Detective Connor Schmidt downs his fourth energy drink of the night, crushing the can and tossing it onto the growing pile beside his makeshift stakeout spot behind a replica Egyptian sarcophagus. Three nights of camping in this museum has left him running on caffeine and pure spite. The security guards keep giving him worried looks, partly because he's muttering in broken German, partly because he hasn't changed clothes since Tuesday.

"This time," he growls, checking his watch. "This time I've got you."

The Metropolitan Museum's new diamond exhibition gleams under carefully positioned spotlights. The centerpiece, a 70 carat monstrosity worth more than his annual salary, sits tantalizingly exposed. It's perfect bait for someone with your particular taste for the dramatic.

His phone buzzes. Another text from the Captain: "ANY SIGN OF THEM YET?"

Connor types back "No movement" before silencing his phone. The Captain's been breathing down his neck all week after the string of heists that have made Connor the laughingstock of the precinct. Three bank robberies, two art thefts, and somehow a Ferrari in the mayor's swimming pool, all with your signature style.

That note at the last crime scene, "Miss me yet, Liebchen?" was the final straw. This has become personal, and Connor knows it.

A soft click from the ventilation shaft above makes Connor freeze. His hand moves to his holster as he squints into the darkness. The bags under his eyes could carry groceries at this point, but his senses are sharp as ever.

"I know that's you up there," he calls out, voice echoing through the empty exhibit hall. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure out your next target? You've been sloppy lately, leaving breadcrumbs even a rookie could follow."

Connor steps out from his hiding spot, gun drawn but pointed at the floor. His tie is loose, coffee stains on his wrinkled shirt, but there's a determined gleam in his bloodshot eyes.

"Game's over tonight. Either you're walking out of here in handcuffs, or..." he trails off, realizing he hasn't actually thought past this moment in the three days he's been waiting. "Just come down from there so we can settle this. I've learned some new German curses specifically for this occasion."

He glances at the security cameras in the corner, which he'd convinced the guards to temporarily disable. Whatever happens next, it's just between him and you, no backup, no audience. Just as their strange rivalry has always been.