, heat of the moment... it's an accident?

CHRIS BALLINGER: I'm not like that, ask anybody. What I am like is a guy who's smart enough to ask for a lawyer.

BOOTH: No problem.

EXT. MOVIE THEATRE

(Sweets is sitting in the lawn chair reading the DSM-IV-TR. TORI PAYNE skips up to him.)

TORI PAYNE: Hey.

SWEETS: Hey.

TORI PAYNE: What's with the formal wear?

SWEETS: Ah...

TORI PAYNE: Little light reading, you got there. What are you? Like, a first year psychology student or something.

SWEETS: Sort of. Not first year, though. I'm Lance. (He proffers a hand to shake)

TORI PAYNE: Lance. Very phallic name you got there. My name's Payne and if your name's as accurate as mine then we should get better acquainted.

SWEETS: Oh. Well, that's uh - I have a girlfriend, I'm sorry.

TORI PAYNE: So? I have a boyfriend but he's not coming to this movie. Is your girlfriend?

SWEETS: No.

TORI PAYNE: We're just talkin', right?

SWEETS: Yeah. Albeit, somewhat suggestively.

TORI PAYNE: So, I'll change the subject. Do you, uh - do you like my tattoos? (She lifts her top)

SWEETS: Very much. I've always enjoyed calligraphy.

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - BONE ROOM

(Hodgins and Fisher are examining the head wound.)

HODGINS: What is that? 10 cm in length?

FISHER: 12.

HODGINS: Great. One of us needs to relieve Sweets.

FISHER: I gotta write a report up on this. There's a lip here. I'm thinking a smooth, rounded edge.

HODGINS: (Looks at his watch) Okay, Sweets said he had an appointment he can't miss so...

FISHER: Follow me on this. The mailman is delivering his package to the uh - lady of the house, if you catch my drift. The husband comes home, finds the nearest blunt instrument which is a cast-iron frying pan, huh? And... wham! The postman who rang twice never rang again.

HODGINS: Yeah. Yeah, that totally works.

FISHER: Mhmm.

HODGINS: If the husband is a peacock wrangler who fights crickets after work in a creeping red fescue field.

FISHER: Peacock?

HODGINS: Yeah, what I thought was silk turns out to be thread from the after-feather of a peacock.

FISHER: You and your particulates always ruining the day for me.

HODGINS: Okay, look. I'm gonna go relieve Sweets. You just - if anyone asks, tell 'em I'm - I'm defligisterizing Tachymosis Franklangellacum.

(Hodgins rushes out)

FISHER: What, is that a real thing? Or are you just trying to be funny? 'Cause that didn't sound real. At all.

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - ANGELA'S OFFICE

(Cam and Angela are watching her monitor)

ANGELA: This is Steve Rifton's winning tape.

CAM: How many times have you watched this?

ANGELA: Ugh, I'm not watching it, I'm analyzing it.

CAM: And?

ANGELA: Uninterrupted control track which means no tampering.

CAM: The only thing you see on this tape is the game playing. No hands, no audio, just the screen.

ANGELA: Mhmm. 3 hours. This perfect game's been downloaded and watched hundreds of thousands of times by expert gaming eyes. Not one anal-retentive, detail-oriented, paranoid geek is calling foul, so...

CAM: Can I see the last part?

ANGELA: The, uh, last stage of the game is called 'The Kill Screen'. Three hours of his life to get to this point - flipping the monkey.

CAM: Wait, can you play that again?

ANGELA: (She rewinds the video) What do you see?

CAM: The injuries the monkey suffers are the same as the victim's.

ANGELA: Oh my god.

EXT. MOVIE THEATRE

(It is raining. Tori Payne is now sitting on Sweets' lap, sharing an umbrella.)

TORI PAYNE: Okay, sometimes, I taste salt in my mouth when there isn't any.

SWEETS: Okay?

TORI PAYNE: What mental illness do I have?

SWEETS: Uh... do you taste salt now?

TORI PAYNE: You tell me. (She leans in)

SWEETS: Hodgins! (He gets up hastely)

HODGINS: Uh... yeah. Yeah. Who's your friend?

SWEETS: Uh... this is Tori Payne. This is Jack Hodgins.

HODGINS: Hi. Um... (He taps his watch) Sweets.

SWEETS: Right, I'm sorry, I should have called you. Um, there's a sudden opening in my schedule.

HODGINS: Mhm. Mhm. So, does this have anything to do with Fisher's double digits?

SWEETS: No, no, no, no, no, of course not. No. That is not this situation.

HODGINS: Sweets.

SWEETS: Yeah.

HODGINS: If you need anything, just call me.

SWEETS: No, I'm good. I'm good. We're good.

HODGINS: Bye.

(Hodgins leaves)

SWEETS: Bye. (Tori Payne pushes him down onto the seat and settles on his lap) Oh.

TORI PAYNE: Salt?

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - FORENSIC PLATFORM

(The Punky Pong machine is on the platform as well. Brennan, Cam, and Fisher are present.)

BRENNAN: (She swipes and enters the platform) Did the blood come from our victim?

CAM: No. Like the guy said, it seems to have come from a number of people and it's been totally degraded by a liquid.

BRENNAN: Oh. What liquid?

CAM: Mostly cola.

FISHER: Here's a mikrosil cast of the wound, Dr. Brennan.

BRENNAN: Well, I don't see any protuberances on the machine that correspond to the shape of the wound.

CAM: Also, no sign of crickets, grass seed, or peacock feathers.

FISHER: The particulates Dr. Hodgins found.

BRENNAN: Well, those particulates were only found in the head wound, correct?

CAM: Yes.

BRENNAN: Is there anything on this machine that could explain the groin wound?

FISHER: There's an access panel at groin level. (He opens the access panel) I don't see anything.

CAM: Shall I get an ALS?

BRENNAN: I don't see how something could pop out of there, stab our victim and then withdraw it -

(Something injures Fisher's hand)

CAM: Oh!

FISHER: Ow!

CAM: Are you all right?

FISHER: Uh, yeah, that was dumb. (He peels pack his gloves) Yeah, I just jammed my hand against the bottom of the control stick.

BRENNAN: (She examines Fisher's hand) The dimensions and the shape are very similar to the marks on the victim's pelvis.

CAM: The joystick isn't long enough to pass through the abdominal wall and the intestines.

BRENNAN: Oh, Billy Gabel has a whole supply of this piping at his workshop. Uncut.

ACT FIVE

INT. GABEL VINTAGE GAME REPAIR SHOP

(Booth, Brennan, and an FBI team enter.)

BOOTH: Hey. Pong boy.

BILLY GABEL: Now what?

BOOTH: Get your hands off everything. We've got a search warrant.

(Deirdre Ryan comes out from behind a machine)

DEIRDRE RYAN: Are you guys following me?

BOOTH: Oh, some babe, Billy?

BRENNAN: You knew her all along.

DEIRDRE RYAN: I'm not allowed to fix my game? Billy's the only one with first generation Qbert parts.

BOOTH: Yeah, really, because it seems to me that you two had reason to get rid of Steve.

DEIRDRE RYAN: Look, man. I didn't have to kill him. I got a nice rack, a cute ass, and can wipe out any one at Punky Pong.

BOOTH: Right, except for Steve, which is why you two teamed up.

BILLY GABEL: She's just here for parts.

BRENNAN: Booth?

BOOTH: Yeah.

BRENNAN: (She holds up some pipes) These are the types of piping congruent with the wounds on Fisher's hand and the victim's groin.

BOOTH: Oh, pipe. Okay, bag that. Bag the pipe.

EXT. MOVIE THEATRE

(Sweets and Tori Payne are inside the tent, drinking boxed wine.)

TORI PAYNE: An actual shrink. That is so, just hot. (She takes off her glasses)

SWEETS: Yeah, but you know, my profession doesn't really preclude me from my fascination with sci-fi and fantasy. (Tori starts to unbutton his shirt) Oh really?

TORI PAYNE: Does this tent zipper have a lock on it?

SWEETS: Hm? No! No, no, no, no. There's no kind of privacy here and god! You really have fleet fingers. I've got a girlfriend.

TORI PAYNE: Yeah. So you say.

(They kiss)

SWEETS: That shouldn't have happened. Why did that happen?

TORI PAYNE: I know. It's like that one scene in Mimic where you're in a hot kiss one minute and then the next minute you're getting your brain sucked out by a mutant.

SWEETS: (They kiss again but this time, he pulls back) Mm, um... I'm sorry. I've gotta make a call. (He dials his cellphone)

TORI PAYNE: Would it help you get over this whole girlfriend thing if maybe you saw my tattoos again?

SWEETS: I - (Into phone) Where are you guys? I need back-up.

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - OOKEY ROOM

HODGINS: You told me to get lost so now, I gotta test the tensile strength of the -

INTERCUT - TELEPHONE CONVERSATION

SWEETS: (Tori lifts up her shirt again) Just please, I need to be released - relieved. Please.

HODGINS: Yeah. Sorry doctor, oh! And uh, save me a meat tart. Bye now.

(Hodgins hangs up)

SWEETS: Uh, that was an emergency... (Tori pulls him towards her) ...family emergency.

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - BONE ROOM

(Fisher and Brennan are examining the victim)

FISHER: This could be an anomaly of the scaphoid

BRENNAN: Oh. Magnify that, please.

FISHER: Looks like resorption. What could have caused that?

BRENNAN: A cyst. The victim had De Quervain's tenosynovitis. A painful condition caused by extreme stress on the wrist.

FISHER: Which means...

BRENNAN: Billy Gabel was correct. Steve Rifton must have cheated. On the date the videotape was made, he would not be capable of playing the game.

(Brennan rushes out)

FISHER: Okay.

(Fisher looks down the hallway after Brennan and then leaves, too)

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - OOKEY ROOM

(Cam is observing as Hodgins tests the tensile strength of several pipes.)

HODGINS: Brennan found five types of piping of the same dimensions. Aluminum, brass, steel, stainless steel and copper. I'm testing to see if any of them shatter under pressure.

CAM: So far, they just bend.

HODGINS: Tensile strength is 760 MPa. So far, I've tried torsion, impact, and got nothing more than bending and denting.

(Angela enters)

CAM: So, the pelvic injuries couldn't have been caused by the piping we found in Billy's workshop.

HODGINS: Yeah, no.

ANGELA: (She's shocked to see the tattoo of her face on Hodgins' shoulder) I'm - I'm... tattooed. On your arm.

HODGINS: We're looking for a more brittle substance. Ange. It's not what you think.

ANGELA: What I think is that there's a very large tattoo of me that's indelibly affixed to your skin.

CAM: I'm gonna flee right now.

(Cam leaves)

HODGINS: I didn't do it.

ANGELA: Wait a minute. My dad? (Hodgins chuckles and nods) My father did that to you?

HODGINS: Let's just say he was trying to prove a point.

ANGELA: I am so gonna kick his Texan bad-ass. You - you need to get that removed.

HODGINS: Why?

ANGELA: Because we are not together anymore and I don't want you sweating all over my face. And I - you need to get that lasered.

(Angela leaves. Hodgins looks at the tattoo with a smile.)

EXT. MOVIE THEATRE

(Sweets and Tori Payne are still in the tent but Sweets is trying to leave.)

TORI PAYNE: Why are you avoiding me? Doctor, it's just s*x.

SWEETS: I know. I know. It's just the combination of meat tarts and boxed wine has got me a little queasy so...

(Sweets backs out of the tent and bumps into Fisher)

FISHER: Oh. Sorry. (Tori pokes her head out of the tent and spots Fisher) You okay?

SWEETS: Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Everything is fine. This is Fisher.

TORI PAYNE: Are you a shrink, too?

FISHER: Nope. Forensic anthropologist.

(Tori shakes her head, not understanding)

SWEETS: He works with the dead.

TORI PAYNE: The dead? Really?

FISHER: What can I say? I can relate to the boundary between this existence and whatever screaming cold hell comes next.

TORI PAYNE: Do you wanna see my tattoos? (She lifts up her shirt)

FISHER: Wow. I love that poem.

(Tori and Fisher smile at each other and make their way into the tent. Sweets looks on disbelievingly.)

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - ANGELA'S OFFICE

(Brennan and Angela are back to watching the game being played out on Angela's monitor. The Punky Pong machine is also in her office.)

ANGELA: I analyzed the game's chip. Since the programming is from the 80s, it's pretty basic but still...

BRENNAN: One would certainly need to be in command of the rapid-cycling beta level as well as being exceptionally dextrous.

ANGELA: Right. Which according to you, Steve Rifton was not.

BRENNAN: Oh.

ANGELA: The computer has played a perfect game. So, this is the second time that this machine was played to the perfect game. The first time was Steve Rifton's perfect game. (She pulls up a picture of Steve Rifton next to the machine)

BRENNAN: Well, if Steve Rifton played a perfect game, he had to have done it before he developed tenosynovitis.

ANGELA: Yeah, well, that makes sense.

BRENNAN: Can you pull up the videotape showing this perfect game? (Angela pulls it up on the opposite screen) Could you freeze it please?

ANGELA: Yeah, what do you - what do you see?

BRENNAN: These are not the same machine. (She points to the two pictures)

ANGELA: Uh, sweetie, these look identical.

BRENNAN: No, see, here? (She points to the machine that Steve Rifton is standing beside) This banana has exposed central and lateral incisors as well as a white section of peeled epicarp.

ANGELA: Right. The teeth and the peel. Who would notice that?

BRENNAN: Me. I'm extraordinarily observant.

ANGELA: Uh, so, this is the same machine that was in the photo.

BRENNAN: But not the same one as in the videotape. See? No incisors and yellow epicarp section.

ANGELA: Steve Rifton cheated. He didn't play the winning game on this machine. What other machine do you think he had access to?

BRENNAN: Dougie Seeger's. The autistic boy.

ACT SIX

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - FORENSIC PLATFORM

(Both Punky Pong machines are on the platform. Cam, Booth, and Brennan are examining them.)

BOOTH: This here is Dougie Seeger's machine and this is the one that the Ref bought from our murder victim.

BRENNAN: We have photographic evidence that our victim actually played a perfect game on his own machine.

BOOTH: Maybe that photo there is doctored.

CAM: Angela says no.

(Hodgins enters)

HODGINS: Who wants to know about peacock poop? Okay, all right, not the greatest opening but (he pulls up his files on the computer monitor) I was looking at this thing all wrong. I kept asking myself how do peacock feathers, graminoid seeds, and insect legs get onto the same blunt weapon.

BRENNAN: That is exactly the question we need answered.

HODGINS: Sometimes peacock feathers are in peacock poop because they preen themselves. The Indian Blue Peacock, to be precise.

CAM: The murder weapon was dipped in Indian Blue Peacock excrement?

HODGINS: Pavo cristatus.

BRENNAN: Why would the murderer dip his weapon into peacock excrement?

HODGINS: What if he didn't do it on purpose? Check this out. (He pulls up a map onto the screen) The only two places with Indian Blue Peacock are the United States Botanic Gardens and the Annapolis Valley Golf Course.

BRENNAN: The murder weapon could have been a golf club.

HODGINS: That would also explain the crickets and the fescue.

CAM: Let's see which one of our suspects golfs at Annapolis Valley.

HODGINS: Who deserves a little love here? Huh? Little love? (Brennan and Booth ignore him and leave) Just a - okay, if that's all, I really gotta go. Um... King of the Lab.

(Hodgins leaves. Cam is left confused.)

EXT. MOVIE THEATRE - NIGHT

(Sweets is standing further back in the line. Hodgins approaches.)

HODGINS: Why are you standing over here? What? (He spots the moving tent ahead of them) Oh. Fisher?

SWEETS: Yeah.

HODGINS: So, he pitched his tent when you didn't.

SWEETS: By 'pitch his tent', you mean... yeah, that's what he did. Fisher said that in the short amount of time that I've been with Daisy, he pitched his tent with seven women.

HODGINS: Yeah, but come on. Fisher, he only ever pitches his tent once with each woman. You, you're the kind of guy, you don't just pitch a tent, you homestead the land.

SWEETS: Oh. So, he's the rock star and I'm the farmer. That's great.

HODGINS: Okay, Sweets. Let's do the math here, okay? Fisher's seven women versus your one Daisy. Seven one-night stands, let's give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he's had s*x, what? 21 times, okay? Now, rough estimate, how many times have you and Daisy pitched a tent?

SWEETS: Daisy and I are together approximately five nights a week, so that's 10 times a week over seven months... you add in the mornings -

HODGINS: Woah. Silent math. You got a number?

SWEETS: Yeah.

HODGINS: Don't tell me. Is it more than 21?

SWEETS: It's way more than 21.

HODGINS: Quality of the experience. It's much more important than the quantity.

(O.S.): Everybody get your tickets out! Single file! No pushing. Everybody's gettin' in.

(The line starts to move)

HODGINS: We are going in. Yes.

SWEETS: Should we - uh, tell Fisher we're going in?

HODGINS: Nah. Screw him.

SWEETS: But, he's gonna miss the movie.

HODGINS: Yeah, well, serves him right.

SWEETS: Uh, if you were in my shoes, you would have gone for her, wouldn't you?

HODGINS: Heck yeah, are you kidding me? Did you see those tattoos, oh! Epic.

INT. SEEGER HOME

(Booth, Brennan, and Keith Seeger are walking from his house to the garage. Keith Seeger is holding the warrant in his hand.)

KEITH SEEGER: Why do you wanna see my golf clubs?

BOOTH: Well, I mean, you're a member of Annapolis Valley, right?

KEITH SEEGER: Yes, for three years. My golf clubs are in here somewhere. I don't get out there as much as I'd like. (Dougie Seeger is standing quietly in the corner of the garage) Dougie just stands there all day, waiting for his machine. I'd like to get it back as soon as possible.

BOOTH: You're very cooperative.

BRENNAN: (She spots the golf clubs) Booth?

BOOTH: Yeah?

BRENNAN: Graphite shafts. These would snap. We're looking for a broken shaft that would explain the stabbing wound.

BOOTH: Any of them damaged?

BRENNAN: No. None of these is the murder weapon.

KEITH SEEGER: Wh - you think I killed the postman? Well, why would I do that?

BRENNAN: Perhaps it's a coincidence that Mr. Seeger is a member of that golf club. Perhaps we should check out the possibilities of the botanic garden?

BOOTH: Where's your three iron?

KEITH SEEGER: Never needed one.

BRENNAN: What? Three iron?

BOOTH: Guy like you, a course like that. You would definitely need a three iron to hit that course, so, where is it?

(Keith Seeger looks sadly back and forth to his son. He is caught.)

INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - INTERROGATION ROOM

(Flashes back and forth between Keith Seeger's confession and Dougie Seeger getting his Punky Pong machine back and playing happily.)

KEITH SEEGER: My son only ever had one thing. One thing in his whole life. Dougie can't even speak, you understand? He looks at me or my wife and there's no glimmer of recognition. But that machine. It turns on, makes that noise... and he gets this look on his face. Maybe you wouldn't notice it in a regular kid but I know what it is. It's joy. And this guy, this mailman, he watches Dougie play a perfect game and then next thing you know, he's on TV saying he played the perfect game. It's a miracle. It's too much of a coincidence for me.

BOOTH: You accosted him with your own golf club, right? You scared him into telling the truth.

KEITH SEEGER: He admitted it. He said he videotaped Dougie. But he refused to credit Dougie. I lost it.

BRENNAN: You beat him. With your golf club and when the head broke off, you stabbed him with it.

KEITH SEEGER: The only thing my boy has in this world - one thing - this man stole it from him. It wasn't right. (He cries)

INT. JEFFERSONIAN - FORENSIC PLATFORM

(It's nighttime. Everybody has left. The Punky Pong machine is still there and Booth and Brennan go to play a game. Or two.)

BOOTH: It's not as crazy as you'd think. I'm a father so I sort of understand.

BRENNAN: I can't imagine you killing someone for stealing credit from Parker for anything.

BOOTH: Well, not kill someone but threaten 'em.

BRENNAN: Even about something as frivolous as bragging rights to a videogame? All right, how do we choose who goes first?

BOOTH: Right, okay, go ahead, you go first.

BRENNAN: Why?

BOOTH: Why? Because once I start, I ain't gonna stop. (Brennan laughs. Booth sits down on a chair, continuing his thought) Besides, it's not how the dad feels, it's how the son feels.

BRENNAN: We're discussing the murder again?

BOOTH: Someone breaks your kid's heart, your own heart rises up, get's fierce. It's just a natural response.

BRENNAN: There's a flaw in your reasoning. I believe that due to my superior learning curve, I can beat you at this game - despite your superlative strength and your remarkable reflexes. (She hits the buttons on the machine a few times) How do I start the game?

BOOTH: What's the flaw in my reasoning?

BRENNAN: Dougie Seeger is autistic. He didn't care. His heart wasn't broken.

BOOTH: So, the dad loved him twice as much. All right, you don't like the reasoning and my math.

BRENNAN: I've realized recently that you use a different number system, like the Babylonians which was base 60. I don't understand your system but I can see that it works. (A silence. And then, she starts hitting the buttons on the machine again) How do I start the game?

BOOTH: Bones.

BRENNAN: Yes? (Booth tosses her a quarter) Oh!

BOOTH: There you go.

BRENNAN: A quarter!

BOOTH: Knock 'em dead.

BRENNAN: I will. I will knock you dead. I will prove you wrong.

BOOTH: Big words!

BRENNAN: Level one, baby. (The screen goes back to the start) What happened?

BOOTH: My turn.

BRENNAN: No, it's not your turn. What do you mean? It just stopped, so...

BOOTH: That's right. No, sit right there.

BRENNAN: No, I didn't lose.

BOOTH: Well, you put the quarter in, the game's over

BRENNAN: No, it's not -

BOOTH: Maybe it's your energy -

BRENNAN: It's the machine broke -

BOOTH: Maybe it's your math -

BRENNAN: It's not my math -

BOOTH: My turn...

END.