Where is she?
- What the fuck do you care?
- I do... I do care.
- Is she alive?
- You wanna know where she is, Cruz?
You wanna how she is?
Then start talking. And I mean everything.
Every last fuckin' detail.
I can't see. I need a doctor.
You'll get one soon as you tell us
what the fuck and why for.
I think he's faking.
- You dont just go blind.
- I think the motherfuckers faking!
No. Heard of this. Head Trauma.
You'll see again.
Just in time to look the judge
in the eye when he sentences you.
Sentences me? For what?
Take your pick. You look quite the
'Train in the head'. Five dead.
- Five?
- Mm...
- Maybe I ought to see a...
- Ought to see a lawyer or a faggoty lawyer?
You're not under arrest, Ned?
So why the cuffs? Why won't you tell
me where she is, if she's alright?
Because of the law, Cruz.
I ask the questions, you answer them.
My client... is she alive?
You really dont know?
Bullshit! He's playing like
he's fucking here, I'm thinking.
If we let him get away with this,
we gonna be here all night.
We dont want you to think, Cruz.
Allright.
We dont want you to ask questions.
We just want you to respond.
Like a Reflex, with the truth, Compadre!
I am a human lie detector.
If you dont tell me the truth, I'll beat it
outta you. And love every minute of it.
All right, all right. .
Sorry, sorry.
Go ahead, entertain us.
- You were there the night it started.
- Tell us anyway.
He's doing it again.
You wily fucking Duke. Quit thinking.
Quit stalling. Can we do this my way?
Okay, Poley but tell Frizer to get down when
I start to shave skin. .
- Skeres?
- Yeah?
- Do you like Adam Nova?
- The actor?
He's alright.
I guess he makes an honest buck.
Try 20 million per picture and
20 percent junk off the back-end.
One of the highest paid
moviestars in history
and I have to tell him...
That its all over.
Shortly after Nova's very public
feud with a certain studio mogul,
The mogul paid some low-rent
private eye to get the dirt on Nova.
And leak it to a tabloid website.
Nova hires me to find out what dirt
that tabloid website is going to expose.
Whats the 411 on Adam Nova, Uh?
What flashbulb boys handle me this time?
I'm fucking terrified.
We've all got kinks.
Contrary to what science tells us,
All DNA does not twist the same.
Well Adam, you gonna open it or what?
Adam Nova's side kink is an
albino little person named Russell.
And the two of them have made a habit
of mixing viagra with meth-amphetamines
And doing the double dolphin with
Degaulle Groupie for 48 hours straight.
Fuck!
- What is it, buddy?
- This is your fucking fault!
- Let me fucking see!
- Away from me, you sick little pervert!
Nova is finished.
When these sort of things
get near the internet
its moving at the speed of light.
I suppose you wanna get paid.
Wait here. I'll be right back.
Adam, wait a minute!
Let me see the fucking pictures!
Get off my ass!
No matter what it is, I can fix this.
We've all got kinks,
The built-in closets where they hide.
There is always the fear that some day,
someone walks into your closet,
And switches on the light and
there in the corner, is your kink.
And most terrible fear of all...
the fear of being exposed.
You wanna explain this?
- Is that. . Aftershave or cologne?
- What? Aftershave.
- Whoa...
- Fuck you!
Why is it that when weird shit happens,
its always stuck to the bottom of your shoe?
So, who is the crispy midget?
He's Astrophysicst, Frizer.
- Astrophysicst.
- His name is Russell.
He's a white dwarf
gone supernova.
It's 2:00 am. I'm sick of Los Angeles.
Sick of bearing witness to human tragedy.
And sick of Frizer's shitty aftershave.
I'm too jack-topped to go home. So...
I go back to the office to hate myself.
Maybe its my favorite jacket,
ruined forever.
But all of a sudden I dont like
what I do for a living.
I should go home.
I should climb into the tub...
and pull the water up over my head.
But all I can do is return
to the scene of my own crime.
- You are private eye?
- Yeah... I used to be a private 'H'.
Maybe one day I'll be a 'G' man. I'm just
working my way around the alphabet.
Blah Blah Blah!
I want you should find somebody.
You've specific person in mind?
Or just anybody do?
My name is Anton. They call me "The Pro".
Okay Anton, listen. Today treated
me like a dog treats a fire hydrant.
I... I'm closed for work really. Please...
Her name... is Lexie.
Lexie Persimmon. She is my girl.
I think, wherever she is,
I'm sure she's snug in bed, and dreaming
about bungee-jumping off your forehead.
It would be a shame
to wake her up.
- All right, what's the punchline?
- What is meaning of punchline?
- This is your girlfriend?
- Duh!
She wrote to me.
I wrote her back.
Every wednesday for 5 whole years.
Wow! You must've had a jumbo box of crayons.
But there's nothing,
no house at her return address.
Where did you do your time, Big Anton?
What were you in for?
No stamps, No post marks.
You know the Federal Bureau of Prisons...
require the letters to prisoners
are in sealed envelopes. You see?
I've been doing life at Lompoc.
But they let me go, let me out.
Now I've got to find her.
But she's aint dancing
at Minkowski's no more.
So come on, we go to Minkowski.
Maybe they will tell you something.
If I write you a letter and
sprinkle it with Chanel No 5,
Would you believe me when I tell
you that I'm done for the day?
This is it, where she worked.
Ask him.
Don't bother, Bonto. I told him already.
I never seen her before.
I don't know who she was.
How many bouncers do
you figure it would take?
- Who the fuck are you?
- Where is Minkowski?
Where do you go when you die?
- Now how is it working for you?
- What the fuck, man!
Answerig questions with questions. .
Now who you been dallying with
in this place and slowly? Hm?
- You gonna let me go?
- There you go again.
- Hey!
- What the fuck!
Do you know Lexie Persimmon?
Hey, Asshole!
A right hook like a freight train
coming around a corner.
And it all comes back to me.
A decade ago. Everyone had hear
of Anton 'The Pro' Protopov.
Let's get out of here! Come on.
He was 18 all when he threw a fight.
Took a dive... for a prize.
- Excuse me.
- Ow. Shit!
Skinny Faddeev, The boss of
the Russian mob, Los Angeles.
- Dont be an asshole.
- We know who Faddeev is. Was.
Ofcourse you do. So you know
he was grooming his own nephew...
to be next the heavyweight contender.
And you know he offered Anton 'The Pro'
Protopov 30 million upfront to take a. .
Fall in the third round of his
nephew's exhibition match.
But Anton 'The Pro' was so... well,
unclear on the concept.
Because if you crush your opponent's skull,
and then go down for the count,
nobody bites it.
It's stupid.
Anthon 'The Pro's boxing career is over.
Hey hey, the car's over there!
You got pictures,
you got letters. Find her.
I'll do better
without your help anyway.
- Sometimes, I dont know... I just. .
- React, right?
- How do I find you?
- No, I find you.
Skinny Faddeev's nephew dies
of a fractured skull...
and a bleeding brain
in less than a week.
I saw that fight.
I saw Anton 'The Pro' take
that phony fucking dive.
Outside for me, allright,
that is the damndest angel of heresy.
What the fuck you laughing at?
Dont answer that!
Faddeev? What about Faddeev?
Allright, Skinny Faddeev ruins the
career of an 18 year old heavyweight,
Gets his nephew killed
and loses a cool 30 million.
And, uh... one other thing.
He does it all without letting
the Mob in Las Vegas in on the fix.
But instead of taking the blame
for such colossal clusterfuck...
and trying to make peace
with the Las Vegas boys,
Skinny Faddeev decides...
that he has a score to settle
with Anton 'The Pro' Protopov.
3 days later, they found Skinny Faddeev
in the kitchen at Prostranstva.
And its hard to tell the difference
between former Master and Borscht.
It's the same Borscht mixed
with Skinny Faddeev's blood,
That you boy scouts find on Anton Protopov's
dirty laundry at the Roseville Hotel.
He's coming down the hall.
Freeze, motherfucker!
Put the bottle down. Hands up!
You were there.
You were the arresting officers.
Yeah, we were.
So what?
Dont get clever again.
What the fucks all this got to
do with finding the stripper?
What the fucks a bastard condom
got to with your birth certificate, Poley?
It's just cause and effect.
By the way, he'll hurt you.
And Skeres and me,
we'll just look the other way.
Skeres and I.
Skeres and I, will look the other way.
You think you're better than me.
Dont you, Cruz?
You and I, we're just migrant
workers in the land of opportunity.
But I'm the one with a badge.
I'm gonna ask you one more time. .
Tell us everything you did,
everything you know and tell us now.
Or else what? Poley is gonna hit me?
It may get my sight back.
Anything that helps, yeah.
The faster you draw us a map,
the faster you get outta here. See?
No, I dont care about that.
Just tell me she's alright...
- and tell me she's alive.
- No.
You first.
All right.
Anton 'The Pro' Protopov...
is sentenced to life imprisonment
for murder of Skinny Faddeev.
Suddenly, after serving 5 years
of life sentence, without parole...
he's back on the streets.
Free man.
So... somebody else
confessed to the crime.
Yeah, a Vegas hitman
already serving 300 years...
for murder, rape, kidnapping and
arson, claims he killed Faddeev.
Because Faddeev had no business
trying to fix a Vegas fight game.
Now this convict claims that Anton 'The Pro'
was framed with blood and Borscht.
So what?
So what? Do you really believe that?
Enough with the Mob shit. Get to the girl.
Now, if you dont understand the Mob angle.
Then it wont make any sense when
you get to the part about diamonds.
What diamonds?
Where was I?
The 7 foot, 300 pound lifer is sprung
from prison and all he's looking for...
is his girl. How romantic is that?
And cut! Recess. Who's next?
So you'd agree today you
brought tape to my club, Uh?
Oh, you heard about that?
Yeah, I fuckin heard about that.
How'd you find me?
- I looked under the rug.
- So, you asking to get fucked up?
The fuck that your entire legal
name is Puss was a surprise.
Then Maincoon Production popped up. .
And here I am... Schrodinger's warehouse.
Watching an artist at work.
- I ain't ever saw this bitch.
- Hey, fair enough. So, listen. .
Herman Minkowski died 4 years ago.
You bought the joint a year later.
- Who sold it to you?
- His widow. Stripper, actress, tweaker.
Allright, cum for chrissakes!
What you saying?
What is the plot?
Well, the guy she's fucking,
he keeps changing into another guy.
Point being they really all the same.
You just dont know where they disappear to.
Its like they go in...
- They never come out.
- Beautiful.
And... Cut.
- Minkowski's widow, she got a name?
- Yeah, Zooey. Zooey Wigner.
- You making a cameo?
- Hitchcock dead. Slide in.
Lights. Camera. Action, Motherfuckers!
It takes about 30 minutes
online to find Zooey Wigner.
Slow down. You claim it was
the last time you saw Puss?
Yeah.
Really? So,
it would surprise you to learn that. .
When Schrodinger's warehouse was open
the next morning, Puss was still there.
Well, why would that surprise me?
It would. If you knew your
client broke his fuckin' back.
That, is one well-hung negro!
It'd take a pretty big motherfucker to do
that kind of damage to hoist him up there.
- Might even take...
- What the fuck are you guys talking?
Zooey Wigner. Tell us about Zooey Wigner.
I dont found her at any of Italian agencies.
She isn't listed as client of any manager.
I find her on a UCLA Medical Center website.
Zooey Wigner's meth-addiction has
burned through capital gains...
... from her dead husband's strip club.
The only acting gig she can get...
... is to act like a patient...
with a medical condition for interest
to test their diagnostic skills.
Fridays, she's got Autosarcophagy.
A disorder causing people
to eat themselves,
on account of severe sexual anxiety.
Its a really fucked-up job.
But... it keeps me in a rehab and...
shithole base apartment in El Segundo.
Here's the... Take a look at this.
She does kinda look like a girl who worked
at the club a while ago. I dont know...
Do you remember her name?
No, no... That's not it.
I just... I dont really remember much...
from back then.
You know what, take it.
You're an actress, a professional.
Your time is valuable, meaningful. Take it.
Meaningful?
I'm pretending to eat myself.
Where's the meaning in that?
Wait. Jules maybe...
- Or just Julie... I think.
- Hmm.
The 'Ouroboros'
is what Plato described...
as the first living thing
in the universe.
An immortal, perfect creature.
A serpent eating itself...
swallowing its own tail.
Everything has meaning.
Thats sweet.
I bet you made her feel better.
So, I suppose you never went to
Zooey Wigner's apartment that night?
No. You're not going to surprise me
this time?
Yesterday, Zooey Wigner was found
with the left side of her head caved-in...
floating face-up in that
shithole basement apartment.
Floating?
Somebody must've left the water running
in her tub.
But you didn't go there,
and I suppose, neither did Anton.
No. I wet to Kepler's.
So, whats tickened you, Right Man?
- Who broke your doll?
- I'm fine.
You killing me when you say 'The Band'.
I'm thinking of becoming a Tele-Evangelist.
This business blows.
Like a sand, wind went out of you.
So, what is it this time?
I'm looking for someone who is supposed
to exist when nobody has seen.
- Ah... That again?
- Yeah.
You're always looking for that,
the ultimate missing person...
- The theoretical other, the soul mate.
- This isn't about me. Nobody want.
- Sure it is...
- No, it's for a client.
- It's a job.
- OK.
I've picked up a tail. It could be my client
or it could be somebody else onto them.
So you think
its later for crashville?
Nothing much.
Skin marks and treader's fault.
I dig it in you. Just remember...
Love looks not with the eyes,
but with the mind.
- Cupid is blind.
- Yeah.
- What the fuck was that about?
- Love and... longing.
He knew what was going to happen.
He always knows.
Holy Shit! He's doing it again.
Cruz, what the fuck you talking about?
- Jazz.
- Huh?
Sex, your heartbeat... your soul.
- Skeres, you're a married man, right?
- Divorced.
You still remember love, right?
I got kids in college and I've already paid.
- I dont have time for fucking love stories.
- I'm sorry.
Close your eyes...
and I will show you my secrets.
You gonna love me...
without shame or fear.
Your search ends with me.
I am missing person... of your heart.
Your one true love.
Anton is right. There is nothing
at the La Riviera's return address.
Wherever she's writing from,
Lexie Persimmon prefers in hiding.
- Excuse me. Lady... Lady... Excume me.
- What you say to me?
Just a second.
Until recently, a letter has come
this vacant lot every week.
It would be forwarded
by the mail carrier...
to whoever submitted
a change in Further's form.
Okay, so?
I'm a U. S. postal employee.
I dont take bribes.
No, no. Dont making money,
but please help me.
I need this address. Its very important.
General Deliveries, San Celeritas.
- What was that?
- San Celeritas, New Mexico. Okay?
Thank you. I appreciate it.
I go back to the office to grab a couple
of shirts and some clean underwear.
Thats when I realized that it
isn't my client who's tailing me.
Anton 'The Pro' has no
reason to toss my office.
So, someone must've been following
him when he first came to see me.
He had a duffel bag
when he came in,
but not when he left.
So, they either know whats in the bag...
or they know about the letters
or together who'd sent them.
- Oh yeah? Why?
- I didn't know, Poley.
I hadn't quite read them all yet.
San Celeritas, New Mexico, is a
ghost town in the land of enchantment.
-Wait a minute.
So, Anton and this stripper,
she's never even met him.
- But shes writing him letters?
- Yeah.
This is fucking stupid.
I dont wanna listen to this shit.
I dont know if Anton said that because
Space and time are relative, Poley.
Time slows down when you
approach the speed of light.
Things get shorter, more dense.
The faster you travel, the slower
and even dumber you appear.
Oh god... thats so funny.
Yeah. Well, its just the laws
of physics, Poley.
You know what you are?
You think you're a smart guy.
I hate such a smart guys. I hate 'em
more when they think they're tough guys.
You're one of them too, aren't you?
Stay on trail.
I know your fucking ways.
Remember I can read your mind.
You couldn't read even a picture book.
What? What's you say?
What, huh?
You know, Poley, I know. I know
you're gonna hit me, but listen to this...
You hurt me, you hurt me too bad...
You will never find out
where the diamonds are!
- What diamonds?
- Okay, okay.
I'm on my way to New Mexico,
and I am moving very fast.
Lexie Persimmon is as good as found.
She's in San Celeritas
where her mail is forwarded.
I chose to drive, to clear my head.
Think about quitting this shit business.
Settling down... Something real.
But is no good.
I keep wondering why Skinny Faddeev...
would pay Anoton 30 million upfront.
And where is the money now?
And why would a streeter, who is god's
own wet dream, chose to be pampered...
with a Darwin's worst nightmare?
I cant stop thinking about her.
The woman, the photograph...
I tell myself
that I'll find Lexie Persimmon,
if that is her real name,
I'll tell her that King Kong
is looking for her.
And... that will be the end of it.
But I dont believe it.
Not for a second.
- Wow! You totally dont belong here.
- Where is here?
Around people like this. Red Auras. .
Material, physical. Blue: Reverence.
And... mostly Yellow: Intellectual.
You're Grey. You are so conflicted,
But you've also got this
purple-red spiritual vibe...
Its extremely rare on this earth,
but... there's something so dark about you.
- Is there anything else to see around here?
- No! I mean, not really. You know its just,
Its an old Airforce base shutdown in 1962.
We should test the V2 rockets that were
captured from the germans here.
- Then Kestral bought it...
- Simon Kestral?
Oh yeah. A Simon, 'the reclusive
gazillionaire fucking visionary' Kestral
And no, I've never actually seen him.
But he bought San Celeritas
and everything underneath it.
There's these tunnels, some people say
they run all the way to Dolche,
where there's supposed to be this like...
secret underground military base
filled with extra-terrestrials.
But you dont believe that?
No. And you can't go down there
anyway on account of the Colliders.
The Collider?
The Particle Accelerator
that Kelstral spilled.
So God, I'm sorry. Do you want breakfast?
Yeah, where can I find her?
I dont know, man.
But I knew you didn't belong here.
Do you recognize her?
- May I please? Ketchup?
- Sure.
Sorry.
Do you know this woman, sir?
He's a Sikh.
And it means God is true and timeless.
Okay, thats really cool that you know that.
- So you own this place?
- No no, I just work here.
- Who is the Post Master?
- Guy that owns this place.
Orders up. I gotta go.
When do you get off?
About 14 minutes after I start fucking.
What is all this?
These are the spiral trails left
by sub-atomic particles.
Moving through liquid hydrogen
in presence of a magnet field.
You know, it certainly look familiar.
You gotta understand, everything behaves
like a particle in a wave at the same time
until something is actually observed.
Because of the same multiple
states of reality simultaneously.
Then only you actually observe anything,
anywhere in the universe, to change it.
And if that thing is entangled in a
relationship with anything else,
it changes still, instantly.
And that's faster than a speed of light.
But you know what, nothing's
faster than speed of light.
Its real-life magic...
and Atom.
It's made of Electrons,
Protons and Neutrons.
And Protons and Neutrons
are made up of Quarks,
and Quarks are held together by Gluons.
And Gluons are Bosons,
and Bosons... are elementary particles,
which are the fundamental forces of nature.
So, you're here because...
Because... in 2 days,
just 300 feet underground,
Two Proton beams are going to collide with
each other, at nearly the speed of light.
Nothing is faster.
And you may find it right here
and in the middle of desert.
- Find what?
- 'It'. The God particle.
And you are here because... ?
Because I'm looking for someone who is
supposed to exist but nobody has seen.
In the middle of desert.
Someone is following me, but don't know who.
Honest?
Yeah. So, tell me how does
the mail service work here?
The Mail service? It doesnt.
People just use Priority Mail or Email.
Regular mail just goes into basket.
People come in and collect whats their's.
Then I tell her everything I know.
About the 260 letters,
about the lonely stripper,
and washed-up boxer who became pen-pounce.
About a beautiful woman who found a way,
to share her deepest passions,
her kinks without fear of consequences.
Because she chose to give her love
to a man who'll never get out of prison.
Until... all of a sudden...
he did.
And by that time...
the Boxer was...
Well, he was in...
Bullshit!
I'm sorry, Poley. Anton 'The Pro'
never expected to seeing the light of day.
Thats why he told her
where to find the diamonds.
- Yeah, the diamonds.
- Thats right.
And Lexie Persimmon never expected
Anton 'The Pro' Protopov
to come looking for her.
Okay, Ned.
This is where you need to be very,
very specific, we dont have a lotta time.
Why?
Because Smartass,
its gonna be morning soon.
And you went half-explaining
to the local authorities...
how everything went sideways...
- You're gonna need every detail.
- Every last fucking detail, yes.
Man, why'd you chose to share your
investigation with this waitress?
I needed the username and the password
for cafe's account with Arbitrum Inc.
Every week Lexie Persimmon retrieved a
letter from the basket at Planck's Constant
And she sent a letter in an
unsealed envelope by Priority Mail.
Since Fay had never seen Lexie Persimmon,
she probably did it after hours.
The only witness to this weekly
event was the digital DVR camera,
in the Arbitrum ATM.
Why was it so fucking important
to see her getting her mail?
Because I was starting to wonder if...
Lexie Persimmon even existed...
outside of her letters.
Simon Kestral is surfing, stoned,
off Papara beach, Tahiti
Well, he has an idea,
that revolutionizes microchip technology.
At age 60,
he's the 12th richest man in the world,
and a total recluse.
Fuck!
Shit, man.
You know these guys are sikhs.
They work for one of the largest
security firms in the country.
We're talking government and private sector.
Why?
Because they view self-defense
and protection...
of the defenseless
as duty of the highest honor.
But they're fucking literal, you know...
I ask them to bring you to see me,
so they bring you to see me.
I'm Simon Kestral.
And this is what I do to offer my hand
beacuse according to the tabloid,
I'm such a freak,
I don't touch other people.
I'll touch a tissue of eyes.
Aw, go ahead.
Look, I'm sorry you're here
without your shirt.
And you got a little booboo...
What the fuck, Chuck?
I'll make it upto you.
You can start right now.
Oh.
You're in a 8-mile long circular tunnel,
300 feet below San Celeritas.
And 27 hours from now...
8 Magnet-Assembly storing
10 GigaJoules of energy,
will guide two Proton beams
fired simultaneously...
in a semi-circular path
towards each other,
at 99. 999% of the speed of light
and they'll collide right in there.
To recreate conditions of 3/8th
of a second after The Big Bang.
Ther beginning of the universe...
13 billion years ago.
Questions?
Pretty good task.
'What the fuck for', comes to mind.
But I know you're gonna tell me.
Because you can't resist, rght?
27 hours, I'm gonna find something
that theoretically should exist,
But no one has ever seen.
Funny.
This is exactly what I'm looking for.
You know why?
Yes, because I'm a private
detective and I've been hired to.
Because I already know why we're here.
I knew it the first time I dropped acid.
Really? When was the last time?
We are sentient means,
evolved in an infinite universe.
An infinite extrapolation of our evolution,
is to become Gods ourselves.
You dig?
Now, along the way,
we must learn the secret,
of his magic wand.
If everything there is,
from all the heavenly bodies,
in all the galaxy's
still expanding universe,
To you and me was one
smaller than this single atom,
where did all this mass
and matter come from?
Dont tell me, the God particle.
Fucking A!
At 7:00 am.
Tomorrow morning,
with 5 billion dollars worth
off-the-shelf technology,
I'm gonna answer the
greatest question of all time.
- Why do men have nipples?
- You're a philistine!
The reason we are here is to
find out how we are here.
What's the trick?
What is the divine mechanism
that gives form and substance to all things?
Any other questions
are waste of fucking time.
This is the only worthwhile
pursuit in the universe, Bro.
- I'm looking for a woman.
- You're living your life in vain, Hombr.
Coming to my town at the 11th hour,
asking me insignificant questions
of a personal nature.
- What's the point?
- Love.
That got to him.
I'm bought with our security boss,
with an invitation to dinner
that night, at Kestral's house.
He told me there is somebody
that he wants me to meet.
I need sleep.
I need the username and password
to the ATM digital cam.
But I cant help it.
I've got a bag full of a beautiful
woman's private thoughts.
That her subconscious desires. .
I was the one you dreamed of, when
you were a boy becaming a man.
I was made for you... and you alone.
We're entangled, you and I,
in our own universe.
Forever, Lexie Persimmon.
PS: I did as you asked.
They were exactly where you
told me that they would be.
In their safe, back in the earth,
where they belong.
Because I've no use for material wealth.
- I have you...
- For the rest of my life.
- Where is she?
- How the fuck did you get in here?
You find her?
What're you doing here? Is she...
Shut the fuck up
for a second!
- You're being followed.
- I know that.
What is this place?
The land of fucking make-believe. .
Stick around, they'll make you a mayor.
What the fuck is this...
what the fuck is this?
You know what it is.
No. What was exactly
where you told her it would be?
- Ice.
- What?
Wooden Bling. Skinny give me.
What Diamond, Frizer?
Those diamonds.
The ones Skinny Faddeev gave
Anton 'The Pro' to throw the prize fight.
- Wait, slow down...
- No, no. Dont play dumb, Poley.
You dont have to.
Anton thought
he was never getting out of prison,
and he was in love with his Penpal
So he told his girl where to find 'em.
- Right.
- Where?
- In the closet.
- What closet?
In Anton's room at Roosevelt Hotel.
$30 million worth of conflict diamonds...
hidden in the ceiling fixture.
Conflict diamonds?
You know... It always bothered me then,
Faddeev paid Anton upfront
to throw the fight,
But if Faddeev thought he was dumping
something hard to sell on the open market,
like a couple handsful of
non-certified blood diamonds,
Anton wouldn't know the difference, but...
Faddeev would've still want them back.
Especially after Anton killed his
nephew and fucked up the fight.
You think too much.
Compared to you, Poley,
its sold as asparagus.
Say, thats my favorite fucking vegetable.
- Fuck!
- Stops it!
What is it about, What the fuck we're
doing here that you dont understand?
- You dont get to touch me.
- I wont fucking touch you.
Oh violent, so violent!
Diamonds, Ned.
Where are the diamonds now?
Back in earth, where they belong?
- What does that mean?
- She bury them?
Yea, yea, yea. I'm coming to that.
First, I have to explain to Anton,
That I haven't found Lexie Persimmon.
Then I have to find out if he knows...
Who is in my town.
Maybe Baratva. Mafia.
He follow me, now follow you.
Why would Mob be following me?
I am thinking on that.
I am thinking on account of ice.
- Diamonds? Why?
- Because I did killed Skinny Faddeev.
- So he did.
- Yes.
He want his jewels back after I fuck up.
I did not mean to kill his nephew.
I feel bad. But Skinny...
He get in my face.
I did not mean to kill him neither.
But I did. Sometimes...
I don't know, I just. .
- React.
- I know.
When other convict
confessed of killing Faddeev,
I am confused...
because I know I'm the one
who did it.
But now I'm thinking, Mob,
they want me out of prison.
So it can lead them to diamonds.
Anton, you're a genius.
But now I have to protect my Lexie.
Well, we've got to find her first.
She... she has diamonds.
And you... if you find her,
All you'll do is lead them to her.
Its late when I get the call from Fay.
And I accessed the Arbitrum ATM website.
I start scanning through the ATM's DVR,
looking for a pattern.
Someone retrieving a letter
and sending one by Priority Mail.
Lexie Persimmon stopped writing 8 weeks ago.
So only the first 4 weeks of
the 12 available on the server,
were relevant.
Any minute Dharm's security van is
gonna pull up and drag me to dinner.
And then I see it.
All of a sudden my searh is over.
I'd found who I was looking for.
Detective, I'd like you to meet my wife.
Julie, meet Ned Cruz.
A real-life private detective.
Isnt she anything a righetous
man has dedicated his time on earth...
to inserting himself into other
people's unexamined lives.
- Hello.
- Hello.
He's a Remorra. A sucker fish,
that attaches itself to the
younger belly of a big fat city,
and feeds off its leftovers. Parasites.
He's from LA, the home of
your distinguisged stage career.
He's brought an artifact from your past.
All the way to San Celeritas.
I'm glad you're ashamed of him.
It'll be a fun.
- Are you a sucker fish, Mr. Cruz?
- No.
Then why would you let my
husband say such ugly things?
Well... they are just words.
Are words important to you?
When you hurt.
Ouch! That's fucking profound.
Detach yourself, Detective.
Dr. Niels Geck.
PhD at MIT, age 13.
Rogue scholar, age 16.
Professor of Theoretical Physics,
University of Geneva, age 20.
Chief Physicist at the
San Celeritas particle Collider.
It's blesseded with a neurological disorder.
He sees numbers and words
as shapes and colors.
Its called Synesthesia.
Its like being born on acid.
So he has very rich inner life.
I envy him above all others.
He's gonna teach you a lesson.
- Niels, let's eat.
- Okay.
Once upon a time we believed
we lived in a clockwork universe...
governed by Newtonian mechanics.
Cause and Effect.
Newton was elegant, yes,
but then certain principles came along...
and changed everything.
The electron can be two different
things and in two different places,
at the same time,
so Cause and Effect is ridiculous.
You cannot predict, with any certainty,
what will happen next.
Tell me about the God particle.
When the universe was created...
Thank you.
There was an equal amount of
matter and antimatter...
and they should've annihilated each
other leaving nothing but empty space.
Theres just no explaining for,
how this universe acquired mass.
There's no explanation at all for how,
we're here in a physical sense.
Unless, unless there is some...
special, mysterious particle...
which actually gives mass...
well, to everything.
In a sense, such a particle must exist,
but we've never seen it.
It's like love. We know it exists.
We can feel it, but we've never saw it.
So, what happens tomorrow?
Well, we recreate the conditions
that existed...
One-Trillionth of a second
after the Big Bang.
Protons will head toward collisions
at nearly the speed of light.
And Quarks and Gluons will release
enough energy to create...
the Higgs Boson particle,
The God particle.
Its unstable, its fragile.
And it will last for less than
a one-millionth, of a billionth,
of a billionth of a second...
before it decays.
But we've seen it
for the first time in history.
Questions?
Yes. The woman who's serving us,
she's Hindu...
she's dressed in white,
and she's mourning. Why?
Her name's Prabha and her
husband died down there.
There've been a lotta accidents.
Whoa! He was an engineer
and he made a mistake.
- There has been a lot of mistakes.
- A lot? Compared to what?
He was trapped.
Pinned under the weight of something
much larger than he was.
- He crushed his rib-cage.
- Yeah. Broke his heart.
It was his own damn fault.
- His fault?
- You bet.
Because the only error is our human errors.
He made the wrong choice.
Unfortunately, he didn't live to regret it.
Unlike my oh-so-lonley wife.
Who made some very bad choices a long ago.
Please...
And that's why you're here. Isn't it?
Let me guess. Somebody is looking for her.
Maybe its just me.
So... what's the worst
that can happen...
with a couple of billion worth
of off-the-shelf technology,
brought it together by imperfect
human beings HO here in Mexico?
- A black hole.
- What was that?
A black hole.
Theoretically,
collisions with this much energy,
could create a black hole
that could swallow the earth.
Or create strangements
that could initiate runaway fusion,
and turn the planet into a
shrunken lump of strange matter.
We've got nothing to worry about.
You havee arrived here at
the penultimate moment!
The ultimate spiritual pursuit.
As God is the Wizard of Oz.
He's the man behind the curtain.
And tomorrow...
I'm yanking back that curtain.
So, I should attend my
business and roll away like...
a little ball of shit
in prenatal position, because...
whatever concerns, its
Inconsequential...
compared to whatever you think is gonna
happen when you flip that switch tomorrow.
The point, you insignificant asshole,
is that showing up here,
seeking disturbed shit about me,
is cosmically fucked-up.
You are fucked up.
You're the guy that have the magic show.
The one who cant live, not
knowing how the trick is done.
And all you're gonna do is,
just ruin it for the rest of us.
I think you two need to go... away.
Do your business.
Talk, fuck... whatever.
By 7.00am tomorrow, I'm gonna be on stage
standing next to God...
and looking right up your sleeve.
So, what do you think,
is gonna at 7.00am tomorrow?
There are hidden variables,
so its difficult to predict the outcome.
But I think, one way or another,
at 7am tomorrow,
Simon Kestral will be close to God.
So Geck goes home and
Kestral goes down to the Collider...
to do whatever the fuck he has to do,
with only 8 hours to go before showtime.
And Julie and I...
We go for a walk.
So, did you really came here for me?
Yes... yes.
- I am what you're looking for?
- Yeah.
How do you know?
You're exactly what I'm looking for.
How do I know you're not
like every man I've ever met?
You know, you look at me
you see what you wanna see.
I'm gonna stop defining
myself by how men see me.
- You've got father issues, right?
- Yeah.
- I stripped for him too.
- And your husband.
You know, it's more the same.
I'm nothing but a metaphor to him.
Like a trophy, a symbol for what he's
looking for... what we're all looking for.
What?
You know... you just...
you dont know. The inner...
We're standing above it, right now.
Oh, the Collider.
Basically its 'Beams Collider'. He's insane.
I'ts all gonna blow up in his face.
You know... we got a bigger problem here.
Kiss me.
No, not yet. Listen, he's here.
- Who?
- Anton 'The Pro', he's here. Protopov.
- What?
- My god!... All right, listen.
I can help you.
But you've got to come clean.
So, tell me... was it random?
Did you do it
because you were lonely?
Did you write to him
beacuse you read in the paper,
about a boxer who was going
to spend the rest of life in prison?
Might be worth $30 million.
Wait, I dont know what you're talking about.
$30 million is a lot of lifestyle to
which you've become accustomed to.
Stop! You're confusing me.
Where did you get this?
I buried all of these.
Bury them?
My headshots,
everything from back then, right here.
Listen, you're not making any sense,
you know. Why the accomplice?
Why Geck?
No, no. Dont deny it.
I have seen him,
he was recorded at the cafe.
Why did you use Niel's Geck to pick
up your mail and send your letters?
What letters?
Let me see. Who is Lexie Persimmon?
Jesus!
- Lexie!
- Shit!
- What the hell is that?
- You really dont know?
- Come on, you gotta run.
- Wait.
Back, go there. Now now!
Anton, wait! Listen to me!
It's not her. She's not Lexie Persimmon!
You cannot stop me.
You wanna try, tough guy? Shoot me.
I can't. You're my client.
Lexie!
Such a cliche! Come on.
It's unlocked.
What the fuck is going on?
- Where are we?
- Its Niel's house.
Geck? Now, hold on.
Who would know you danced at Minkowski?
Who would have your photograph?
- He would.
- Geck went to a striptease club?
Yeah. He brought my husband one night.
Niels introduced us.
Oh shit!
Lexie!
Who is that?
A guy who thinks,
you're the woman of his dreams.
What?
- All right, let's go.
- Lexie!
Niels?
Lex Parsimoniae.
What does it mean?
Why, its the Latin expression
for a philosophical concept,
known as 'Occam's Razor'.
In language that Poley can understand,
It means... "All things being equal,
The simplest solution is the best".
Now in this case it just means
that a lonely physicist...
starts a 5-year long paper-sex relationship,
with a convicted killer,
doing life at Lompoc.
You know... it is safe, perfect.
The killer gets love and the
Physicist gets treated like a...
woman he pretends to be.
Late at night, in the privacy of his home,
his kink hidden and with
no fear of being exposed.
It means that Niels Geck,
is Lex Parsimoniae.
Lexie Persimmon.
- So, you wrote the letters, right?
- What letters?
- You... you read them?
- Yeah.
I dont understand.
Oh my god! So, you knew
he was coming for you.
You had to know.
His last letter!
He must've told you
he was getting out, right?
Yes of course,
I calculated the way he functioned,
The likelihood that I'd be
where he was looking for me.
Wait a minute! What?
Did I do something wrong?
Where are the diamonds?
Lexie!
- Oh my god! You, come here.
- What about the... - Dont make a sound.
All right Anton, stop! Enough!
Hello Anton.
Niels Geck calculated the probability
that Anton Protopov would find him.
Lexie?
And based on his result,
he bought himself a gun.
- You not look like self.
- I am.
You are not my Lexie.
You're a guy!
I'm both at the same time.
Could you please...
please, put the gun down?
- You can love me.
- What? No! Where is she?
- I'm here.
- No!
- I'm here.
- Anton, wait!
- Anton, no! Stop!
- No, No. No!
I love you.
Drop the gun, now!
And that's it. That's all I remember.
Till I come to and I can't see a fucking
thing and you guys are here and...
I don't know who's alive or dead.
All I want... all I need to know, is...
is Julie all right? That's it.
Good. Good boy.
Just one more thing.
Who was it? Who crashed the party?
That... that's simple.
The guy who had been shadowing
Anton, then tailing me...
the guys in the Lincoln Town car.
I can describe them.
One is a fucking sociopath,
who never finished first grade
school and who nobody likes.
And the other is a broken down family man,
with nothing...
nothing to show for his life.
And the third type...
wears a brown shoes
and a black suit because...
he can't tell the difference
between right and wrong.
How could you tell who it was,
I thought you couldnt fucking see?
Right, Poley, but you know what...
I didn't need to see to recognize
Frizer's fucking aftershave.
No one... nobody knew story
of Anton 'The Pro' Protopov...
better than you guys.
Three stooges!
Working homicide and organized crime,
for so long that you're no
better than the bad guys.
- Whoah! The Bad guys.
- The bad guys.
You know, Anton was right.
He was sprung from prison
by the Mob...
with a phony confession,
from a three time loser...
so that he could lead them to $30 million
worth of Skinny Faddeev's stupidity!
And you guys... you guys,
are either working for the Mob,
or you stiff-armed them,
pull rank...
garbage worked for you all.
But it was you guys, you all along!
All along.
It is funny.
Anton didn't give a shit about the diamonds.
But you guys, sure as hell did.
Oh yeah.
Poley, go ahead.
Get him up, Poley.
- You get him up.
- We're out of fucking time here.
Hell, get him up.
Its a dead fucking end. He doesn't
know where the diamonds are.
Poley killed the only one who does.
- Shut the fuck up.
- No, fuck you, Poley!
What'd you say?
We got to use him,
you fucking messin' all it.
- What the fuck are we doing here?
- Wait wait wait...
Who Killed Puss?
- Your client did.
- Why?
Guess, he was following up on
your so-called investigation,
Didn't like
the African-American's personality.
What about Zooey Wigner? I mean,
Anton couldn't have known where she lived.
You... Assholes!
You follow me to the medical center.
I leave, you go in, and flash the badges,
Find out who I was there to see,
and then... And then,
Poley, Poley tails her home.
Tries to milk her
and loses his little temper.
Oye, you did not.
- Yeah.
- Oh Shit...
You cannot clean this up.
You know, there are too many loose ends.
It's messy, messy.
He's right.
We got it okay till we housed him here.
It was a stupid idea.
And you... you!
You're a fucking sociopath!
You be sickly sorry, you make a
move on me, you grisly piece of shit.
- Sorry?
- Well...
What?
Stop them, Frizer, before they kill again.
- I didn't kill anybody.
- Not yet.
All right, here's how its gonna be...
Anton gets out of prison
and partners with you,
to find this Persimmon bitch
who's got his diamonds.
Typically, you leave behind
the path of death and destruction.
It's morning now and any
minute somebody's gonna find...
a towel-head security guard,
with broken neck, over at Kestral's place.
Geck doesn't show up for work,
they gonna come looking for him.
They gonna find you at end of the trail,
everybody dead.
A real fucking bloodbath.
- What is... what is this?
- The gun that brought down Anton 'The Pro'.
The one they will find
with your fingerprints on 'em,
Next to the corpse.
- You can't... you can't use that thing.
- Unregistered.
See... I like my aftershave.
I like the color of my shoes
and I like that...
at the end of the day,
I beat you, Cruz.
I might not have the diamonds but
you gonna take the fall for my efforts.
And Poley is gonna use Geck's
little 22 to kill your girlfriend.
Wait a minute...
What? Wait...
Yeah, she's been here
all along, smart guy.
To imagine you'll be able to see
whats gonna happen to her.
- Poley, wait.
- No, no. No!
Well, Skeres, you've a better idea?
Wanna confess your partner's, go to prison?
Frankly, I don't think
your partners will let you.
Oh shit...
I know where the diamonds are.
Don't tell them.
They're gonna kill us anyway.
- Where are they?
- Make me a deal.
- No.
- Then go and fuck yourself.
All right...
All right... all right... all right.
I know... I know where they are.
I know where they are, but I can't see.
Julie knows too,
but she doesn't know she knows.
With my help she can lead you right to them.
But if you kill her, nobody will be able
to show you where Geck buried them.
It's your call, man, it's your call.
It's your call.
Open the trunk! Poley!
You keep the car running, maybe
we could get a little air back here.
Dr. Geck is not answering his telephone.
Geck the geek. Fuck him.
- Detector hot?
- All systems are all go, sir.
Tic Toc...
Go ahead.
What the fuck do I look like?
You're an asshole, Frizer.
Roll-it-down asshole.
If we've a contest, World's biggest asshole,
- you coming second.
- Yeah? Why not first?
Because you're an asshole.
3 years to retirement.
How the fuck!
- I end up here.
- How? Who gives a shit. Keep digging.
I give a shit, simple motherfucker!
Maybe I wanna take a minute and
consider that my decision's been really bad.
Fucking decision!
Yeah... Now's a great time for that.
- I fucking knew it.
- Go!
Maybe its not hell, you know?
Why... why! Why the fuck,
did I let you talk me into this?
How about $30 million worth of 'Why'?
Oh fuck!
Get the gun, get his gun!
What the fuck is this?
What the fuck is that?
What's he doing?
Shit!
Get down!
Shit!
- You okay?
- No. I dropped the gun.
Let's see what we're made of.
Oh fuck!
Oh god!
Shit!
- We have to turn!
- I can't, I can't!
- Can't we go any faster?
- Fucking bitch!
Dammit!
Its coming directly at us.
Christ!
You all right?
Fuck it!
So, were you really blind that whole time?
So you just kinda smash things
together and see what comes out?
Most of the time, yes.
More or less.
I mean, Newtonian mechanics
is so 17th century.
Cause and Effect are totally bogus.
And Reality,
I mean reality is just a wave function.
It's all about likelihood,
nothing is certain.
I mean, you solved everything.
You got the girl and I got the Gecko.
And $30 million worth of diamonds.
That we should really give back, you know...
to like Angola, or Liberia...
or The Ivory Coast
or The Republic of the Congo.
Or something...
I don't know.
But man, I really like this car.