CSI: Canterlot - The Rich and The Poor

Ten bodies, spread out at unnaturally perfect distance across the wall. It wasn't as bloody as it should have been. No, the bodies seemed to have been halfway-decently cleaned. It was unnatural, animalistic, but so intelligent.

"What in Luna's name..." Clear mumbled to herself, looking at the bodies. She took off her glasses in awe, walking closer to the bodies and examining them. They didn't smell rotten like the animal bodies did, they smelled like... "...damascus rose."

Meanwhile, Sharp was looking at the bodies as they were still hung, Clever was taking several pictures of the crime scene, as was Brite.

"Their organs look perfect from here," the doc said, "no damage that I can see exposed, the bodies are even preserved. I can't determine a C.O.D., but it looks like they've been dead for a few days, and a few days more, and a few days more for each one. This precise cutting isn't possible by even the finest hoofwork, it has to be some sort of machine..."

"But there's no evidence of a machine," Clever pointed out. He and the Sharp looked at Clear.

"No, but there is..." Clear started, taking out a small container of glowing liquid. She sprayed it once on a part of one of the bodies, it lit up. "...Aura residue."

"What is that, Clear?" Clever asked. Clear held it up, grinning.

"Ancient," she replied, "potions like these were made for earth ponies to try and replicate the abilities of unicorns."

"To protect themselves from them?"

"No, to be like them. Unicorns aren't as bad as everypony thinks, they are actually — or used to be — a highly respectable race. Very noble. We were taught from day one that they were monsters with great glowing blades on their heads who ruled under tyranny, and who stole the wings of pegasi to reign stronger —"

"— the alicorn —"

"—right. Those were just myths. Still, I'm unsure about how these exist. Have we checked the other room yet?"

They all exchanged looks. Clever put away his camera, and walked towards the exit.

"I'll tell you when I'm done checking the other room," he said, exiting. Clear followed closely behind him. As they approached the door, an ominous feeling came over them, like they were trespassing. "I'm not the only one who feels that, right?" Clever asked.

"No," Clear confirmed, "I feel it, too, open the door." Clever hesitantly opened the great metal door with his flashlight in hoof to a large room with a conference table in the middle. There were bodies hanging from the ceiling in 14th century torture cages, runes on the wall inscribed with blood with huge transmutation circles all over the floors and ceiling. In the center was a single, half-lit, candle chandelier, and the empty conference table. There were several doors and rooms, completely emptied, and the smell of rot pierced the air.

"One thing's for sure," Clever said, still taking in the sight.

"What's that?" Clear asked, trying to understand as well. Clever turned to her, putting his flashlight down.

"They're not looking for the restoration of friendship."

"So here's what we got," Clear said, back in the conference room after searching the entire warehouse. She projected several images on the screen from her laptop, pictures of the processed crime scenes, runes, and other odd occurrences. "twenty-four total dead bodies, four hanging, ten in a room lined up, and two in the five other rooms. One room contains seven dead dove corpses, and nine dead cats. In addition, there is also another room with a large altar, and the remains of various cattle. Needless to say, this is very confusing."

"I second that," Clever said.

"So we have all of this evidence of a sophisticated organization," Clear continued, "but how does that relate to our unsophisticated blunt-force stabbing?" All of the C.S.I.'s pondered for a moment. Fiddlestick spoke up.

"Maybe a rogue member?" he said, "kicked out of the only place he or she was welcome, and decided to make some good money real easy."

"That'd be a she," Sharp said suddenly, "I extracted some aura residue from the body, and more from the other bodies. They all match as a white-coated female unicorn, except for one..." Sharp pulled a few pictures out of a file, spreading them across the table. The other C.S.I.'s took a close look. "The latest one. Same procedure, but there's a small difference, and less precision to the incisions. The results came back for a gray-coated male unicorn. Almost like they switched out."

"So it seems Sticks' theory is aligned with the evidence," Brite pointed out.

"Let's not get stuck on it," Clever objected, "there's a chance that it could be a coincidental killing."

"Coincidence is a scientific anomaly," Clear overruled, "there is that chance, but let's try and rule out or prove what is easiest before we overthink it. We have a possible rogue, which means if we find her, we can get answers on this cult, and maybe stop a disaster. Clever, Brite, I want you to keep looking at those rumored unicorn sightings, and be very careful. I wouldn't want you to get hung like one of those other ponies." The two C.S.I.'s nodded. "Cuffs, I want you to update the police force on possible suspects, they should keep their eye out for a while-coated female equine with excessive manes or other facial and forehead coverings."

"What were the C.O.D.'s on the other vics?" Brite suddenly asked.

"Oh, of course," Clear replied, turning to Sharp, "Doc?"

"C.O.D. was a form of cardiac arrhythmia," Sharp replied, "tachyarrhythmia, to be exact. But I also found evidence of electrocution — or something like it. I looked for history of hypoglycemia, hypovolemia, hyperthyroidism, hyperventilation, then I looked for amphetamine usage, and syndromes like Brugada and Wolff–Parkinson–White, but I found nothing. In fact, they were all perfectly healthy. I did find formaldehyde, glutaraldehyde, and methanol in the 'sacrificed' victims — standard embalming fluid — and other antimicrobial preservatives like nitrate and hydroxybenzoate."

"Someone's been doing some very sophisticated chemistry," Clever pointed out.

"Yes," Clear seconded, "and very sophisticated symbolism. I researched and tried to look for as many rituals as I could, but there's nothing like this. Their organs are left exposed and held together, but they're killed before hoof. The equine body reacts to lethal amounts of magic energy like it would to electricity, except magic energy can be manipulated. This magic happened to amplify electronic signals within the equines' bodies, causing them to die from a very fast heartbeat. I think what we're dealing with here is a home-grown cult, but not one trying to bring back friendship."

"That means there might be another one," Fiddlestick quickly mentioned.

"What do you mean, 'another one'?" Clever asked frustratedly, turning to face Fiddlestick.

"Well, like Clear said," Fiddle started, "unicorns aren't the savage beings we were told they were, and there are still rumors of another group that is willing to fight to bring back the magic of friendship, what if—"

"That's absurd!" Clever suddenly exclaimed, the rest of the C.S.I.'s were a bit startled, except for Clear, who remained silent. "The 'magic of friendship' is just another one of those pathetic tales they tell us as children, it's just as fake as—"

"A cult of unicorns who perform 'fan-made' ritual sacrifices on ponies and have kept it hidden from us for about four weeks now, given they haven't relocated?" Fiddle interrupted, "Let's see, rumors have went on longer than that, we're looking at several relocations, maybe even several more murders, it's possible that they—"

"We can't go on possible!" Clever retorted belligerently, "We have to follow the evidence, we can't assume that there's another cult out there trying to make friendship real again!" Fiddle paused, staring at him.

"You're missing something, Blue," Fiddle said, calmly. Clever's face reflected a confused disgust. "What we can't assume is that there's only one, but what we can assume is that there's more than one. It's safer that way. We're not here for convenience, we're here to find out everything before it happens." Clever's face was visibly red, but he ceased argumentation.

"That went better than expected," Clear said, frankly. "Basically, what we have is a confirmed hoodoo cult, a possible anarchist group in the name of friendship, a dirty inside job, and a rogue murderer — we need to focus on getting the dirty insider to lead us to the rogue, which will eventually lead us to the murderous cult." She glared at Clever. "I think we've had enough theorizing. Now — move! Except you, Fiddlestick."

The rest walked out. Clever glared at Fiddle before he left. After they had closed the door, Clear took a seat.

"You're really stuck on this friendship thing, aren't you?" she asked. Fiddle wasn't sure how to exactly respond.

"I'm not stuck on it..." he said, quietly. Clear quickly corrected her wording.

"No, I don't mean that," she said, "you seem to have an ecstasy for the idea, why is that?" Fiddle kept silent for a bit, before opening his mouth to speak.

"I had a friend once," he muttered, he stopped for a minute.

"That's alright, if I'm intruding on any personal grounds I wo—"

"All things come to pass, and we should learn to accept that, but if we can bring them back, I think they're worth fighting for. If there really are a group of outcasts who are trying to bring back the magic of friendship, as silly and as unscientific as it sounds, then I respect them highly." Clear nodded at the response.

"You're a good guy," Clear said, smiling and patting him on the back, "we'll have to do our best to solve this fandango, so that the bad guys don't outshine the good guys and make things worse for all of us."

"You're right, Clear," Fiddlestick responded, "we can't let those savages destroy the reputation of unicorns."

"So," Clear said, "think we should get to the lab and try to solve this case?"

"Of course."