This was a terrible idea… but it was mine and the only one we had. I’d shucked my security barding and was now putting on the ratty clothes of the unicorn mare. Our coloring was close, and Mom was blackening the red in my mane with grease from a maintenance closet. “Good thing your horn is so small, little Fishy,” she said, finally past all her arguments about why this wouldn’t work. Mom was lavender, Barrel was green… I was the only filly that looked close to the mare I’d killed.
“Mom, I’m about to pretend to be a psychopathic wild pony,” I replied flatly. “Please don’t call me that.” The last thing I needed was that stupid name… and her talking about my horn. Which wasn’t that small, anyway… it was just… compact.

I wiggled into his uniform, tucking as much mane out of sight as I could. I was able to hide my compact horn, and hopefully nopony would realize that my ‘wings’ were just flaps of linen. It didn’t have to be a good disguise, so long as it worked. With a sidearm in my hoof holster and a baton in my belt, I almost felt good.

If BJ had the ability to save scum, this would totally be in character.