This piece of fanfiction is ©copyright 2005-2006 by Saint Raven. All characters in this story are owned in part by WAW Logo Entertainment© and by the wrestlers who portray them. This work cannot be reproduced for profit or anything else without the written consent of the author, Saint Raven.

Asylum of the Dead: Kindred Spirits

Prologue

By Saint Raven

Lightning flashed through the rain-filled sky as a horrific storm raged through Boston, Massachusetts. The wind shrieked as it blew loose chunks of stone off of rooftops, causing the heaving building materials to shatter on the pavement below. If anyone had been standing under them, they would have had their skulls fractured in an instant.

In a top room of a dilapidated apartment building in Southie, a young man with long, shaggy, black hair sat slumped in front of an open window, letting the blinding rain soak him. He openly wept as he wished the rain would cleanse him of his sins, but alas, nothing of the sort would happen on this night. In fact, it was on this night that the man's tormentors would find him, in the form of his friends.

Loud banging and shouting in the hallway outside the door alerted him to their presence. He tried to sink into the shadows under the window sill, hoping he would not be discovered.

The door was flung open with enough force for it to bang against the opposite wall. "THERE YOU FUCKING ARE!" an enraged teen's voice screamed as it's owner and two others burst into the room. The voice's owner practically flew to the other side of the room and backhanded the long haired teen across the face.

The assailant raised his arm again, only for it to be caught by one of the other boys. "Stop it Rocko, leave him alone!" the rescuer shouted.

"FUCK YOU JEFF! HE'S YOUR FUCKIN' BUDDY! HE FUCKED EVERYTHING UP FOR US! ALL OF US!"

The teen called Jeff retorted, "You knew it would come to this eventually! Christian finished it before it began!"

"Fuck Christian!" Rocko yelled, only calmed down slightly. "He's destroyed everything we've ever worked for, Jeff, everything! He fucking killed Gino! Is that suddenly alright with you, Jeff? HE FUCKING KILLED FUCKING GINO-"

"ENOUGH!"

This latest shout caused the other three boys to become quiet and look towards the only young man who hadn't spoken yet.

He was the tallest of the group, with short, slightly spiked, dark hair and face paint that made him appear to have horns. His ripped and unbuttoned checkered shirt hung over a pale yellow t-shirt, long shorts and short black boots.

The fourth young man said softly, "This is not the time to panic and become unpractical."

"What's up with you, Jersey? You're the one that suggested we fucking LYNCH HIM!" Rocko screamed.

The wicked one known as The Jersey Devil replied softly, "The situation has changed; we have no time and must coexist."

Jeff, more commonly known to his companions as Mister Psycho, stared at Jersey as if he were crazy. "Dude, we have no goddamned time for this; we need to get out of here and underground before the Cult finds us."

"That's the problem," The Jersey Devil replied, staring down at the street. Christian picked himself off the floor and joined Jersey at the window. Rocko and Psycho followed.

There, standing in front of the building, was the tall figure of a person completely wrapped in a thick black cloak. Further along the street, the four boys could make out a long, dark car slowly pulling up to the street entrance to the building.

"Too late," The Jersey Devil repeated, staring out into the rain. "The Cult's already found us."

To Be Continued…