I walk into the Vanhoover Morgue. Best the VCSC could do under the circumstances. No actual Hippology lab.

My head no longer hung low but the mental abuse has not stopped. My earlier fight with Silver did nothing to motivate me to work. But dammit, I've got a (possible) murder to solve.

Taking a deep breath, I head to the receptionist.

"Excuse me? Is Dr. Ambrosia here?" I inquire, the orange receptionist looking up from her book. A plaque on her desk says 'Organized Files'.

"Who?"

"Dr. Ambrosia? They left a message at my hotel that the remains I'm investigating have arrived. So I'd assume they'd prefer to go over it with me." I tell her. Realization slowly filling in her eyes.

"AH! Yes. Crème Ambrosia!" She confirms, pulling out a clip board from a drawer. "It says here she had checked out a few hours ago. Would you like me to call her?"

I shake my head. "No thank you. I'll look over the remains without disturbing her. It's late already."

Ish. Clock says seven.

"Alright." She smiles and nods. "I'll just need you to sign in here." She hoofs me the clipboard.

"Of coarse." I say, grabbing a pen from one of those weird metal mesh pen holder things. After mouth signing in and specifying that I've been sent over from Canterlot, my eyes wander up to Ambrosia's name. She's also from Canterlot. Odd.

I say goodbye to the receptionist and trot over to the fun room in the back. The plastic doors push open with ease, reveling the chest on the stainless steel table. The body coolers lined the left wall, names written on paper inserted into slots on the front of the door. A counter bisected the wall closest on my left. The right to me had glass windowed cabinets higher up and solid wood cabinets further down. The wall adjacent to me had a giant whiteboard covering the top half of it. Stopping at the door directly across from me. Assuming it to be the lockers, I enter that door. My assumption correct, I shed my trench coat, placing it into an unlocked locker, my gun going with it. In another locker Is a pair of scrubs, clean hopefully, and a box of muzzle covers. Putting them all on, the cold material sends a shiver up and down my spine.

Sighing with the shivering subsiding, I walk back through the door and look to the chest on the table, silently cursing at myself for not looking more at it on the scene. I start to put on gloves when I remember that we now have a thing called 'Technology'. Taking off my mast and trotting out of the morgue, I make my way over to Mz. Files.

"Excuse me?" I say, looking over the cook book that she was reading.

"Yes Miss Reigns?" She replies, looking up at me.

"Could I borrow your phone for a moment?" Smile.

"Sure!" Award winning smile. She places the rotary phone In front of me. Picking the hoofset up with a wing and placing it to my ear, I turn the dial from the zero, let it fall back, then wait.

"Operator." A voice announces from the hoofset.

"Vanhoover Crime Scene Crew Headquarters, please." I say, getting silence in return. And more silence.

"Vanhoover Crime Scene Crew. How may I help you?" A mare says, obviously bored.

"May I speak to the crime scene photographer, Mr. Film please?"

"Name?"

I identify myself.

"Please hold."

I can hear rustling, like somepony switching around the hoofset, then muffled shouting. More rustling.

"Ms. Reigns?" The young voice of Film.

"Correct." I reply, nodding. Why did I nod?

"What is it you need?"

"Can you bring over a copy of the scene photos? I need something to refer to when taking the contents out of the chest."

"Right away!" He replies with enthusiasm just before slamming the receiver down. Or dropping it.

I'd just finished downing a Diet Cola when somepony walks through the front doors. He is... pudgy, if not fat. An earth pony. Not exactly tall either. His mane is an attempt at a buzz cut and his tail is short and straight down. His mane and tail are a tree green that clash with the sea blue that his coat is. His Cutie Mark is out of view by his brown coat. I can easily imagine the coat smells like cigarette smoke.

Next to him is another stallion, a unicorn, who is the polar opposite of the first. He's skinny and tall, his coat is a sickly grey and his mane a clean blue. His mane is scraggily and points forwards, his tail seems groomed and taken care of, hanging down behind him. His cutie mark is also covered up, but by a black leather jacket.

I watch them walk over to the receptionist. The fat one and Files exchange a few words, then she points at me. The two turn around to look at me. Not knowing what to do, I shyly wave.

The fat one starts to walk over to me, the skinny one nods to Files, then follows the other.

"You Reigns?" The fat one asks me once he's directly in front of me, his voice gravely. Definitely a smoker. Then the smell of cigarettes wafts to me. I try not to scrunch my muzzle.

"Yes..." I nod, contempt dripping from my voice.

"Excuse my partner." The skinny one says to me, glaring at the other one. "The name's Tango. He's-"

"I'm Trent." He says, cutting Tango off.

"Trent?" I ask, he nods.

"Yea, that's it. don't make it old." He scoffs. I watch as his partner (lovers?) lowers his head and sighs.

"We were sent here from VCSC to get you these." Tango says, pulling out a manila folder from his jacket with a white glow. I grasp the folder with a wing once it came within reach.

"You said you were partners? Lovers?" I ask, opening the folder and not caring for the bluntness of my question.

"What the hell?!" Trent. I glance down at the crime scene photos.

"Celestia no! I'm married to a nice mare." Tango says, disgust flashing across his face. Then, in almost perfect unison, the two pull out wallets and show me the badge. I recognize the sun-shaped badge immediately.

"What are two other RCIS agents doing on my case?" I ask them, both scowling while they return their badges.

"Who said we were on your case?" Trent asks.

"It's just an assumption. Why did Film have you two bring over the photos?"

"Chief Note said you need help. Besides, he's the agent, I'm not." Tango tells me, removing his badge again and showing me a second time. I read it more thoroughly. Sure enough.

Tango Field
Forensic Hippologist
Medical Examiner

I sigh and nod to him.

"Help would be appreciated. Gives me somepony who knows what I'm talking about to talk to."

Author's Note

This chapter is what you can call a filler. I was just introducing the two other RCIS agents.