"Money?" Michael repeated, raising an eyebrow as he thought. Money would be nice. It seemed like everything took money. Food, shelter, even clothes took money. However, money was of little importance to him at the moment. "No." Michael trailed off, though he would take the mans wallet when he was finished. "Money isn't my main concern. What I want is for you to die." That was basic and blunt enough, was it not? His death was the only thing he wanted. The only thing he<i>ever </i>wanted.<br/><br/>Raising the gun, he aimed it at Theo's head; cocking the weapon back so it was ready to fire at the squeeze of a trigger. "May twelfth, nineteen ninety nine. fourteen sixty eight, Sixth street, Sioux falls. Sound familiar, Theodore? I'll refresh your memory. That day, twenty years ago, a suburban home was broken into by four men. These men butchered a mother and father of two adopted kids. One kid was lucky enough to survive and get away, but the other was taken. The kid taken was named Michael Tithum. Do you remember that, brother?"<br/><br/>If he didn't, then that gave him even more of a reason to put a bullet in his head. Michael closed the distance between them, pressing the cold barrel against his head and smirked. "I'm sure you can't forget such a tragedy. I haven't, either. That's why I'm here. You, the detectives...you all deserve to die. I suppose it shall start with you."