> Dun Dun (Royal Canterlot Gardens, Canterlot, Equestria, Equus, Jan 12)
 
> God damn its hot out here.
> Why did you bring this fucking sweater.
> Fuck the sun.
> Rarity was bouncing around looking at all the topiaries, and admiring all the styles.
> “Ohhhh, Look at this one, its shaped like an elephant!”
> The shit you put up with.
> This was seriously cutting into your whacking schedule.
> As the two of you approach the crime scene, you notice a bunch of guards covering the tree branch in curtains.
> The whole area was fenced off, but there were two guards, and two pegasi.
> One you recognize as Thunderlane, who you know from the local bar.
> The other was a purple mare you didn’t recognize.
> Rarity rushes over to the crime scene, handing a letter with Twilight’s royal seal to the guards.
> They quickly brief you two on what they know, which wasn’t much.
> Somebody found a head in a tree, and they pulled it down and brought it to the local morgue.
> You didn’t even know ponies had morgues.
> Rarity is busy writing it down in a notebook.
> After he finished speaking, she immediately starts looking at the bench.
> “Now, Anon, to investigate a crime, you need to think like a criminal.”
> Way ahead of you, filly.
“What do you mean?”
> “I mean, look at this bench.”
“It looks like a pretty standard wooden bench to me.”
> “That’s why I’m the detective, my dear Anon. This is cherry wood, with a tarnished bronze bracket and steel legs. No designer should get away with this. This is a crime against style!”
> r u srs?
“Oooook.”
> The scene was pretty simple. Just an old bench with a bunch of white flowers around it.
> You weren’t a botanist, a woman, or a gay guy, so you didn’t know what kind of flowers they were.
> Rarity was looking closer at the bench.
> There was a small bloodstain on the bench, likely caused from the dripping from the head onto the bench.
> ”Ah ha! A clue.”
> Rarity reaches towards a sticky, milky, white slime, gathering some up on a cotton swab.
> “Mayonnaise! Daisy must have had a lunch date with her murderer!”
“Uh, I don’t think-”
> Rarity licks the cotton swab, and her face scrunches up.
> Way to fucking handle evidence, bitch.
“- that’s mayo…”
> A few awkward seconds pass.
> “We must never speak of this again.”
“Agreed.”
> Crossedfingers.jpeg.
“Well, look on the bright side; at least we know Daisy had a date.”
> “Actually…” Thunderlane said, approaching.
> One very awkward conversation later, you lose your lead, and Rarity loses her lunch.
> As Mareshmellowdramatic heaves into the trash can, you turn to Thunderlane.
“So what’s the whole story?”
> You don’t have any gum, but you pretend to be chewing some because it makes you more imposing.
> Of just feel imposing, but that’s really what matters, isn’t it?  
> “My Marefriend Fleetfoot, and I came over here and we, ahem, ‘did the Mayo Dance’ on the bench. Hey Babe! C’mere!”
> Fleetfoot trots over, while Thunderlane nuzzles her neck.
> It’s a good thing you were faking having gum, because you would have swallowed it looking at that mare’s sizzling hot ass.
> Lucky bitch.
> Fuck him.
> “I already did.”
“Woah, did I say that out loud?”
> “Yea.”
“Well Damn. To get back to business, did you notice anything unusual as you ‘tangoed?’”
> Fleetfoot answered first, bringing a hoof to her chin.
>”I did notice that there was a sort of coffee stain or something on the bench.“
“Alright. Noted. Anything else?”
> “I don’t know. There are a bunch of daisies that cover the area.”
> “AH HA!” Rarity jumped into the conversation. “DAISIES! Surely that must mean something to the victim.”
> Rarity’s breath smelled like vomit and her mane was a mess, but she was at least back in the game, albeit a bit redder.
“Feeling better?”
> Rarity scrunches her face.
> “Hey, his, erm, /stuff/ doesn’t taste like ice cream.” She said, turning red and gesturing to Thunderlane.
> “You’re telling me.” Fleetfoot responds sarcastically.
> Back to the >>>/trash/ she goes.
 
 
 
 
> Dun Dun (Canterlot Morgue. Canterlot, Equestria, Equus. Thursday, 12th Jan.)
 
> So this is a Pony Morgue?
> It looks like Weenie Hut Jr. mixed with Bioshock infinite.
> Rarity is walking alongside you.
> “Now, here’s what we know: A pony named daisy, living in Ponyville was killed in Canterlot in a field of daisies, and her head was put in a tree. She bought a frilly dress - possibly for a luckily stallion – and there was a blood stain on the bench.”
“We don’t know if she was killed by the bench. We don’t even have a body, just a head. And the stallion is complete conjecture.”
> “Yes, of course.”
> The two of you approach the door and knock on it.
> A scruffy unicorn stallion opens the door, wearing a lab coat covered in blood.
> Wearing a fedora.
> Just when you thought you escaped these kinds of people.
> “Sir; M’lady”
> He
> Fucking
> Tips
> His
> Fedora
> At you.
> You cringe, but Rarara opens up a conversation with him.
> “Quite the gentleman, aren’t you, Mr…”
> “Doctor, ma’am, Dr. Lord, Dr. Edge Lord.”
> You should have seen that coming.
“Well Dr. Lord, we’re here to look at the head of Daisy to find clues to her death.”
> “Ah, yes. Poor maiden. Over here.”
> Dr. Lor- you know what fuck this, I’m calling him “Edgy.” – Edgy walks to the nearest cabinet and pulls out a bucket-sized box.
> Rarity is fidgeting.
> Looking into the death of a friend would be tough on anyone.
> Especially looking into the eyes of her decapitated head.
> However, you know her well enough that one of her fundamental canons is dedication to the outfit.
> And this particular outfit was a detective outfit.
> And a hardened detective wouldn’t be scared.
> Edgy pulls out a scalpel specifically designed to be shaped like a katana and starts cutting the box open.
> She lifts off the lid.
> Rara’s eyes get a little misty, but she doesn’t look away.
> It’s pretty grizzly.
> The pink fur was matted with red blood and dirt.
> Her mane lacked any major form, and was just a bunch of random lime green hairs pointing in a bunch of different directions, like a mop on top of a cantaloupe.
> The giant pony eyes were glazed over, looking like someone had jammed cue balls in her head.
> A large jagged cut tracked back along her scalp.
> Yikes
> Rarity was silent, so you speak up for her.
“Did you find anything?”
> “My examination was pretty inconclusive.”
“Did you find out anything conclusive?”
> “Well I can’t be sure, but I think she’s dead. I’m sorry.”
> Fuck you Edge lord.
> Fuck you, you fucking fucking fuck.
> “Well, I also did find evidence of Blunt force trauma.”
> Finally! Something useful!
“What do you mean?”
> “I mean someone hit her. Like, you know how you hit a blunt? That’s where the term comes from, you know.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
> “Thank god, because I would look really stupid hitting myself tonight.”
> You’ve had enough of this degenerate.
> You bet he fucks the corpses in the middle of the night.
“Are there any other people that work here we can talk to?”
> “Pssh, There’s no personnel, kid. Just me.”
> Goddamn.
> You walked right into that one.
“Ok, so the next question is how do we have just a head?”
> “Looking at the neck wound…”
> He spins the head around, showing off the inside of the poor pony’s neck.
> The esophagus and trachea hang loosely against the flesh, and you can clearly see a vertebrae.
> Oh god.
> Rarity lurches, but regains her composure.
> “This was caused by a tearing motion, not a cutting one. The cuts don’t match up.”
> Whoever did this had to be pretty strong.
> Edgy approaches a nearby bench of samples, leaving the head on the table.
> “Since CMID won’t work, We identified Daisy, or rather ‘Pushing-up-Daisy,’” he chuckles at his own dark joke, “from dental records. Although she moved to Ponyville a while ago, she lived in Canterlot before that, and Dr. Minuette DDS keeps some immaculate documentation.”
“CMID?”
> “Cutie Mark Identification”
> Ah.
> “Only thing I can’t really explain is this odd green mud I found in her mane. I cant think of anywhere with green mud. A swamp or river perhaps?”
> He magics over a small baggie of chunky light green powder.
> You’re stumped too.
> Its not even green like grass, but sickly green, almost mint-like clay.
“Perhaps a lake or something? This just isn’t a normal color for clay…”
> “Really? Really, Anon?” Rarity finally chimes in.
“What?”
> “How can you not recognize that?”
> You stare blankly at her.
> An art class? An embankment? Where would you find green mud?
> “I’d recognize this anywhere! It’s the mud masks from the Canterlot Spa!”
> Oh.
> That… makes a lot of sense.
> “Watson, we have our next lead!”
 “My name is ‘Anon’”
> “There’s no time for that! There’s a criminal on the loose!”
> She gives a polite curtsy to Dr. Lord, before turning back to you.
> “To the Spa!”
> Rarity does a 360 and walks out the door.
> You turn to leave as the door closes behind her, but Edgy stops you.
> “Oh, and sir, one more thing… The lady shouldn’t have to hear this”
> Oh what the fuck now?
> “The head wound was inflicted around time of death, but it wasn’t fatal.”
“Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”
> “Yes. Unless the body says otherwise, poor Daisy was alive when her head was ripped off.”
> Thanks Edge Lord.