KISS and the Battle of G.O.O.D. Vs. E.V.I.L.
Part 41
by Barbara

Across town, Buttercup slammed his fist in 
frustration, a pounding headache threatening to ruin 
his night yet again.   Opening his bloodshot eyes 
slightly, he looked at her.   Miserable creature.   
Not worthy of his trust, he sulked, yet here they 
sat, him glaring evilly at her once again.  She 
peered back at him, picking at the upholstery on the 
chair nervously.  It was a good bet that she had 
never been wanted by anyone at any time, yet here 
she sat, his by default.
 
"You have your pass?" he hisses testily at her.
 
"Yes….yes, of course.  Just as you arranged and I 
have a great seat, so….THANKS!" Elizabeth said 
rapidly, chewing her lip.
 
"THEY will, of course, all be there.   Bona fide 
V.I.P.s"   he spat slowly, working hard to forget 
the blinding pain behind his eyes.  "And you KNOW 
who I want."
 
"Gene Simmons and the girl" Elizabeth blinked back, 
bird-like.
 
 "There are a LOT of girls." Buttercup snapped.
 
"The one who's not right.  The one who's going bad," 
she spoke, "GENE's girl".
 
Buttercup smiled cynically at her, in spite of 
himself.  "You DO listen….occasionally." he smiled a 
devilish smile, feeling for one relaxing moment the 
pain leave his brain.  
 
He watched her slowly slide him a ridiculous grin, 
as if she were a young pup, proud to have not wet 
the carpet.  With an irritated glare, he nodded 
toward the door and dispensed of her, as he went 
back to the task at hand.   Rubbing his temples 
furiously, he worked  hard to  deny himself the rush 
of emotions threatening to attack him.  The damn 
show was TOMORROW.  Mere hours from now.  Kids 
everywhere, and they WERE kids in his eyes, were 
getting black t-shirts and high heels ready for the 
show of the year.  Spending hundreds of dollars to 
see a band which should have ended years ago.  
Worshipping a man with a black soul, who spit blood 
and stole money right from under their noses.  And 
now that they had reinforcements…fans with 
powers….ladies who would do anything to protect 
them, and that fact burned him to the core.
 
As much effort as he spent trying to convince 
otherwise, Elizabeth and the ladies of KISS were not 
his only consternation, he grumbled to himself.  He 
could feel HER, could sense that they KNEW.  Someone 
had told, he panicked.  Had squealed something that 
was otherworldly and none of their concern.  
"Laviera", he yelled into the empty room.  He had 
heard her scream tonight.  Hell, he'd FELT it.  And 
if he had to hunt down the members of that vile rock 
group and bleed them dry, he would determine who 
knew about her…..knew about HIM.  "The One who Talks 
to Beasts," he whispered, knowing his answer.  
 
His fist hit the table , sending a cloud of 
cockroaches scurrying through the room.  "This show 
will be their LAST…..all of them," He bellowed in 
the darkness, knocking over his table in fury.      
 
____________________________________________________
 
 
True to form, bright and early they arrived at 
Madison Square Garden.   Scores of KISS fans, eager 
to see their heroes for what was billed as the last 
time.  The final homecoming, and as much as they 
wanted to see the band,  they also craved the 
experience of being together.  As much as it was 
touted, truly only KISS Army members understood.
 
All seats, were of course, long since sold out, but 
the truly endeavorous were still out in droves, 
attempting to gain seats.  Milling among the fans 
were the always present merchandisers, looking to 
sell everything from show memorabilia to condoms, 
and the  Army was eager as always to purchase them.
 
									
 
Tony Morehead smiled to himself as he and other 
members of security made yet another round of MSG.  
So far, everyone who had gathered was behaving.  
Sure, there were always a few fans who attempted 
crazy break-ins to get backstage, but since the 
strange events that had befallen the band since they 
arrived in New York, even backstage visits were 
seriously curtailed.  Other than family members, and 
special visitors, backstage was off-limits.  Tony 
pulled out the list of approved VIP pass holders, 
and smiled.  Something about these girls.  Every 
last one of them had been put on the VIP list.   
Tony chuckled.  Probably wasn't surprising that Gene 
would invite every last member of a female KISS 
email list backstage.  Just Gene being Gene, right? 
Still, Mr. Simmons had instructed him personally to 
be on the look out for "strange events", and his 
eyes missed nothing as he scoured the venue once 
again.
 
										

"This show can't be over soon enough." Tim Rozner 
said to himself as he left the pyro technicians to 
do their work.  Since they had begun setting up the 
show earlier in the day, there had already been 
several mishaps….pyrotechnic  miscues for no reason, 
the giant screens flickering on and off 
periodically…and the capper to the day…..the sound 
system difficulties that had plaqued them all 
morning.
 
Not to mention that everyone was on edge.  Ragman, 
Paul's guitar tech, had reported earlier that Paul 
had snapped at him several times about his guitars.  
Not totally unusual for Paul, and probably 
understandable considering the magnitude of the 
show, but God, all they needed was for Paul to jump 
out of his skin.   
 
"Just a weird vibe." Tim shook his head, as he 
kicked his boot heel against the ground.
 
										

Andre Augustine scowled at the obviously intoxicated 
girl he had just thrown out of the area.  Best he 
had heard, the band was severely limiting the guest 
list at this show, but somehow the strays always 
make it back.
 
With a shake of his head, he regained his regal 
perch by the entrance to the band's dressing room.  
Him, of all people, were entrusted to watch the 
band.   As he leaned slightly with his back against 
the door, he allowed himself to notice the strange 
silence in the hallway.  Other than occasionally 
hearing Paul warming up his voice or hearing Ace 
cackle from the room behind him, few others were in 
the area.  Probably understandable, since the guest 
list WAS supposed to be small, and Doc certainly had 
other things to do than to hang out with him.  So, 
there he stood.  At the watch.
 
He jumped a good inch off the ground as suddenly she 
was before him.
 
 "I want to meet the band….mister." she said 
smoothly, regarding him with doe eyes.
 
"Who ARE you?" he barked, irritated at himself for 
not noticing her sooner.
 
"I am….I'm a friend of the band." Elizabeth said, 
clutching her backstage pass.
 
"Oh, SURE you are, and so are half of the people out 
there.  Try again." He grumbled.
 
"I think that maybe I'm here to see Gena Simmons," 
Elizabeth cooed, still refusing to leave, "I'm 
her….friend."
 
"I'm TELLING you one damn final time.  Unless you 
give me your damn name and it's on this damn LIST, 
you will be GONE from this venue," he grumbles.
 
Still, her eyes unsettled him, her presence almost 
making him nauseous, if that were possible.  He 
squinted at her, annoyed and eager for her to be 
gone.
 
"I would….I would do ANYTHING to see the band," she 
said, barely above a whisper, but to him it might as 
well have been a high decibel scream.
 
Andre put his hand to his forehead and wiped it 
clear.
 
"PLEASE go," he said shakily, suddenly feeling the 
urge to slink down the wall and sit down.
 
He blinked at her.  What the hell was happening?  
Wasn't she NORMAL five minutes ago?
 
Andre looked at her again, through eyes suddenly 
becoming bleary.  Had he gone nuts or had she 
somehow completed changed her appearance.  No.  NOT 
nuts.
 
"I….anything to meet the band…."  The words swam in 
his head, and he felt her take his hand and lead him 
away.  He stumbled to follow her, his only thoughts 
were not of the band he was commandeered to protect, 
but was of banishing this feeling from his being.
 
As Elizabeth smiled at her transformation and lead 
Andre down the hall, she thought to herself how a 
VERY good thing had just happened.  The door to the 
band's dressing room was now totally unguarded.  And 
THAT meant the band was alone, she chuckled with 
venom.  "Welcome to the show."