[ IP ] You do what you got ta do

The recording started, several blips went over the audio as the interrogator made his introduction. The sound began to balance out, around the same time the image sprang to life. The man playing the recording sat down, his hands stained with dry blood that was n't his. The video itself was of two men sitting at a table, one bound, the other standing in a marvelous suit. 
 
 The sepia images flicked as the man standing leaned of the table, and began the interrogation. 
 
 `` Let's start from the beginning.'' The man said, his voice thin, yet holding power all the same. 
 
 `` Then it started Thursday.'' The prisoner replied, a rough voice filling the air, and auditory gravel against the soft, empty feeling of the room. `` Back when Constantine still owned the establishment, back when we were still in business.'' 
 
 `` And I assume something changed then.'' The interrogater replied, taking his seat in a sturdy wooden chair behind him. The audio cut slightly as he pushed his chair back, the screech of the wood against the stone floor being smothered. 
 
 `` Indeed. Then Constantine ends up dead, our contracts were invalidated, and Justinian and his crew of fancy Tailors.'' The hoarse voiced man replied, spite filling his lungs. The man watching could feel it even from the imperfect video. 
 
 `` Then tell me, Carver, what did you and Marshall do about it?'' The man in the suit asked, leaning forward from his chair, knees propped up against the table. 
 
 `` You know damn well what we did, otherwise I would n't be here and Marshall would n't have vanished.'' The larger man replied, anger filling his voice, a heat, a hatred fueled heat filling his lungs. The watching man could almost feel the fire coming off of the mans lips. As no reply came from the thin man, a deep sigh filled the audio coming into the room. `` We gathered up the Butchers, Pete, Cain, Archimedes, the lot of them. Stormed the building, took prisoners, killed any Tailor we saw.'' 
 
 `` Then something went wrong.'' The interrogator replied, interrupted the restrained man. `` Else, as you said, you would n't be here.'' 
 
 `` Of course something did. This was too personal, and we ignored what Constantine was always telling us. We were too wrapped up in revenge, so we got sloppy.'' 
 
 `` Explain what went wrong.'' 
 
 `` Marshall had us storm the higher levels, while he and Pete guarded the exit, kept people from entering, kept people from leaving. I lead Archimedes, Cain, and a few others upstairs. We raided room after room, floor after floor. No sign of Justinian, just half renovated spaces we once called our own.'' 
 
 `` Obviously Justinian got away.'' 
 
 `` No, Justinian never got away, issue was, we never became something he had to get away from. We ignored a lot of men, men that did n't look like Tailors. Hell, I would n't be surprised if they were all Tailors. The rigged the stairs, first, taking out lower levels, trapping us on the higher ones. Secondly, the began blowing the supports, trying to kill us before Justinian even had to run.'' 
 
 `` And the stairs?'' 
 
 `` Oh, they're gone alright. Along with Archimedes, poor guy got stuck under a stone support. Crushed the life right out of his lungs. Cain and I survived though, obviously.'' 
 
 `` I see. And Marshall?'' 
 
 `` Marshall got smart, realized we would n't make it to Justinian anyway, it was too easy and we did n't see the plot holes. So he left, told that fool named Pete that he was checking the perimeter. Car was long gone by the time we got there.'' 
 
 `` Then they captured you.'' 
 
 `` Of course they fucking did. I broke my leg when the stairs collapsed. Cain got out, the bastard, left me to the Tailors.'' 
 
 `` So now the Butchers are broken up, some dead, some caught, some gone. Does n't feel like a fitting end, does it Carver?'' The thin man asked after a moment, pulling himself away from the table. 
 
 `` No, it does n't. If I could change anything, it would be not leaving any of those bastard Tailors alive before getting on those stairs.'' 
 
 The watching man frowned, glancing at his pocket watch, the thin metal bars ticking away. The tape was almost over, and he already knew the ending. It seemed like it would either cut off before it happened or... 
 
 The thin man reached into his suit, pulling out a revolver. The long, engraved barrel shining strongly on the sepia screen. `` Anything you want to say before we conclude the interview?'' 
 
 The broad man stood up, hands on the table in front of him. `` Go to hell.'' 
 
 A loud bang rang loud throughout the room, both in the recording and in the room the man sat in. The audio glitched again, cutting it off and starting the ringing on random intervals. The recording cut off, its film being viewed in its entirety. 
 
 Marshall stood up from his comfortable chair, stretching his neck in both directions before turning to the exit. Two guards stood at the door, and Marshall nodded his head at the one on the left. `` Edward.'' 
 
 `` Justinian.''
