This idea has been bugging me since this Christmas and I just have to get this out of my system or else, I won't be able to celebrate New Year properly. This is partly with Police POV. But of course, you'll know why the title is as it is when you read the summary.

Do tell me if this is of any good.

The Game of the Alleged Crimes

Prologue

Florence, Italia.

It wasn't weird to see the full moon on a May evening. After all, May is one of the rare months in Italy that one can actually enjoy the weather, may it be night or day.

However, for one Agent Alfonso Buenaventura, tonight was excellent. Not only that he was still walking and enjoying the night streets of Florence in such a good, cool weather, he was also drunk yet still had enough money left from his measly salary that he could still eat throughout the month and keep himself presentable with a roof above his head. Don't get him wrong – the man had a rough day.

You try working with air-headed higher officers while trying to maintain a cool, professional mind as you roam the city for crimes that the mafia allegedly caused. Agent Buenaventura grunted. 'Of course, this is Italy!' He thought at how cliché his fellow officers think. Just because they were living on freaking Italia that was home to notorious mafia families did not mean that every, single crime that was done on their country could be blamed to the Famiglias now, right?

Maybe that was why some crimes where never solved anyway. "Because we're always barking at the wrong trees." He thought as he fought the urge to just stumble and send himself to Lala land.

It was quite ironic, honestly.

He chose tonight to lose himself to alcohol just to have a few hours of break and relaxation from his job but behold! All that he could think of was the mafia families around them, and how stupid his fellow officers were. How did he ever end up in such a stupid job anyway, and on the lowest floor of the food chain to boot!

Agent Buenaventura could just remember that case with the kidnapping of a rich heiress. He swore he would face palm again if he could only have enough strength and will power to raise his hand. His higher officers heard of the kidnapping, issued the warrant and storm themselves unto the Cavallone estate.

Let's just say that their department and the government ended up paying Don Cavallone for the public humiliation and insult done to him and his Famiglia, all the while broadcasting themselves saying a public apology and explanation. That – and still suffering the shame of being laughed at by the whole world.

And he thought he had done the right thing after graduating from the police academy and finally serving his beloved nation with his trained and gained abilities. He could have accepted his uncle's offer on sending him to America to study accountancy instead – maybe then he could have gotten a better job and loving himself some American beauty now!

"Well, your life sucked – get over it!" He grunted to himself as he pat his coat for his keys. The Agent was nearing his rented apartment and he better look for the right key no, instead of looking for it in front of his door and end up unconscious on the process.

He turned around the corner – to avoid his landlord's door and his raging ranting about him being late – both with his curfew and his payments. But then, he would have to pass the giant shrubbery that grew there a few months prior.

"Oh hell with it." He mumbled as he raised a foot to start his drunken walk amongst the shrub. It was a good thing that it was in the middle of May. He just couldn't imagine himself walking on a snowy or wet shrub with a drunken soul and thin coating.

'Maybe it's about time to invest on a car.' He thought as he raised his stubborn leg that was buried on the shrubbery. If he had a car – escaping and sneaking on his unit would be a lot easier – though he have to consider the dangers of drunk driving.

When Agent Buenaventura was nearing the clearing that would lead him to his door, he stepped on something that was both soft and hard – he fell on his front.

He gave out a colourful choice of cuss before considering his option on whether or not to just drop out dead on that position, crawl towards his door and sleep properly on his bed or – darn it! He dropped his keys.

Agent Buenaventura groaned and urged himself from his position to look behind him and start looking for his wretched keys.

He crawled in all fours and started patting the ground for his ticket towards his not-so-warm bed and most awaited sleep.

Sometime during his search, he cursed at the shrubbery and the tree it surrounded. He also cursed that wonderful full moon; for together, the two elements just made the shadow around him which made it harder for him to search for his wonderful keys.

Along his search and feel of the wonderful grass and rocks of the ground, he had touched the soft-hard something. Oh for goodness sakes! This was the very thing that made him trip on the first place!

With another annoyed groan, the Agent searched for his small flashlight that he brought along with him for all occasion. One can never be too sure nowadays. One can never just venture into a dark alley or evening without a light on and assume that he was safe. Not with the bad people and the freaking mafia around!

After struggling on finding that small, silver tube of light – he finally had it on his grasp and now giving out the effort to light it.

The light was quite a kick to his vision – a big slap on his drunken head that just; fucked.

He tried to adjust his eyes on the new surroundings, being used on the darkness of the evening earlier. He just couldn't help but wonder at those Mafioso who were seem attuned in adjusting with their surroundings in a snap.

When he finally focused the light in front of him to see what soft-hard something he stumbled on – Agent Alfonso Buenaventura felt the alcohol drain upon him. His training and experience as well seemed to decide to leave him that very moment – leaving him with nothing but purely humane emotions of shock and fear.

With his last resolve of strength, he screamed. For there, in front of him, was a dead woman – eyes and mouth open to a scream of something that simply wasn't there.

Florence, Italia: Two Days Later.

'There are too many civillains.' Gokudera Hayato, Storm Guardian and Right-Hand Man to the Vongola Decimo thought as he scanned the revelry around him that passed for the Ahoshi's birthday party. Well, it is passable for a normal birthday party for a 16th year old rich brat, so to speak.

Gokudera grunted and did another scan of the hall – making sure that all agents and guards were on their posts before looking at the laughing curly-haired teen at the middle of the wishing guests. One can never be sure of course. After all, they were in a public facility; the renowned Quatro Cielo or Fourth Sky Hotel is one of the top, luxury hotels of the world. And despite it being a Vongola property – the hotel was still open to tourists and aficionados alike. With that kind of people around them, the possibility of ambush was as high as anywhere.

Though a mafia property, Gokudera could safely say that the hotel did a marvellous job in covering the part of Lambo being a rich brat; he scoffed at the awed faces of the brat's invited class and school mates earlier when they arrived.

With Lambo and I-Pin studying on a private institution, their mafia works and responsibilities are limited but despite that fact, they were required to come up with an alibi or cover story.

So of course, like Vongola being a super-rich, multibillion (redundant, I know) business empire, Lambo and I-Pin are rich, spoiled brats akin to that of soft-handed Prince and Princess. But of course, Gokudera mused, they are no soft-handed assassins.

His emerald-teal eyes automatically turned to one corner of the room where the big brother of the birthday brat was located. His boss, the Sky and Tenth Boss of the Vongola Famiglia, Sawada Tsunayoshi.

His boss was smiling as he watched the party go by with a tube of champagne on his hand and the good company of one Yamamoto Takeshi – Left-Hand Man and Rain Guardian to the family.

Almost eleven years had passed since he met the baseball enthusiast, and after all the battles and struggles their family have been through, Gokudera learned to share his boss to the other Guardians. His inferiorities and insecurities were long gone and he realized that they were all equal to the Sky's eyes.

Making sure that his boss was enjoying himself, his eyes turned to the one hosting the event. Since the party turned to its playful part, Kyoko and Haru gave the mic to Sasagwa Ryohei, Vongola Tenth Generation Sun Guardian.

The Storm watched in amusement as the Sun Guardian announced the instructions of the game to the participants that already had question marks on their heads. Eleven years indeed, they all matured (except Ahoshi) but that didn't mean that all of their old habits died. Ryohei's constant yet simple extremity was one, terrifying testament to that.

Turning his gaze from his shining comrade (Yes, comrade) Gokudera noticed the approaching presence of one, Mist Guardian. He can't help but raise a brow.

With last year's war with the Millefiore, the Family were still working with the ripples that the battle had done to the world. Honestly, it was quite a feat nowadays to gather all Guardians. And now was the recent gathering they had where almost all elements were present. After all, this was their youngest brother. He was annoying – but he was theirs to love, bully and spoil.

The Mist Guardians were previously sent to Russia to facilitate the last bit of ripples done there, Gokudera Hayato didn't expect the duo to return until the next day. "You came back early." He greeted at the female Mist.

Chrome Dokuro, female Mist Guardian, bowed in greeting and gave a small smile. "We returned early – this is Lambo-kun after all." He nodded. "Mukuro-sama remained at the estate, 'tired' he said."

Gokudera grunted. "As if, I'll say that he's already planning our dreadful comeback to the manor himself. And he'll claim that it's his way of proclaiming love for that stupid cow." Chrome just giggled and continued her way towards their Sky – who waited patiently (and who sensed she was coming befooooore Gokudera saw her).

It was actually funny to see them in public without their suits – they looked, normal for once.

With five of the Guardians present (not counting seven of the Arcobelano), the possibility of an ambush now turned into likely; Gokudera decided it was about time to return to his boss' side and do the second part of his self-given mission for the evening: enjoy the party.

However, before he was even twenty feet to his designation, he was stopped by a Mafioso that was from the Cloud division – if his Cloud-Vongola insignia that was embroidered on his tie could tell the Storm anything.

"Storm." The Mafioso bowed, greeted. "Speak." Gokudera greeted back. It was supposed to be Hibari Kyouya's job, being head of security. But with the Cloud Guardian in Japan for the last bits of reconstruction of the Japanese base, Gokudera put on the responsibility without any complain. The skylark was scheduled to return on a much later day.

"We have the Media on our gates, they ask for a statement from Decimo himself." Raising a brow, Gokudera turned and walked out of the hall. "Statement for what?" He asked later on when there were no more innocent ears around them.

"Surely, they don't expect Juudaime to give them any statement for a. utterly-private event such as his little brother's birthday party." He asked with a hint of annoyance.

He might have tamed his temper into a leashed beast, but that didn't mean it turned into an entirely different being. His temper was still a beast in nature, tamed maybe, but still a beast.

The Media of course knew the reality of the Vongola Famiglia – it was after all, a public knowledge in the world that they were Mafia, but it didn't mean that that knowledge was broadcasted every now and then.

"No sir. They wanted a statement for the murder that happened last weekend." The Mafioso confirmed and Gokudera couldn't help but think, 'The fuck! Are they here to bark at the wrong famiglia again?'

When he reached the giant opening of the Quatro Cielo, the Media hounds immediately snapped their cameras at him – as they would with block-buster celebrities and socialites. He didn't feel anything new – being in the Mafia and being the Right-Hand Man to the world's most powerful man gave him the pass into the Media hounds party ground.

"Storm – where is the Decimo?"

"Can you give us a statement please?"

"Is it true that it was Vongola who killed – "

"Sir, a statement about this weekend's crime?"

"Is Decimo hiding because the Vongola is guilty – "

He listened at the questions and allegations thrown at him with a calming ease. He just wanted to open their mouths and push down a dynamite stick down their throats just to silence them and leave his family alone. But that would be bad PR.

"I will give you no statement as Vongola have no knowledge on this civilian crime you are all trying to push upon us." Gokudera announced as he put his hands on his pockets. Seriously, without the suit – the Storm Guardian looked liked a simple bachelor talking about his recent win with the Media. "Therefore, I ask you to leave the premises this instant. The guards – " Mafioso "will escort your way out."

As he watch the Cloud and Mist Mafioso escort the hounds out of the Quatro Cielo, Gokudera Hayato heard one comment that rang a bell on his honed senses.

"But sir, what about the bullet with the Vongola insignia on it? The one found on the woman's mouth?"

Hm, maybe this time – Vongola could interfere on this civilian affairs.