CHAPTER 10

A handsome young man sat in a director's chair next to the clear, blue swimming pool. His silver robe was drawn tightly around his thin spandex costume to ward off the early-morning chill. In his lap was a thick, typed manuscript, which he pored over with distaste, mumbling to himself.

"Easy, Catman, they are serious . . . . Easy . . . Catman . . . they are serious," he repeated, looking at the page, then off in the distance. He tried to ignore the stares of the film crew working nearby.

He could not understand his inability to concentrate. Usually, remembering things was the least of his problems, yet something lurked in the back of his mind, wiping out his efforts to memorize his lines. He felt a nervousness in the pit of his stomach as well, as though his body was trying to warn him of some terrible future event.

"Easy . . . Catman . . . they are -- aarrgh! I'm going to puke!" He threw the script into the chair next to him, almost hitting the Demon approaching from the side of the pool.

"Hey, watch where you throw that, Paul! Somebody could've sat on it."

Gene placed the script tenderly on the small card table at his right and sat down. He had brought with him a small, balding man dressed in jeans, an oxford cloth shirt and pullover sweater. The stranger remained standing -- looking at the two costumes men with a pleasant smile on his face.

"Yeah?" Paul grimaced. "Well, it might help if someone did sit on it."

Gene frowned. "Don't be so gloomy. With our director and Anthony and the special effects alone, this film'll look great."

"I hope so. Nothing against the scriptwriter, but some of the lines are awfully corny."

"Hey," a voice exclaimed from behind them, "I'm having a great time!"

They turned and saw Ace with a dixie cup in his hand and an enormous grin covering his painted face.

"Yeah," Paul said. "Having a wonderful time. Wish I were here." He turned back in his seat, wishing he had the script again.

"Hello! What's going on?" In full regalia, Peter walked over to the little gathering and glanced around, looking for another chair.

"Not much," Ace answered, taking a sip from the cup. "Paul's not having fun yet."

"Ah, it's not that. I'm just having trouble with some of the lines, that's all."

"Don't worry about it," Gene said in a parental tone. "If you do, you'll never get it right."

"Thanks, Gene. I'll manage."

Gene shrugged and looked over at the little man, who was still standing apart from the group. Gene smiled and turned back to Paul.

"Isn't anyone going to ask me who that little old man is?"

Peter found a chair, pulled it over, and sat down. "If you say it's Paul's grandfather, I'm leaving."

"Who is he?" Ace asked.

"He's the robotics specialist for the film: Mr. Deveraux."

"Uh-huh," Peter responded sarcastically. "Who is he really?"

"I'm serious! Mr. Deveraux," Gene said, gesturing toward his companions, "I'd like you to meet the band."

Ace came forward and shook Deveraux's hand. "You're kidding? You have the same name as the bad guy in the movie?" Ace emitted a high-pitched cackle and shook his head in disbelief.

Deveraux smiled shyly. "Well, I know it's strange, but it's true. When the film makers were looking for an advisor for the robotic effects, someone mentioned my name. I guess someone thought the name suited the character as well."

"And you should see some of the stuff he's made for the movie," Gene interrupted in earnest. "It's great! I still can't figure some of it out. You'd love it, Ace."

"I'd love to see it sometime!" Ace said it more as a demand than merely a statement.

Deveraux chuckled. "Well, if you gentlemen aren't busy at the moment, I could show you my workshop."

"Yeah!" Ace said, already getting up from his seat.

"Thanks," Paul declined politely, "but it's not very long until we start shooting."

"Oh, c'mon, Paul," argued Gene. "It'll help take your mind off the script."

Paul was still unsure. He could not put his finger on it, but for some reason he did not like this Deveraux character. After a moment of self-debate, he gave in to his friends.

"Well, okay . . . but let's not take too long."

The man led the four musicians away from the pool to a large, isolated tent behind one of the amusement park's office buildings. There were pieces of scrap metal and wiring hanging from the tent ropes and the tent itself, making the tent look like some sort of bizarre wash line.

Deveraux lifted the flap of canvas from the entrance and waved his hand toward the opening.

"My workshop, gentlemen. Inside is a robot which may be used for the final fight-scene. Would you like to see it?"

The four men followed their guide into the tent and found themselves face-to-face with a gargantuan figure of steel. The robot stood at least eight feel tall, and its silver body was composed of twisted cables and wires, which very much resembled the human skeletal and muscular structures. Its torso was covered with a sheath of clear Lucite containing metallic organs, each breathing with artificial life. Its head was smooth and shiny, with perfectly symmetrical human features.

"Wow . . . ." Ace breathed disbelievingly.

"That's what I said," added Gene, still amazed at his second view of the monster.

"So, what can the bionic man do?" Peter asked, moving up for a closer inspection.

"So far, it can perform several simple functions, including lifting up to four-hundred pounds."

"And changing the course of mighty rivers," Gene joked.

No one laughed, as they did not quite understand Gene's comment, but Deveraux continued as he walked over to a complex- looking console in the center of the tent. "Not yet, but I'm working on it. I figure I can complete four of these within three weeks and have them fight you in the concert sequence."

Peter peered into the robot's face. "Geez, are you sure it's going to be safe? I mean, this thing looks pretty nasty to me."

Deveraux appeared slightly indignant. "But, of course, it's safe . . . . If you like, however, I could give you a demonstration."

"Yeah, let's see what Curly here can do," Ace said, eager to see technology in action.

Deveraux smiled. "Excellent! Would you gentlemen step outside so as not to get in harm's way when I activate it. You should be a perfect view from the entrance."

The four started moving back.

"Um, Mr. Criss?"

Peter stopped and turned around.

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to stay as a test subject. After all, it seems that you are the one that is the most worried about the robot. It would be a perfect opportunity to see how safe it is up-close."

Peter hesitated. "Um . . . well, alright."

"Pete," Paul began. He was beginning to feel something was not quite right, but Gene broke in with words of encouragement.

"Aw, it's probably harmless. Anyway, if something goes wrong, Mr. Deveraux can just stop it with a touch of a button. Right?"

"I'll try to make sure no permanent damage is done to Mr. Criss," Deveraux answered jokingly.

There was uneasy laughter from the rest of the group as they walked out of the tent and stationed themselves just outside the entrance.

"Ready, Mr. Criss?" Deveraux asked, his hands at the console.

"No. But go ahead anyway." Actually, Peter felt rather confident. He was sure that if trouble arose, he could somehow tap into the Talisman powers again like he did a couple of years before. There had been times when he felt that he could feel the power flowing through him, such as during the car accidents, but he could never be sure. Now was a chance to see if he could activate it once again.

Peter stepped back as Deveraux pushed a button on the console. The robot moved toward Peter, who jumped back in surprise. After it stopped its advance, Peter moved in for a closer inspection.

Deveraux flicked a switch, and the robot's arms encircled Peter's waist, holding him in place.

The three outside the tent were laughing.

"Hey, Peter," Ace called, "I think it likes you!"

Peter was not listening. He was not only upset by his mechanical opponent, but also because he did not feel the burst of energy he had felt before from the Talisman.

"I should've reacted quicker than that, but this thing is fast. I'll get out of it. No problem," Peter said it to the others, and to himself as well.

"Don't be too sure of that, Mr. Criss." Mr. Deveraux pressed a series of button.

The robot tightened its grip, forcing the air out of Peter's lungs. He began to black-out as he struggled against the icy steel arms.

"Mr. Deveraux," Gene spoke suddenly, his voice taking on a low, growling tone. "I think you're getting a bit carried away."

The little man looked up, his face wild with excitement. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Simmons. On the contrary, the only one who will be carried away is your friend here . . ." He twisted a series of knobs on the console. ". . in a box!"

The wiring and metal limbs detached themselves from the tent ropes and flew together around the tent, forming a barricade enclosing the event inside the tent from the three men outside. Through the gaps in the metal, the band could see Peter, still fighting to break free of the robot's death grip. Deveraux watched triumphantly.

"The barrier which now surrounds the tent should prove an adequate defense," he called out. "Oh, and Mr. Stanley, I suggest that you don't try using that 'laser eye' of yours. The fence is programmed to explode should force be used."

Paul and Gene looked at each other.

"How does he know about my power?" Paul whispered.

"I don't know," said Gene, "but if he knows, he can defend himself."

With Deveraux's attention away from Peter for a moment, Peter began to struggle to get a handhold in between his chest and the robot. As he worked, he suddenly felt more energy going through his limbs as the Talisman's powers pulsed through his mind. Now able to pull out his other arm that was pinned against his chest, he starting pushing against the shoulders of the robot and heard the grind of metal again metal as the arms of the robot slowly began to give.

It was enough to attract Deveraux's attention. His jaw dropped slightly in response to the scene before him, but he quickly recovered and move another switch on the console.

"He told me that you might be able to compensate for the power of my robot at the capacity I thought would be enough for you, Criss. I won't make that mistake again."

Renewed power flowed through the robot and the arms once again closed in on Peter. Peter gave out a scream that seemed more out of anger than pain.

"Peter!" Ace cried. He extended his right thumb like a hitch-hiker and disappeared with a 'POP." He reappeared inside the tent, ready to rescue his friend from the robot's clutches.

"Ah, Mr. Frehley, I'm so glad you could join us. I knew you'd be the first to break through my shield."

Ace whirled around to face Deveraux, his hands raised. "Really? Well, what's going to stop me from turning you and your precious console into dust?" He almost screamed the question. He wanted to destroy the man who was hurting his friend.

"That's simple. If you destroy this console, the robot goes on automatic. The same thing will happen to Mr. Criss -- only sooner."

Ace dropped his hands to his side.

Outside the tent, Gene and Paul inspected the metal barrier. Frustrated, Paul swung a boot back to give it a good kick, then thought better of it. Paul could feel the flow of the Talisman in him again, for what little good it was doing him at the moment.

"Great! The Talismans finally kick in again after all this time and we can't do anything. We're useless!"

"Wait." Gene said, still studying the tangle of machinery. "Maybe not. See where these two pieces are joined? If we can melt down that joint, we might make a hold big enough to get in."

"You heard Deveraux. It'll explode."

"Yes. If you use your energy laser with your powers. But, it may not be rigged for heat. Since the melting of the joint will be a releasing of tension and not the applying of tension, it just might work."

"And if it doesn't?"

Gene looked up at Paul and smiled. "Then we go boom."

Paul looked at the scene inside of the tent and decided. "It's worth a shot. But where are we supposed to get a flame-torch?"

Gene backed away from the tent then began to concentrate. Inside of his mind a fire raged from the anger and frustration he was facing before before him. It raged in his soul and began to boil inside of his skull. Opening his mouth, the feeling transformed itself into flames, which roared across the air and into the heart of the metal barricade.

As the fire lit into the metal, Paul backed away from the tent.

"Pete," Ace whispered as he stood next to the robot and tried to move one of the arms away from the almost-limp figure caught in it's embrace. "Try to save your energy."

Deveraux laughed.

"What do you say now, 'hero'?"

Ace did not reply.

"What good is your precious Talisman now? You can't even save your friend. Why don't you hand over the Talisman, and maybe I'll let the Cat go?"

Ace spun around to face the man behind the console.

"I don't know who you are, or how you know about the Talismans, but I'll blow you and your console to pieces before I let you win this game!"

"That won't be necessary, Ace."

Both Deveraux and Ace turned to see Paul standing inside the tent, with Gene climbing through a large gap in the supposedly impenetrable barrier.

Gene spoke as he climbed in. "Ace!" Gene growled. "Head for that console -- NOW!"

Ace rushed toward the confused Deveraux as Paul unleashed his power. A glow encircled his right eye, and a strong crimson beam hit his opponent squarely in the chest.

"I think it's time for you to go to sleep," Paul said casually.

Deveraux dropped to the floor, unconscious, as Ace scanned the control panel. His mind worked quickly, and within a matter of seconds he had hit a sequence of switches and knobs that would terminate the robot's orders.

Peter fell to the ground, clutching his ribs and gasping for air. The other three ran to his side.

"Oh . . . man . . ." Peter groaned.

"Peter," Paul said, kneeling down and placing his hand under the drummer's head, "are you alright."

"Y-yeah, I think so." He looked at the robot and felt sick. "Just get me out of here."

Paul supported Peter as he stumbled out of the tent. They climbed through the hole and moved a few yards away. As they reached a nearby tree, Paul slipped out from under Peter's arm and lowered him to rest against the tree trunk.

Ace looked at Gene. "How did you guys manage to get through that fence?"

"Pyrotechnics," Gene smirked. "I've got flame-breath, remember?"

"I thought that only worked when you were around fire," Peter said, staring up through half-closed eyes.

"Nope, I can use it anytime -- I just never had a chance to before. Just like none of us have ever had the chance before to really experiment with our powers. Anyway, I just melted through the bars and hoped for the best."

"But, Deveraux said the thing was rigged to explode!" Ace exclaimed.

"We took the precaution of standing back."

"But WE were inside!"

"It was a chance we had to take." Gene absentmindedly shrugged his shoulders.

"Thanks loads. . . ."

Ace was interrupted by a voice from behind.

"Do not think you will get away with this, robbers! I will have what is rightfully mine!" The band looked up to see Deveraux approaching, a gun in his right hand.

"I thought you took care of him," Peter whispered to Paul.

"So did I," Paul mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed about his carelessness.

"Well, it shouldn't be any problem tagging him before he tags us," said Gene. His voice resumed the strange metallic growl it always did when the Talisman was at work.

"You idiots!" Deveraux screamed. "You can't even use the power you have been given properly. You don't even know where it came from. You are not worthy of the Talismans -- It was sheer luck that you were able to save your pitiful comrade!"

Deveraux kept the gun trained on the four and reached into his pocket, producing a small, silver cylinder. His thumb hovered over a red button at one end of the object.

"But it isn't over. There are others who will come after you. Once I press this button, our leader will home in on this spot. Then you will surrender the Talismans . . . or die!"

"Ace. Now!" Gene ordered.

Ace extended his thumb and disappeared as Gene lunged toward the crazed scientist.

Deveraux hit the button as Ace reappeared next to him. He and Gene tackled the man, sending him sprawling to the ground. The gun sailed through the air and landed in a nearby grove of trees.

"Ha!" Deveraux cheered. "It's too late!"

Deveraux was happy. He may have failed in his attempt to get the Talisman from the band members by means of blackmail -- Peter's life for that of the Talismans -- but he did not fail in alerting his leader. He had been given the small cylinder several weeks ago with the order that, if he should not be able to obtain the Talismans himself, to use it and others would come.

Deveraux waited for what was to come, only knowing that something amazing was about to happen. Perhaps his leader would descend from the sky to finish off the band, or even a whole army. The thought of such a turnabout excited Deveraux and he did not even care about the two men pinning him down; he knew things would be in his favor once again very quickly.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts, in fact, that he did not notice the blue-white glow slowly enveloping the hand that held the homing device.

Ace did, and as his eyes grew wide, he let go of Deveraux and jumped back.

"Gene," Ace cried as he backed further away from the other two. "Let got of him."

"What are you talking about?" Gene struggled with Deveraux. "I can't do that."

There was no time left to argue. Ace leapt through the air and knocked Gene away form Deveraux as the glow crept up his arm. They tumbled to the ground a few feet away.

Finally, Deveraux noticed the strange light, which was now over all of his lower torso and legs.

"Wh-what is happening to me?" Deveraux screamed. "What did you do to me?"

The glow grew whiter as his legs faded from view.

"No." Deveraux turned to face the four musicians, his eyes full of pain. "He told me that I would win! I was supposed to have the power!"

The glow had finally engulfed his entire body, its brightness forcing all but Ace to look away. Deveraux's form staggered toward the two men on the ground.

"He lied to me. Black --"

Gone. The afterglow faded, leaving only a small patch of scarred grass behind. Ace untangled himself from his band mate and stood up, helping Gene to his feet. Paul and Peter rushed over.

"What happened to him?" Gene asked, with the distinct feeling that Ace knew already.

"Limbo." Ace said, more to himself than the others.

"What?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," continued Paul, "what are you talking about?"

Ace seemed to be shaken awake from deep thoughts as the others questioned him.

"You know when I teleport?"

The others nodded.

"Well, I don't just move from one spot to another instantly. I pass through another dimensional space between the beginning and ending points on this plane."

"Huh?" Peter said, holding his ribcage tightly.

"It's hard to explain . . . but it has to do with the time and space continuum. When I teleport, I open the door to a passageway, travel to the spot I want in time and space, and open the door to get out. It's like hopping on a subway that doesn't stop and jumping off at the right place. But, you have to be exact when you jump off -- because once you pass your stop, it's too late. You also need the right key to get in and out of the passage."

Ace held up his hands.

"This is my key. I -- and anyone I take with me -- can get in and out of the doors with no problem."

Paul was a little puzzled. "But what does all this have to do with Deveraux?"

"The glow we saw . . . that was Limbo. The passageway. I've seen it enough times to recognize it."

Gene had read enough comics to get the gist of what Ace was saying. "So, that device allowed him to open the door to Limbo."

"Right," Ace agreed. "Actually, he was letting Limbo into this dimension. If it hadn't been contained by the device, we'd all be in big trouble. Luckily, the person who designed the device knew what he or she was doing."

Peter looked at his friend in amazement. To him, Ace suddenly did not sound like the same street kid that he always knew, but like a scholar from another planet.

Gene was fascinated by the concept and pressed on. "And you knocked me away so that I wouldn't be taken with him."

"Right."

"So, when is he coming back into this dimension?" Paul looked at the charred grass.

"He's not."

Paul shot a look back up to Ace. "What?"

Ace stared at the ground, kicking a bit of dirt with his moon boot. "That's the thing. Limbo came in and went back out, taking him along for the ride. Someone gave him the key to get in, but I really don't think he was ever meant to be able to get back out. They wanted to lose him and fast."

"He's trapped in the passage," Gene said quietly, more as a statement than a question.

"Uh - huh."

"Can you get him back?" Peter asked.

"No. Limbo is a never-ending place. He could be anywhere by now. Even if I could find him, he didn't enter with my key, so my key couldn't get him out. I could try another one, like a skeleton key, but one wrong move and -- Boom -- that's it."

The four members fell silent as the full impact of what had happened sank in.

"I'm sorry," Ace said after a time.

Gene tried to reassure him. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have done anything to stop the door's opening . . . could you?"

Paul jerked his head to look at Gene. It was an odd question and sounded even a bit menacing in the tone of Gene's voice.

Gene had his own reasons for asking. Mainly one that had bothered him since he saw Ace immediately use his powers after all this time. Why, Gene asked himself, was Ace able to use his powers so readily when it seemed to take a minute or two for the others to have their powers kick in? More importantly, how did Ace learn so much about Limbo when he only saw it that one time back in 1975?

"Ace, it's about time --"

"Ah, there you are!"

Shocked back to reality, the four turned in their heels and saw one of the movie crew's gaffers approaching from the direction of the tent opening. At least, where the tent had been. As with Deveraux, the tent was now gone and all that was left as a reminder was a scar on the ground.

"We've been looking all over for you guys. You were scheduled to start filming the pool scene twenty minutes ago."

Paul stared at the young man and tried to decide how to explain the situation without jeopardizing the secret of the Talismans.

"Uh, I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

The gaffer beamed. It was not often that someone cared enough to confide in him.

"Really? What?"

"It's about Mr. Deveraux."

The boy looked confused. "Deveraux? You mean the bad guy in the movie? What about him?"

Paul frowned. "No, I mean Mr. Deveraux. The robotics consultant for the movie."

"You're pulling my leg, right?" The gaffer was getting a real kick out of being on the receiving end of one of the stars' jokes.

It was Paul's turn to be confused. "No, I'm not. Deveraux was working on the robots for the finale and --"

"What robots? We're using your stunt doubles as stand-ins. We don't have any robots."

Gene stepped forward, breaking in on the conversation. "Could I see who's working today?"

"Sure, here you go." The gaffer handed Gene a clipboard. He scanned the pages and handed it back.

"Thanks. We'll be at the pool in a few minutes."

"Okay. I'll tell the director you're on your way." He wandered off, grinning, trying to figure out what the whole practical joke was that just happened to him.

Peter looked at Gene questioningly.

"What is it, Gene?"

"I just took a quick look through the list of workers for today. Deveraux's name wasn't there."

"Maybe it was a mistake," Paul said.

Gene shook his head. "He wasn't listed for any days. According to that list, there was never any robotics specialist working on this movie."

"You mean, it was a trap?"

"Sure looks like it."

Ace spoke up. "Deveraux mentioned the Talismans. He knew how they worked. Nobody but us knows about them."

Gene nodded. "And he said there were others that knew as well."

"So," Paul said, "we've just been attacked by a guy who never existed, and now he's vanished into Limbo for no apparent reason. To top it all off, he knew about our powers, and we still have no idea what it's all about. That's just wonderful."

"Yeah, I know," Gene felt the same as Paul. None of it made any sense.

"You don't suppose this is connected with all the accidents we've had crop up in the last couple of years?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"It could be," Ace responded. "It could also be why Peter is usually the victim. His powers would be the biggest threat to anyone trying to catch us off-guard, since he was that instinctive 'sixth-sense.' Whoever's behind this seems to be trying to weaken him in order to get to the rest of us."

There is was again, Gene thought. Ace knowing something about the powers that has never come up before.

Before Gene could say anything, Peter looked up at the other uneasily.

"I'm afraid it might be working."

"What do you mean," Paul asked.

"I've been meaning to tell you all something. Each time I've gotten hurt, whether it be in an accident or like today, I've felt my Talisman's powers kick in. At first I just thought they were helping me out and that was it. Since I never could do much else after the danger had passed, I just thought it was helping me and then going away again. But the strange thing was, I could tell that the powers were getting weaker each time something happened to me. And if my powers were working right, I probably would have anticipated Deveraux's attack today. I didn't."

Gene thought about Peter's response for a moment. "Well, since we don't know who's after us, there's not much we can do to retaliate. Obviously, he's after the Talismans. I suggest we stick close together and wait for this next move."

"And if we're sitting ducks?" Peter asked.

"Have you got any better ideas? This is the first time since Detroit that we've been able to get the powers to work and already I can feel the powers subsiding again. Who knows how they are activated?"

Gene talked to the other three, but looked mainly at Ace for his reaction. There was none. Seeing there was not going to be a response from Ace, Gene continued.

"We'll just have to see what happens and with a bit of luck, maybe we can find out how these powers are supposed to work."

There was silence in the group. Paul looked intently at the charred grass where Deveraux had once stood. "Man, what kind of game are they playing?"

"I don't know, Paul," Ace said soberly. "But I'll tell you one thing. .

"I don't know, Paul," Ace said soberly. "But I'll tell you one thing.

". . . They're playing for keeps."

Parker entered Blackwell's office and approached the desk, fumbling his words.

"Uh . . . er . . . Deveraux was unsuccessful in his efforts."

Blackwell sat stoneface, not looking up. "A shame. I had real hopes for him. The usual outcome?"

"Um, yes. He has been terminated and his existence wiped clean from the minds of those who came in contact with him on the set. The only ones who remember him are the members of KISS themselves."

Blackwell smiled. "Excellent. Anything else?"

"That's all for the moment. But, Mr. Criss should be in the position you want him."

Blackwell looked up at Parker. "Thank you, Mr. Parker. That will be all."

After Parker had left the room, Blackwell stood and moved across the room to a chess board set up in one corner of the office. He had brought the board in after his initial meeting with the band, just two short years before. He found it was an amusing way to keep track of his strategy.

Picking up a black pawn off the board, he replaced it with a white knight. He examined the discarded piece and smiled to himself.

"You have to lose an occasional piece to keep the game interesting."

He placed the pawn off to the side of the board and returned to his desk -- leaving the white knight in direct line with a black bishop.

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