A Modern Kindred Appearance (Fan Story)

Beg pardon if people don't like fan made stories, and also beg pardon if people don't like fan made tribute stories. My wife insisted I put this up after I wrote it, so it hasn't been really looked through for errors or anything. If anyone has any recommendations sans trolling, I'd love the assist.

The haze of smoke poured from the bottom of the door as the young man walked towards it. "Oh, for fuck's sake... Jimmy? Jimmy!" The man slammed his fist against the door, resting his face in his palm. His fingers massaged the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. His roommate was stoned... again. Which meant they were late on rent... again. The door opened, and the man waved a hand before his face, coughing at the waves and waves of smoke. The long haired blonde man facing him chuckled, leaning on the door frame. "Oh-ho! Jimmy, my man! Wassup?" "'Wassup' is many things, starting with you're trashed. Also, you're Jimmy, I'm Mark." "Jimmy, Mark, what's it matter? We're all one--" "Oh no, don't you start that surreal, existentialism shit with me, Jimmy. You spent all our cash on weed again, didn't you?" "Wha...? Oh, yeah! B-but, it got paid." "Uh-huh, that's what you said last time. This time, though--" "N-No, really! I got a receipt and everything." Jimmy may've been higher than a cloud at the moment, but Mark's anger always sobered him right up. "See here, broski? All paid in full." "I'll be damned... But, you spent the rent... How did you get this?" "Okay, so, get this. Hold on, want a hit first? This is an unreal story." Mark waved a hand, sighing, "You know I can't, Jimmy. Story, now." "Alright, so, I was walking to meet my dealer, right? Like, get some sick shit, smoke it up, come up with a plan on rent, the usual." Mark suppressed the bubbling rage. The rent was paid-- somehow-- and there was no need to kill the hippie... Not yet. "So, like, my dealer, right? Hands me these masks. Tells me there's some weird voodoo shit or something going on with them. Pays me to take them. Drops all of'm into my hands with a wad of cash and runs. Funny thing is, our rent wad was in there. Here!" He tossed a lump of crumpled bills at Mark, who looked them over, narrowing his eyes. "Jim, these are all hundreds. They've got to be fake." "Nah, bro, checked them with your little marker-thingy. All of'm change from the marker. They're the real deal, man." Mark didn't believe him for a second, but there were the gold lines on all of them. All of these were verified. "You gave me five hundred... Why?" "Half the split of what was left from rent, man. Half grand to you, half grand to me." "Give me a mask." Jimmy blinked, tilting his head. "Wha...?" "I said, give me a mask. He gave you masks, right?" "Well, yeah. Thought you weren't into that supernatural hoodoo." "I'm not, but if it looks cool, I'm keeping it." "Alright, man. They're on my bed." Mark slipped past Jimmy, holding back a heave. "Good lord, man! When was your last shower." "Uh... Good question, man. Uh..." He started ticking off fingers, his eyes rolled back in thought. "Are those days, or weeks?" Mark inquired with a lifted eyebrow. "Weeks." Mark held back another heave, looking through the mess and fog of the room at the bed. "You know, I'm lucky my boss understands that I live with a stoner, else the contact highs I get from coming in here would get me fired in a heartbeat." He looked over each mask, frowning. A few were painted in a Mexican style, the multicolored Dia de los Muertos style turning his lips. It was interesting, for sure, just not his style. There were definitely the demonic and twisted voodoo masks, witch doctor décor, even some that looks like old shamanistic styles. His hand paused over one, staring at it curiously. "What have we here." "Oh, yeah, he was really scared of that one, man. Called it the Kindred." "Kindred?" "Yeah, man. Only reason I could figure out was, like, Kindred means two of a kind, or being a couple or kin, right? So like, the mask splits." "Splits? What are you--" But even as he asked, Mark split the mask down the middle, revealing half-masks that interlinked. "One looks like a lamb..." He said slowly, hefting the white side, "and the other a wolf." He stared at the black side with its pointed ears, weighing them curiously. The white was surprisingly heavier... A different kind of wood, maybe? "Yeah, deep shit there." He heard a deep inhale followed by a cough behind him. "Like, wolf in sheep clothing, the boy who cried wolf... So many stories of wolves and sheep." Mark stared at it for a long moment before placing them back together. "I want this one." "Alright, man. No skin of my back. Hey, before you go back to your room, you mind, like, starting the oven for me? I'm gonna reheat that pizza in the fridge?" "You mean my pizza?" "Yeah, that." Mark sighed, then shook his head. "Yeah, and you're welcome for dinner." "You're the best, broheim." "I hate your nicknames." Jimmy laughed as Mark left, closing the door behind him. Mark could only smirk, chuckling on his way back to the room. As cold and angry as he tried to be, there was something he liked about that guy, the same something that kept him from kicking the guy out. He went to his desk in the main room, splitting the mask in his hands once more before reconnecting it. He ruffled his dark hair, sighing. "Well, if anything, you'll be a good replacement for this picture." He took down the framed portrait of himself and a young lady, her dazzling smile only enhancing her good looks. "She was too good for me anyways. She was right, though," he said, opening up his computer. "I need to get out more. Just... not tonight." As he lost himself in yet another raid online, the glow of the screen flooded the room, drowning out the blue glow coming from the eyes of the mask...