Blue.

That particular shade of blue was a terrifying thing to stare into. Oh they could be beautiful, really. You would even appreciate the color if they were the last things you'd see before you died. That was what Louis was contemplating at this very moment. Would it be the last thing he'd ever see before blissful oblivion?

"What say you to a game?"

Louis swallowed, or tried to, his throat becoming insanely dry. He couldn't speak, and he didn't exactly know what he wanted to say to that. A game? A game. A… game.

He played with the revolver, slipping the round in and out. The gun's metal surface glinted in the moonlight. A death in darkness. Classic.

"I require an answer Mr. Bovier and I suppose you know that I'm not a very patient man."

Despite the situation, Louis managed to choke out a laugh. "Y-You are not a man."

"Oh?" The roll slunk into the cylinder and the revolver was tossed between two fair hands. Those hands did not belong to the head of a mafia. "What am I then Mr. Bovier?"

"A kid." Louis deadpanned. "You're nothing but a kid playing in a man's world."

"Is that right?" The revolver settled into one hand, the left one. "I suppose you have a point. After all, I did want to play a game. Will you indulge me then? I hear you have kids yourself."

"That's right." Louis inwardly smirked. This boy really was a novice. First rule in this part of their world; insure that you have your trump cards. "David's in school and Maria's just barely learning to walk. I love them."

"I'm sure you do." The revolver was carelessly pointed to the ground. "Still though, will you play a game with me? I… you see, I've never met my father. I'd like to know… what it's like. He ran the business before I did. I just… I followed in his footsteps."

Louis crowed in his mind. This boy would not survive their world. "Is that why you became like this? As a sort of… deliverance?"

"You could say that." There was a smile, the revolver was raised high. "Now, how about a little Russian Roulette?"

Louis's entire being froze. He stared at the barrel of a gun that was way too close for comfort. They were in an alleyway. The ideal place for an accidental death. There was no one around, and no one would come for him. He eyed the boy warily. "Just how many shells are in there?"

"Oh," the boy smirked. "Just one."

Derek breathed easy.

The revolver spun once, before long and pale fingers prevented the cylinder from spinning any further. The shot was fired and Derek found himself on the floor. He stared at that color of blue, barely hearing the boy's parting words.

"It's all I ever really need."


Nathan Evans stared at the body with utmost distaste. It hadn't been touched per his request of course after all the bodies they'd found with single gunshot wounds they'd known better than to go against his orders. Even if he wasn't captain (yet) he had a higher authority compared to anyone around.

Basically what Nathan said, they followed. It worked well for him.

"This man has no family whatsoever?" Nathan turned to his junior partner. Luka Macken was a nice boy, did everything you asked him to and had the determination of a bull seeing red. If Nathan wanted something done, Luka did it without question which was a huge relief to Nathan who didn't want to deal with a jealous deputy. Of course he was still insanely young and was more like an errand boy than anything. But if Nathan were up to it, he'd turn Luka into a detective in a heartbeat.

For a span of three months murders like this have been happening all around town. There wasn't a significant similarity between the victims other than the fact that they were men. There was never a woman in the scenario, just men. And they were always found dead with no chance of surviving thanks to one properly aimed bullet. The scene of the crime was often a dark alley. It was never secluded but there were never any witnesses.

That right there was what frustrated Nathan to no end.

He knew who the perpetrator was. The entire city knew who was responsible. The only thing was that they couldn't prove it. No matter how many times they tried (and they tried) he… no they, always managed to slip out of their cells and walked as free men.

Damn that mafia.


"How long do I have to be here?" The blonde let out a soft scoff as he crossed his arms over his chest. The officer in front of him was not impressed either.

"Standard protocol Trancy." Evans said slipping into the chair across from him. "You know how this goes."

"What with you bringing me in every two weeks I suppose I do." Trancy let out a sarcastic smile light up his face as he played with the feather on his hat. "Who died now Evans?"

"A man named Louis Bovier." Evans pushed the papers from the dead man's files. On the front was a nicely done photography of him and on top of it was the department's seal. He was deemed innocent.

"Sorry old chap, name doesn't ring any bells."

Evans barely stopped himself from grinding his molars. "Not one?"

"Nope."

"I see." Evans pulled the papers back to him and he studied the picture. "He seems like a very nice man. Good background and all that. Wonder why someone would want to kill him."

"Beats me." Trancy shrugged. "I haven't exactly been out and about lately. My sister's wedding is coming up soon and there's going to be a big party. We're very excited."

Evans raised his head. "Is that why you were at Bolts last night? Ordering drinks for your little party?"

"What?" Trancy raised a fine blonde eyebrow. "I was at Bolts last night yes, but not because of the wedding."

"What then?" Evans asked.

"For the announcement party of course!" Trancy smirked. "Did I not say that you're one of the first to know? You're quite welcome to attend the party. It's Axelle by the way, not Devon. Who knows when that banshee's getting married. I pity the poor soul who'll even contemplate it. She's much too caught up in her work to notice anything."

"No comment. I'll hold you to that invitation though." Evans nodded. He barely stopped himself from letting out a sigh. "I'm going to need a statement on where you were at ten fifty-eight last night, June 19."

"But you already know where I was." Trancy deadpanned.

"Just a formality Trancy. Roll with the program."

"Oh all right." Trancy rolled his eyes. "I was at Bolts at the time of ten fifty-eight last night organizing an event in honor of my sister's engagement. Anyone who may have seen me can attest to that but if you need an interactive witness then you can ask Thomas himself. Got it?"

"Got it." Evans never took his eyes of the smug look on Trancy's face. "Now leave."

"Lovely seeing you!" The blonde called before stalking out of the room.

Evans let out that sigh now and rubbed his palm against his forehead tiredly.

Trancy walked free, again.


The Rolls Royce parked outside the city police was on, the engine humming merrily. The door opened before Alois could even touch it and he quickly slipped inside. It was on the move before the door could even close fully.

"Took you long enough." Jim scowled at his brother, his fedora somewhere on the car floor.

"You shouldn't be here." Alois snapped. "They could have checked the car! What would they say if they saw me when I'm supposed to be inside being interrogated by that ginger?"

"Must you call him that?" Jim asked. "He has a name."

"Sir Evans then." Alois deadpanned.

"What happened inside?" Jim questioned.

"He's getting tired of this." Alois answered. "He's getting fed up with no answers and just more dead bodies. I think he's about ready to let the deaths go."

"Brilliant." Jim grinned. "He'll never figure it out."

"I wouldn't say that." Alois frowned. "He's smart this one. Otherwise he wouldn't have replaced Smiths… and Smiths was a damn good detective! We have to be more careful."

"I was careful!" Jim glared. "They didn't find a single trace of nothing in that crime scene did they? Just a body with one bullet in!"

At Alois' silence Jim grinned.

"Still…" Alois frowned. "You take too long to finish the kills. What do you do anyways? Learn their life stories in the hopes you'll grow a conscious by the end?"

"Oh silly brother." Jim smirked as the car slowed to a crawl. "A games master never reveals his secrets."

All talk of all things sordid halted as the two blondes left the car and entered the mansion. They had a bigger force to deal with.


Nathan stared at the phone for a very long time. He needed help with this case. Others… others he had solved easily but this case he wouldn't be able to do alone. The Trancy family knew who he was, where he worked. He had much to lose. He couldn't send anyone undercover because even if he'd like to say that he trusted his men, it was never a black and white world.

The card in his hands had been crumpled from where he'd been worrying on it for the past hour and a half. He could barely see the numbers now but that didn't matter, he'd already memorized it by heart. So many people had died (the body count at fourteen) and who knew how many more had died before he'd taken over for his superior who was now planning to retire at his old age.

Said superior had asked him to never call this number (or the other number written on a still neat card sitting on his table) unless the situation was dire.

Even if it had been mandatory Nathan couldn't stomach to look at the huge pile of papers on his table. Of course at one point he had managed to sift half through it all he saw was "Innocent." The victims had never done anything wrong and for that Nathan would bring them justice.

Swallowing his pride, Nathan picked the receiver up and rotated the cylinder. It rung and someone picked up at. "Speak."

Nathan was unnerved. "Hello Sir Phantomhive. I am Constable Nathan Evans of the west block. I've called to ask for your help."

"I'm listening."


AN: Hmmm, trial chapter. Thoughts thoughts :D