[ IP ] You do what you got ta do

`` I do n't want to do this.'' 
 
 `` You do n't have a choice anymore, Chris.'' 
 
 Chris opened the action on the Thompson rifle. The rounds were real, not blanks as he expected. 
 
 `` But-'' 
 
 `` Shut up. You made your choice five years ago and now we are making ours. If you want to see Kelsey again, you're gon na fucking do this, and that's that.'' 
 
 The man in the brown suit racked his Thompson as well, and opened the door to his car. The rain fell heavily on the man as he closed the door ever silently. Chris realized little things like that are what make him so elusive, so... deadly. 
 
 Chris began to sweat as he opened his car door. The rain hit him and fear clouded his mind. Kelsey. He had to save Kelsey and this was all that he could do. It tore him apart on the inside, the fact that his life could come to this point. That men like brown suit could control him, even though he done all he could to break away. All for her. 
 
 `` C'mon Chris,'' suit-coat beckoned, `` we have n't got all night.'' 
 
 As they walked across the street, Chris lit up a cigarette. They moved as low-profile as possible to the motel door. The lights through wicked shadows into the street, and suit-coat was not the only of the two man who knew how to use them for cover. After making a careful check for any witnesses, suit-coat whispered, `` You first, Chris.'' 
 
 Chris shot a look at him. He was being made a puppet. Suit-coat returned the look with a smirk. His face was dry underneath his hat, and his features made him appear ghostly. He was in control, and there was nothing Chris could do about, even with his machine gun. 
 
 Chris broke gaze and walked up the steps, Thompson in left hand dangling at his side. Suit-coat followed only a few steps behind him, casting a look of to the left at the parked cars down the road. They appeared empty. 
 
 Chris put out his cigarette and pocketed the stub. He knew better than to leave such things lying around. If he did get out of this, the police would not be something he wanted to deal with. He held his gun behind him, and opened the door slowly. 
 
 The young lady sitting at the front desk was nose deep in a novel. It was not unusual for tenants to come in and out from sundown to sunup, so she paid the cautious, gray-haired gentleman no mind. The sound of rain comforted her, although she refused to look towards the door after one quick look because she was shy and the book offered more entertainment. There were a few foot steps on the wooden floor. But then they stopped. 
 
 Suit-coat noticed the lady first and immediately took aim. Chris slowly put the barrel of suit-coat's rifle down and gestured towards her. She had n't noticed them, and so he moved along the wall adjacent to her as to not be seen. Suit-coat scoffed and followed suit. He supposed it did not matter, all lose ends would be tied or severed, if need be, tonight. 
 
 The young lady finally looked back and noticed a leg with brown suit pants and a fine leather shoe. Good, she thought. The tenants here were all frightening in their own right, and she did n't want any trouble. 
 
 Chris and suit-coat moved down the narrow, dimly lit hall with purpose now. The fear consumed Chris with each step, and suit-coat maintained laser-like focus ahead. He would control all variables here. The smell of smoke and thrift perfume drenched the air, along with the fizz of shotty TVs and the noises of tenants. They were diverse, ranging from fights, to sex, to dead silence. 
 
 Finally, they turned a corner, and heard the laugh of multiple Italians. Suit-coat gestured, and Chris moved to the door. Room 401. He took a deep breath, and kicked the door in to see five very startled Italian mobsters looking back at him. He aimed, and pulled the trigger.
