[ IP ] You do what you got ta do

*WELCOME* 
 
 
 I was thirty-four when I became a mobster. It was n't the allure of wealth, the impossible dream of control, nor the glamorous women. Heck, it was n't even to *look* tough. 
 
 
 Sometimes, life gives you a way to settle a debt, and you take that. Then you plunge yourself into great depths to try to breathe. Then, you take that last step and you end up drowning yourself. The entire way down, you realize, sometimes, when life gives you a way to settle a debt, you put your hand up, turn around and say *no*. 
 
 
 If I had the smarts to do that, I would have. But here I am. At the bottom of the ocean, sunk like an anchor from a sunken ship. Perhaps, it was the city. Perhaps, it was my drinking that drove her away. Maybe the debts or the gambling. It does n't matter now. 
 
 
 `` Do you think she'll be there?'' It came out weak for a detective. Barnes, my partner for thirteen years. I dragged him down with me when I sunk. 
 
 
 `` Of course she'll be there you idiot. That's why we're here.'' 
 
 
 He took off his coat. A peculiar gesture, since it was a downpour. Loosened up his tie, ruffled his hair and grabbed the gun. Slapped the cartridge into the weapon and looked at me straight in the face. `` You do n't have join me. Just write me up a nice report saying I died going down like a hero.'' 
 
 
 I put out the cigarette, flinging it out an impressive distance from the car. I looked down at my gun, appreciating the smooth bore of the rifle, the thick barrel cartridge. Glad that it could hold as more bullets than I had brains. The heft of it was nice, remembering the kickback into my shoulder. I dawned my hat and stepped outside. 
 
 
 Following my lead, Barnes followed suite. Gun in hand, he walked up the stairs. Loosened his tie once more so it flew into the rain. I kept mine sharpish, as a gentleman should go out. 
 
 
 Reaching the steps of New York's finest gangster residence and hangout, the Continental, Barnes simply states, `` It was a good run, eh? It had to rain of course on our parade.'' 
 
 
 I looked at him again, one last time. A cold hard steel, rained down by a constant drizzle. Stay long enough in the rain, and even that begins to break down. I guess he was old enough to understand that we were n't walking away from this tonight. I looked to my sides to check for civilians. Returning to his stare, I nod. 
 
 
 We walk up the stairs. Each step, deliberate, slowly as to make a dramatic entrance. He was tired of red tape, tired of the bureaucracy, the corruption, the violence, the deadends... We all were... 
 
 
 Sometimes, you do what you got ta do. And we were damn well going to try, or die trying...
