Mistfits Fit

—many Yol are now growing spikes on their bodies the way that their ancestors once did, it’s believed that this stems fro—

Sanguine dropped the magazine and pushed it across the desk and away from herself. A week ago walking down the street had only earned her glances and the odd mutter, but article had come out three days ago, and now outright stares and questions shouted in her direction. She still couldn’t get used to people’s reactions, and while she could cope with the looks, and polite questions, there was one thing she’d never get used to.

The touching.

Apparently, being one of the few to exhibit a new trait, gave random strangers permission to touch and poke her spikes. She didn’t like being touched to begin with, let alone by people she didn’t know.

A shudder ripple through her, prompting Sang to draw her arms around herself in a protective manner. The spikes jutting from her shoulders seemed to flex with the movement, pulling against the fabric of her shirt, and the carefully tailored holes for them to protrude through.

Hopefully the hype would die down over the next couple of months, maybe by New Year she could get around without being pestered.

Shaking the feeling off, Sang grabbed her bag from behind the desk, and headed for the door. It had been a quiet day at her antique store, only half a dozen customers, and of them only four bought anything of note, mostly small knickknacks but one had brought an old wooden dresser. Everyone was too eager to decorate in time for Halloween.

Locking the door behind her, she lingered only long enough to pull the shutters down over the front of her shop, and double checked the padlock was in place, before turning and striding down the sidewalk. The sky was getting dark, and she wanted to make it home before it started raining.

Sanguine made it a block before the first question reached her.

“Are those real?” a curious voice piped up from behind her.

“Yes.” Her reply was short and to the point, not offering any more information.

“Oh! You’re the Yol from the news!”

Grimacing internally, Sang shot a glance over her shoulder at them, and was met by the sight of a male Yol, wearing a devil costume complete with painted horns, fake imp wings, and a pitchfork. They’d even painted their tail somehow.

‘Aw man, I could have said they’re fake,’ she mentally berated herself.

In all her anxiety over the news article, she’d completely forgotten to keep track of which day it was. And now it was Halloween. Another glance around the street told her she was the only one not already in costume. Maybe the next person to ask she could lie and say they were fake.

Her train of thought abruptly cut off as the yol who’d spotted her spoke again.

“Can I touch them?” the Devil-Yol asked, moving closer, hand already raised.

“No!” Sang all but barked, flinching back from them instinctively.

“Whoa! Jeez chill out,” the devil replied, putting their hands up in submission. “I was just curious,” he snapped, clearly hurt, before turning on his heel and stalking away.

Forcing herself to exhale in a bid to relax, Sang resumed her trek home.

However the exchange had caught more than a few people’s attention. Muffled comments and questions seemed to float after her as she paced down the street, doing her best to ignore the stares and queries.

‘If anyone askes, they’re fake,’ she reminded herself, the words turning into a chant.

She was nearing the halfway point to her apartment —and the hot tea and good book waiting for her— when a gaggle of college students, all dressed up and ready to party, rounded the corner just ahead of her.

For a brief moment Sang thought she’d get away with passing them unimpeded. But then she saw the recognition in their eyes, and her heart sank.

‘Nope. Nope.’

Instantly she was looking for an escape route. There weren’t many shops open now, but a bright pink and cyan neon light was over the road to her left, declaring Spitfire’s Gym, and beside it was an open door, the interior beyond dimly lit. Even as she was making up her mind, a massive MTT stepped out of the doorway, carrying a pumpkin shaped bowl visibly filled with fun-sized candy. They looked the size of a house even from her distance, and were dressed all in dark mismatched clothes to look stitched, with a pair of fake bolts either side of his neck. It wasn’t hard to guess he was Frankenstein’s Monster.

“Mate, isn’t that one of them Yols?” a voice muttered from the gaggle of students as they drew ever closer. “What? Where?” Came a confused reply.

Sang didn’t wait to see if the group caught on, she was already darting across the street towards the open door. For the briefest moment, she made eye contact with the huge Franken-MTT, before she silently slipped through the open door and into the Gym.

Once inside, she pressed her back to a wall, and attempted to turn invisible.

“Whoa hold up!” a deep unfamiliar voice spoke up. “We’re just closing up, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

From her position, Sang could just about make out the large MTT blocking the doorway with his bulk, hands out in a placating gesture.

“We just want to talk to the Yol chick!” a voice piped up curiously from the gaggle.

“Yol chick?” the MTT man asked. She didn’t miss the annoyed emphasis on the last word. “Do you mean my co-worker?”

There was a chorus of confirmation from the group.

‘Co-worker? What does he mean?’ Sang thought to herself, and then paused as she caught on. ‘Is he covering for me?’

“Let me shout for her,” the MTT said, and leant into the gym. He briefly looked to Sang, curiosity clear on his face, before calling out. “Calamity, you’ve got someone asking for you!”

“Coming Stuka!” the response came from deeper into the gym.

It didn’t take long for another Yol woman to appear from the back room, ice white hair was pulled back into a slick bun, her spiralling horns arching back over her head. She wasn’t dressed in usual gym wear, but instead wore a black and white suit with a high collar and cape lined in red. The fake blood artfully dripping down her chin and the fake fangs were more than enough to confirm she was dressed as a vampire.

“They’re out here,” the MTT called Stuka said quickly.

The Yol briefly hesitated at the sight of Sang flattened against the wall, but Calamity strode past, clearly acting like Sang didn’t exist.

“How can I help you?” Calamity greeted the students outside, stepping into the doorway and blocking it as well.

“That’s not her.” A blunt and annoyed voice immediately replied.

“I’m sorry?” Calamity asked indignantly, “who else would I be?”

“Mate are you sure you saw one of the spikey Yols?” A second voice spoke up, tone sounding concerned. “This one ain’t spikey…”

“I know I saw the red spikey chick!”

‘They sound annoyed…’ Sang thought to herself anxiously.

“There’s no ‘chicks’ here,” Stuka replied curtly, voice low in warning. “It’s just me and Calamity, the last Yol customer we had left hours ago.”

The urge to look was overwhelming, but she’d make herself visible if she wasn’t careful. Clearly only one of the students had spotted her, if she stuck her head out now they’d be calling Franken-MTT and Vamp-Yol liars and getting angry.

She just wanted to go home and hide for the rest of the night.

“I’ve seen a few MTT and Yol go by with fake spines,” Stuka spoke up, “could be one of them?”

“Maybe…” the first voice reluctantly muttered.

“Come on, we’ll be late for the party,” the second urged. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Its fine,” Calamity said, but neither pair moved from the doorway until the sounds of the college students had fully moved away. And when they did, they firmly shut the door behind them.

The pair looked at her.

Despite herself, Sang leant back. She knew what sort of questions would come now, prying and querying her spikes, wanting to know how she got them, if they were real. Maybe darting into an unfamiliar enclosed space hadn’t been the best idea…

“Are you alright?” the Vamp-Yol, Calamity, asked.

Sanguine blinked.

“That’s not what people normally ask.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and she belatedly clapped a hand over her mouth, feeling her cheeks flush yellow in embarrassment.

Surprisingly, the pair laughed.

“What’s your name?” Stuka asked.

“Sangui—Sang. It’s Sang,” she quickly amended, preferring her nickname.

“Let me get you some water,” Stuka said, heading for a mini-fridge behind the desk.

“Sit down,” Calamity instructed, moving forwards slightly and gesturing to a chair, but still keeping her distance. Not crowding Sang. “Are you okay though?”

“I’m fine,” Sang said guardedly, perching on the edge of a chair, minding her hip spines on the leather seats. “Well. Mostly,” she amended when Calamity raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like being hassled.”

“Here,” Stuka held out a bottle of water to her, “you look hassled.”

Calamity swatted him on the arm. “What Stuka means to say is you looked about ready to bolt,” she said, settling on the arm of the chair opposite to Sang, “had they been bothering you long?”

“No, I just didn’t want to be bombarded with questions,” Sang replied taking a sip of water. ‘I just wanted to go home.’

“You were in the article, weren’t you?” Stuka spoke up.

“Yeah that’s me,” Sang admitted with a restrained sigh and a grimace, she wasn’t going to hide it from the pair that had just hidden her. “I was told it was a short scientific piece. I thought it would be in an academic paper… not the Junction City Times…”

She probably should have guessed, the interviewee hadn’t specified where the article would be published, only that it was in conjunction with the articles on the Holo-Wing MTT’s and the latest tech toy created to mimic the holographic wings…

“Ah,” the pair said in unison.

“I probably should have expected all this fuss really,” Sang said, rising to her feet and gathering her bag, fully intending to make excuses and leave as quickly as polite.

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Calamity exclaimed, making both Sang and Stuka jump in surprise. “You shouldn’t be getting hounded for it!”

“I’m used to it,” Sang lied. She didn’t need strangers fretting over her wellbeing.

“Calm,” Stuka abruptly said, placing a gentle hand on Calamity’s shoulder. The shorter Yol woman looked close to ranting, flushed skin and arms tightly folded. But at his words she took a deep breath, and exhaled.

It was almost like the tension was physically expelled as she instantly relaxed.

“Sorry, I just don’t like the idea of strangers pestering you.”

‘Neither do I.’

“Do you have far to go? Or someone to give you a lift home?” Calamity continued. “We’re just about to head out if you’d like us to drive you home?”

“No don’t worry about it, I’ve only got a few more blocks to go, I’ll be fin—”

Her words cut off as a large group went sprinting past the window. It seemed to be a hoard of school kids, dutifully followed by a group of hassled looking adults. Several of them had carefully crafted holo-wings made of paper and streamers, and at least three of them had large spikes of presumably painted cardboard, stuck to various limbs.

There was a significant paused after the group passed.

“Actually…” Sang said slowly, with a sheepish look to the pair.

“I’ll lock up,” Stuka said.

“I’ll get my keys,” Calamity added with a grin, showing fake fangs. “Where do you live?”

“Langford Street,” Sang supplied.

“Oh that’s not far from our party!” Stuka piped up from by the front door.

Before long the two had locked up, and were leading her through the gym and to a rear exit. The alleyway behind the building was dark and grim, but Calamity’s car was bright pink and cheerful. Surprisingly, Stuka squeezed into the back, carefully folding his limbs into the narrow space, leaving the passenger seat free for Sang.

Feeling awkward, she climbed into the front, minding her horns on the roof, and spikes on the seats.

A bobble head model of an MTT actress bopped cheerfully on the dashboard.

“We just need to pick up Stuka’s wife and kids on the way, but you’ll be home in no time,” Calamity explained, pulling away and smoothly joining the sparse traffic.

“So… whose party are you going to?” Sang asked awkwardly. Small talk wasn’t her strong suit, but hopefully it would prompt them to do the talking.

“My sister Spitfire, she insists on throwing a party every year,” Stuka supplied, “and that we all dress up.”

“Oh is it her gym?”

“It was, she passed it on to me when her modelling job took off,” he said, “Anywhere round here, Calamity,” he added.

‘That was a short drive,’ Sang thought in surprise, ‘maybe he walks normally.’

Stuka must have texted on ahead, as the back door opened and a tiny Yol woman climbed in, suitably dressed as the bride of Frankenstein, followed by two even tiny-ier twins, one dressed as a bat, the other a black cat.

“Oh hello!” His wife greeted in clear surprise. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“This is Sang, Sang this is Crane,” he gestured to his wife, “and Treble and Bass,” gestures to the twins.

“Hi! Hello!” the pair greeted in unison.

“So what do you do?” Crane asked, as Calamity pulled away again.

Sang blinked. Yet again it wasn’t the first question she was usually asked by people. Either these guys were oblivious, or she wasn’t the first anomaly they’d met.

“I’m an antiques dealer,” she replied. “I find old things and sell them to people who like old stuff,” she added for the kids benefit.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve sold?” the boy, Bass, asked.

“Hrm,” Sang took a moment to consider, “An umbrella stand, made out of an elephants foot. That was pretty weird.”

There were impressed exclamations from the kids. She couldn’t blame them, the elephants of old earth had died out long ago, seeing the models in museums or at a distance in the zoos was hard to comprehend their true size. Not to mention how damn difficult it was to get a hold of extinct animal antiques.

“What about—” the boy began, but was cut off by the girl. “Are your spikes sharp?”

“Treble!” Stuka said sharply, but the girl only grinned up at her dad.

“They’re a little sharp,” Sang said quickly to prevent any scolding. “Not enough to hurt anyone, but can scratch things if I’m not careful.”

“What do they feel like?” Bass asked quickly.

“Like your mums horns.”

Instantly the twins were reaching up to pat their mothers head and face in a bid to reach her horns. The look on Crane’s face was almost enough to make Sang laugh, but she managed to hold it back.

“I want spikes,” Treble suddenly demanded looking up at her dad. “Me too! Can I have spikes?” Bass added in excitement.

Stuka’s palm met his own face with a gentle slap.

“Would you like to come to the party?” Crane asked genuinely, in a bid to change the subject. “I’m sure Spitfire would like to meet you, Cryptic too probably.”

More strangers. More questions. More odd looks and more forced small talk.

“I’m good thanks. And I don’t have a costume,” Sand replied politely.

The car abruptly went dark as they descended into a car park. “We’re here,” Calamity interrupted, albeit with a broad grin at the kid’s antics. “You guys hop out, I’ll drop Sang off, and catch up.”

“Cheers,” Stuka replied with a sigh, “it was nice to meet you Sang.”

“And you four,” she replied with a genuine smile.

It took a minute for the family to get organised enough to climb out of the back, Crane going first to lead, with Stuka bringing up the rear to shepherd the twins along. “Now what have I told you about asking questions about people’s appearances,” she could hear him scolding the twins as the group reached the doors to the elevator.

The car moved smoothly away as Calamity set off again. “You good?” she asked.

“I’m alright,” Sang replied, still slightly guarded. “I find kid’s genuine curiosity is better than rudeness. Those two just saw it as something cool, rather than weird.”

“Your spikes are cool,” Calamity said quickly. “The people that find it weird would find any mutation weird, I mean people originally found black markings, pastel colours, or even chimera to be weird, but now they’re considered beautiful!” she all but babbled, “you and your spikes are beautiful anyone who says otherwise are blinded by their own damn prejudice.”

Sang blinked and eyed the woman currently driving her home. She’d known Calamity for less than an hour but the woman seemed to have become quickly protective and defensive on Sangs behalf.

It was a weird feeling. She was so used to looking out for herself and being on her own.

‘I prefer it, I’m used to it… Maybe too used to it…’ The stray thought crossed her mind. “Thank you,” she manage to say.

A comfortable silence fell for the rest of the ride, the city buildings passing and the rain splattering against the windows. Until eventually, the satnav beeped, letting Calamity know she was at the right place.

“This is me,” Sang said, leaning forwards and squinting through the rain splattered windscreen, towards her apartment windows. “Thanks again for the lift,” she added, reaching for the handle.

“Hold on a second,” Calamity replied, busy scribbling something on the back of a receipt. “Here—” She held it out to Sang “—If you need a lift or to hide for a bit, give me a call. It won’t take long to come get you,” she said. “Or just call if you want to come to the party,” she added with a grin.

Several heartbeats passed before Sang forced herself to reach out and carefully take the paper from Calamity. The offer seemed… weird. Not bad or wrong, just not what she was used to.

“Can I ask why?” Sang asked before she could stop herself. “Why you’re looking out for me? You don’t know me.”

For a moment Calamity just looked back at her, but then a lopsided smile spread across her face. “If you had come to the party you’d have guessed why,” she said, “more than a few of us stand out in some way or other. Between us all, we have almost every trait possible. Hell, if you met Cryptic or Luucas no one would look twice at your spikes when they’re not even MTT or Yol.”

‘Wait what?’ Sang thought in confusion. ‘What are they?’

“Not to mention Stuka’s a damn giant, Spitfire’s a chimera, their niblings are pastel, their half-sister has black markings,” Calamity seemed to be going over a list. “Even I stick out compared to regular Yol.”

“How?” Sang asked sharply, she hadn’t seen anything weird or different about Calamity.

There was no answer, instead Calamity yanked up the sleeve of her suit on one arm. Solid black skin, no markings. Then the opposite sleeve went up. Vibrant purple and blue markings swirled and twisted across her skin, a stark asymmetrical contrast if ever there was one.

“Like I said,” Calamity continued, “you and your spikes are beautiful. You’d fit in well with our group of misfits. No one would ask questions if you came to the party.”

Another pregnant pause filled the car, stretching on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“The offer still stands though,” Calamity flicked the paper in Sang’s grasp. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Sang took the cue to open the car door, and stepped out onto the pavement. But paused, leaning down to look through the door at Calamity, asymmetrical markings still on display.

“Thank you,” Sang repeated, more earnestly this time. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing.”

She waved Calamity off, before heading inside and taking the lift to her floor.

After the evening’s unexpected hustle and bustle, the lift was deathly silent in comparison. Normally she’d be relived, welcoming the peaceful bliss. But today it felt uncomfortable, barren, empty… lonely.

Trying to shake the feeling off, Sang pulled her apartment door shut behind her, hearing the solid click of the latch echo through the apartment, leaving her in familiar peace and quiet. The small but cosy layout was usually enough to ease the tension that had set in to her shoulders from the moment she had left work. But now it felt too quiet.

“Mrrup!”

“Hey Ruddy,” she greeted her cat. But he was more interested in sniffing her shoes and clothing, clearly finding unfamiliar scents and wanting to learn more.

Sang found herself glancing down at the hasty phone number she now gripped in her hand. ‘Stop it,’ she mentally chided herself. She’d been perfectly comfortable alone for years, just because someone was nice to her didn’t mean anything.

Pushing the idea to the back of her mind, Sang threw her bag onto the table, and set about making herself some tea. What she needed was to decompress, read a good book, and get ready for bed. What she didn’t need was a busy party with people looking at her and her spikes.

“You’d fit in well. No one would ask questions.” Calamity’s comment abruptly sprang to mind.

Grumbling under her breath, she padded through into her bedroom, already pulling her uncomfortable jeans off.

Perching on the edge of the bed to wrestle her shirt over her spikes, she glanced briefly to the book at the top of the read pile she’d prepared for the night. Frankenstein stared back at her.

She looked to the next book. Bride of Frankenstein.

The one under that was Dracula.

It was her own damn fault for picking out a Halloween themed reading list…

‘Reading, alone, at home, on Halloween night… when did I get so boring?’ she briefly thought. But then forcefully shook herself and pushed the thought from her mind. She wasn’t boring, she was just an introvert. She didn’t need parties to feel better, even if some socialisation would have been nice. Hell, just watching movies with a couple of friends would have been enough.

Pushing to her feet, she yanked the door to the wardrobe open with a little more force than necessary. Her friends were all busy, no doubt at parties or with their families. It took a minute for Sang to realise she wasn’t taking out her pyjamas, but instead mentally considering which of her regular clothing could be converted into a Halloween costume.

“Let me know if you change your mind.” Yet again Calamity’s words floated through her mind.

“Goddamnit,” she muttered. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go then!” Sang barked into the silence of her apartment, hearing a startled mrup from the kitchen. Snatching up her phone and the receipt, she all but hammering the number in.

The phone started ringing and every shred of confidence abruptly vanished. Her finger was already hovering over the hang up button, when the phone was answered, leaving Sang grasping for words.

Pushing down her anxiety, it was now or never.

“Uhhh, Calamity? It’s Sang. Does—does the party invite still stand? I’ve changed my mind…”