“Hey Windy, I’m seeing a really creepy looking pony walking through the halls,” Treble Clef said, her face practically pressed against the monitor.

The pony in question was a solid white mare wearing a black suit. Not exactly the type of outfit you’d expect to see within the Society, where leather and latex were a far more appropriate choice.

“Creepy in what way?” Windy Cyclone asked.

“Ever see Mares in Black?” Treble asked, glancing briefly at her.

“I have,” Bountiful Harvest interjected, popping over Treble’s shoulder to look at the screen.

“Everypony has seen Mares in Black,” Cryptic Message chided.

“I haven’t,” Windy admitted before typing at her keyboard. “Which camera is she on?”

Treble scrolled through a menu. “Uh, A-421.”

Everypony in the control room typed in this number, putting up the live feed on all five of their monitors.

Bountiful whistled. “No kidding, she looks like she’s from the bureau of investigation.”

“Isn’t that camera like right outside our office?” Lilac Garden asked.

“It is,” Windy muttered. She then flicked on her comms. “Will the pony in the suit please remain still.”

They watched the pony stiffen.

“Is she armed?” Cryptic asked.

“Looks like it,” Bountiful grumbled, shaking their head. “What should we do?”

“Call in the BDSM knights?” Treble asked, shrugging her shoulders.

Cryptic shook his head. “They’re a bunch of rejects from the Royal Guard and are only good for taking on domestic abusers and throwing out drunks. I doubt they’ve even considered a pony bringing a weapon in here before.”

He fiddled with his monitor before gasping softly.

“What is it?” Windy asked, looking towards him.

“Get her in here,” Cryptic said, his tone unnaturally tense.

Everypony else seemed to pick up on this, their own demeanour cooling considerably.

“She has a gun!” Lilac growled. “We’re not inviting her in here.”

“Trust me, invite her in here.”

Windy sighed before clicking on her microphone. “Will the mare in black please enter the third door on the left.” She shook her head as the mare drew her gun. “And please put that away. We’re fucking unarmed.”

Thankfully, the pony holstered her pistol before walking towards their office. She knocked on it and everypony looked up as the steel security door opened, revealing the mare in her flesh.

“Uh hello?” the pony asked, stepping in cautiously.

Cryptic glared at her. “How the fuck did you end up here?”

Treble gasped.

Had Cryptic just sworn?

“Pardon?”

“What is your dimensional stamp.”

The mare frowned. “I’m not privy to give that information.”

Cryptic sighed. “Omega, Beta, Beta, Omega, Queen, Zebra, One, Two, Five, Nine.”

“So, this is an institution site, then?” the mare asked, letting out a relieved sigh.

“No, it isn’t.”

The mare stiffened instantly. “But you just…”

“I used to work under O6 at site Oscar-15.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Windy asked, her gaze narrowing.

“It’s classified,” the stranger and Cryptic chimed in unison.

“Do you mind if I verify your claim?” the mare asked, holding out her hoof.

Cryptic snorted. “173 snaps necks, 6 is what keeps our Princess’ young, and no this place does not have memetic kill agents.”

“The Princesses?” the mare asked, before realization dawned on her. “You’re a monarchy over here?”

“You’re not one in…” Cryptic rolled his hoof. “What is dimensional stamp again?”

“Lima, two, two, five.” The mare sighed. “So, this isn’t an institution site in this dimension?”

I’m afraid not,” Cryptic said. “You’re on the property of the Clocktower Society.”

“The Clocktower Society?”

“Pretty much a cult which performs rituals to harness the power of SCP-037 to regulate weather patterns against SCP-087,” Cryptic explained, though it did little to ward off the confusion the majority of the room felt.

“The staircase?” the mare asked, tilting her head to the side.

The four other ponies in the control room just stayed silent, watching this bizarre conspiracy transpire, their gaze bouncing between the two ponies as if it were a tennis match.

Cryptic laughed. “Looks like we have a slight dimensional difference, here.”

“You mean besides the hooves?”

Cryptic nodded in agreement. “I mean besides the hooves.”

“I’m guessing 87 is not the staircase over here?”

“Nah it’s a keter-class entity that has the ability to chill global temperatures by around fifty degrees Celsius.”

The mare nodded. “I see. And what does this cult do to tame it?”

“We throw balling orgies,” Lilac piped up. “The Crystal Heart likes when we fuck.”

The mare deadpanned. “What?”

Cryptic chuckled. “Yeah it’s honestly a pretty harmless cult. All they really have to do is have uh… kinky sex and that somehow appeases 37.”

“I see,” the mare said, nodding slowly. “Is this cult the worst thing you have to deal with in this dimension.”

“Pretty much.” Cryptic shrugged. “All the other ones kinda accepted the institution's hegemony in these affairs and disbanded.”

“Please tell me you haven’t discovered a way to move between dimensions.”

“Oh… I mean, we have a couple…”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. I want to stay here. This place sounds like it fucking rocks.”

Cryptic smirked, faking a worn-out sigh. “Well agent, I’m afraid that this dimension has no means of trans-dimensional transportation.”

The mare grinned. “Hell yeah.”

Author's Notes:

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