DARK LIGHT:
A WORLD WITHOUT HEROES II
From: Dale Sherman
Peter opened his eyes, yet saw only darkness. He still felt the hands of Caravello and Ace pressed into his own, but could not see them. He wondered if perhaps they were all still in Limbo somewhere when Ace spoke.
"We're here."
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Caravello spoke up. "Uh, Ace? Where is 'here' exactly?"
"Ask Peter," Ace casually remarked. "He's the one that sent us here."
For a frantic moment, Peter wondered if perhaps he had done something wrong. "Uh, I wasn't thinking of a cave or something, Ace. Where are we?"
Ace sighed as if he had to explain something to an idiot child. "You thought about this big event in your life on May 24, 1974. The big gig at the Beacon Theater for your band. The 'welcome home' concert, y'know? That's where we're at."
Peter became excited. "You're kidding? We're here? Back in 1974?" "Y'know, Ace," Caravello spoke as he tried in vain to focus on the outline of Ace's form in the darkness, "I may be wrong, but I remember 1974 being a lot brighter than this."
"Well, it's not like we're out in the sunshine or anything, Curly." Ace emphasized the world 'Curly' as he knew Caravello didn't like being called the name.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"So, where are we, Ace?" Caravello finally blurted out.
"I zapped us to a broom closet backstage at the theater. That way we wouldn't freak out anyone when we popped into the time-period."
"Okay, Ace," Caravello said with relief, "I understand now."
"I don't know why I have to explain everything like this," Ace complained. "It makes perfect sense if you think about it."
"Uh, guys," Peter offered, "can we stop holding hands and get out of the closet?"
"Uh, yeah, okay," Caravello said, releasing his grip on both Ace's and Peter's outstretched hands. Although Caravello's hands were dry, he wiped them on his costume anyway. In doing so, he realized that he was still wearing his costume and makeup. An orange glow surrounded him as his clothes changed to a T-shirt jersey and bell-bottom denim jeans. The platform shoes remained the same height, but changed to that of brown leather boots.
The glow furnished enough light to allow everyone to see the inside of the closet for a split-second and Peter spotted a door off to his left. "I think that's the way out," Peter said, pointing to the door during the last flickering moments of the orange glow.
"Fine. Follow me," Ace said, once again in the darkness. He took two steps and immediately ran into a metal bucket containing a wet mop.
When the sound of the crash came to a halt, Ace spoke up again. "I ... er ... I've moved that bucket out of the way so no one will run into it."
"Thanks, Ace," Peter smiled, as Caravello simply rolled his eyes. "You're a stand-up kinda guy."
Ace opened the door and the three stepped out into the backstage area of the theater. The wooden floorboards creaked slightly under their weight, although they could not hear them due to the noise backstage. A few tired roadies could be seen moving equipment to and from the stage. Each wore a beat-up leather jacket that bore a stylish stitched patch of two letters, "WL," centered between two patches - one that read "WICKED," the other, "LESTER." The roadies' movements were quick, yet evenly paced, as if they had been through the same motions hundreds of times before and could do it without any thought at all. Peter spotted one of the roadies in particular and his jaw dropped.
"Oh my God," Peter said. "There's Junior. God, I haven't seen him in ages."
As Peter looked at the group of roadies, Caravello and Ace studied the rest of the backstage area. Scattered equipment cases were by a large dressing room to their right, while a few women were sectioned off into two groups to the left and right of the dressing room's door. Both groups eyed each other intensely - one group representing girlfriends and wives, while the other was filled with groupies - although both groups looked so similar in dress and demeanor that it was impossible to tell by sight which was which. A few men came out of a small dressing room next to larger one and it was obvious from their clothes and frazzled state that they were the opening band. With a quick look at one of the two groups of women, the entire group of men swerved to their left and starting chatting with a group in particular. Without a word, the other group of women went back to their chain-smoking and the muttering of gossip.
The large dressing room's door was closed and there was no telling what was occurring within, although a large banner hung over the door that read, "Welcome Home!"
Ace and Caravello shifted their view to their left where more noise could be heard. Down a small flight of stairs and through a door, they could make out a large number of people roaming the hallway. It was obvious to Caravello and Ace that the crowd in the hall were making their way to their seats before a concert began, although some were merely clogging the hall by standing around and talking to friends and strangers. Most of them were young, high school and college-aged kids, many in T-shirts and jeans. Some were a bit more dressed-up, as if the concert was the centerpiece of a special night out. Others were dressed-up as if to shock everyone around them, which made Caravello chuckle in reflection.
"Ah, the '70s," Caravello smiled. "What a time."
Peter was mesmerized by his surroundings. "Oh, wow! Wow! Man, we're really here! Really back in '74! God, I can't believe it! We're really back at the show. I remember this so clearly." Peter darted his gaze from left to right, up and down, as he tried to take in the entire flood of memories that he had of the night he was revisiting.
Caravello put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I know what you mean. Time-travel is always like that at first."
Caravello looked around with a mild smile as he saw the clothes and hair on the people wandering the hallway. He had hoped he remembered what he normally wore at the time so many years ago, and he was pleased with himself that he had been right. He turned to Ace and was immediately snapped back to reality.
Ace stood before him still wearing his makeup and Guardian outfit from the battle.
"Ace," Caravello loudly whispered over the noise coming from around them, "what are you doing? We're supposed to be incognito. You're going to attract attention to us."
Ace looked at Caravello with a bemused smile and pointed out into the hallway. "Are you kidding? Look around."
As Caravello followed Ace's hand, Ace continued. "See that guy over there painted silver with glitter on his face? Or those two girls over there with the frizzed-out purple and green hair?" Ace then pointed to someone over on the other side of the stage area. "Or the guy over there with the wedding-dress and combat boots? Compared to that, I'm just another face in the crowd."
With those words, Ace started to move towards the doorway. "Ace," Caravello said, "where are you going?"
"I have to figure out if this is the right space and time for the diversion to the time-line. I can't do that here, I have to centralize myself a bit more."
Ace continued on his way and seemed to almost float into the oasis of people out in the hallway. Although Caravello knew that Ace had work to do and that he was right in beginning his search, he could not help but notice the broad smile on Frehley's face, almost as if Ace was keeping a grand joke to himself.
Peter interrupted Caravello's concentration on Ace's progression. "Where is he going? Why aren't we following him?"
Caravello turned to Peter. "It's okay. Ace has a better feel for the time-space continuum than the rest of us. He should be able to pinpoint some kind of 'detour' in the timeline if it is here. If it is, then we'll know that something happened here to change the timeline so that you, Gene and Paul never became the Guardians."
"But it has to be here," Peter countered. "I know it. And I know exactly what it was that did it. C'mon."
Peter started moving off, but was stopped by Caravello. "Whoa. Be careful. If the guys see an older version of you standing around, there might be some problems." Caravello pulled Peter back into the shadows of some equipment so that they would not be as noticeable to anyone who came walking past them.
"But this is like a dream come true," Peter replied. "Didn't you ever have something happen to you that you wish you could go back and fix. This is the time, I'm telling you, man. This is where everything fell apart for us - back in '74."
"You may think that, but we don't know for sure yet."
"I don't just think it, I know it." Peter looked at his watch, but the time displayed there was not that of their present location. Peter frantically searched for a clock, while simultaneously speaking to Caravello. "What time is it?"
Caravello began searching for a clock as well and spotted one off in a far corner of the backstage area. "8:50. Why?"
"Ah, crap," Peter sighed. "It's probably already too late."
Caravello was a bit confused. "Too late for what? What's happening here tonight?"
Peter turned to Caravello. "I thought you knew already."
"No, Peter. Ace only brought us here, I have no idea what exactly is supposed to be happening tonight."
"This was supposed to be the biggest night for us. We had been out on the road for about six months, supporting for a bunch of bands all over the country. We played with Blue Oyster Cult and toured with Steppenwolf - a whole mess of dates. "
Caravello was picturing Peter's story in his head. "Okay."
"We had been picked up by CBS back in 1972 and they released our first album in September of '73. You probably heard of it, man. It was Wicked Lester."
Although the name did not register with Caravello, he thought it better to humor Peter. "Okay, sure."
"We were like one of the first big bands that only had three members, but it was cool. I mean Rush must have stolen the idea from us. Anyway, we had our first album out and were touring all over. Man, it was hard work. The food was lousy and the headliners were a bunch of jackasses, but looking back on it we had a real good time. The three of us were really tight as a band, at least I thought so. The only real problem was that we were all missing home. Until tonight.
"This was our big 'coming home' party for all of our friends and our families. We had even gotten word from Epic that studio time was being setup for us to do our second album starting in June. I mean everything was really cooking."
"I don't understand, Peter. Everything sounds great, so what's there to fix?"
Peter looked around the backstage area a bit to see if he spotted a particular person. "Everything was going along fine until the CBS rep - y'know, the guy that CBS had working for their Epic label - showed up backstage. Real mousy-looking runt. I hated him ever since we auditioned for him back in '72. He was one of those typical record guys - ready to suck up to you when he needed your signature on a contract, but stabbing you in the back every chance after that."
"What did he do?"
"He came backstage as we were getting ready for the show and started talking to Paul about something or other. The impression I got was that 'CBS'," Peter said with intended sarcastic emphasis on the 'BS' part of the name, "suddenly didn't want to do another album unless it was a solo album with Paul and Gene and me as the backing band."
"Oh," Caravello said in sympathy. He knew where Peter was heading, as he had heard similar stories from other musicians when he was starting out.
"Well, to hell with that, y'know? No way in hell I was going to play second-fiddle in my own band. I told that CBS patsy what he could do with his contract and he ran crying back to CBS. Piece of crap. Next thing I knew, there was no contract, no record and no Wicked Lester. I couldn't even get Paul on the phone after that. Gene kinda vanished over the next couple of years as well, but that was cool because I knew he had to find work to eat. So did I. Took me years to get back on track after that."
"So you think that this CBS guy -"
"‹Is the reason that the timeline is screwed up?" Peter finished the sentence. "It has to be. If you're saying that it was destined we would be together in order to become these Guardians that you're talking about, it would make sense. This guy split us up tonight and if we stop him he won't be able to do that."
Peter saw a man approaching the dressing room of the band and pointed the man out to Caravello. "And there's the little dweeb now." Peter started walking towards the man, but was restrained by Caravello. "Wait a minute, Peter. That doesn't make sense. Just because we stop him tonight, what's to stop him tomorrow?"
"We don't have time to argue about it, man, just let me go." As Peter tried to move past Caravello, both heard the dressing room's door slam shut. Caravello registered the sound, but ignore his impulse to verify it as he kept his eyes on Peter.
"No, think about it, Peter. You said yourself that CBS changed their minds. That means it was, or rather is, already in the works. You going up to this guy tonight only delays the situation, it doesn't stop it. Besides, all this doesn't tell us how Ace or I met up with you all and became the Guardians in the original timeline."
"Who cares? Maybe that was somewhere down the line or something. You don't know and neither does Ace. At least by stopping this guy tonight, we can maybe talk to Paul and Gene and get them to realize that I was right about the guy. This has to be the change in the timeline."
"Naw, I don't think so, Pete," a voice called from behind Peter.
Peter turned to see Ace standing there with a beer in his hand. Ace ignored Peter and looked at Caravello. "This isn't the nexus point. It's definitely on the right trail, and definitely the altered timeline, but we're not even close to where the change occurred."
"How do you know, Ace?" Peter asked with anger filling his voice. "You weren't here. You don't know."
Ace looked at Peter. "Peter, I'm not quick on much, but I do know my way around the time-space continuum. This isn't the right time. Don't believe me? Fine. But I know we're in the wrong place."
Peter was about to comment on Ace's statement when the group heard muffled shouts from the dressing room. They all turned to see the women gathered near the dressing room backing off a bit as the door flew open and a young Peter Criss came stomping out. He was wearing pressed blue jeans, a psychedelic shirt and a vest, and held a pair of drumsticks in his hands. Following him closely was a young Gene, who wore a pale blue button-down shirt and jeans. Everyone in the backstage area could hear the two.
"Pete," Young Gene said to the back of Young Peter's head, "think about what you're saying. You can't mean it."
"You bet I meant it, Gene," Young Peter said as he continued walking towards the stage. "Screw CBS, screw Wicked Lester and screw you. If we can't be equal partners in a band, I'm leaving."
"Peter, it was just a suggestion. We may be able to turn the band around and make it into something like Elton John or Rod Stewart - you know, put all the promotion behind one face. It doesn't mean we're not going to write the music."
Young Peter stopped and turned to Young Gene. "No, that's exactly what it means. I didn't join this band to be Paul's asskisser and I'm not staying in the band to be just a guy in the background. I'll go back to doing radio jingles before I do that."
"Peter," Young Gene said in desperation, "will you at least think about it."
Young Peter turned back to the stage and began walking. "I've thought about it, Gene. Screw it. I'm doing the show tonight and then I'm taking Lydia on vacation for awhile. Let's see how you guys do without a drummer."
"Pete," Young Gene started after Young Peter again. His voice trailed off as they moved further and further away from Caravello, Ace and Peter. "Will you at least apologize to the guy for punching him in the face?"
Caravello shifted his eyes to Peter. "'Punching the guy in the face?'"
Peter almost laughed at the memory. "Oh, yeah. I, uh ... heh ... forgot about that."
The group turned to see to other figures leaving the dressing room. It was a younger Paul, helping the CBS representative out of the room. The man was cradling a handkerchief full of ice to one eye as he moved through the door. Young Paul was speaking to the man, but his voice was soft and could not be heard. After he finished speaking, the man ripped away from Young Paul and pointed a finger at him. Again, nothing could be heard, but it was clear what the intention was of his statement. "Well, that's that." Peter said as he watched. "Paul tried sucking up to the guy, but even he couldn't kiss the guy's ass hard enough." Caravello studied the man with the handkerchief closely. "Hey, I remember that guy. Ace, isn't that Herb Parker?"
Ace studied the man with the handkerchief as well as he could from such a distance. "Well, I don't remember the black-eye, but he does kinda look like Parker. What's he doing here?"
"Parker?" Peter repeated. "You mean you know that jerk?"
"Knew him," Caravello corrected. "He was the rep from the record company that signed us up when we were starting."
Ace continued. "He was also working for Blackwell and the Elders. Or, at least we thought so at the time."
"What do you mean?" Peter turned back to Parker as he spoke.
"Turns out that he was really just working for Blackwell," Ace said. "We didn't know that then. The main thing, though, is that he was the human contact that saw our audition and recommended us to Blackwell. Not only for the record contract, but to become the Guardians as well."
"Ace," Caravello quietly spoke, "do you think that there may be a connection between that just happened with Peter's band and what happened to us with Parker later on."
"Could be, could be."
"What?" Peter had trouble wrapping his head around the new thoughts going through his head. "Are you saying that this moron from Epic was the go-between for these 'gods' that gave you these powers? If that's the case, why didn't he give them to us?"
"That's a good question, Peter," Ace said, lost in thought. "Why didn't he pick you guys? It's like something isn't right here ...."
"So I was right," Peter exclaimed. "We were hired by the record company and we were supposed to be the Guardians, but Parker made Epic drop us so we broke up. That's the only answer there can be." "No ..." Ace said, still thinking the situation through, "that doesn't seem right either."
"Well, it has to be, man," Peter explained. "I remember this guy too. He came to our audition back in '72 and kept us at CBS in the first place. Just like he did for you all. I remember that audition, man. Parker came in, and even though we thought we were terrible, he convinced Epic to keep us on. That's why all this crap that happened tonight was such a turn-off for me. He really screwed with us."
Caravello perked up at something Peter said. "Wait a minute. 'Kept you at CBS'? I thought CBS hired you for the album after seeing you at the audition."
"Well, that's not quite what happened." Peter blushed slightly at having to change his story. "Gene and Paul had already recorded one album with a bunch of other guys for Epic/CBS under the name Wicked Lester. But CBS hated it and told them that they would have to audition again if they wanted to have another shot at it, especially after everyone quit the band and I joined. We were like a brand new band starting all over again."
Ace laughed. "Yeah, I remember! You guys were advertising for a lead guitarist and told people that you had a record deal with Epic. I was so pissed off when I auditioned for you guys back in '73 only to find out that you didn't pass the audition and Epic pulled out of making the record -"
Ace froze after hearing the words pour out of his mouth.
"What was that, Ace?" Caravello leaned in to investigate Ace's facial expression.
"Holy jumping hockey players!" Ace starred wide-eyes at Peter and Caravello.
"Holy jumping hockey players?" Peter repeated in confusion.
"I remember! I remember what happened! Peter, you may be wrong about coming here, but you've whacked out a memory for me. It's making sense now."
Ace turned to Peter. "Pete, Parker did have something to do with all of this, but it's not the way you thought it was."
"What do you think happened, Ace?" Peter said.
"I auditioned for you all back in late '72. It was around Christmas time!" Ace stopped for a second as he tried to assimilate the memories running through his head. "Man, it's like trying to remember a dream. Or like dejavu. You know? Like when you feel like you recognize a place and then an second later don't feel it at all? I just got like a brief flash for a moment and now it's gone."
"Well," Caravello said, holding his breath in fear that any sudden movement would allow Ace to lose track of his thoughts, "just try to think it through."
"It was Christmas and I was thinking that I needed to do something with my career because I had just gotten beaten up by the owner of this bar because I played a lousy show. Broke my jaw and everything. You remember?" Ace looked at Caravello. "I told you about that before. That's when I decided to try my luck overseas. But then someone told me about a band that had a record contract with Epic and were auditioning guys to play lead. I figured I wouldn't get it anyway, but thought it wouldn't hurt to see what these 'big shots' were doing. I went in and auditioned for you guys and that was pretty much that."
Ace stopped for a moment and Caravello turned back to Peter. "Does this sound possible, Peter?"
"No. I mean, we did think about getting a lead guitarist, but we decided to stay a trio from the moment Parker saw the audition and convinced Epic to take us like we were. In fact, I remember that Parker insisted we remain a trio as that was what he sold Epic on - that we were a hard rock trio."
"When was that, Pete? When was the audition?"
"I don't remember."
"Think, Peter. This could be the clue we're looking for. Was it Summer? Fall?"
"I recall that it was kinda warm." Peter thought a little more before speaking again. "I think it had to have been late summer, maybe early fall."
"Well, don't you see, Peter?" Caravello almost smiled as he saw the pieces coming together. "Parker convinced you three to stay a trio. Because of the record deal you never bothered to audition for a lead guitarist."
Ace picked up the cue. "And because you never looked for a lead guitarist, I never met you three."
Caravello followed right up on Ace's comment. "So, there never was a foursome to become the four Guardians. Blackwell had Parker get you three signed to Epic so that history would be changed."
Peter thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Naw. I can't believe that. I mean, look at all this." Peter held out his arms to display the backstage area. "You telling me that our success as Wicked Lester was some kind of setup? That none of this is true? That we were used?"
"Not used out-right, Peter," Caravello carefully said, "just given the opportunity that you all desired. If it had not have been for the record deal, you three would have had to start over again and push even harder to become successful."
"So, in the real world we actually failed as a band?"
"We don't know that, Pete," Ace jumped in, then he grinned.
"Besides, if I was in the band, it was bound to have been successful."
"I can't believe that. I mean, I can't believe that this is all a lie."
"Can you believe that less than an hour ago you were running away from monsters from another dimension?" Ace asked.
"Good point," Caravello said.
Peter paused for a second as he looked around the backstage area, his face conveying a sadness that he couldn't quite cover. "So this was all a joke? We were never supposed to make it? But because Wicked Lester did make it, the world is now in trouble?"
"Peter," Ace swung an arm around Peter's shoulder, "maybe Wicked Lester wasn't supposed to happen, but that doesn't mean the band that we became wasn't supposed to happen."
"How do you know for sure, though, Ace? Do you remember anything else?"
Ace frowned. "No, I'm afraid not. The moment's gone and all I got was a snatch of the real timeline."
"I don't know what to think about all this, man," Peter said, feeling defeat. "If we were not supposed to get the record deal, does that mean what I think it means?"
"Yeah, Pete, I know." Ace patted him on the shoulder. "In order to get back to the original timeline, we have to make sure that Wicked Lester somehow fails the audition back in 1972."
Peter shook his head, not wanting to believe the words that came out of Ace's mouth, yet unable to avoid the nagging feeling that he may be right.
The lights backstage dimmed and a cheer came up from the audience facing the stage. Caravello, Peter and Ace all turned to the noise as they heard random chords and a few drumbeats played out beyond the curtain that separated them from the stage. A moment later, a spotlight could be seen against the curtain and the silhouette of three individuals could be seen. As the crowd cheered, the shadow behind the drumkit raised its arms and counted off by clicking the drums together in rhythm. As the arms fell and a drumbeat was heard, the show began.
Oh, man, Peter thought to himself, those songs were so great. The band was so great. Why did it have to slip away like that? We had something so good ....
Peter suddenly had a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned away from the stage, moving back to the closet. Caravello quickly followed and stopped Peter with a hand on his shoulder.
"Pete? Would you like to stay for a moment and hear the band? You sounded really excited to be here earlier and we could probably hold off for a few minutes."
Peter looked back at Caravello and tried to smile. "Naw. I want to be a million miles away from here. If this wasn't something we did on our own, if it's just a dream, I don't want it to be what I remember."
Caravello followed Peter into the closet, with Ace closed behind. As the band played off in the distance, a bright light filled the closet for a flicker of time before disappearing for good.
|
|
Copyrighted (c) 2000-2002 Dale Sherman / KISS ASYLUM
Artwork by Larry Blake
We kindly ask that you please not reproduce this feature without prior consent!
|
|
|
KISS Museum