CSI: Canterlot - The Rich and The Poor

' First day, let's try not to screw it up... ' he thought to himself. He was the 'new guy', CSI Fiddlestick, or at least that's what he liked to call himself. He wasn't actually a CSI, he was really just another lab rat trying to make a living on true passion, disregarding his 'destiny' to be a violinist. Sure, he could play, but he was always more interested in forensics. He just didn't see his dark brown coat and jet black mane wearing a tux and bow tie playing at some fancy Canterlot gathering. Really, the fact that he was a part of the forensics team at all was a little humorous to him, and maybe other ponies as well. ' CSI Fiddlestick, ' he thought, ' that makes the name more serious. ' After laughing at the absurdity of the idea, he refrained back to his former thought, not screwing up his first day.

Upon arriving at the crime lab, he parked in a far away spot, as to not accidentally bump into any cars with his 'definitely professional' parking abilities.  Excitement would have been an understatement for him. He was definitely filled with ecstasy in finally working with forensics. Getting out of the parent's house, going somewhere on his own, with handsome pay for doing what he loved especially. No one to tell him how wrong it was to help bring justice as opposed to playing an instrument. He smiled, jumping out of his car and rushing into the building.

Fiddle walked into the lab, looking up and immediately seeing Supervisor Clear. As he replayed the thought to keep himself professional, he missed a 'wet floor sign'.

"Supervisor Clear, I'm—Wah!!" he suddenly exclaimed before slipping on a freshly mopped floor. Clear's ears perked up as she looked around to see who was calling her name. She then looked to the floor at a groaning Fiddlestick, who was holding his head with his fore hoof with wings extended across the floor in utter discomfort.

"You must be Fiddlestick, the new lab rat," Clear stated frankly, with a little grin.

"Ye...yeah...ugh..." Fiddle said, pulling himself to a sitting position. He looked towards his new boss, giving up on his dignity. "How'd you know?"

"Just a hunch," Clear replied with a chuckle. She offered to help him up. "I'm glad you got here today, we had a homicide with some odd trace on the vic, I'll need you to process it so we can maybe find out what the murder weapon was."

' Wow, already putting me to work, eh? ' Fiddle thought to himself. He smiled, "Of course, I'll get right to that," he replied. He paused for a minute.

"Is there a problem, Fiddle?" Clear asked.

"Yeah uh..." Fiddle slowly muttered, feeling worse about himself, "where's my lab?"

"Straight, left, straight, straight, right," Clear replied, with a smile. She patted his back, brushing off a piece of his coat.

Right... Fiddle thought, before making the trip towards the lab.

"How are we doin', Doc?" Clear asked, walking into the autopsy room. The victim, Silver Platter, was lain on a table with the skin around his chest and abdominal area cut and opened, exposing the organs to the air. A whiff of rich blood filled the room, something that both forensics workers were used to.

"Well, I've got a T.O.D., and a C.O.D.," Sharp said, examining the body.

"I'm all ears," Clear reassured.

"Alright," the doctor said, preparing to fully explain the victim's death to his knowledge, "C.O.D. was actually blunt force trauma to the head, his mane is thick, and between it being dark outside and that, it wasn't easy to make out. As far as I can tell, decomp says he died as soon as that event was over in Canterlot, that'd be about fifteen minutes before we found him, or before the other stallion found him, I should say. Here's the interesting part: the blunt force was before the stabbing, and it was evident that the vic would have died from such a traumatic force. I'm pretty certain there was a heavy passion behind this, and I think that our witness was very lucky to have not been killed as well."

"Do you know what he was stabbed with?"

"That's an issue, I've never seen this kind of marking, it looks...very unorthodox. It wasn't anything like a knife, it almost looks like a blunt object. The skin in the puncture wounds is stretched, and some of the interior of the body affected was pushed out of the way rather than impaled."

"So you're saying the unsub used a blunt weapon, and managed to impale the victim, and the fabric with it?"

"That's the conclusion I've reached, unless I've missed something very well hidden or completely obvious."

"Right." Clear took one last look at the corpse, before sending orders to Clever and checking up on Fiddlestick.

It was now sunny, the rain from the night of the murder left a murky alley and damp atmosphere for the investigators searching the premises. CSI Clever walked beside another mare, CSI Brite Siyde, with a Level in his hoof. Brite Siyde was a cheery mare with a bright, yellow coat, and a vibrant orange mane in an almost perfect ponytail, leaving her bangs hanging in front of her face.

"Why do you have that..?" Brite Siyde asked, looking at the Level. Clever made no expressions, but kept walking. As they approached the crime scene, Brite Siyde notice that everything in the pictures that wasn't significant evidence was washed away by rain. "How are we supposed to know where the rain took everything, or if it did?" she asked. Clever looked at her, shaking the Level slightly in his hoof. Siyde finally understood why he brought it.

Clever laid down the level, closely observing its measurements. After a moment of said observation, Clever picked up the level.

"South," he said, "with the assumed size and mass of the murder weapon, anything down to wind could have picked it up." Siyde slowly nodded, taking a look down a much longer alleyway. This search was going to take a while.

They began walking, closely observing both sides of the alley. Clever remained entirely silent, as he usually does. The only person who really ever gets him to talk is Supervisor Clear. That is, talk like a equine being, and not a strict, CSI professional. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of thorough searching,

"Got somethin'," Clever said, taking out a cue tip and some liquid substance. As Siyde walked over, Clever gently dabbed the cue tip in an odd residue. When he dripped a bit of the liquid on it, the cue tip turned partially red.

"Blood, and residue," Siyde pointed out, "it looks like the same trace that was on the vic,"

"Yeah, yeah, about that," Clever said, "I should be getting a call on what we're looking for very soon. Maybe--"

As he was talking, the phone rang in his pocket. He took it out to see who it was, and sure enough, a picture of Supervisor Clear appeared with the options 'Answer' and 'Decline'.

"Speak of the devil," Clever said, grinning.

Fiddlestick took out the samples he was given and began to study them closely. He loaded some into a machine and ran several tests on different pieces of the trace. To place himself a step ahead of the game, he also prepared a tox on the victim, just in case there were any sort of drugs or premeditation involved. As he was finishing up some tests, Supervisor Clear walked in.

"How are we doing on that trace, Sticks?" she asked.

' Odd, ' Fiddle thought, ' a nickname. ' He jumped out of his thoughts to greet the supervisor.

"Last few tests are coming in now," Fiddle replied, "I also have a tox prepared, what do you want first?"

"New guy's ahead of the game," Clear mused, "give me the tox report,"

"Right," Fiddle said, smiling a bit out of an inevitable pride for doing something right. He picked up the tox report, and looked through it, finishing up a few tests as he read. "I got one peak, looks like buprenorphine, a very strong painkiller? I thought it was orally ingested, so I asked Doc if he could look for some specific things on the body, and he confirmed my belief."

"You don't get buprenorphine from just anywhere, and you don't just get into that kind of convention with that kind of drug," Clear replied, thinking hard about the possibilities, "I'll get Clever to take a look into where our killer could have gotten that, we're looking at a possible inside job. Anyway, tell me about the trace we found in the vic."

"Yes," Fiddle started, looking back at the reports from the tests on the trace material, "it's galvanized steel, like from a fence post." Clear gave a sudden look of confusion.

"Those posts are typically anywhere from three to seven feet tall," she pointed out, "there's no way the killer could have used a fence post."

"Unless the killer isn't as rich as we think he is, in which case, any poor Canterlot residents can find or develop makeshift weapons and tools from salvaging abandoned areas and such," Fiddle said, "but still, that leaves the question of how a poor guy got into a rich-guy-only club." Clear thought for a minute.

"Fiddle, we might be looking at two killers here," Clear said, slowly reaching into her pocket to grab her phone.